parting words

this is the sermon i preached yesterday - my last sunday at my church:

Luke 17:20-21
Once, having been asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, "The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, 21nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you."

Commercials are pretty annoying – though creative. But, their entire point is to get you to want something you didn’t want before. Somehow, a 30 second commercial makes you thirst for something you didn’t even know existed before.

Have you watched many pharmaceutical commercials? They are the worst. They aggravate me. You see the perfect family with the perfect house playing in a perfect yard with perfect children on a perfect day. Then, watching television either by yourself or with your family, you look around your small apartment or cluttered house; you see the grey sky and eternal rain outside the window. If you’re a parent, your kids aren’t giggling, they are crying or fighting and your spouse is passed out on the couch. If you aren’t a parent or if you are a parent whose nest is empty, the laughter of the children in the commercial is haunting. There’s this sense of longing that is awakened in you. You think, “I want this drug.”

At the end of the commercial, they tell you the name of the drug but not what it’s for. You find yourself fighting the impulse to rush to the phone and call your doctor for a prescription. The drug might turn out to be for the arthritis you don’t have or for insomnia when you actually suffer from narcolepsy, but you have to have the drug.

Somehow, without even knowing what the drug does, we get a glimpse of the life it’s supposed to give us and we cannot live without it.

Still, this commercial doesn’t exactly hit home for me. My dream commercial starts here at LCPC. Close your eyes and imagine it. The new fellowship hall is filled with smiling people of divergent ages, ethnicities, and socio-economic statuses. They are eating together and praising God. Then the commercial pans to the adult education room where a session meeting ends in under an hour and there are tears of joy and love in each elder’s eyes as they embrace and go out to proclaim God’s love to the congregation. Did I mention this took less than an hour!?! If you’ve been an elder, you know what I’m talking about.

The commercial then pans to the greater Lake City area. The homeless people that congregate by 125th street would still congregate, but for a feast. They’d be laughing and in their right minds. They’d be joined by the richest citizens of Lake City, by the youngest and oldest, by every ethnicity and every age group.

Eventually, the commercial, shattering records for the longest commercial ever, shows sweat shops closing, AIDS orphans being held, droughts ending, AIDS being cured in Africa, governmental corruption ending and capitalistic demands being replaced with two commandments, love God and love others. War ends. Soldiers put down their weapons and run across enemy lines to embrace their once enemies. Murder ends. Suffering ends. The whole world is consumed with love. We are all made one.

Finally, the commercial ends by returning to a smaller level, showing homes in every nation with mothers and fathers together and in-love, children cared for and adored as beautiful gifts from heaven, neighbors welcomed as though they were family.

Then, in a short breath, the commercial shows a bottle of pills with some long but catchy title like chlorahappymediloveinol and has some sort of cheesy phrase like “because we all like to be happy and we all have trouble loving.” Then quickly a voice says, “Consult your doctor before consuming Chlorahappymedaloveinol. Side effects include but are not limited to patience, kindness, lack of envy, pride, and rudeness, disinterest in usual sinful activities such as self-seeking, recording wrongs, and delighting in evil. May also cause rejoicing in truth, trusting, hoping, perseverance and even faith. The greatest side effect is a high propensity to love God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength and to love your neighbor as yourself. Warning: Chlorahappymedaloveinol is for everyone and its effects are highly contagious.

Do you want to buy this drug? How much are you willing to pay for it?
What if I promised you that it actually works? How much would it be worth to you?

One of the events I was blessed to go to with the youth this year was an AIDS walk with World Vision. They simulated the real lives of five children in Africa. One of them was named Timothy. The first time I went, I was Timothy. I remember taking my first step into his story and being overwhelmed by the beauty of his smile. I wanted to freeze time and just stare at his smile until I was lost in it. I peaked around the corner, though, and saw a gravestone. I knew the next step involved death and longed to just cling to the moment, but the recorded story moved me along. Timothy’s father died of AIDS. Later, his mother died of AIDS. Finally, Timothy finds out that he has AIDS. He got it from, at age 6, working in the fields until his hands were cracked then, with those cracked hands, caring for his HIV-positive mother’s wounds. I wanted to scream and cry and I did, later, weep over this true story.

If a pharmaceutical commercial promised me that Timothy would have a family and that he wouldn’t die of AIDS, I would sell everything I own to buy that drug. I would scour behind every couch cushion in my house for change. Actually, I’d scour behind the couch cushions of my neighbors and of my friends and I might just sneak into some other houses. I’d take out every penny of loan money I could and apply for endless credit cards to buy that drug.

So, going back to my question, how much would you give? Jesus tells us that the Kingdom of God is like that prescription drug. He tells us about a man who finds a pearl and sells everything he owns to buy it. This, Jesus says, is the Kingdom of God.

Jesus tells us that this kingdom belongs to the poor in spirit and to the meek. He tells us that if we seek this kingdom first, everything else we could possibly need will be given to us. In this kingdom, there is no need to worry – ever. It’s like a high class, extravagant banquet that everyone is invited to. The kingdom is about forgiveness. In the kingdom, we are born a new – into a new life, where righteousness shines like the sun and children playfully lead. The kingdom comes with power and will never end. In the kingdom, disease is healed and children are greeted as though they were Christ himself. There, the least are the greatest. In the Kingdom, we will truly know God – like a son or daughter knows her father, like a wife knows her husband. In the kingdom, life is eternal.

So, how much do you want this kingdom?

Now that you are longing for the kingdom, here’s the good news and bad news: the kingdom of God is in you.

It’s obvious how this is good news, but I’m sure you are wondering how this is bad news.

Scripture tells us that the kingdom does not come with careful observation – or rule following. The kingdom does not come in policies or a book of order. The kingdom does not come in liturgy or tradition. It does not come in spell-checking a bulletin. The kingdom will not become brighter or more present if kids sit quietly in pews for a worship service. It does not flourish because events go well. It will not shine more brilliantly or dimly if youth day goes off without a hitch.

None of these things are bad. These things have their place in the kingdom. But, in so much as we are pre-occupied with them, we miss Jesus’ message and become Pharisees.

Jesus says, further, that no one can say the kingdom is here or the kingdom is there. The kingdom is not in the new fellowship hall or it’s beautiful kitchen. I was driving to Federal Way with my roommate once and we passed World Vision. I told him the World Vision is the capitol of the kingdom. He corrected me: the capitol of the kingdom is the hearts of the children World Vision serves.

We have put so much energy into our remodel. It has paid off. It is beautiful and will, no doubt, hold many holy moments – but it’s not the kingdom. In fact, it won’t even house the kingdom unless our hearts do. In field of dreams, the voice says, “If you build it, they will come.” This is not true for the kingdom. In the kingdom, we say, “If you love, they will come.” We can make all the beautiful architectural space in the world – but unless we make beautiful space in our hearts, our physical space will be spiritually empty.

This is the bad news. But, it’s not all that bad because Jesus goes on to say that the Kingdom of God that does not come with rules and that is not here or there is in you. It is in each of us, and more importantly, it is in us as we come together as the body of Christ.

So, where is the Kingdom of God – it is in each person in this room. It is in our conversations – in the space that exists between us. More aptly for today, it is in the youth at LCPC.

Do you remember the construction process? Do you remember how every step was exciting? Do you remember peering through windows to see every new advance? Do you remember your first step into the nursery? I remember a youth spilling soda pop in there and getting lectured on how this beautiful space should be preserved. Do you remember the first time you stepped into the new fellowship hall? Do you remember the awe that struck you the first time you saw the kitchen?

Can you imagine having that same dedication to every person in this room and to the community we can have if we become one? Can you imagine having this same dedication to our youth specifically? Can you imagine being as protective of them as of the new carpet in the nursery? Can you imagine that the slightest stain on the wounded hearts of our youth threw you into panic and sent you flying to the store to buy a professional carpet cleaning syrum? Can you imagine looking into each face in this room and seeing God’s beautiful architecture in their eyes with the same awe you held for the marble counter tops in the new kitchen? Can you imagine looking at each of these youth so that your breath is literally stolen away at their beauty? I can. I have had my breath stolen by them. As my time here ends, I have to thank you all for inviting me into their lives. The blessing of knowing them has been and will continue to be a treasure – a pearl – that I would sell everything to own – it has been the kingdom of God.

So, that commercial for that medicine that you would sell everything for? That commercial is the person sitting next to you. Today, especially, it is the youth you have been introduced to. Please, as we go out to celebrate the youth, track them down and listen to the melody of the kingdom in their voices. See the art of God in their eyes. Hear God’s mercy in their laughter. Please know that the Kingdom is in you.

Before we conclude, I’m going to ask you to do something that will probably be very uncomfortable, but sooooo holy. Turn and look at someone sitting next to you -preferably someone you don’t know too well. Look into their eyes and study their faces. Know that they are created in the image of God. We’ll do this in silence for 120 seconds. Fight the uncomfortability and pray for God’s presence.

Prayer:
Lord God, King – Great King, your kingdom has been given to us. As you say, it is in us. Lord, as we pray, your kingdom come, make us believe it. Make us seek it. Make us see it in each other. King Jesus, take our lives and make them your kingdom.

Amen


Blessing:
A portion of a poem by my brother, Jake Tucker

It's a shift in focus

From changing to waiting

Christ taught us to pray

"Thy Kingdom come"

Instead of bringing it

I wait for it to come

In lethargy I have great patience

Heaven is supposed to come down

Descend to earth

Heaven is not someplace far away

Someplace to go when we die

Heaven is near,

it is knocking

It is availible

NOW

It will start to come in me

Heaven will come

When I see people as what they are

Art

Created in the image of God

Each made with divinity dripping from every pour

Each the pinnacle of creation

Each made with more care

detail, attention,

and love

Than I can fathom

Each one the Creator took a step back from

To get a better look

Decided

With tears welling up

from the bottom of him

That it was good

it was very good

Heaven will come when every tear is dried from tired eyes

When every head is lifted

When pain and mourning cease

When hope dawns

When love finally conquers

once and for all

So, lord haste the day

when my faith shall be sight

the clouds be rolled back as a scoll

the trump shall resound

The lord descend

and Dancers will dance upon injustice

As you leave, as the art of the Father, re-created in the Son, and re-creating through the Spirit, today, you do not go. You do not leave. The Kingdom is in you. May you see and embrace God’s art. May you sell everything for the Kingdom.

someday?

