Somewhere I thought someone told me that Calvin (or Luther?) had a problem with women preachers because their voices weren't loud enough....
...I found another blog (railing against female pastors, btw) which offered an audio version in either a male or female voice. I wonder why? Were males only supposed to listen to one while females listened to the other?
(from RevGalBlogPals) I have been getting slammed by my male coworker who tells me to do things that are not possible for a female voice to do - such as - more of a vocal range in pitch (hello - I'm female. I can't do low and gravelly and if I go too high, I sound shrill.)
(a comment on the same blog) Women create emphasis in different ways. I had a terrific speech professor in college who taught me that women can create emphasis by being softer instead of louder or intentionally speaking slower instead of faster. When you speak more softly, you can build back to "normal" and it is heard as if you were getting louder. The same professor talked about body movements and how we "hear" postures differently from men and women.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Palm Reading
We just finished a sermon series called “The Treasures of a Transformed Life” so after six weeks of talking about money, I decided to go for a more upbeat sermon....and chose to preach from the book of Revelation.
In all seriousness, though, I think the book of Revelation gets a bum deal. It rarely gets preached and most of us avoid it because it seems too intense. Too scary. We hear the word ‘Apocalypse’ and think of violent Martin Sheen movies or bad sci fi…
…but an apocalypse (a revelation) is a vision –not a nightmare. Especially in the Jewish tradition, apocalyptic literature is about hope and assurance that in a battle between good and evil, God wins. Our book of Revelation is no different. It was written during a time of great Christian persecution. The Roman emperor Nero was brutally torturing and slaughtering thousands of Christians. I don’t even want to think about how hard it would be to wake up and find that your whole church was killed, but I can imagine the questions that arose because we struggle with the same ones today:
Questions like, is God still God when people die? Is God still good when people suffer? Why do bad things happen to good people?
The book of Revelation speaks to these questions. It’s not a magic answer that explains everything
(How on earth do we expect to make sense of God when we can’t make sense of the world around us?)
…but I do think it helps.
(How on earth do we expect to make sense of God when we can’t make sense of the world around us?)
…but I do think it helps.
Sure, God didn’t step in and stop the Emperor Nero. But God wasn’t silent either. During the persecution, into all of the suffering, God spoke to a man named John who was praying on an island called Patmos. And God must have studied education or something because, like a good teacher, God used visuals and repetition to drive home Revelation’s main point: which is that Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. In other words, death isn’t the end.
One of the images I find particularly compelling comes to us in chapter seven.
John looks up and sees a great crowd of witnesses too many to count—a ton of people from all over the world. All colors, all languages, standing before the throne of God.
John looks up and sees a great crowd of witnesses too many to count—a ton of people from all over the world. All colors, all languages, standing before the throne of God.
Can you imagine what it would look like (what it would be like) to be this close to God’s throne? To stand alongside every Christian who ever lived?? That’s what the kingdom of God looks like…and that’s better than Duke Basketball.
Anyways, this great crowd is standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white with palm branches in their hands.
Palm Branches. (I swear, the strangest details jump out when I read the Bible…I read this passage the other day and all I kept wondering was ‘why the palm branches?’ If they didn’t mean something, they wouldn’t have been remembered, so what did they mean to John?)
Palm trees are actually mentioned quite often in the Bible—often symbolizing life:
· They cover the Israelite temple to remind people of the Garden of Eden.
· During the festival of booths (the Jewish celebration of harvest and thanksgiving) Leviticus instruct people to “rejoice with Palm branches”[1]
· And in John, people waved palm branches to greet Jesus as Hosanna, king (Palm Sunday)[2]
But Palm branches were also part of Greco-Roman culture as signs of victory and triumph:
· The Romans awarded palms to the champions of the games and they celebrated military successes with palm branches.
So when John tells people that this crowd was carrying palm branches, they don’t just look like a crazy mob with a bunch of sticks –they represented victory and life.
