I've been haunted for some time now by the story of the Rich Young Ruler. This morning the story showed up again in the podcast I listen to each morning (pray-as-you-go out of the UK). Basically, this very sincere, earnest, wealthy young man throws himself at the feet of Jesus. He desires eternal life and he has spent his entire life doing all the right things. Still, he senses he is missing something and he thinks Jesus may know what that is. Jesus does know, and tells the man that he lacks only one thing - he needs to sell all his possessions and give them to the poor, then come and follow Jesus. The young man is deeply grieved and he turns and walks away.
This command is such a hard one. Who wants to give up their possessions? Jesus follows it by explaining to his disciples how hard it is for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of God. It almost seems cruel - this sincere, obedient, earnest and good man is told that he has to give up everything he owns in order to get what he says he really wants. This morning I was struck by a line right in the middle of the story.
Jesus looked on this man and loved him.
It wasn't because Jesus was cruel that he issued this instruction. It was out of his love. I wonder if the man realized that. He was torn between all his many possessions and the love of Jesus.
As I said, this passage haunts me. We're not wealthy by American standards, but we certainly are by world standards. And when I think about ministry with the poor that we are feeling pulled toward, I know it will require sacrifices, including possessions. We're really earnest and sincere and here we are asking Jesus, not without some trepidation, "what do you want us to do?" And we are holding our breath to hear what it is Jesus might say to us. Will we follow? Or will we go away grieving?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Thoughts on Feminism
Josh relayed a story last night that has me contemplating what in the world happened to the feminist movement. A woman in his office was talking about a book she recently read by a radio talk show host that was all about how wives are supposed to stay home and take care of their husbands. She shared how she got a friend of hers to read it who has now quit her job in order to make waiting on her husband her life's work. My feminist husband could barely keep from gagging.
I have a book that once belonged to my mother when she was a pastor's wife called Fascinating Womanhood. Sadly, this stuff is still alive and kicking. http://www.fascinatingwomanhood.net/ I think it should more aptly be named Manipulative Womanhood after reading it. Parts of it are so absurd as to be almost hilarious and parts of it are just sick (like when the author suggests wives should dress like little girls and model their own fashions after what they find in the little girls' section of the store - creepy!). The word "superior" is used repeatedly in reference to men . Wives are encouraged to pretend they are weak and stupid in order to make their husbands feel strong and smart and manly. :::insert puking noises here::: It seems to me like this book should be a relic of a sad past when women were oppressed and shoved into narrowly defined gender roles alongside their husband's narrowly defined gender roles. But conversations like the one my husband had with his coworker show just how prevalent these ideas still remain, in re-mixed form.
Something happened to feminism and it doesn't seem to be very popular anymore. Even in "progressive" circles, the sexual objectification of women is rampant and women's power is often linked with her ability to use her sexuality - something that is inherently degrading but openly embraced anyway. Rather than women being liberated from sexual objectification, it seems like men are increasingly becoming objectified in a similar manner to the dehumanization and degradation of all. It's not that there has been no progress in recent decades. But the trajectory toward true equality and liberation seems a bit stalled out at the moment.
I could speculate all day as to the why's and how's of all this. But I really hope that we see another shift in our culture - not just in the direction of equality, but also in the direction of human dignity. Feminism in its best form isn't so much about women as it is about the dignity and equality of everyone and the freedom to live beyond the confines of errantly imposed roles and expectations. It should liberate women and men to be the best version of themselves they can be, for the good of all.
I have a book that once belonged to my mother when she was a pastor's wife called Fascinating Womanhood. Sadly, this stuff is still alive and kicking. http://www.fascinatingwomanhood.net/ I think it should more aptly be named Manipulative Womanhood after reading it. Parts of it are so absurd as to be almost hilarious and parts of it are just sick (like when the author suggests wives should dress like little girls and model their own fashions after what they find in the little girls' section of the store - creepy!). The word "superior" is used repeatedly in reference to men . Wives are encouraged to pretend they are weak and stupid in order to make their husbands feel strong and smart and manly. :::insert puking noises here::: It seems to me like this book should be a relic of a sad past when women were oppressed and shoved into narrowly defined gender roles alongside their husband's narrowly defined gender roles. But conversations like the one my husband had with his coworker show just how prevalent these ideas still remain, in re-mixed form.
Something happened to feminism and it doesn't seem to be very popular anymore. Even in "progressive" circles, the sexual objectification of women is rampant and women's power is often linked with her ability to use her sexuality - something that is inherently degrading but openly embraced anyway. Rather than women being liberated from sexual objectification, it seems like men are increasingly becoming objectified in a similar manner to the dehumanization and degradation of all. It's not that there has been no progress in recent decades. But the trajectory toward true equality and liberation seems a bit stalled out at the moment.