I once knew a girl
In the years of my youth
With eyes like the summer
All beauty and truth
In the morning I fled
Left a note and it read
Someday you will be loved.

I cannot pretend that I felt any regret
Cause each broken heart will eventually mend
As the blood runs red down the needle and thread
Someday you will be loved

You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved

You may feel alone when you're falling asleep
And everytime tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet
Someday you will be loved

You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved

-death cab for cutie

but when our parents, friends, dates, and even our dreams have not loved us
try though they have
if even we have not loved ourselves
when i have never tasted love apart from the God i push away and never really see
how am i supposed to believe i will be loved?
how dare i tell others they will be loved?

and even if we someday see God
even if i cease to run from God's loving gaze
even if God's embrace became as real as the quickly passing sunset
would my cynicism change?

on this earth, we are meant to long for love
we are meant to long for the other
and even if the other tries to love me
will he?
will he meet wild success?
can i dare to dream there's even something worth loving?

someday will i be loved?
will these loveless days and tear-filled nights seem like bad dreams?

i don't know.
the song is pretty.
i want it to be true.
but is it?

check out my house's blog.

to benny with love and thanks: as promised, more on pat robertson and his supposed tsunami

at first, when i heard about pat robertson's prophecy, i was angry. i was fumingly, bitterly angry.
in time, i asked myself what was behind that anger. the answer: fear.
what if he's right?
what if God is going to punish us?
what if everything that's new and refreshing about my faith is actually heresy, as i've been told?
mars hill is moving to the pier. maybe seattle wouldn't get sacked by a tsunami, but the pier? what if God is not moving here, but judging here?

irrational fears. faithless fears. i found footing in those three words tattooed on my shoulder blade: faith, hope, love. ok.

then, i read this.



benny is an amazing artist. he is someone who knows something about life and encounter. he is a philosopher and a blessing to fremont. now, this supposed progressive and hippy area has kicked him out - citing "safety" more accurately, annoyance.

faith, hope, and love.

where are these?
who are we?
is seattle really who i dream her to be?
are we burnt out sell outs who like to buy expensive organic food and pretend we care about the world and about art?

so, will a tsunami destroy us?
if it does, is it deserved?
are we a fat and happy people who have learned to treat other people not as people?

if a tsunami destroys seattle, it will not be God's punative work. that much i know.

however, if i were God and if i could put aside my rose-stained glasses through which i stand at kerry park and pristinely, though not closely, examine my city - if i could see her as she is, as this event reveals she is, i think i might just send a tsunami.

good thing neither pat robertson nor i are God.

may God give us grace for our mistreatment of God's brilliant work of art:
benny the rock guy.

holy transference batman!

finally, we had our break. after an hour and a half lecture on covenental theology, which dr. neihaus had already pounded into my head years ago, i got a break. i went to the office to attempt to find out about why my scholarship has not gone through yet (a month into the semester). Molly (the secretary) said, matter of factly, when you have a minute, i need to talk with you. hmm...felt a bit like that fateful day at gcts. i thought calm thoughts and lowered my blood pressure with ignorance.

as i walked back to chat with her, she said, just wait there. we'll talk in dan's (the school's president's) office. ok. now it was unavoidable. i felt all the intensity of that day at gcts when i was accused of many ridiculous things and treated with disdain and eyes unwilling to truly see me. i was scared to death. i began to prepare my heart for some great slap across the face anxoisly asked, "is something wrong?" she said no, but , in honesty, i didn't believer her.

i sat down.
she sat down.
i was filled with fear.

i heard her say, "i'm concerned...i talked with paul (the chaplain)..we want to."
in my transference, all i could pick up was those words. so i filled them with what is familiar: i am concerned about your conduct as a student of our school. i talked with paul about what course of action is wise. we want to ask you to either leave the school or seek counseling regarding your conduct."

i began to fall apart before my mind stopped me and revealed the rest of Molly's words: I'm concerned about your ankle. I talked with Paul about it, and we want to make sure that you get to a doctor, so we are willing to pay for a doctor's visit up to $100-200."

i simply don't know what to do with this brilliant disappointment of my expectations.

wounded (healer)

last night, i really thought i was all that. mike and i moved a chest that my dad and brother could not move. i thought, "maybe i'm not weak." so then, we were moving things into the new house. i was sooo going to show everyone how strong i was.

then, carrying my roommate's desk, i fell off of the back of mike's truck and badly twisted my ankle. it was sprained. i sat and cussed and lamented for a while. what was about to ensue:

mike would carry me into the house
i wouldn't be able to walk
someone would bring me ice
i would be absoluetely dependant
and, the worst of all, i would not be able to wear cool shoes for possibly a month

apart from the last one, the things i was lamenting were all about people caring for me. so, i decided that there was not much i could do, so i let go and let it all happen. even amidst the pain, i was happy - enjoying the care of those i often work to care for and refuse care from.

there was one moment, when the pain was so much that, though emily was trying to distract me with her amazing sense of humor, i could not hear a word she was saying. i could not see her past my pain. this reminded me of a friend who usually sees and cares well for others. lately, she has not done this. she is in pain. her pain is so much that she cannot often see well.

as i thought of her, i began to wonder about the wounded healer. healers will always be wounded, but are there times when the wounded cannot be healers, when there is grace for their aching eyes that cannot see, when i can speak to my friend, "it is okay that you do not see past your pain. you will come through it. in this moment, it is all you can see. please rest in that. rest, my wounded friend and past and future healer."

mismeeting

i called you to ask about your day
i assumed you'd ask about mine -
faned interest as it may be
i left you feeling sad and unseen
alone

i met with you later in the day
i assumed i'd get high on memories -
distant and dead
i left you feeling sad and lost
alone

i sat with all of you tonight
i assumed i'd be seen and engaged -
not myself as i had been
i left you feeling sad and unnoticed
alone

is there anything more lonely than disappearing in a room full of people
is there anything more lonely

is there anything more sad than being seen only to vanish
is there anything i'd hide from you if only you saw
me

then came the deep of night
i sat, weeping inwardly, at your feet
i assumed i'd run to your company -
a father's welcoming arms
i left you, sulking to be unseen
alone

i left you though your hand stretched out
i hid though your eyes searched

is there anything more sad than your longing, unmet eyes
and my running, unseen heart?

pat robertson believes that a tsunami will crash into my beloved pacific northwest this year. he believes that God told him this.

i'm too angry to know what to write now...more later.

death cab for dreaming

the death of a dream can be kind or it can be cruel. the pain feels the same. the loss feels the same. the disappointment devastates the same. death is death.

what happens in the wake of death? is there denial? is there hope for resurrection? is there mourning? do all exist, conjuring a whirlwind of ambivilance and even more pain?

does resurrection really come? from the dark night can one really anticipate the sunrise? would that dreams ran on as regular a schedule as the sun.

so, today is dark. it doesn't feel like anything but darkness. i'll let it be that.

last night i told the youth at my church that i am leaving.
last week, i said good bye to my best and oldest friend.
this month, i've been saying good bye to the dreams i had for my job at the church.

right now, all i can say is that shakespear was severly uninformed if he thought there was any sweetness in the sorrow of parting.

home - where the heart is

this morning, i forgot you.

i walked with a friend - a cherished sister. i was on top of the world. my neighborhood was heaven. my life was the kingdom. the coffee tasted of eternity. our conversation turned to encounter. i laughed. i enjoyed. my heart was home - and i knew, at 24, i am lucky to know so well my home.

i sang her a sad song, knowing she's leaving. the sorrow of her leaving could not touch the beauty of her face as she wept over the song. i was home - and i knew, at 24, i am rich to know such a full home.

i left that world to meet a kingdom seeker. we left our tasks to be raptured in eternity in the dark wall of a practicum room. my passion danced with hers. i was home - and i knew, at 24, i am blessed to know such a peopled home.

from there i met my friend and her gorgeous children. they danced and sang with me. they ran to me and laughed with glee. i was home - and i knew, at 24, i am loved to know such a gleeful home.

this evening, i remembered you.
i felt trapped.
i felt shame.
i felt unable to remember my beauty.
i felt my joy swallowed by your pain.
i was frustrated.
i was angry.
i was sad and depressed.
i was not home -

and i wondered, at 24, will i ever know home?

tonight i remembered you - in your place.
i laughed.
i encountered beauty.
i joked.
i cried.
i dreamed.
i was home -
and i knew, at 24, i am wise to know such a paradoxical home.

waiting for a miracle

i have a quick mind. i think a lot. my brother has, for at least a decade, been telling me to be like him and think less. there is little i don't think about. there is little i don't think to death. for me to spend months and months not thinking about something is an unparralleled accomplishment.

that accomplishment can be broken down like a great dam...
the slightest hole and it is either immediately patched or else the flood ensues.

i have a cynical heart. i doubt a lot. for at least a decade, i have been hardening my heart to the light of hope. there is little i'm not cynical about. there is little i don't eventually despair about. for me to risk hope after devastation is an unparralleled accomplishment.

that accomplishment can grow like a mustard seed...
the slightest soil and scantest water and sprinkling of sun and a great tree emerges.

what would happen if the flood collided with the tree?
nurture?
more life?
would it be knocked by the intensity?
would the beauty of the seedling tree be lost in the waves?

or, could a miracle be born?