Furthermore, the Greek word for palm branch is phoinikes – like “phoenix”—that mythical bird who rises to life from ashes. These are God’s people who have risen from their suffering—risen from death. This crowd—this huge crowd shouting ‘Salvation belongs to God and the Lamb’—this crowd is eternally alive. That’s what the kingdom of God looks like.
Furthermore, the Greek word for palm branch is phoinikes – like “phoenix”—that mythical bird who rises to life from ashes. These are God’s people who have risen from their suffering—risen from death. This crowd—this huge crowd shouting ‘Salvation belongs to God and the Lamb’—this crowd is eternally alive. That’s what the kingdom of God looks like.
Things like death, burn victims, the ICU, cancer, car accidents, starvation –these are not ok. They’re not part of God’s kingdom. And they’re not eternal. God’s kingdom is partially here because of what Christ has done, but it’s still coming. Eternity is coming.
We’re also told that the people in this crowd have been through a great ordeal and that God is taking care of them. God is sheltering, guiding them and wiping away every tear from their eyes.’
When I picture this scene—God wiping away tears—it’s tender and gentle. The image comes straight from Isaiah (25:6-9 and 49:8-14) but notice what it's not saying....
But it’s not saying that tears are bad. It’s not diminishing the pain or minimizing the suffering that has already happened. God gives space for grief.
In this vision of redemption, It’s not like *snap* and all of a sudden, sadness isn’t allowed.
(don’t get me wrong—I don’t think God’s kingdom is a place of pain or sorrow. I do think it will be right and good in every sense of those words, but I don’t think God’s kingdom is about cheap, trite, or plastic happiness that covers everything up. I think it’s about peace.)
True peace only comes through healing. And sometimes healing hurts. Sometimes healing involves tears, but God promises that healing will come—that pain will end. This means that in the process—especially now--if we need to cry, let God be us. Because God is here—palms up—holding us close and gently wiping tears. God doesn’t cause suffering, but God is fully present in the midst of our sorrows.
So is God still God when people suffer? Is God still good? Yes and yes. God never leaves us.
Why do bad things happen? It’s because God’s kingdom isn’t here yet. It’s because, mostly, the world is still broken…but in Jesus, there’s hope for redemption.
Why do bad things happen? It’s because God’s kingdom isn’t here yet. It’s because, mostly, the world is still broken…but in Jesus, there’s hope for redemption.
I’m not going to pretend like this answer satisfies every one of our logical questions. It doesn’t explain everything, but I don’t think I would worship a god smaller than my understanding.
But I do worship the Alpha and Omega, the living one who wipes away our tears.
I do know that when you’re in a place of hurting or mourning or when you’re aching from the heart out, it’s good to know that God cares. That God is present. And that God is bigger and stronger than anything we’ll ever face. When it feels like life is spinning out of control and nothing is steady, it might be just enough to be the kind of person who holds onto a palm branch and knows that God is victorious and that, as God’s people, we are never alone. More than anything, it’s important for us to remember that life matters and death isn’t the end.
Amen.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Religion is like ...a what?!?!
"Religion is a questing after the more in life..." said Grant Wacker (quoting William James).
At least I thought it was William James but--trying to evade a misquote--I wanted confirm the quote's source with the omniscient google. (I confess it--I take notes with internet tabs open and ready. Guilty as charged.)
"Religion is..." I started, but before I could finish typing the quote, Google jumped to finish my sentence: "religion is like a penis!"
Normally, I'm a fan of the search-suggestion function, but I was a little taken aback. It's not a simile I would normally contemplate and I was torn between cracking up and gasping. Thankfully, since I was in the middle of class, I did neither.
After class (I didn't click the link in class just so you know) it turned out to be four lines of text--without images, thankfully--which were less offensive than anticipated. In general (but with more vivid syntax) it said that religion isn't something you should wave around in public or force onto others.