I could speculate all day as to the why's and how's of all this. But I really hope that we see another shift in our culture - not just in the direction of equality, but also in the direction of human dignity. Feminism in its best form isn't so much about women as it is about the dignity and equality of everyone and the freedom to live beyond the confines of errantly imposed roles and expectations. It should liberate women and men to be the best version of themselves they can be, for the good of all.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Toe Shoes and Soccer Cleats
This week required a purchase of soccer cleats for my daughter. While preparing to transport her between activities today, I was reminded of another recent shoe purchase for her – ballet toe shoes. I was struck today with the contrast of these two pairs of shoes and what they symbolize for my daughter. Soccer cleats – black, hard, muddy. These shoes require Maria to run, be fast, aggressive and tough. She has to get dirty, wet, cold and she has to work with a team. She practices everyday, honing her skills and learning her position. When I pick her up she’s dirty and sweaty, her cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion.
Today she will go directly from soccer to ballet. Muddy cleats and heavy soccer socks will be replaced with tights and toe shoes. Satin ribbons will tie around her ankles where shin guards had just been. Balance, grace, and beauty will take over – a different kind of strength, a different kind of exertion. It makes me cry to watch my daughter dance. Her emerging womanhood is evident in the loveliness of her movements. Her self-discipline and strength shine in her eyes. She is all feminine grace and beauty, enhanced with strength and self-confidence that comes from years of disciplined practice.
Watching my daughter play soccer is wonderful too. She is so fast! She throws herself into the game and plays hard, whether it’s sunny or raining on the field. Her speed and agility amaze me. She’s not afraid to get dirty and be tough, and she negotiates the middle school politics of friendship with her teammates with wisdom beyond her years.
I can’t help but think of how Maria is truly becoming a 21st century woman. She is neither confined by her femininity, nor must she deny it in order to embrace the opportunities before her. She is beauty and strength. She is toughness and grace. She stands on her own and she works in a team. She is ballet pink and soccer black. The world is open to her in ways that it has not been for young women in all the history of the world.
In spite of all the progress that women have made in recent decades, I still find myself surrounded by strong anti-feminist messages. Little girls who are clad only in pink. Women who identify themselves as sexual objects and servants of men. Women who are still intimidated to fully express themselves as equals in the presence of men. Men and women who prefer to have women rule the kitchen and nursery, while men rule the boardroom and the pulpit – not based on gifts or skills or interests, but on gender alone. My prayer for my daughter is that she will always wear both cleats and toe shoes, that she will take gritty toughness and artful grace into every endeavor. I know she will make the world a better place.
Today she will go directly from soccer to ballet. Muddy cleats and heavy soccer socks will be replaced with tights and toe shoes. Satin ribbons will tie around her ankles where shin guards had just been. Balance, grace, and beauty will take over – a different kind of strength, a different kind of exertion. It makes me cry to watch my daughter dance. Her emerging womanhood is evident in the loveliness of her movements. Her self-discipline and strength shine in her eyes. She is all feminine grace and beauty, enhanced with strength and self-confidence that comes from years of disciplined practice.
Watching my daughter play soccer is wonderful too. She is so fast! She throws herself into the game and plays hard, whether it’s sunny or raining on the field. Her speed and agility amaze me. She’s not afraid to get dirty and be tough, and she negotiates the middle school politics of friendship with her teammates with wisdom beyond her years.
I can’t help but think of how Maria is truly becoming a 21st century woman. She is neither confined by her femininity, nor must she deny it in order to embrace the opportunities before her. She is beauty and strength. She is toughness and grace. She stands on her own and she works in a team. She is ballet pink and soccer black. The world is open to her in ways that it has not been for young women in all the history of the world.
In spite of all the progress that women have made in recent decades, I still find myself surrounded by strong anti-feminist messages. Little girls who are clad only in pink. Women who identify themselves as sexual objects and servants of men. Women who are still intimidated to fully express themselves as equals in the presence of men. Men and women who prefer to have women rule the kitchen and nursery, while men rule the boardroom and the pulpit – not based on gifts or skills or interests, but on gender alone. My prayer for my daughter is that she will always wear both cleats and toe shoes, that she will take gritty toughness and artful grace into every endeavor. I know she will make the world a better place.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Reflection: The Imitation of Christ
I thought I'd share a paper written for one of my classes, reflecting just a bit on Thomas a Kempis' The Imitation of Christ.