so, do i patch the hole and remove the seed?
do i patch the hole and leave the seed?
or do i wait for a miracle?

eschatology abounds

my job

spring semester

my celebrated mini-eschatons.

i quit
i quit
i quit



i quit mr. white.

do you want to healing?

do you want healing?
do you want sight?
do you want grief?

tears
excrutiating pain
as though you were dying and numb
as though you were wounded and never knew
the stranger comes and heals you
excrutiating pain
tears

leprosy leaves
feeling returns
you remember ----

i am wounded

do you want healing?
do you want sight?
do you want grief?

your eyes open.
the light burns your eyes.
the darkness surprises you.

you now see violence.
you now see abuse.

excrutiating pain.
tears.

tears.
endless tears.

do you want healing?
do you want sight?
do you want grief?

and the kingdom comes.
and the light reveals.
and healing brings pain.
leprosy leaves

leaves you to feel the pain.

and in that pain -- there is hope
excrutiating.
tears.

tears.

tears.

tears.

and will there really be a day
a beautiful day
a far off day

will there really be a land
a beautiful land
a new earth

where tears will be no more?

in your pain
in the wake of leprous numbness
you feel the stranger's touch
he is not a stranger
she is your friend

in the pain
in the wake of new seen evil
your eyes meet the stranger's eyes
she is not a stranger
he is your lover
excrutiating joy

and will there really be a day
a beautiful day
a far off day

will there really be a land
a beautiful land
a new earth

where love and not loeposy will end
your
excrutiating pain

hope.

hope.

hope.

tears.

tears.

tears.

endless hope.

Kindness or Kingdom - can we hope for both?

"To the one to whom much has been given, much is required."

'Mars Hill doesn't look like the kingdom at all really. It looks like a lot of hip people who like Buber."

"God's kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field for years and then accidently found by a trespasser. The finder is ecstatic--what a find!-and proceeds to sell everything he owns to raise money and buy that field. Or, God's kingdom is like a jewel merchant on the hunt for excellent pearls. Finding one that is flawless, he immediately sells everything and buys it."

How do we weave being kind to ourselves with sacrifice?

How do we imagine that we are relational if we do not sacrifice for our relationships?

How do we postulate about mission when we can only be friends with people who speak Mars Hill-ese?

I fear that if Mars Hill, as a community, does not learn to break free of narcissism in order to reach out for the tough, TOUGH call to mision dei (the mission of God), then the re-invented seminary and re-imagined church will just be a re-gurgitation of phariseeism.

Friends, take a moment of encounter with God and ask what you are giving up for the Kingdom of God? Ask God what you must give up for God's kingdom.

Are we willing to "sell everything?"

If not, there is no condemnation; there is no judgement.

Sadly, though, we are missing the Kingdom - which is worth so much more than any kindness we afford ourselves.

the article is finished!

locked in the ivory tower

i am almost finished with my grenz article. i read part of it to a friend i deeply respect and who is extremely intelligent - much more than she sees, admits, or is willing to hear.

she didn't understand what it meant. she told me that i'm the person to write the article. i know the terms. i understand the concepts.

what this means, though, is that i have forgotten how to communicate what matters in a way that can be recieved. what this means is that i have, after all, climbed the ivory tower. i just want to shout, FUCK! what good is study if i can't communicate it? what good is a quick mind if i can't bring other to the places my mind flys to? FUCK!

i don't even want to finish the article. it won't mean anything. it won't help anyone. it won't contribute anything more than another convoluted voice to pile of unapproachable and non-transformational voices of the inhabitants of the ivory tower.

the worst part is that i'm not positive that i didn't climb the tower on purpose at some point - to impress people - to impress or prove myself. now, i feel worthless.

what's in a word?

i am working on my stan grenz article right now. it's going to be an application of his last work, the named god and the question of being: a trinitarian onto-theology. it's title is the named god and the question of evil: a trinitarian re-imagination of theodicy in ministry.

i'll post a link to it when it gets published (next month?)

anyway, i was just thinking about writing - about writing papers, blog entries, articles etc. does anyone really read my blog? is anyone really impacted by my words - other than a chuckle at dan lincoln and the odd things he says? when i write 10 papers in one day and tire myself out over them, is anyone changed by them? am i? would i be changed if i never sat down to write the words? would they still crowd my head? would it just be crowding?

why do i write a blog?

why am i writing an article?

does anyone care?

does it matter if anyone cares?

is writing truly relational? is it trinitarian? do i write trinitarianly? or do i write for the sake of monologue?

how does/will the interaction of author (me) text (this) and reader (you) play out? what are you subjectively doing with my words? how are you using them to interpret me? what meaning is left after we all (author, text, and reader) thow our thoughts, bias, points of view, etc. into the mix?

what is in a word?

The Kingdom in the Face of a Child

Mars Hill does not have courses on ministry to children. This is a deficit. What seems worse than this educational deficit is the deficit of appreciation and delight. More than a theology of ministry which we can apply to interaction with children, more than a theology of spiritual formation, we need a theology of childhood – of play, of silliness, of giggling, of dancing so unassumingly in the presence of God.

A church without children is a sad and mournful place. The emergent church, who often cul-de-sacs with college and graduate students should not settle for this. We should not seek out parents and accept children – we must seek out children and accept their parents.

How brilliant is the face of God in the face of a child!

the final edition of quotes out of context

Today marks the end of a journey. My time in class with Dan Allender has ended. It has been life-changing, heart breaking, hope birthing and, at times, hilarious. So, today we have the final edition of quotes out of context.

Obviously, I thought I was not here. I won’t take a vote for you, but I believe that I am here.
I have bricks in my heart.
You want my head on a platter.
[I will tell you] what it is like to be a 52-year-old man being undressed by a 26-year-old man.
You become the referee.
I want you to have that deep deep sense you’re not doing good work.
You are taking a long long walk in a lightening storm with a long pole. If you think you are Benjamin Franklin, try it.
I am messing with dynamite.
You will be blown up.
They will eat you; there is no point to be cannibalized.
Um [knock knock knock] you’re sexualizing your child ma’am.
My task is to stand in your way.
My only job in life [is] to create amvibilancs
Manip, mmm mmmm mm mm mmm m mmmm menos.
You are hearing a photograph.
You have a balloon that you have put a face on.
Do you understand the process of squared? Do you understand the processes of exonentiality?
I might be bluffing.
My task is to make havoc.
Invite me to sin because even then it would be righteous.
You are dealing with hyenas, and that’s another word for children.
It is very important that my children learn to speak.
Your sister is bleeding…it is not spontaneous pious bleeding.
That’s the problem with parenting, its that it takes an extraordinary amount of time.
What did you think when you went to the door and heard the dog barking?
I am wanting to get very small.
You can’t wait to dress your eighteen-month-old daughter in new clothes. She’s a living Barbie doll.
Have you started to read music?

also, he said "ju ju" a lot.

Dreams

My "interdisciplinary" interpretation paper:


There is something so common to the thread of life that the same scenes play out across cultures – if only in dreams. In Dreams, Akira Kurosawa takes his audience through eight of his own dreams. As he does so, he reveals not only something of his own heart, fears, and understanding of the world – he reveals something of human experience. Thus, coming from a Buddhist worldview, speckles of an apocalyptic end of the world, earned through sinful, greedy living, can be found in this work. As it does not come from a highly Christianized, Western worldview, this connection is both more difficult to find and more rewarding once uncovered.

Before we reach the apocalyptic element of Dreams, we first examine the very form of the film. “I saw at night.” A dream: so begins the eight visions of Zechariah, rich in imagery and potent in meaning. They are instructive and invite Israel into a new way of spiritually being. “A Dream.” So begins Kurosawa’s prophetic work. It seems, at first glance, to be nothing more than an artistic portrayal of those inescapable images dreams leaves us. Digging deeper, it is a poetic autobiography from Kurosawa, feeling his time running out. However, looking more deeply, this is more than a collection of dreams, it is a collection of dreams forming a prophetic work.

Moving on, we look at the visions leading up to the apocalyptic dreams. The first, Sunshine Through Rain, has edenic qualities. A boy, in an innocent world, is warned not to venture out in sunshine and rain, as the foxes have their weddings on these days. He disobeys and is caught watching the foxes. As a result, his mother locks him out, telling him to seek their forgiveness. “They do not usually forgive;” she says, “you should be prepared to die.” With this, the innocence nature, respected, and untouched, is lost. From this point, in the dream, nature is not comforting and humanity and nature struggle with each other.
The second through fourth dreams develop this theme of the sins of humanity and enmity between humanity and nature. Finally, the fifth dream is a hinge. In Crows, an older man walks into a Van Gogh painting. Van Gogh is fighting against time and has a task at hand. He must finish his work before it is too late: before the crows come. After this, Kurosawa’s work takes a different, more instructive and even rushed tone. The first four visions set the stage and the fifth announced the urgency. Now, the prophecy comes.

Mt. Fuji in Red is the first of the two apocalyptic dreams. The mountain is glowing as though erupting. However, it glows because, behind it, nuclear power plants are exploding. The nuclear waste destroys everything and everyone. The same older man as in the last dream is now a tourist, caught up in this storm of people and runs with them as they flee to the sea. When he reaches the sea, there is nowhere else to run. Here he engages in dialogue. In the end, it is revealed that this desperate end is justified punishment for the sins of humanity, for human pride and disbelief that humanity will ever be brought to mourn in such a way.

This dialogue echoes Revelation 18:7:
To the degree that she glorified herself and lived sensuously, to the same degree give her torment and mourning; for she says in her heart, 'I sit as a queen and I am not a widow, and will never see mourning.'