I'll be honest and admit that the vulgar juxtaposition of images was slightly amusing in a twisted, irreverent kind of way. I laughed (proud of myself for not being close-minded and religiously staunch) because I do find some truth in the statement. Religion isn't a topic that should be thrown carelessly into public conversation and I agree that, too often, faith is used as a weapon for superiority.
...but I was also a little offended. And it bothersome that it bothers me. Besides the obviously crude phallic imagery, the statement's tacit implication is that religion is a private matter. It's rude (possibly even shameful) to show your religion in public. Keep it hidden.
And that's just selfish and wrong.
First of all, there is nothing shameful about faith. If the simile is correct in anything, it's that religion should become anatomically--dare I even say 'intimately'--part of your personal identity. It marks and shapes who you are as a person. If I mention my faith or read my Bible, it's because of who I am (who I am in Christ), and not in judgement of you. There's a huge difference between saying 'this is Christ in me' vs 'you suck and this is how you should change.' I'm not saying the latter, so instead of assuming offense, please listen. I'll try to do the same.
"So many people say that Christians are offensive and then turn around and offend Christians." said Angelo. "I always wonder where I should draw the line between standing up for my faith and taking insults in stride."
And secondly, it's a huge social/cultural misconception to assume that religion is a private matter.Once upon a time (before the great separation of church and state), religion was interwoven and fully integrated in everyday life. It served a civic function in the community and communal life grew with it....But now, it's almost like faith is a social accessory--a pashmina scarf--which adds flair when needed, but is easily removed (just in case).
I'm not advocating papal rule and I think it's a good things that Baptism is no longer a requirement for citizenship, but should freedom of religion change religion itself? We've stepped so far away from the integration of church and state, that we've lost the communal aspect of Christianity. Religion is now limited to a certain time and place--like a grounded child banished to her room, or an abused wife who 'knows her place.' I'm being a bit melodramatic, but I do think that autonomous faith leads to consumerist worship and a non-committal church.
The bottom line is that religion is not a mantle I decide to take up for myself (or a cute little hat that I want every child to wear). It's not something I can take off or turn off or hide so that others around me won't be offended. Christianity is a communal 'we' which--through the grace of God--is forming and informing the hope of me.
At least I thought it was William James but--trying to evade a misquote--I wanted confirm the quote's source with the omniscient google. (I confess it--I take notes with internet tabs open and ready. Guilty as charged.)
"Religion is..." I started, but before I could finish typing the quote, Google jumped to finish my sentence: "religion is like a penis!"
Normally, I'm a fan of the search-suggestion function, but I was a little taken aback. It's not a simile I would normally contemplate and I was torn between cracking up and gasping. Thankfully, since I was in the middle of class, I did neither.
After class (I didn't click the link in class just so you know) it turned out to be four lines of text--without images, thankfully--which were less offensive than anticipated. In general (but with more vivid syntax) it said that religion isn't something you should wave around in public or force onto others.
I'll be honest and admit that the vulgar juxtaposition of images was slightly amusing in a twisted, irreverent kind of way. I laughed (proud of myself for not being close-minded and religiously staunch) because I do find some truth in the statement. Religion isn't a topic that should be thrown carelessly into public conversation and I agree that, too often, faith is used as a weapon for superiority.
...but I was also a little offended. And it bothersome that it bothers me. Besides the obviously crude phallic imagery, the statement's tacit implication is that religion is a private matter. It's rude (possibly even shameful) to show your religion in public. Keep it hidden.
And that's just selfish and wrong.
First of all, there is nothing shameful about faith. If the simile is correct in anything, it's that religion should become anatomically--dare I even say 'intimately'--part of your personal identity. It marks and shapes who you are as a person. If I mention my faith or read my Bible, it's because of who I am (who I am in Christ), and not in judgement of you. There's a huge difference between saying 'this is Christ in me' vs 'you suck and this is how you should change.' I'm not saying the latter, so instead of assuming offense, please listen. I'll try to do the same.