A couple of years ago I was given an old copy of The Imitation of Christ from an elderly friend, who was a retired minister. It’s a paperback from the 1950’s and includes some simple but rather beautiful artwork. I’ve looked forward to the opportunity to read it and was glad to see this book as an option for class. I found The Imitation of Christ to be the timeless spiritual classic that it promised to be. It is full of wisdom in bite-sized chunks that leads naturally to self-examination and reflection. A Kempis is concerned with how life is lived out for the earnest follower of Jesus and he addresses both external action and internal states of the heart. His writings each have a descriptive title, and each entry is short and to-the-point.
Reading a Kempis reminds me of reading the biblical book of Proverbs. It reads like wisdom literature and contains plenty of wise instruction. The Imitation of Christ is the kind of book that can be read over and over with new insights and applications each time. It is not, however, a book of sentimentality or easy advice. A Kempis calls his readers to follow Jesus as one who called his disciples to take up a cross. True imitators of Christ are much fewer than those who claim to believe in him. He writes, “Jesus hath many lovers of His kingdom of heaven, but He hath few bearers of his cross. Many desire His consolation, but few desire His tribulation. He findeth many fellows at eating and drinking, but He findeth few that will be with Him in His abstinence and fasting. All men would joy with Him, but few would anything suffer for Christ.”
A Kempis has broken down his writings into four books: Admonitions Useful for a Spiritual Life, Admonitions Tending to Things Internal, The Inward Speaking of Christ to a Faithful Soul, and Concerning the Sacrament. The breadth of his writing is part of what makes his work such a valuable and beloved classic. He tends to the state of the mind and the soul, and to gaining peace with God. He talks of judgment and of grace. He talks of discipleship and temptation and trust. I found that his words are as profound as they are brief in each small section, and that I could ponder even one short section for a long time.
While I hesitate to voice anything that could be construed as criticism of such a classic, I will comment on the places where I didn’t find The Imitation of Christ to be helpful. A Kempis has a strong sense of God’s judgment and a somewhat frightening view of who will come out on the worse side of it on that day. The paradox of God’s grace and judgment in the scripture is perhaps reflected in the paradox of his writing, but when he talks of judgment it is very strong. A Kempis also admonishes followers of Christ to keep their distance from “worldly-living people.” While I can understand the purpose of his intent, I also feel a sense of contradiction. How can one imitate Christ, who was always in trouble for spending time with “worldly-living people,” and also diligently avoid such people? His separatism almost rings of elitism and I find it a bit troubling.
I greatly appreciate A Kempis for not painting an easy path of discipleship and for reminding those who would follow Christ of the difficulties that calling entails. At the same time, I find him to be a bit ascetic, inviting hardship where it may not be necessary. I also realize that I make that observation from a life of ease and I recognize my own need to hear his challenge in that regard. I am not sure if I’ve met more than a few people in all of my life who have understood what it truly means to take up a cross and follow Jesus. I know that I have not truly begun to sacrifice anything for Christ, and I am surrounded by a Christianity that spiritualizes suffering and hardship, and knows little of the life of the cross that is tangible and gritty.
“At the day of judgment it shall not be asked of us what we have read, but what we have done: nor how well we have said, but how religiously we have lived.” With all great admonitions to live well there is the risk of somehow subtracting from God’s grace and making our own efforts at living central to the faith, rather than the work of Christ. Bonhoeffer struggled with this even after writing The Cost of Discipleship, recognizing the danger in his work but also the need of it. I sense that same tension with a Kempis, and I appreciate it. I think it is the tension that we live in following Christ, being both recipients of his grace and of his call to take up our cross.
A couple of years ago I was given an old copy of The Imitation of Christ from an elderly friend, who was a retired minister. It’s a paperback from the 1950’s and includes some simple but rather beautiful artwork. I’ve looked forward to the opportunity to read it and was glad to see this book as an option for class. I found The Imitation of Christ to be the timeless spiritual classic that it promised to be. It is full of wisdom in bite-sized chunks that leads naturally to self-examination and reflection. A Kempis is concerned with how life is lived out for the earnest follower of Jesus and he addresses both external action and internal states of the heart. His writings each have a descriptive title, and each entry is short and to-the-point.
Reading a Kempis reminds me of reading the biblical book of Proverbs. It reads like wisdom literature and contains plenty of wise instruction. The Imitation of Christ is the kind of book that can be read over and over with new insights and applications each time. It is not, however, a book of sentimentality or easy advice. A Kempis calls his readers to follow Jesus as one who called his disciples to take up a cross. True imitators of Christ are much fewer than those who claim to believe in him. He writes, “Jesus hath many lovers of His kingdom of heaven, but He hath few bearers of his cross. Many desire His consolation, but few desire His tribulation. He findeth many fellows at eating and drinking, but He findeth few that will be with Him in His abstinence and fasting. All men would joy with Him, but few would anything suffer for Christ.”