If the sixth dream is apocalyptic, the seventh, The Weeping Demon, is post-apocalyptic: where there was no mourning, the suffering brought for transgressions has now brought weeping. The older man finds himself, again, as a tourist. He is climbing a dark mountain and finds a mourning man. He looks more closely at the man and asks, “Are you a demon?” The man affirms, “I suppose I am.” He continues, “Once was human,” but now he and all those whose greed led to a nuclear apocalypse are punished with eternal life and suffering. Where they feasted at the expense of nature and of the poor, now they hunger and have nothing to eat but each other. There is real sense of drinking double from the cup they poured. Finally, the demon-man turns of the traveler and, again, the viewer craves escape.

Village of the Watermills, the final vision offers exactly that, a sense of escape. The tourist is now walking through a bright, breathtaking, simple town, adorned with spring flowers. He comes upon a man who is working a watermill. The two discuss. In a fairly preachy way, the conclusion is brought: this simple way of life is the alternative to the death and destruction he has seen. The invitation is, in essence, to return to the boy of the first dream and keep him from engaging in that original sin that tore humanity and nature apart, or at least to live as though it hadn’t happened.

Obviously, these are very Buddhist ideals. The first, obvious, thing a Christian can receive from this film is a picture of sin and purity in an Eastern mindset. Through this, we see Kurosawa’s lens and interpretation – not so much of Christian scriptures or even of his dreams, but more his dreams’ interpretation of life, of the common human fear of a cataclysmic and deserved end of life, and the longing for something different – something I would describe as worship.

Through this film, we see common threads of human life that are reflected in Christian scriptures as well as in the dreams of Kurosawa. We find that our faith tells the story of fallen beings created in the image of God and that the struggles and even fear and thoughts of a catastrophic but just and hyperbolically punitive end to the world runs in the veins of humanity.
A person of faith can engage this film by calling for something more than a retreat to simplicity. Retreat, as Revelation reveals, is not the way to restoration – judgment brings restoration. More importantly, the judgment does not return us to Eden. To the contrary, it takes us to a new city. Given how sinful cities are this seems too impossible. Can the whore of Babylon be destroyed? Can a city come that does not prey upon the poor? The answer is worship. A city built on worship, will worship as God has called – through justice.

Finally, I’d like us to return to that word worship. At the beginning of Revelation 18, God calls God’s people out. Like God called God’s people out of Egypt to worship, in Revelation 18, the call is the same. Do not be caught in her sin – in her pride and abuse – instead, worship. Kurosawa’s first seven dreams paint a picture. His eighth dream pens an invitation, “Come out of this, my people, do not participate in the modern world’s abuse of nature and ridiculous pride in the face of nuclear weaponry and power. Instead, come to a worshipful, simple way of living.” The difference we must highlight and praise is that Revelation calls for worship of a triumphant God who redeems God’s people and destroys the city who has spilled their blood (metaphorically as it may be). The call is not to worship or restore peace with a passive world that we must care for, but to bow in jubilant worship of the God who reigns and redeems.

Ravenna: 5 bdrm craftsman - no vacancy!

the location of sinners and saints seattle is now official!

we got the ravenna house!

to emily, jen, and mary, our new neighbors: i hope you know how much we love you and how much ass we will kick at mars hill tag!

i am excited for what the next year will bring in our community!

quotes out of context - holy week edition

Actually, I am a holograph tonight.
Take your shoes off.
Can I have ice cream tonight?
You are on the phone and you talk too much.
There’s not really that much difference between [gangs and church youth groups].
If there is a way that you can come to eat one less shoe, you will have done well.
You have created a nightmare.
You little miserable worm of a sinner!
Get on the ground and give me a hundred push-ups.
Watch the TV show called “nanny something.”
Birth order sucks.
There are rules and you will bow to them, sucker.
You had your own horse.
If you weren’t [the black sheep] you probably would have gone to Fuller.
You go to movies. You actually read fiction.
Count to four hundred and forty-four.
You go to school with dirty clothes.
You go to school smelling like a pigsty.
Parents for the most part are dumb.
I want food now.
I won’t let you have contact with me.

Also...Mike Biers:
"Armpits are always the best."

a broken heart love's cradle is

I've spent the last day re-connecting with my beautiful baby (my twelve string guitar). Together, we have really dove into the following song. As one who has come to know something about communal mourning, let me invite you into a week of mourning "our lord is crucified." please read the lyrics and let them take sorriful root in your soul - so that this sunday will be all the sweeter - and the eschatological sunday all the more longed for.

O come and mourn with me awhile,
O come ye to the Savior’s side
O come, together let us mourn,
Jesus our Lord is crucified.

Seven times He spake seven words of love;
And all three hours His silence cried
For mercy on the souls of men;
Jesus our Lord is crucified.

O love of God! O sin of man!
In this dread act Your strength is tried;
And victory remains with love;
Jesus our Lord is crucified!

O break, O break, hard heart of mine!
Thy weak self-love and guilty pride
His Pilate and His Judas were:
Jesus our Lord is crucified.

A broken heart, a fount of tears,
Ask, and they will not be denied;
A broken heart love’s cradle is:
Jesus our Lord is crucified.

baseball and eschatology: when the mariner's bullpin comes out, start praying "come quickly lord!"

there we sat, 30 rows from the field and half way between home plate and first base. the pitching from the other team was awe-inspiring...from our team, awful. two boys sitting next to us shouted excitedly for every batter. jeremy reed really isn't a baseball player's name - there's nothing to shout. still, one boy shouted "JER-EM-Y!" and the other tagged, "REED!" their refusal to see the game for what it was, a total disappointment - after a high-scoring season, birthed great respect for thses pre-pubescent sports enthusiasts.

at one point, we left our awesome seats to get dinner. two sandwihes and two soft drinks. and your total is: $27.50. ,i could hear the boys chanting for the triumphant tyrant who had claimed such a prize for two sad sad sandwiches and pepsi brand soft drinks: "let's go" "price gaugers!" "let's go" "price gaugers!" or "extra extra" "read all about it" "you got taken" "no doubt about it!" "gooooooooo capitolistically over-financed mariner's owners! yeah!"

in the middle of the game, i found out why my uncle had invited me: "your parents told me you've had a lot of stress in your life." i don't know why, but i was surprised by that statement. "oh, you mean the death"

a bewildered look overtook my uncle's face. death? the capitol hill thing? did you know someone there?

i explainded the connection and was too weary and too aware that we were in excellent seats at a mariner's game to be present to it or to recieve sympathy.
"it wasn't one of the really young ones was it?"
"he was 21"
"oh, good, you know - at least he was an adult. i was worried when i first herad about it that it might be my friend's daughter....blah blah blah....i'm not going to see you in this...blah blah blah....you know?"
"yeah, i totally agree....blah blah blah...that's fine - i'm tired anyway and quite used to not being seen...blah blah blah...so, yeah, it's good that your friend's daughter doesn't go to raves in seattle."

- long pause before it hits me -

"what did my parent's say i'm stressed out about?"
"well, you aren't going to be able to go to ireland this summer and your cousin's wedding is stressing you out."

my indifference turned quickly to rage - HAS MY COUSIN'S NARCISSISM INFECTED MY PARENTS TOO! DO THEY NOT SEE THERE IS SOMETHING ELSE GOING ON HERE!? DO THEY NOT UNDERSTAND THAT THE VERY REASON MY COUSIN'S NARCISSISM IS STRESSING ME OUT IS BECAUSE SHE REFUSED TO SEE HOW CHRIS' DEATH WAS AFFECTING ME!?!

i explained to my uncle WHY my cousin's wedding was stressing me out. he said, "wow," stared off into space then noted, "they're finally warming up the bullpin - hopefully things will change."

things didn'tchange. the bullpin made things worse (an utterly familiar feeling for mariner's fans). why did he flee a difficult present to a knowingly hopeless and inconsequential future? the same reason the church runs to the doctrine of soveriegnty in the face of evil. God's soveriegnty doesn't make pain like that inflicted by the massacre go away. it never, this side of eternity, seems to make sense either - unless we force it to - like a puzzle piece that just doesn't fit. can't we sit in the evil of this world and see it as that without running to something pretty - or an excuse for something pretty - ie a mariner's relief pitcher?

sometimes the only solace at a mariner's game is that this game will end. the suffering of no hits and shitty pitching will come to an end and we'll all leave this stadium, where we are so proud of our status, where we cheer for something we have no control over, as though it gave us control, where they bring a clown dressed as a moose out to cheer us up, and make us care about a game that's depressing us and is not of ultimate value. the fact we learn is that there is inexplicable suffering at safeco stadium. we don't try to say the coach is soveriegn when he leaves a dying pitcher in. we just, in our wise moments, sigh, realizing we are not in control, and turn to - rather than away from - that eschatological moment when this suffering will end, and we will trudge through traffic to our homes where warm beds, freinds/family, exquisite food, and possibly even a roaring fire (in the fire place) waits to welcome us into reality.

i just completed and turned in quite literally the worst paper i have ever written. it was an exegesis paper. gcts would be embarassed. me, i'm tired and long for bed, so that's where i'm going.

the return of quotes out of context

Last Week:
“I will make you suffer.”
“A woman can take chemicals to keep her from having menses.”
“It’s night and you must go to bed.”
“Don’t you want to go get ice cream with Daddy?”
“The living room will be the mark of Hell for your child.”
“Thursday evening is when my best three TV shows are.”
“[The Left Behind Series] is theological pornography.”
“Watching Dr. Phil and Oprah together [is pornography].”
“I knew enough to know that she was and is whacked.”
“You will sweat.”
“I’m pretty sure…that I could shoot you.”
"I am a mercurial and difficult man who might explode and shoot you in this field.”
“You don’t matter that much for me to shoot you in this field.”
“I have friends…I have one friend.”
“You can find joy by being a big fish, or by being a relatively good sized fish.”
“We all want many more courses for programs particularly because we want you to stay for 15, 20 years.”
“There will be little enjoyment if they have sex.”