"So many people say that Christians are offensive and then turn around and offend Christians." said Angelo. "I always wonder where I should draw the line between standing up for my faith and taking insults in stride."
And secondly, it's a huge social/cultural misconception to assume that religion is a private matter.Once upon a time (before the great separation of church and state), religion was interwoven and fully integrated in everyday life. It served a civic function in the community and communal life grew with it....But now, it's almost like faith is a social accessory--a pashmina scarf--which adds flair when needed, but is easily removed (just in case).
I'm not advocating papal rule and I think it's a good things that Baptism is no longer a requirement for citizenship, but should freedom of religion change religion itself? We've stepped so far away from the integration of church and state, that we've lost the communal aspect of Christianity. Religion is now limited to a certain time and place--like a grounded child banished to her room, or an abused wife who 'knows her place.' I'm being a bit melodramatic, but I do think that autonomous faith leads to consumerist worship and a non-committal church.
The bottom line is that religion is not a mantle I decide to take up for myself (or a cute little hat that I want every child to wear). It's not something I can take off or turn off or hide so that others around me won't be offended. Christianity is a communal 'we' which--through the grace of God--is forming and informing the hope of me.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Trinitas...
What do you get when you combine loose biblical foundations with overly developed analytical scruples?
Centuries of ecclesial schism and trinitarian heresy!!! (But hey, now we have better creeds)
Centuries of ecclesial schism and trinitarian heresy!!! (But hey, now we have better creeds)
...and then Karl Barth returns in shining armour to 'rescue trinitarian theology from possible theological irrelevance.' (--Colle CCCD p136)
The free shining light is revealed and all is well on the Western front.Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Running
Running and I have a love/hate relationship
(To be honest, Matt almost fell over when I told him I was going for a run.)
(To be honest, Matt almost fell over when I told him I was going for a run.)
It was a Wednesday. And it was beautiful.
Soft socks, tank top, and yoga pants: I was a runner before I even left.
I stretched outside, submerging my body in the physical mentality.
Cool air—anticipating the rain and the almost-November
(and then Daniel came out of his apartment, and insecurity came rushing to attack the intruder of my solitude so I kept stretching until he left me)
…Alone.
No turning back.
I kept my footfalls gentle, pace slow:
Tp tp tp tp tp.
The pavement was damp and I’m sure my footsteps were echoing somewhere.
Innnnnnnnn (through the nose). Out (two three).
I kept breathing.
Tiny specks of water prickled my shoulders
Keep running.
Breath tightened. Heart Pounded.
Tp tp tp tp tp
My weakness began to burn.
So I walked
And noticed.
I’ve never felt so still while moving
Or so moved by slowing down.
The world paused with me, poised in thought and strolling by.
A gnarled fir tree suddenly felt like Christmas
(we don’t get those in Florida)
but it was time to reclaim my pace
tp tp tp tp tp tp
out-of-the-road-caution-car
(what if he stops and comes towards me?)
::shake the thought::
Keep running.
Tp tp tp…tp..…tp.
The garbage cans sparkled with raindrops
Garbage bins? beautiful?
One more sprint and I’m home!
Dust off the raindrops and curl up.
Soft socks, tank top, and yoga pants: I was a runner before I even left.
I stretched outside, submerging my body in the physical mentality.
Cool air—anticipating the rain and the almost-November
(and then Daniel came out of his apartment, and insecurity came rushing to attack the intruder of my solitude so I kept stretching until he left me)
…Alone.
No turning back.
I kept my footfalls gentle, pace slow:
Tp tp tp tp tp.
The pavement was damp and I’m sure my footsteps were echoing somewhere.
Innnnnnnnn (through the nose). Out (two three).
I kept breathing.
Tiny specks of water prickled my shoulders
Keep running.
Breath tightened. Heart Pounded.
Tp tp tp tp tp
My weakness began to burn.
So I walked
And noticed.
I’ve never felt so still while moving
Or so moved by slowing down.
The world paused with me, poised in thought and strolling by.