A Kempis has broken down his writings into four books: Admonitions Useful for a Spiritual Life, Admonitions Tending to Things Internal, The Inward Speaking of Christ to a Faithful Soul, and Concerning the Sacrament. The breadth of his writing is part of what makes his work such a valuable and beloved classic. He tends to the state of the mind and the soul, and to gaining peace with God. He talks of judgment and of grace. He talks of discipleship and temptation and trust. I found that his words are as profound as they are brief in each small section, and that I could ponder even one short section for a long time.
While I hesitate to voice anything that could be construed as criticism of such a classic, I will comment on the places where I didn’t find The Imitation of Christ to be helpful. A Kempis has a strong sense of God’s judgment and a somewhat frightening view of who will come out on the worse side of it on that day. The paradox of God’s grace and judgment in the scripture is perhaps reflected in the paradox of his writing, but when he talks of judgment it is very strong. A Kempis also admonishes followers of Christ to keep their distance from “worldly-living people.” While I can understand the purpose of his intent, I also feel a sense of contradiction. How can one imitate Christ, who was always in trouble for spending time with “worldly-living people,” and also diligently avoid such people? His separatism almost rings of elitism and I find it a bit troubling.
I greatly appreciate A Kempis for not painting an easy path of discipleship and for reminding those who would follow Christ of the difficulties that calling entails. At the same time, I find him to be a bit ascetic, inviting hardship where it may not be necessary. I also realize that I make that observation from a life of ease and I recognize my own need to hear his challenge in that regard. I am not sure if I’ve met more than a few people in all of my life who have understood what it truly means to take up a cross and follow Jesus. I know that I have not truly begun to sacrifice anything for Christ, and I am surrounded by a Christianity that spiritualizes suffering and hardship, and knows little of the life of the cross that is tangible and gritty.
“At the day of judgment it shall not be asked of us what we have read, but what we have done: nor how well we have said, but how religiously we have lived.” With all great admonitions to live well there is the risk of somehow subtracting from God’s grace and making our own efforts at living central to the faith, rather than the work of Christ. Bonhoeffer struggled with this even after writing The Cost of Discipleship, recognizing the danger in his work but also the need of it. I sense that same tension with a Kempis, and I appreciate it. I think it is the tension that we live in following Christ, being both recipients of his grace and of his call to take up our cross.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Theology IS Important!
It saddens me that there is such widespread disdain for theology in the church. Theology is often viewed negatively and is regarded as boring, uppity, irrelevant, and perhaps intimidating. Many believe that only really smart people can even approach theology, and that it’s to the detriment of their faith when they do. I find this very frustrating. When Dietrich Bonhoeffer spent some time in the United States he observed that American Protestantism was seriously lacking in its theological engagement. He ended up hanging out mostly with the African American church, being inspired and challenged by their theology of the oppressed.
In a recent conversation with two friends from church, they expressed their disdain for theology and how irrelevant it seems to their Christianity. One of them quoted Karl Barth who, when asked to sum up his life’s work said, “Jesus loves me, this I know.” If Barth had known that his words would so often be used to negate his life’s work rather than summarize it, I wonder if he would have bitten his tongue.
I completely understand that not everyone keeps a Miroslav Volf book on the back of the toilet or gets excited about graduate level theology classes. And I also share frustration with the kind of theology that is completely divorced from the life of the Church and the life of faith. There are plenty of theological writings that are only interesting to a handful of professional theologians who read each other’s work and analyze it with academic detachment, never penetrating the wall between the world of academia and the lives of regular Christians.
However, I really believe that everyone is a theologian, but have just never been taught to regard their theology as, well, theology. Our theology (whether or not we call it that) directly impacts the way we live out our faith in Christ. And here is where I see a problem – when we disdain theology we are prone to neglect wrestling with important theological issues that impact the way we think and act. We tend to operate on assumptions that we’ve absorbed from our church culture. So when we experience a tragedy, or our country goes to war, or we find out our kid is gay, or when we choose what kind of products to consume, or how to respond to global and local poverty, or we get trapped by an addiction, or we’re faced with death or disease … and so on, we fall back on unreflective behaviors or knee-jerk reactions. And if something shakes us to a point of crisis where we are finally willing to think through our theology, we find ourselves surrounded by people who think theology isn’t important, but who are more than willing to offer unreflective, though sincere, platitudes. “Everything happens for a reason.” “God helps those who help themselves.” “It must be God’s will.” “There must be sin or your life or God would be blessing you.” “God needed your loved one for his garden in heaven.” and so on.