This Week:
“Marriage counseling is mud wrestling.”
“You will be in a mess.”
“Don’t ever find yourself in a position of being a referee.”
“How old are you?”
“I will enter a buzz saw.”
“Are you going to take me on?”
“How are you at being hated?”
“I went to Jones Junior High School.”
“Don’t ever start a graduate school.”
“They are looking at your shoe.”
“Is your grip firm or too firm?”
“Consider everything you’ve just said useless.”
“You are a good narcissist.”
“Yes my mother was crazy.”
“You will not say ‘Hello’ well.”
“Your failure is cherished.”
“You are the murderer.”
“You are one of the greatest murderers on the face of the earth. I don’t know if there has ever been a greater murderer…than you.”
“Do triage to keep the couples from killing each other.”

One not our of context and to beautiful not to share:
“Empathy is the radical, absurd entry of God into this world. It is the radical, absurd entry of one soul into another.”

Also Paul Steinke:
“We’re not going to kiss you at this point.”
"I can identify with the desire to be drunk."
"I will pursue you in this."

cover me with shit and watch me grow!

when you plant flowers, you have to cover them in shit in order for them to grow.

my brother and I came to see this through a tough spot in our family story.

i'd rather not, here, get into a philosophical discussion of "did God put this week's manure on the flowers or does he simply use the manure evil heaped on us to grow us? if God is all powerful, isn't God responsible for all manure?" that question will be discussed in exhausting circles for ages to come.

today, i just want to say that this has definately been the week from hell. it literally began when evil came from hell to that blue house on capitol hill and continued as tough ciricumstances arose in my life and in the lives of everyone around me.

today, one week after i heard about the shooting, i am amazed at who i have been and become this week. specifically, as i have seen and felt narcissism in ugly places, as i have been cared for others only to recieve surpassing care and felt, therefore, more able to give even more and more extravagent care, i have become exceedingly excited for my house church - to be a missional place truning narcissism into mutuality and raggedness into a ravenous appetite to seek the kingdom of God.

this has been a shitty way to grow - but, like i said, you have to cover flowers with shit in order for them to grow.
when they do grow, they forge through the manure to turn their faces in exquisite praise of God!
may we all do the same.

a slow migration toward glory

Have you ever looked at the sky on a day when the clouds more than blanket the eart - when they seem to create a luminescent ceiling for the earth? Have you noticed their slow, methodic movement - like an ancient migration? As you speed down i-5 maybe you feel like you are moving faster than the clouds, but their slow movement is so great that, paced as it is, it moves as though you were standing still. You know, something much much bigger than what i see or what i am is moving.

times like these, i remember God moves in much bigger ways that i can ever speed to keep up with or even fathom - God is simply there and moving.

Yesterday, i saw such clouds in my life. they were dark, but comforting. though they hid the brilliance of the sun (of course there is the hideous pun here "son"), the told me that the kingdom of God is moving beyond my understanding.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

at 1pm, the first funeral guests arrived. they greeted me with love and community
"hey, where's your black hoodie? deacon always wore back hoodie. you should have too. oh well. do they really let you work here with facial piercings? a tattoo too? wow. have you ever been a camp counselor? i go to camp to ride the horses. my name is peaches, but my real name is felicia. we have to let people know our real names. we have to stick together."

"hi, i'm trinidad, but really my name is josh. i want people to know that now. i'm not wearing any candy because deacon never did. it's in his memory."

at 2, the funeral started. around 2:30, the mic was opened for anyone to share a story about "deacon"

raver after raver after raver came to the mic. their words were holy. the experience was as vivid an experience as i've ever had of the kingdom of God.

at 3:30 (ish) my pastor stepped in to end the endless line of articulate mourners. he informed us that "deacon" was the one who held the door shut. he died saving the lives of many.

he then talked about how Chris' rave name was "deacon." He was a deacon at the church. he pledged an oath to serve the church and community with energy, intelligence, creativity and love. through the stories we heard, we knew he took this vow seriously. and so he is remembered as "deacon."

________________________________________________________________________________________

none of it makes sense yet - but i see the clouds moving. i know God is working, slowly, tenderly, mightily and presently.

here is to waiting and watching as the clouds give way to a glorious painting in t he sky.

thank you

i came home from the funeral - trudging through traffic.

i fell onto the couch and watched the news coverage of the event i'd just seen.

realizing i had an hour to get back to church and traffic was bad, i went to my room to change clothes.

while in my room, i decided to check my email. nothing. all day on a day i needed others and there was nothing. i thought to myself, "some day Becky, you'll realize no one's going to email you. no one's going to care what your day is like. no one is in your corner." melodramatic? yes. but i'd just returned from the funeral of a 21 year old killed in a massacre so, i'm allowed melodramaitc if it's what i feel.

a part of me still held some stupid hope that at least one friend would care. i hit refresh and was overwhelmed by what i saw - message after message of support and care - largely from people i've never even met - thank you annie!

i just burst into tears.

thank you all so much. there are no words. just thank you.

the funeral is today at my church at 2pm.

please pray for all who come - and those who decide not to.

Remember God is Using You

This post is for you my friend - you know I would never quote a Christian song on my blog except for you!

There is no pain. Jesus can't feel.
No hurt he can not heal.
All things work,
according to his perfect will.
No matter what,
your going through.
Remember God is using you.
For the battle is not yours.
It's the Lords.

There is no sadness.
Jesus can't heal
and there is no sorrow
Jesus can't feel.
All things work according to
the Masters Holy Will.
For the battle is not yours.
It's the Lords

(It's the Lords)

It's the Lords.
It is the Lords.
Hold your head up high.
Don't you cry [this part is total bullshit! cry! lots!]. It's the Lords.
No matter what. Your going through
remember God is using you.
For the battle is not yours. It's the Lords
-Yolanda Adams

no moment of transformation, of encounter, of redeeming love, of birthing hope amidst dispair comes without God orchestrating it.

i found this to be true tonight as my compassion for a treasured friend drove me to the grocery store to get her a boquet of flowers.

"hmmm....roses? spring flowers? how much money do i have? can i get her both? oh...i have more money than i thought.
hmmm...wouldn't it be awesome if it was overwhelming? i'll get tons of flowers.
oh and candles! lots of candles.
you know what i'll do, i set the candles up outside - oh and some rose petals! yeah! then she can come in and see the rest of the flowers!

by the time i left safeway, a simple flower arrangement had morphed into an elaborate set up. as my friend met this surprise, it was, to her, a prophetic and hope-giving experience that i could never have planned or known. only God could have given her that gift.

how great it is and was to playfully, whole-heartedly live into loving a friend only to find that God orchestrated my heart into God's exquisite painting for my friend.

we interrupt your regularly scheduled blog post for a piece of broken news

no quotes of context today. the context of this week leaves no space for it.


today I organized a youth event.
whirley ball?
movie night?
the spring retreat?
no. a youth group trip to a memorial service.
this should not be. this must not be.
someone told me recently, "no one is equipped to handle death. we were not designed to handle death."
this is true - but fuck, there it is. so, what now?
i become angry at God.


why couldn't the police officer happen by fifteen minutes earlier and stopped him before rather than after?
why the face?
why did he go to that rave to give people his phone number...i have his phone number in my phone - i have a dead man's phone number in my phone.
no - i'm not designed to handle this. and here it is, for me to handle.
so, i need God. where is and who is God?

i see myself like a little girl in her father's arms. she is angry and pounding his large, sturdy chest with her small, weak fists.

"I hate you! Don't hug me. Leave me alone. You did this. You did this. Why didn't you stop him!?!"
My fists slow and the intense embrace of my father grows tighter. I continue as the intensity of my voice dies.

"Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you stop it in the fucking garden? Why didn't you protect him? Why didn't you protect me? You didn't protect me. I'm scared because you didn't protect me.

My fists come to a stop, nestled in his chest as his arms clamp even tighter around me. Yelling turns to sobbing as my tears pound him with the same smallness and weakness of my fists.

"I'm scared. I'm scared Daddy. It's so dark. It's so evil. They shot him in the face - the face Daddy. I'm scared. I'm alone and scared."

My fists release their grip and I gently push my father away enough to see his face. He is crying. His tears intertwine with the residue of mine. His large, powerful hands grip my small arms as he pulls me close again. My arms rap around him and his encircle me. Together we cry.

He says to me:
"It is dark out there. It is evil. They shot him in the face. They shot my baby in the face I made for him - the face I put myself in and my thumbprint on. You are scared. You are not alone. Hope is here. Redemption will come...but today, let's cry together.

He rests his weighty head gently on mine as his tears annoint my head like a calling, like a balm, like cleasinig water. I am baptized in his grief. He holds my hand - so small in his that I hold only his index finger, like a baby learning to walk. Together, we sob and walk into the lives of others, so desperate not to be alone in the darkness, the evil, the fear.

And so is my calling - to lead as a child - to grieve and wail and to invite all God's children to be bathed in God's tears and clothed in his embrace.

___________________________________________________________

This reminds me of a poem I wrote last August:
flying away
from the work you've given
into the rest you've invited
my eyes accidentally meet yours
majestically burning, washing, and watching above the world you redeem

my mind rushes to accusation and projection
my heart tosses in a sea of question and distrust
my soul is drawn in and repulsed in a nausiating instant
my strength is gone and so does nothing

our heads are hung and our eyes are weepy
as we stand in a moment of tense experience

you speak silently:
you stand in a shadow of disappointment
of things waited for
the dark, loveless, graceless shadow
in whose darkness you hide
it is not my shadow
it is not the shadow of who i wait for
it is the shadow of the you that you are tired of waiting for.

do not create me in your image

i look again,
you stand regally over the world
with open hands
your weepy eyes weep
not with exhaustion....as mine do
not with disappointment...as mine do
not with pity...as mine do

they weep with perfect and present love
i see you
i adress you
i am adressed by you

encounter

how long have you been there
waiting for me
to peer honestly into your fire and ocean eyes
to be in present love

de-humanization

today in church, the children's story was Judas' Kiss. It wasn't the betrayal or the swords and clubs - it wasn't the hord of enemies he brought in tow - it wasn't really even the kiss. it was the intimacy, the coming near, the lips touching skin and saliva annointing the face of another that brought me to tears this morning.

i thought to myself, this is not what a kiss is for.

today in church, the first story i heard was death. one of the youth (now 21 - who has not been in the youth group while i've been there - but who has come many times) from my church was killed in the zombie massacre saturday. his mom was at church saturday night when she found out. she didn't find out until late because it took the police all day to identify the victims. it took the police all day to identift the victims because they were shot in the face.

again, tears - sobbing.

i thought to myself, this is not what a face is for.