A gnarled fir tree suddenly felt like Christmas
(we don’t get those in Florida)
but it was time to reclaim my pace
tp tp tp tp tp tp
out-of-the-road-caution-car
(what if he stops and comes towards me?)
::shake the thought::
Keep running.
Tp tp tp…tp..…tp.
The garbage cans sparkled with raindrops
Garbage bins? beautiful?
One more sprint and I’m home!
Dust off the raindrops and curl up.
I love running, but next time I’ll probably forget.
My Lamentation
Preface:This came out as a completely honest prayer at the end of last semester and it's a lot easier to read now that things have worked out. But I'm posting this because I don't want to lose it--because I don't want to forget.
God,
It’s 7:20pm on a Sunday. I have two papers due tomorrow (one is a review and the other is a working table of exegetical notes) but the first hasn’t even been started and the second is far from finished.
My Bodies project is this week. Opens Thursday morning.
I have to read all of Achebe by next week and write a 12-page exegetical paper (with a thesis) on Habakkuk.
Tax paperwork needs to be done like yesterday.
It’s a lot, I know. (and I know you know) but I was ok….I was managing and balancing. The bell curve of anxiety had reached a nice peak.
Until I crashed my car yesterday. Totaled it. As in, I almost died yesterday. I have no car—and it’s numb. The whole thing happened so fast: Swerve. Bang. Airbags. “I should hit the breaks”
I know it was just a car. I know that cars are replaceable and people are not. I’m thankful to be alive.
it’s just that…for the entire past month when I’d sit down to do finances, my great big consolation was “at least the cars are ok. As long as one of the cars don’t break down, we’ll be ok….”
it’s just that…for the entire past month when I’d sit down to do finances, my great big consolation was “at least the cars are ok. As long as one of the cars don’t break down, we’ll be ok….”
And now? Gone.
Not broke.
Gone.
I have an internship this summer with a 45 min commute each way. An 8,000 scholarshipped commute.
How the hell are we going to pay for this?? We can’t afford a new car. We can’t even afford to pay Matt’s 2,000 hospital bill! Not to mention professional clothes for the summer or a ticket to visit Josh when he’s home.
How the hell are we going to pay for this?? We can’t afford a new car. We can’t even afford to pay Matt’s 2,000 hospital bill! Not to mention professional clothes for the summer or a ticket to visit Josh when he’s home.
Insurance is going to go up. The tow company is going to have a bill. Insurance may not even reimburse anything….
God, I’m not usually a complainer (at least, I try not to be a complainer) but what the heck??!?!?! I can barely handle my normal schedule. I really, REALLY didn’t need this—not that I’m blaming you.
I just don’t know what to do.
Help? Please?
If nothing else, just help me get through these next few weeks.
Help me get through the rest of today. Give me the strength to focus on these papers—the strength to not worry.
We study Job and Lamentations for a reason.
Lord, hear my prayer.
What are you carrying in your heart?
Responsibility.
The word hovers heavily;
Looming over my actions and crafting my future.
Wife.
Daughter.
Pastor.
Student.
Professional.
Adult
Wake up early.
Clean the house.
Cook the food.
Do the reading
Feed your soul
Feel my sheep
This life is a balancing act--a double arabian--only to land clumsily on the thin beam of expectation; knowing all the while that it only takes one fall--one missed step--for it all to come tumbling down.
Joshua fought the battle of Jericho and the Lord said, "Do not fear."
The word hovers heavily;
Looming over my actions and crafting my future.
Wife.
Daughter.
Pastor.
Student.
Professional.
Adult
Wake up early.
Clean the house.
Cook the food.
Do the reading
Feed your soul
Feel my sheep
This life is a balancing act--a double arabian--only to land clumsily on the thin beam of expectation; knowing all the while that it only takes one fall--one missed step--for it all to come tumbling down.
Joshua fought the battle of Jericho and the Lord said, "Do not fear."
What are you carrying?