This seems to be a systemic problem, and one of the reasons for the appeal of so many emerging churches. I am excited about a movement toward theological engagement that encourages regular Christians to question and wrestle with theological truth. It doesn’t require knowing a bunch of “high-falootin’” words, but it does require a community that is willing to value theology and to place theology where it belongs – squarely in the center of the life of faith and the life of the Church.
In a recent conversation with two friends from church, they expressed their disdain for theology and how irrelevant it seems to their Christianity. One of them quoted Karl Barth who, when asked to sum up his life’s work said, “Jesus loves me, this I know.” If Barth had known that his words would so often be used to negate his life’s work rather than summarize it, I wonder if he would have bitten his tongue.
I completely understand that not everyone keeps a Miroslav Volf book on the back of the toilet or gets excited about graduate level theology classes. And I also share frustration with the kind of theology that is completely divorced from the life of the Church and the life of faith. There are plenty of theological writings that are only interesting to a handful of professional theologians who read each other’s work and analyze it with academic detachment, never penetrating the wall between the world of academia and the lives of regular Christians.
However, I really believe that everyone is a theologian, but have just never been taught to regard their theology as, well, theology. Our theology (whether or not we call it that) directly impacts the way we live out our faith in Christ. And here is where I see a problem – when we disdain theology we are prone to neglect wrestling with important theological issues that impact the way we think and act. We tend to operate on assumptions that we’ve absorbed from our church culture. So when we experience a tragedy, or our country goes to war, or we find out our kid is gay, or when we choose what kind of products to consume, or how to respond to global and local poverty, or we get trapped by an addiction, or we’re faced with death or disease … and so on, we fall back on unreflective behaviors or knee-jerk reactions. And if something shakes us to a point of crisis where we are finally willing to think through our theology, we find ourselves surrounded by people who think theology isn’t important, but who are more than willing to offer unreflective, though sincere, platitudes. “Everything happens for a reason.” “God helps those who help themselves.” “It must be God’s will.” “There must be sin or your life or God would be blessing you.” “God needed your loved one for his garden in heaven.” and so on.
This seems to be a systemic problem, and one of the reasons for the appeal of so many emerging churches. I am excited about a movement toward theological engagement that encourages regular Christians to question and wrestle with theological truth. It doesn’t require knowing a bunch of “high-falootin’” words, but it does require a community that is willing to value theology and to place theology where it belongs – squarely in the center of the life of faith and the life of the Church.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Convergence
This past weekend took me off to the NW Emerging Women Leaders conference – Convergence! (It had to be good to get me away from Josh so soon after returning home from our honeymoon!) For me, this weekend was a beautiful experience. I will share a few things that deeply impressed me.
Diversity – I was astounded at the diversity of this group of women. Being women and being Christian were really our only common denominators. Generationally, we spanned a range from teenage to 70+. Denominationally we included mainline and evangelical Protestants from theologically “liberal” and “conservative” traditions, and even one Catholic woman (yay, Ruby!). We included Democrats, Republicans, and Independents. We included never-married, divorced, engaged, and married women. We included mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and those without children. We included pastors, church-planters, women’s ministry leaders, youth leaders, associate pastors, lay leaders, former church leaders, future church leaders, and many who are unsure of what leadership will look like in their futures. We had dreadlocks, braids, pink hair, red hair, very short hair, very long hair, very daring hair, very tame hair, trendy hair and timeless hair. We had tattoos and no tattoos. We had pregnant ladies and nursing mothers. We had home-oriented moms and career-oriented moms. We had knitters and bloggers (and knitting bloggers). We had emerging event first-timers, and emerging event old-timers. We even had women flying in from places like Baltimore and Illinois, and driving down from Canada. (Upon reflection, the area where there was a most glaring lack of diversity was racially, with the vast majority of us being white. This might be something to ponder in light of the observation/ accusation that the emerging church is a white thing – but that’s another conversation.)
With all of this amazing diversity spread among the 60+ women present, it seemed nothing less than the unity of the Spirit of God that brought us together so graciously and so intimately for the weekend. We talked and we listened. We learned from each other. We gained strength and inspiration from hearing each others’ stories. We were challenged by each others’ perspectives and experiences. We respected our differences and set them aside when they threatened our unity. In our closing reflections, many women commented on how surprised they were to find a group of women – Christian women at that – who were able to create such a safe place for one another.
Planning – It was a privilege to be part of the team who planned Convergence! I am so grateful for the opportunity to be a part of this creative endeavor, and to have seen how a few loosely-formed ideas were eventually birthed into this wonderful event. We all contributed thoughts and ideas, but what resulted was truly greater than the sum of our contributions. Many thanks to AJ (and Jason) for their technical work, to Deborah for her creativity and inspiration (including the name – “Convergence”) and to Kelly who, in addition to her wonderfully creative ideas provided a van full of supplies and kept us organized with all of our nutty schedules. I thoroughly enjoyed working together with these women and I have learned a great deal from them in the process.