_______________________________________________________________________

after church, i heard one woman - who i always struggle with - laughing and saying, "you have to trust that God is soveriegn in this."

do you? today?
do you have to laugh? today?
does life have to go on? today?

the story of Jesus does go on. but today, i grieve the kiss.
life, will go on. today, i grieve the death - i grieve the de-facing - i grieve the de-humanization of those i love, who were created in God's image and deserve so much more than a betraying kiss and a violent death.

ladner out of context

Liz: last night Jesus was in my dream.
Annie: Oh (tilts head as she sighs like a little girl over a puppy dog or a pre-teen over a heart throb), was he as ugly as the Bible says he is?

Five months and counting...

I have four and a half months - or less - left at my current job.

It seems a good time to start imagining what Sinners and Saints Seattle will look like.

Questions swarming my mind as a procrastinate on an exegesis paper:

Where will we be located? Missionally, I'd love to live in White Center - practically, none of my friends do.

Will we be connected with a denomination? Mennonite?

What will our connection with Sinners and Saints look like?

Who will be a part of the community?

Will we have children?

Will we have a diversity of age?

What will we teach first? How will we teach? Will we teach?

What social service organization can we be attached to?

What high-needs community members will we be blessed with?

How will we care for eachother?

What kinds of art will be birthed from our engagement?


As I thnk of September, I find myself praying for the family members I'll find and for the beginning of our weaving as a family in Christ.

to honor the multitude with mourning

29,000 die of hunger every day. That’s 29,000 faces that reflected God’s face. That’s 29,000 portions of the image of God. That’s 29,000 stories God wrote that are lost to us this side of Heaven. That’s 29,000 of God’s children. 29,000 of God’s friends. 29,000 of Christ’s brothers and sisters. 29,000 of God’s paintings. 29,000 of God’s gifts to us.

Will we seek their stories? Will we do everything in our power to save their lives? Will we remember them? Will we mourn their souls, their eyes, their finger prints, their unique DNA, their laughter, their faces? Will we treasure them?

In the kingdom of God, does a sparrow fall so idly? Does a human being fall idly? Do 29,000? Daily?

I want to invite the community around me to a week of mourning – wearing black, not wearing makeup, not celebrating, only painful laughter – a week of holding the 20 lives lost every minute in our minds every minute that passes.

Anyone who would want to join me in mourning, I invite you to comment on suggestions of a week and what that might look like – meeting every night to watch films or hear voices of the ongoing tragedy? A community blog? Service?

where my tax return will go

quotes out of context, season two episode 8

My glasses are the problem.

Now listen idiot. Listen you little jackass recently graduated with an MA in what? from where? I will eat your flesh.

I will let people know what an idiot you are.

You shouldn’t be afraid of death. You should be afraid of me.

I can smell your breath.

Will you now go and get a cold glass of water?

I am the man.

Additional quotes out of context:
"I love shame."
Nick Sagnibene

"The Princess Bride is the Christian sub-culture's Star Wars."
-Emily Thomas

shit

i've said "shit" many times tonight.

shit i have a lot of work to do

shit my cousin's mad at me because i'm not helping with the wedding too much

shit there's nothing vegetarian on this menu

shit how do i write this tough paper about my family

but then came the painful one

shit

my parent's don't care about me

they don't love me

they use me

they, in fact, hate me

shit.

biers out of context

"washing people's feet in the dark? that's not good. that's like havin sex in the dark."

"suing is one of the greatest things we can do."

out of context -- and out of print.

the quotes tonight were irresistable...but....so irresistable that they are better not put on the internet...

so, here's a photo out of context (courtesy of eagle and child) in their stead.


okay - here's the g rated quotes:

“You are desperately young and that is not your fault.”

“You are old compared to a fourth grader.”

“If you could do four jumping jacks, it would be clear.”

“Don’t pirate CDs. That’s a public service announcement brought to you by Mars Hill.”
-Misty Anne

congrats to my roomie on her handsome nephew!

Requiem

Today could be your burial
Rain pounds the ground like too many unshed tears
Umbrella up, narrowly protecting me as I stand
Still drenched as heaven wails
My high heals sink into the deeply dampened ground
Now your home
And I never knew you
I never heard your story

Today could be your funeral
The pastor’s face sags as though he knew, loved, and lost you
Boredom like a wall barely protects my hardened heart
Still broken as heaven mourns
My hands artificially raise, pointing beyond vaulted ceilings to heaven
Now your home
And I never knew you
I never heard your story

And you were
And I wish I was
And we’re all supposed to be
More and more
Human

I heard of your death like everyone’s
On cheap newsprint
Their pictures
Their stories
Their grieving families
And charities in lieu of flowers

No picture
No story
No grieving family
Just a number: one in 29,000
And a charity anesthetic for the pain

And you are
And I wish I was
And we’re all supposed to be

Supposed to...

But you left
And I wish I could
And we all tend to be
Less and less
Human

to be (un)told

i'm looking for stories of the lives of african, southeast asian, and south american children.

i've been looking for three hours.

i've found 4.

what i've found hundreds of are children's stories from these areas.

apparently, a story written by J. Smith about a playful Monkey is a story "to be told," and a life lost to hunger - 29,000/day - is not to be told.

those stories that i have found are one paragraph of information on the child's life before x charity came and offered hope. this is beautiful, but seriously, what about the other 28,999 children? couldn't there something beautiful in telling stories of children - even if it doesn't end up helping them? sure, that's not enough. it is grossly not enough. but, still, simply to tell a person's story in honor of that person - this seems an upholding of the imago dei in children whose lives have not been celebrated.

mars hill students: what if we planned a trip to aftica either in january or next summer with the purpose of setting up a website that honors the stories of african children? would anyone be interested in that?

will the real Jesus please stand up?

every year for 30 years my church has gone to othello, wa to work with migrant farm workers' children. the children are mainly from mexico and guatamala.

every year for 30 years, my church has used flannelgraph to tell these children bible stories.

every year for 30 years, my church has used WHITE flannelgraph characters, with every angel being blonde with blue eyes to invite these latino children into the community of faith.

enter me.

i can't live with that. so....

yesterday i made the suggestion - ok, maybe sternly stated that we need change - that we use either jewish looking flannelgrpah characters or latino ones.

the response: an enraged glare and near-shouting proclamation "latino characters would be highly inappropriate because we are talking about jewish culture here!"

my response: "well, a white jesus is highly inappropriate too, but we've used that for years."

the leader who spoke up sat outraged, rolling his eyes and fuming in the corner for the rest of the meeting.

no amount of explatives can express how i feel. i want to give up, but it's not my church i'm fighting for here, it is young children who need to be able to see themselves in the biblical stories.

how do we make it clear: Jesus is not white!

Image, Community, Christ, and Gender

what is the weight of our understanding of humanity and of the image of God? how could re-visiting and highlighting this subject dramatically alter our lives?

given the Barthian understanding of the imago dei as the potential of i/thou relationship, and actually taking that a step further via the two great commandments, it seems obvious that the imago dei is in the potential for i/thou relationship with God and with humanity - and, actually, that the imago dei is untwisted from the fall in mutually loving relationhips between i/thou and i/divine thou - (wow this is getting to be a long and confusing intro to the question i want to ask - and sincerely hope you will comment on!) - we can conclude that to be imago dei - which is to be human - is to be communal.

we can, then, further conclude that no single human being can be "human". rather, a communal collection of beings become human as they are relating.

given this, as we look at the necessity of Jesus' humanity, the question becomes, can Jesus be human without the community of those around him? can we conclude that God, genuinely needed certian human beings in order to become fully human? did Jeus need the disciples (12 apostles and other - including women) in order to be a human and thereby redeem humanity?

ruminating further on the imago dei, genesis 1 makes it crystal clear that female and male are communally needed for the fullness of the imago dei, and therefore for humanness.

what does this mean for the humanity of Jesus? does his gestational community with Mary become key in his humanity? do the women who follow and love Jesus provide fuller humanity to Jesus? does their remaining at the cross play a role in Jesus' being human at the moment of crucifixion?

more applicably, does this, then, mean that when we make ministry an entirely male vocation, do we de-humanize leadership in the church? do we de-humanize our leaders? does becoming Christlike mean becoming human? and, if so, does this, then mean engaging more and more perichoretically with gender until our perichoresis mirror's God's and, in our humanness male and female and co-existing in loving community?

the obvious, though distateful from my unmarried point of view, is that we are most human in sexual encounters when the diversity of male and female work together to bring about mutual pleasure for the glory of God (or love).

what does that mean for ministry? male and female ministerial partenering? the importance, and even utter centrality of a theology of sex? what does this speak to the issue of homosexuality? modes of preaching? the theological texts we pick and choose to read from? who seminaries hire to instruct in ministry?

if male and femaleness are so utterly necessary to reflect - and thereby glorify - God, how does this change our theology? what life does it invite us to live? what becomes our catechesis?




so...there's some theological vomitting for you to sort through and begin to reflect on. please, please discuss this!