I have a bag and a bag and a bag.
Repetition aside, I have a tote bag and a lunchbox and a purse.
(which is new because I’m not typically the purse type)
(which is new because I’m not typically the purse type)
But I usually have a bag. Or a basket. Or (as in the case of my lunchbox) a bag full of bags.
I put my peach in a bag so that it wouldn’t squish peachy peach ooze all over my sandwich (a wich which is also carefully zipped away in plastic); my cheerios—nostalgic little nods to my childhood—are snug in their red-and-blue fresh seal bag; and my potatoes (yes, potatoes, plural) –the potatoes too are in their own little world of ziplocked happiness (a detail which, in retrospect, may have turned them a little).
I guess I like bags.
But it also means I hate being unprepared. Or empty.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I believe....
I believe in God.
I believe that God created light out of darkness…
Life out of emptiness.
And I believe the scriptures in Genesis when they say that Elohim—God, powerful and almighty—created everything into being simply by speaking.
(I don’t mean this scientifically because I don’t think Genesis was intended to be a scientific proof, but I do mean that God’s nature and God’s essence and surpasses and eclipses any human inclination of factual familiarity.)
God is God and I am not.
But I do believe in God the father almighty.
I believe in Jesus Christ, the word of God made flesh, who died on a cross, conquered death and rose again to life everlasting.
I believe in the Holy Spirit who breathed like a thunderous wind at Pentecost and cannot be quenched in our own lives today.
Yes, I believe God;
a powerful, wondrous God.
a powerful, wondrous God.
Psalm 145 says:
I will extol you, my God and King,
and bless your name for ever and ever.
Every day I will bless you,
and praise your name for ever and ever.
Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised;
God’s greatness is unsearchable.
One generation shall laud your works to another,
and shall declare your mighty acts.
On the glorious splendor of your majesty,
and on your wondrous works, I will meditate.
The might of your awesome deeds shall be proclaimed,
and I will declare your greatness.
They shall celebrate the fame of your abundant goodness,
and shall sing aloud of your righteousness.
Among other things, this Psalm proclaims God’s might and righteousness; God’s identity as the Conquering One—victorious over sin, and injustice, over death, cancer, depression, and worry conquering even our finances and our own moments of self-centeredness.
Our God is stronger than anything which would hold us back.
And as Paul says in Romans 8, I am convinced that nothing—NOTHING—in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Beautiful Prayer
“Your pastoral prayers are beautiful.”
The compliment took me completely off guard—partially because I don’t consider prayer one of my strengths, but mostly because I often take corporate prayer for granted. When I’m the one sitting in the pew as laity, I tend to appreciate the time and space set aside for prayer more than the actual words offered by the pastor. Instead of listening to the pray-er, I force myself to pray. Similarly, when I’m the one praying aloud, I feverishly try to ignore the listening eyes focused in my direction. I know that pride is a weakness, and fiercely wary of rattling pretty words instead of genuinely sharing my heart. “When you pray, do not be like the hypocrites who love the attention,” says a paraphrased Jesus in Matthew 6:5-8. “Oh, and stick to the point. Filibusters get old really quick.”
I usually pretend I’m alone when I pray, but when people constantly point out that they’re listening, I can’t pretend—and I’m not certain that I should. If nothing else, shouldn’t prayer be honest? There’s a fine line between directing people’s attention and seeking it, but if written liturgy can effectively guide the voice of the people, why can’t prayer do the same? Affirmation from my congregation this summer gently led me to reflect on the purpose of prayer within corporate worship and the pastor’s role as one who prays.
I realized, first of all, that there is a significant difference between the prayers I offer up while driving alone and the prayers which occur in the sanctuary on a Sunday morning. In both instances, my voice and my words articulate the message, but prayers for the church and prayers on behalf of the congregation are very different. Individual prayers cover the church and should move between personal and community needs, but a pastoral prayer should claim them all. My personal voice is single, but my pastoral voice in worship is legion (in the non-demonic sense).