New Friends – Though our time together was rather short, I feel that I made many new friends this weekend. I’m hoping that we will come together again and hear where our journeys have taken us. I hope that we can stay in touch online, and in person where possible. I’m so curious to know what the next season holds for these new friends – many who are, like me, in periods of intense transition and possibility.
Communion and Unity – More than anything else I’ve experienced, Convergence has given me hope for the unity of the Church. We will never agree doctrinally, but we can be unified in the Spirit of Christ whose body we all are together. As we took communion together this weekend, we participated in that sweet unity.
Diversity – I was astounded at the diversity of this group of women. Being women and being Christian were really our only common denominators. Generationally, we spanned a range from teenage to 70+. Denominationally we included mainline and evangelical Protestants from theologically “liberal” and “conservative” traditions, and even one Catholic woman (yay, Ruby!). We included Democrats, Republicans, and Independents. We included never-married, divorced, engaged, and married women. We included mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and those without children. We included pastors, church-planters, women’s ministry leaders, youth leaders, associate pastors, lay leaders, former church leaders, future church leaders, and many who are unsure of what leadership will look like in their futures. We had dreadlocks, braids, pink hair, red hair, very short hair, very long hair, very daring hair, very tame hair, trendy hair and timeless hair. We had tattoos and no tattoos. We had pregnant ladies and nursing mothers. We had home-oriented moms and career-oriented moms. We had knitters and bloggers (and knitting bloggers). We had emerging event first-timers, and emerging event old-timers. We even had women flying in from places like Baltimore and Illinois, and driving down from Canada. (Upon reflection, the area where there was a most glaring lack of diversity was racially, with the vast majority of us being white. This might be something to ponder in light of the observation/ accusation that the emerging church is a white thing – but that’s another conversation.)
With all of this amazing diversity spread among the 60+ women present, it seemed nothing less than the unity of the Spirit of God that brought us together so graciously and so intimately for the weekend. We talked and we listened. We learned from each other. We gained strength and inspiration from hearing each others’ stories. We were challenged by each others’ perspectives and experiences. We respected our differences and set them aside when they threatened our unity. In our closing reflections, many women commented on how surprised they were to find a group of women – Christian women at that – who were able to create such a safe place for one another.
Planning – It was a privilege to be part of the team who planned Convergence! I am so grateful for the opportunity to be a part of this creative endeavor, and to have seen how a few loosely-formed ideas were eventually birthed into this wonderful event. We all contributed thoughts and ideas, but what resulted was truly greater than the sum of our contributions. Many thanks to AJ (and Jason) for their technical work, to Deborah for her creativity and inspiration (including the name – “Convergence”) and to Kelly who, in addition to her wonderfully creative ideas provided a van full of supplies and kept us organized with all of our nutty schedules. I thoroughly enjoyed working together with these women and I have learned a great deal from them in the process.
New Friends – Though our time together was rather short, I feel that I made many new friends this weekend. I’m hoping that we will come together again and hear where our journeys have taken us. I hope that we can stay in touch online, and in person where possible. I’m so curious to know what the next season holds for these new friends – many who are, like me, in periods of intense transition and possibility.
Communion and Unity – More than anything else I’ve experienced, Convergence has given me hope for the unity of the Church. We will never agree doctrinally, but we can be unified in the Spirit of Christ whose body we all are together. As we took communion together this weekend, we participated in that sweet unity.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
A Contrast in Art
I've just returned from honeymooning in Italy with my new husband Josh, and while there we availed ourselves of the opportunity to see many priceless works of art. I knew that I would be amazed at the Sistine Chapel and impressed by the Colleseum, but the most moving piece of art that we saw was a bronze statue of Mary Magdalene by the Renaissance artist Donatello, in the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo in Florence. Also in Florence at the Accademia Museum we saw Michelangelo's famous statue of David.
We've all seen pictures of the David, and yet the size and brilliance of this work amazed me in person. David is larger than life standing 17 feet tall. He is beautiful, strong, conquering, pensive, and confidant. His figure is the idyllic Greek model of beauty and masculinity. He is so skillfully formed that he almost looks as if he could walk off of his pedestal at any moment.