Naomh Pádraig setting the stage for saint patrick

Neither a lamb nor a lion, today is a bland though grey day in Seattle - but a Seattle spring is approaching. So begins the countdown to the biggest day of the year: Saint Patrick's Day.

Over the next couple of weeks, I'll be sharing Saint Patrick's Story with you in a five act play.

We begin with prologue – the already in motion story Patrick is born into.

Without mentioning anything else of the background, we must start where Patrick does: God. In his Confession, he writes, “God himself is the beginning of all things, the very one who holds all things together, as we have been taught.”

Stepping out of this universal yet intimate beginning, we encounter his family:
Patrick’s grandfather, Potitus, was a priest , basking in the recent ecclesiastical freedom and privilege initiated by Constantine and owning land both in the city and one the countryside.

His Father, Calpornius , was also clergy, a deacon, and a imperial tax collector.

Patrick’s family foreshadows greatness – but not the type which Patrick’s journey leads him to.

Taking yet a step further, we find the prologue making room for a small Roman town on the Western coast of Britain named Bannaventa Berniae. The town, like his family, likely prepare to provide Patrick luxury and safety. Walled, as most cities were in that place and time, and supported by slaves, also fitting the place and time, the city offered Patrick the start he achieved: “An atheist from childhood.”

With one last step, we conclude the prologue: Patrick was born into a Roman Britain at time when the British proudly referred to themselves as Romanus and when Christianity freely existed and had been made the only legal religion by Theodocius.

Quotes out of context, volume two, chapters three and four

Last Week:

“The absolute most logical question [for me to ask] was ‘Am I pregnant?’”
“I’ve given birth three times.”
“[If] you say “I love this community,” well then you must be very new.”
“You found the right church; it fits you; it’s wonderful. Give it time.”
“People in this church will say things that hurt you, that do you harm, and you will need batteries.”
“Once a child is mobile, it is an opportunity for a new kind of suffering.”
“Why do I want to hurt you?”
“You are meant to be a therapist. You are troubled.”
“I should have been wise enough to [ask my wife] ‘How much money do you want?’”


This Week:
"God be with you all and Tiny Tim."
"They will only come to you if one person of their family will start lighting themselves on fire."
"[There is] too much libido in chocolate chips."
"You fanaticize about lighting your own couch on fire."
"Your first child is your throw-away"

phones

so, my phone is broken. because it fell off of my car two weeks ago - and broke a half week ago - tmibile won't honor the warrenty. so....i can sell my cell phone soul to the tmobile devil for another 24 months - totaling 4 years now and pay $24 for a new phone, or i can pay $100 for a new phone.

ahhhhh!

all this, and either way, it's a week until i get a new phone.

so, i (with a fellow student, Jon) preached today in my "preaching" class. only we didn't really preach, we "crafted a transformational moment." i wasn't trying to be overly creative or, as my professor termed "experimental," but that was what happened. it was midrashic, intimate, participatory, serving, it gave me more than it gave my words, it was being rather than doing, it was post-modern, it invited the class into the shared experience, it met different people at different time and in different ways, it was a sensory experience.

these things could all go on the list of thing i have fought to be. and if i was ever seen as these, i would think to myself, "i've worked hard to be this person."

today, i was me - a very sick, weak, empty of energy me. and this is what was.

there is really something to being who you are and not striving for something else. it feels like trust and like admmiring an Artist's on-going work.

Does this mean that I do not try to become more, to grow in the likeness of Christ? no. But it also means I rest and recieve God's pleasure.


When Jesus said to Peter, "On this rock I will build my church," Do you think he meant "With what I can change this rock into, I will build my church." Or, do you think he meant something like Michealangelo meant when he crafted David - "There is something in this rock that I will free, but on this rock - and it can be no other rock - and it does not need to be a different rock - i will build my church."

phone = found, returned, NOT GETTING SERVICE

phone = found and returned!

Do Bush and Bono really constitute two or more?

Scripture tells us that where two or more are gathered, God is there. Well, Bush had a national prayer breakfast, Bono came, and looking at his words...so did God.

I invite you to mull over these words and allow passion and heart ache to capture you - may we, as a blogging (or blog reading) community pray these words together.

"I'd like to talk about the laws of man, here in this city where those laws are written. And I'd like to talk about higher laws. It would be great to assume that the one serves the other; that the laws of man serve these higher laws ... but of course, they don't always."

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house ... God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives ... God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war ..."

"... justice is a higher standard. Africa makes a fool of our idea of justice; it makes a farce of our idea of equality. It mocks our pieties, it doubts our concern, it questions our commitment."





ps...who'd guess that I'd ever post quotes from a prayer meeting Bush convened?

What's In a Name

This week's edition of quotes out of context has been pre-empted to bring you a heart-felt post. Don't worry, quotes out of context will return with this week's quotes and next.

Jaguar. Doubtlessly, that word does not conjure the image of a toddling toe-headed baby girl with an intoxicatingly loving smile. Yet, that is her name. For the first few months of my friend’s daughter’s life, I refused to use her name. It was incongruous and, well, unfortunate. In no way did a word used to denote a stealthy, spotted, rainforest-dwelling cat represent the precious child I alternately called “Sunshine.” However, as months passed and she and I began to share a saga of relationship, a narrative of meaning attached itself to the term Jaguar so that her intoxicating smile is the first image I see when I hear the word. In short, the narrative of the last year and a half has produced inextricable meaning for her name.

With this said, her well-meaning parents cannot be let off the hook of imperfect name choosing. There is not much outside of the meaning making of her on-going story to exegete in her ill-begotten name. What, however, if her name was self-given? What if she happened to know herself better than any other being has ever known herself? What if out of that self-knowledge and out of a gracious and sincere desire to be known by those who would grow to love her, she named herself? And, what if that name remained as incongruous a name as “Jaguar”? Would we laugh at it? Would we wonder what she was thinking? Would we set it aside as some sort of a holy word assuming we cannot understand it? Would we attempt to understand it? Would we make it so holy that we could not call her by that name and begin to call her “Sunshine” in an effort to protect the holy word “Jaguar”? Would we use her name to connect her with the animal because we enjoy studying the animal – even though the animal may have nothing to do with what she meant in naming herself?

As doubtless as the word Jaguar does not conjure a picture of my precious friend and most beloved child, this seems a silly and near worthless blog entry. But, let’s wonder further. Is there one who knows ones’ self well enough to bestow upon the self the perfect name? If so, how have we treated that name?

What is Yahweh? What is “I am”? Do we jump from it to the seeming fruitful world of the Greek understanding of ontology? Do we hallow it then leave it alone? Do we run to calling Yahweh “God” until we have forgotten the name we’ve hallowed? Do we exegete the term, combing it for every ounce of self-revelation Yahweh provides in it? Do we meet it as though it were a invitation to relationship with an otherwise unknowable Creator, Re-Creator, Beloved, and Friend? Do we study it as an object for paper writing, or do we relate to it as an uncontainable, though knowable “Thou”?

Jaguar is an unfortunate name that I tend to toss aside, apart from the narrative that unfolds as a relational saga between my I and her Thou. However, God has given us God’s true name. To the one to whom much is given, much is required. What have we done and what will we do with the extravagant blessing of the True God’s True Name?




So…now would probably be a good time to push the book I just read: “The Named God and the Question of Being” by Stan Grenz. This book is a thick read, filled with historical explorations and proofs. It is not quick. But, it is immeasurably valuable in the pursuit to engage the name of God.

lost and found

sure, i lose things A LOT! (ie my cell phone today), but sometimes it comes to immeasurable good.

when i was as gcts, i had an ethiopian friend whose wife had a baby back in ethopia. he had never seen his son and didn't know when he would.

meanwhile, i lost my digital camera. it was a gift and i felt bad, so i bought a new one. then, i found my camera. what was i to do with two cameras?

i gave one to my friend so that he could mail it to his wife who could mail it back to him with pictures and even video of their son. the first time he saw his son was on the camera i lost.

today i recieved this email - and i guess i'm okay with losing my cell phone:

"Dear Rebecca,

Greetings to you in Jesus name. This is your Ethiopian friend from Gcts. I am still in Boston doing ministry with Ethiopian immigrants. My wife and son just joined me from Ethiopia. I am still using the Digital Camera you gave it to me. Thank you again. Let me know how things are going on for you.

blessings,

Aboma Dirbaba"

Hinges of History, Wyle E. Coyote, and Gravity Lessons

I never understood how it worked, but it happened every time. Before Wyle E. Coyote held up a sign reading “Ahhhh” or something else in the category of a silent panic, and fell hundreds of feet to turn into a mushroom cloud with the Road Runner smirking and Meep-ing on the bluff above, before all this, he would run at least six feet on air. Then, as he realized there was no ground beneath his feet, he panicked and, inevitably, fell. I always wondered, “Did he fall because there is no ground beneath him, or because he realized it? If he didn’t realize it, could he have walked to the next bluff? Or, if he realized it, but didn’t panic, would he have calmly, though cautiously, continued to use his mind to create ground to walk on? At twenty-four with a Master’s degree under my belt, these questions still plague my mind. And, for the first time, they seem significant.


Last year, a friend and I sat down for coffee and conversation around the emergent church. Both being fans of Cahill, we saw the coming (present?) postmodern era as a hinge of history. The problem is, we live on the hinge, but the other side of the hinge, the land beyond the scenic bluff, doesn’t exist yet. The question beaconing us, as a church living on the hinge is this: Do we try to run back and clasp our weak fingers on the edge of the bluff called Christendom, hoping if we cling long enough and tight enough, we’ll not have to risk? Or, do we step off the bluff and, like Wyle E. Coyote, walk confidently on the air? Or, do we not panic, trust, and begin to create new ground on the other side of the hinge?