One resource that helped frame the question of prayer in worship was Valerie Bridgeman Davis’ article “21 Questions, Revisited.” Regarding liturgy and worship planning, Davis lists 21 questions for consideration—all pushing for intentional, theologically and biblically grounded, vibrant, and reflective communal worship. A few of them speak directly to prayer even though her actual word is ‘worship':
· Is this worship contextually relevant? Does worship reflect the culture(s), lands, and peoples gathered for worship?
· Is the worship participatory? Or, are there simply “talking heads” upfront that we may “tune out”?
· Does worship pull people from the outer edges into the center?
· Are litanies and prayers easy to enter, with refrains and rhythms that hold the central message in place?
· Does this worship return us to the great celebration around the throne of God when the reign of God is fully and completely realized and we out of every tongue, language, tribe, nation, gender, and age, lift our voices in awesome wonder of God who is majestic, powerful, holy, generous, friend, glorious, wonderful, and worthy of all this worship?[1]
Within the 60 min constraints of a typical worship service, anyone would have a difficult time incorporating all of Davis’ charges, but the daunting task highlights the notion that every moment in worship demands purpose. Every section, every word, every prayer in worship should grab people’s attention, push it out towards others, pull outsiders in, and lift everyone, together, to God. Far from ignoring people, Davis’ questions point constantly back towards the reality of the community which cannot be ignored. Not only should Sunday morning prayer incorporate the people, it must! If prayers in worship do not directly connect the needs and realities of all people present, then the liturgical purpose of corporate worship is lost.
The challenge for authenticity then becomes a question of whether or not the pray-er knows those very needs. In The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen identifies the pastor as an “articulator of inner events” who can speak not only to God, but to the heart and truth of the people themselves:
“[Prayer] is the careful and sensitive articulation of what is happening in the community so that those who listen can say: ‘You say what I only suspected, you clearly express what I vaguely felt, you bring to the fore what I fearfully kept in the back of my mind. Yes, yes—you say who we are, you recognize our condition.’
...[praying] in this context means offering channels through which people can discover themselves, clarify their own experiences, and find niches in which the Word of God can take firm hold. In this context, liturgy is much more than ritual. It becomes celebration.”[2]
...[praying] in this context means offering channels through which people can discover themselves, clarify their own experiences, and find niches in which the Word of God can take firm hold. In this context, liturgy is much more than ritual. It becomes celebration.”[2]
In addition to speaking on behalf of the whole community, Nouwen’s nuanced vision of prayer takes on a teaching component. Just as Romans 8:26-27 promises a spiritual understanding beyond our lack of words, Nouwen charges pastors to cut clarity from the void and boldly name the indefinite. Good prayers are needed in worship because they give words and shape the mindset of the congregation. Again, the communal voice takes on formative power. It’s one thing to pray for the poor. It’s quite another to say, “Lord, we are struggling. We are hurting for jobs and hungry for hope.”
As I have learned this congregation, met the people, and heard their stories, I have learned how to pray for them and what to pray for. I've learned that unless I care for and love and listen to my future congregations, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to authentically pray with them. Just as worship should frame the way we live, love should frame the way we pray (and vice versa). When a congregation is standing (or kneeling or dancing) before God, united, speaking and seeing through one multifaceted prayer, then the church can't help but be honest, authentic, hopeful, selfless, and completely focused on God--THAT is a beautiful prayer!!.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Holy Holy Holy
Some of my favorite moments this summer have been in the sanctuary when no one else was around; moments where I could fall at the altar without feeling watched, judged, or distracting. (I think the latter is my biggest fear in corporate worship.)
I especially loved an afternoon where I just opened a hymnal and filled the room with a capella song. Just me. Singing for God. :)
I hope and pray with all my heart that I will never forget or lose these moments in ministry.
P.S. "Holy Holy Holy" makes for a great blues rendition! Who'd have thought my worship song would be jazz?