Donatello's Magdalene provides a stark contrast with the David. While many artists portray her as beautiful and even seductive, out of the extra-biblical tradition that she was a prostitute, Donatello captures her in her destitution. She is utterly wretched. Formed in wood, she is dark with hollow, deep-set eyes and long, matted hair that blends in with her dirty, matted clothing. She is emaciated, though with muscles showing in her thin arms. Her hands are held up in front of her and she gazes with desperation and vulnerability. She defies any standard of beauty from any era, and one of our guide books mentioned her only to remark on her unusual ugliness. But Josh and I were mesmerized and moved to tears by the beautiful way she portrays a soul reaching out to Jesus.
In pondering the contrast between these two works of art, I have to wonder if David doesn't capture something that we all wish we could be. One of the beautiful people. So strong and independent. Able to conquer any giants in our path and receive the admiration of all. But this Mary Magdalene seems to capture something more true. I see in her my own soul's desperate need for healing, grace, and redemption. In her vulnerability and wretched desperation, I see the truth of my own soul at the point at which I cry out for God.
The museum has brilliantly curated her opposite a crucifix, showing that it is Jesus to whom she pleads with her gaze. The scriptures reveal that Mary Magdalene was healed by Jesus of demon possession and from that day forward was one of his most devoted followers. She was there at the cross and at the tomb and was a witness to his resurrection. Her life was transformed by his healing touch. Her story inspires me, and in Donatello's representation of her wretchedness I found both her despair and the joy of knowing that she was saved and her life transformed when her plea was met with the love and mercy of Jesus.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
A Dream Deferred
It was seven years ago this month that I first realized that I was being called to become a pastor. The circumstances of that event and so many things that have followed have increased my certainty that this was a true experience, and that God is calling me, compelling me forward, to a life of ministry. I knew at the time that this meant years of preparation and I was okay with that. On the education side I went back to college, got a ministry degree, took a year off to catch my breath and then started seminary a year ago. On the ordination side things have been bumpier, for reasons I don’t feel like rehashing right now. But suffice it to say that ordination is still off in the future, and seminary will require at least two more years if I am able to continue full-time. So seven years have gone by, and I’m still in the ‘preparation’ stage.
I don’t feel bitter about this lengthy period of preparation. But my longing to be set free to plant a church and finally be doing what I feel such a calling to do has been sustained so long that it is threatening to turn to sorrow. A good friend of mine was trying to engage me in conversation about our dream church plant the other day and I found myself not wanting to talk about it. At some point it feels painful to keep dreaming about something that is still just out of reach. There are so many people I know or know of who need the kind of community that I dream about. When the mother of one of my daughter’s friends asks me if she can go to church with me, I feel so sad that I have no place to bring her. There is no way she can travel to the church we’re serving at in another city an hour away. And that church would not know what to do with this poor, broken, alcoholic woman with previous church abuse baggage. And there are others… I feel this desperation for the church I dream of to be a reality. But I still have to wait, deferring my dream until the kairos moment when it will be birthed into being.
I have great hope that this time will come in the not-too-distant future, and great joy that this dream is now shared with my future husband. But for now, it’s still time to wait and prepare.
I don’t feel bitter about this lengthy period of preparation. But my longing to be set free to plant a church and finally be doing what I feel such a calling to do has been sustained so long that it is threatening to turn to sorrow. A good friend of mine was trying to engage me in conversation about our dream church plant the other day and I found myself not wanting to talk about it. At some point it feels painful to keep dreaming about something that is still just out of reach. There are so many people I know or know of who need the kind of community that I dream about. When the mother of one of my daughter’s friends asks me if she can go to church with me, I feel so sad that I have no place to bring her. There is no way she can travel to the church we’re serving at in another city an hour away. And that church would not know what to do with this poor, broken, alcoholic woman with previous church abuse baggage. And there are others… I feel this desperation for the church I dream of to be a reality. But I still have to wait, deferring my dream until the kairos moment when it will be birthed into being.
I have great hope that this time will come in the not-too-distant future, and great joy that this dream is now shared with my future husband. But for now, it’s still time to wait and prepare.
A Dream Realized
This will be a more personal than theological entry and I thank you in advance for your indulgence. My scarce writing on this blog is largely because I’ve been busier than usual. In addition to the usual school, work, parenting routine I’m preparing to marry my fiancé, Josh Clark, in just two months! (http://www.joshandkarlene.com/) I’ve been single for over 8 years now with only a couple of less-than-wonderful dates in all that time, until meeting and falling in love with Josh a year ago. This weekend marks the anniversary of when we attended the Off-the-Map conference in Seattle and “it all started.” We’re leaving tomorrow to attend this same conference, and I guess I’m feeling reflective about how much things have changed this year.