I'm in a class called "crafting transformational moments." However, a more appropriate title might be "re-imagining preaching workshop." Even in the class, we find ourselves re-imagining what a preaching class is like. Some days, we seem to fail. Others are glory. We're creating new ground, and I couldn't be more excited for the chance to a) create something new, and b) sometimes let that something new fail - fall - and get up, chalking it up to gravity lessons.

more naked, alone, and abandoned than anyone in history

what can you think of a God who leaves a righteous man naked and alone in his darkest hour - even though the betrayed man calls tenderly, like a child, for God?

This God sounds evil.



what can you think of a God who sacrifices everything and is humiliated as he dies for the sake of his very murderers?

This God sounds beautiful.



what can you think of a God who does both these things in the same instance?

This God is a mystery....but we must never forget this mystery is named love.

Fasting from eternity and waiting for the sun to set

The sun is still high in the sky. I want so badly for it to set. Please, please, please set so I can feast! The feelings of hunger invade my concentration and make the sight or smell of food a passionately ambivalent swirling of longing and hatred for the pain of lack. I smell more with each moment of fasting. The feasting around me becomes vibrant and holds my gave so covetously that I cannot avert my eyes as I voyeurously look on, participating in my heart.

When will the sun set? Five o-clock maybe? What will the sunset look like? Will it be brilliant and marked? Will it be subdued? Will it be purple, orange, yellow, or vibrant red? Will there be clouds or simply color smeared across a blank canvas sky?

I am curious, expectant, and longing.

Is this moment bad? Is there no good to be had simply because the feast is not here yet? Did I not passionately enjoy the juice I just drank? Did I not revel in it? No. no. Still, something better and bigger comes and the sunset and I will not be satiated as long as the sun remains in the sky.

Hmmm… are these eschatological feelings? Am I this hungry for the true feast? Does the hint of eternity sensuously and seducingly come to my nose and captivate my senses so that I cannot shake the thought of the feast to come? Can I look at the sun and revel in a beautiful day while longing for brilliant sunset and the feast that ensues? Do I see microcosms and tastes of eternity and find myself raptured in them? Do I feel hunger – see starving children (29,000/day), AIDS orphans, Bush/Cheney administration etc. – do I see the painful things and turn my eyes to the sun, waiting for it to set? Waiting for the eschatological end of hunger? And do I look for juice – for some nourishment to ease, though not quench the hunger residing in the now in wait of eternity?

How happily and unthoughtfully I fast from that which I was created for – and yet, how difficult it is for me to give up the material pinings of an only partially redeemed reality.

An “Honorific” Edition of Quotes out of Context

I’d like to begin this edition by saying that I greatly respect and admire Dan Allender. I am immeasurably blessed by and thankful for all he give me as a professor and school president. And, I am amazed at his intellect and wielding of words – ie, who would have guessed that “honorific” is actually a word – surprised me!

This man is amazing and “honorific,” but he does say some funny things!

Anyway, here you go:

“Do you love the way thorns and thistles feel as you weed your garden? If the answer is yes then we are in the realm of sexual disorders.”

“Sit here and watch Jerry Springer with me.”

“The task of a woman is to be a nuisance to her children.”

“I think they are involved in connubial bliss.”

“Am I for the hippopotamus?…This is not suitable for me.”

“My wife makes me cry a lot.”

“I like avoiding the conflict I tend to create.”

“Balance: obviously I’ve never achieved it and, therefore, do not like the word.”

“[All the Rambo movies were] bad, really wickedly stupid.”

“I am not claiming to be a completely mature human being.”

“Frankly my wife scares me to death.”

grieving great loss

I had drinks and painful moments with good people tonight.

I had really disconnected with the pain of being a woman going into ministsry. it really hurts.

it seems there is something important and beautiful in actually sitting in a sense of "woe is me that I am called to minsitry and get chastized for it when my brother is lauded for it." to actually sit and be in the depth of loss for myself and my sisters in the Kingdom that our brothers are embraced and even prodded into ministry and we only emerge through struggle - struggle that, as I experienced it, is numbing.

i have been deeply wounded, and pretending it away is not strong, but actually weak.

away in lake city, no place for a bed

sitting in a four hour meeting that should have been two hours, but everyone has an opinion and everyone's opinion is, apparently, worth more than families, than my school work, than health, than sanity, than the tireless work of underpaid ministers...so, it was a four hour meeting.

as the committee began to argue about increasingly petty things such as where and when coffee is served, my mind, under nourished - i made the faulty assumption that a 6-10 meeting would include dinner and hadn't eaten much more than carrotts all day - began to wander.

for a moment, i began to hold the good people have seen in me without dismissing them as uninformed or untruthful. i began to transport all the passion and hope i can feel when steeped in theology into the place i once hoped could be a community where theology lives. i began to feel a strange thing called confidence.

for a moment, i began to hold these things - i began to hold myself.

then, holding myself, i looked for a place to take and offer me. like a child, over excited about having bought the perfect gift, i looked with wide eyes for someone to take the gift and together marvel over it.

no one wanted it and, in fact, it disappeared behind some fogged curtian. i still saw its shadow as it left my hands and floated off to wherever it had been hiding.

why am i not that person? why is my ministry not that ministry? why do i have potential that seems to be imaginary or an optical illusion?

there's no space for me here. no space.

when i went on a mission trip to ireland, my mission team said they were amazed at how i moved into a place and a people and gently but firmly made space for myself.

and here, there is no space.

even as i hold myself, the space in my hands expires as the pain of wanting so desperately to give myself only to be rejected grows too bitter and intense and somewhere inside, i wish myself gone. i obediently disappear like a magic trick in a cloud of illusion.



then, who is our God?
our God had no place to be born, so Jesus came in a stable
our God's people had no place to live, so they prayed and marched and blew triumphant horns until walls fell and land became theirs.
our God was bannished to the point of death - not in a mystical cloud, but on a too real and ultimately cruel cross.
three days later, our God returned to embrace those who bannished "God with us."

quotes out of context, volume two, chapter two

Odd and deleterious things are coming out of [my] nose and mouth.

If I had my mind back, which I’m not sure it really was there ever, but I certainly don’t have it here right now.

If you want agony, be married.

My head is not fully on today.

You have 20 years to waste.

[Urination] for a male, is something he can stand almost completely apart from and yet participate in.

I got into a 15-minute discussion with a fellow urinator.

I really want to go to bed. I want to take a walk. I want sex, or I want something to eat.

You’re ridiculous. I should have just said that, you are ridiculous.

The night, actually, is fairly dark.

The suburban world kills marriages

You will have bloody hands every day of your life.

Imagine a Bitter Taste in Your Mouth

There are somethings that only some voices can share. I'm really tired of being "a women in ministry" because I just want to be a person in ministry - but, maybe it's important for people to see what pain following my calling and gifting has brought me...so, take a deep breath and begin to imagine being a woman called to ministry in middle class white America:

Imagine a decade of everytime you tell someone your dreams for the future, cowering like a beaten dog, wondering what chastization is coming your way.

Imagine being in high school and every time someone asks you the usual, "what are you going to do when you grow up" question, being scared - and meeting with not only disapproval of you, but even conversations with your parents about how they can fix the rebellious and sinful problem you are.

Imagine fianlly breaking away from that to dread the "what's your major" question in college.

Imagine your church praying for you to get married to a pastor so that you'll be satiated.

Imagine your friends all concocting some sort of career for you where you are not a pastor since "you've wasted all that education already."

Imagine just going to the cafeteria of your undergrad to eat lunch and having five or six people tell you that their pastor said that if you are a woman going into ministry, you need to repent and find a husband.

Imagine leaving everyone you know to cross the nation and arriving at a school where your first contact asks you how many women are in the MDiv and says the number scares him - you breathe a breath of rare hope - then he says he can't believe that a school like ours would let women into the MDiv program.

Imagine finally finishing that degree to be turned down for jobs because you are a woman - and worse - a single woman.

Imagine finally getting a position and being constantly mistreated by older men because you are a young woman.

This is only a taste, but maybe you see how a taste of something so bitter could be embittering.

Impressing No One

Who are we trying to impress? Who are we running for? Is God the evil scientist who places us in a rat race and watches us run around after some cheese that is, after all, just on the otherside of a piece of wood in God's maniacal maze?

Of course we know this is untrue. Of course we know God is love, God is personal, God ultimately sacrificed God's self for us - not so that we could be rats, but so that we could be more human - restored to God's image.

So, we are back to the question, who are we trying to impress - and what are we running for?

For the last two semesters, I worked full time at church and took a full load at school. Last semester, I even took my final class for GCTS. This semester, the work-aholism bug seems to have nuzzeled its way under a dear friend's skin and left her running from one job to the next. The only day she has off, she spends eight hours in class. Who are we trying to impress?

I am now only working 20 hours a week, but last week I worked something more like 60. This week I'll be at at least 30. Plus eleven credits. Who am I trying to impress?

Last night, I realized that I had been assigned 10 papers and probably close to 400 pages of reading due tomorrow. The syllabus arrived in my in-box on the 25th. A week and two days. There's just no possible way that can be done. So, I make plans not to sleep and break all my other engagements.

Then, it hits me: am I still a human being? Is my friend still a human being?

Somewhere, burried beneath the yoke we've opressingly put upon ourselves, we are still human. We are still creative, playful, tender, relational, and restful. We still possess the ability to enjoy something other than a late night television show before we rush to bed and start the rat race again.

So, last night, the human being deep inside me refused the old yoke. She stopped running the maze in search of not-even-God know's what. She stopped, and looked up at whom she had mistaken for an evil scientist and said, "I want to love you more than I want to do all this. I'm tired - bring me Sabbath!"

So, this morning I woke up, diligently and carefully chose an outfit for the day, enjoyed breakfast, refused to wear my painful high heels, and am now ready to go do the unthinkable: drop a class.

Today I will enjoy being human. I will savor minutes without fearing their end.

Today if you ask, "Who are you trying to impress?" My answer will be "No one. I'm just spending this day with God."