I worked hard at not being a desperate single person, at not putting my life on hold to find a man, at not indulging in much self-pity, and in making a good life for my daughter and me. But even so, I remember poignantly how alone I would feel in my bed at night, exhausted from a long day’s responsibilities, longing for someone who could just help with the laundry. So many years of singleness after years of an empty marriage made me wonder sometimes what love was really like. I would watch my friends co-parenting their children in the way I might look at a National Geographic magazine portraying some foreign culture. And sometimes I would dream of meeting someone who would be the right fit for marrying a divorced-single-mother-pastor-church-planter with a pre-teen daughter, realizing that such a man might not exist.
So it was a year ago that I looked with wonder into the eyes of Josh Clark and started to realize that he just might exist after all. And I discovered with even more amazement that I could be the woman of someone else’s dreams too. As our lives are coming together I am finding the daily joy of watching a dream unfold – the dream of loving and being loved in return, the dream of sharing life with a wonderful person who makes a great partner in the daily working out of life and faith. I’m filled with gratitude and thankfulness that this dream has become reality!
I worked hard at not being a desperate single person, at not putting my life on hold to find a man, at not indulging in much self-pity, and in making a good life for my daughter and me. But even so, I remember poignantly how alone I would feel in my bed at night, exhausted from a long day’s responsibilities, longing for someone who could just help with the laundry. So many years of singleness after years of an empty marriage made me wonder sometimes what love was really like. I would watch my friends co-parenting their children in the way I might look at a National Geographic magazine portraying some foreign culture. And sometimes I would dream of meeting someone who would be the right fit for marrying a divorced-single-mother-pastor-church-planter with a pre-teen daughter, realizing that such a man might not exist.
So it was a year ago that I looked with wonder into the eyes of Josh Clark and started to realize that he just might exist after all. And I discovered with even more amazement that I could be the woman of someone else’s dreams too. As our lives are coming together I am finding the daily joy of watching a dream unfold – the dream of loving and being loved in return, the dream of sharing life with a wonderful person who makes a great partner in the daily working out of life and faith. I’m filled with gratitude and thankfulness that this dream has become reality!
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Some Late Afternoon Thoughts on Church Culture
The other day I talked with a young woman who is being actively recruited by a Mormon church in town. She was invited by a friend, and she has found this particular church to be very inviting, caring, understanding and open to answering all her questions. She feels good there. She doesn't know or care much about theology, even though she identifies herself as a strong Christian. The love they are showing her and the genuine attention they are giving her are enough to make acceptable whatever theological claims they present to her. She has visited a number of orthodox Christian churches in town and none of them have appealed to her in the way that this Mormon congregation appeals. And to be honest, I completely understand. I can hardly blame her for caring more about the way she feels when she's there than about theological orthodoxy. I've been to most of the other churches she named. With one possible exception, I agree with her feelings about them. I wish very much that I had an alternative to offer her.
I spoke with another friend the other day who will have nothing to do with organized religion after being brought up in Christian schools and churches. She's been there, done that, and said "no, thanks." There are a handful of Christians she respects, but walking into a church with it's weird sub-culture and people who are products of that sub-culture is not something she will ever do. I can't blame her. I don't really like it either and I am one of those products of weird church sub-culture.
Over the years there have been times when I've invited people to attend church, and I've always been painfully aware of how strange church seemed to my friends. I've always wished that I could go to a church where it was really comfortable to invite people - where there wasn't this obvious cultural wall to climb and where the 'us-and-them' mentality was absent. I've always wanted to be a part of a church where I never had to fear embarrassment from what might be said or done by the pastor or worship leader, and where our church culture was the kind of thing that made people want to belong rather than want to flee. I've given up on finding one. I hope desperately that I'll be able to help pastor one.
As a pastor and seminarian, I care very deeply about theology. But these conversations have reminded me again that it's how we behave that matters most to others. As Jesus has taught us, it all comes down to love.
I spoke with another friend the other day who will have nothing to do with organized religion after being brought up in Christian schools and churches. She's been there, done that, and said "no, thanks." There are a handful of Christians she respects, but walking into a church with it's weird sub-culture and people who are products of that sub-culture is not something she will ever do. I can't blame her. I don't really like it either and I am one of those products of weird church sub-culture.
Over the years there have been times when I've invited people to attend church, and I've always been painfully aware of how strange church seemed to my friends. I've always wished that I could go to a church where it was really comfortable to invite people - where there wasn't this obvious cultural wall to climb and where the 'us-and-them' mentality was absent. I've always wanted to be a part of a church where I never had to fear embarrassment from what might be said or done by the pastor or worship leader, and where our church culture was the kind of thing that made people want to belong rather than want to flee. I've given up on finding one. I hope desperately that I'll be able to help pastor one.
As a pastor and seminarian, I care very deeply about theology. But these conversations have reminded me again that it's how we behave that matters most to others. As Jesus has taught us, it all comes down to love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