I especially loved an afternoon where I just opened a hymnal and filled the room with a capella song. Just me. Singing for God. :)
I hope and pray with all my heart that I will never forget or lose these moments in ministry.
P.S. "Holy Holy Holy" makes for a great blues rendition! Who'd have thought my worship song would be jazz?
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Holy Smackdown
I think theology needs to be a collaborative effort, so this week in preparation for this morning’s text, I’ve been getting opinions on a theologically rich question. I’d love to have a conversation about it, but for now I just want to turn this question over for your thoughts:
In a wrestling match (to the death) between Pastor Al and Kevin, who do you think would win?
It’s been a really fun question to ask—partially because neither of them knew the poll was floating around—but also because some of the responses have been hilarious (I got to ask both spouses, for example, and one voted for her husband and the other voted immediately against) but it’s also been interesting to see the deliberation (“on one hand, Kevin is faster and younger, but Al has the advantage of size and wisdom…”).
Overall, it’s been a fairly competitive and heated race, but as of Friday, I have to declare that the winner, with 63% of the congregation, is………Al. (sorry Kevin).
With a few people, I took the poll a step further and said, “Ok. What about Al vs. God? Who would win then?”
So far, God has won every time. My husband (the king of manly hypotheticals) got a kick out of this question—especially when I flipped it back on him and said, “yeah? What about you? Think you could wrestle with God?”
So far, God has won every time. My husband (the king of manly hypotheticals) got a kick out of this question—especially when I flipped it back on him and said, “yeah? What about you? Think you could wrestle with God?”
So Matt, ever the sarcastic show-off, says “Of course! I could throw down; show YHWH a thing or two…”
And then (I love my husband) he immediately backpedals, “uh oh…I hope that doesn’t go on my permanent record….I can see my life playing back on the judgment day and then God will pause the giant screen and tower over me with a rumbling voice and be like, ‘Were you there when I created the earth? Do you know the secrets of the deep and the hairs on each person’s head? You really think you can take me?’”
I mean, let’s face it: If we were to imagine a WWJD smackdown with God almighty, infinite in power in one corner—even if the opponent is a 300lb beefcake like me, it’s not going to be much of a fight. I think that’s the attitude we usually have when we approach this text.
It’s certainly the most common artistic interpretation. One of the most famous images of ‘Jacob Wrestling’ is an 1855 engraving by Gustave Doré. (I’m going to back up a few steps and point out that this Genesis text is full of complicated questions—one of which is the identity if the wrestler. Depending on your translation, the wrestler will be called a man or an angel…and some scholars point out that the Hebrew text never explicitly says “Jacob wrestles with God”…but I think it’s God. The wrestler ends up blessing Jacob and changing his name—those are only things God can do). Anyways, Doré clearly depicts God as an angel, but note that Jacob seems to be the only one struggling—he’s on the edge with muscles tense, but the angel seems calm and unruffled. 
In this other image from an unknown artist, the fight is depicted even more ridiculously. God is huge and Holy (with fork-like feet for some reason) while Jacob is little and skinny with his arms stretched in a futile punch that bounces off without effect. Rather than struggling, God seems to be patiently waiting for Jacob to calm down. There’s no doubt that God is all-powerful and all-mighty. This painter has captured God’s identity as the Conquering One—the God who is victorious over sin, and injustice, over death, cancer, depression, and worry; conquering even our finances and our own moments of self-centeredness. God can conquer it all!
But I’d like to look at another artistic rendering of this text. One that goes verse-by-verse.
I’m not vouching for the historical accuracy of Lego-people, but I do think we’re missing something if we pretend the struggle in this story isn’t epic. It lasts through the night and even after his hip is broken, Jacob isn’t the one who says, “Let me go!”—that’s God. Surprisingly, the God depicted in this story is not one of omnipotence, but one who wrestles. It’s a conundrum—a radical reversal of our expectations—and we can respond in one of three ways:
2. Our second option is to sidestep the physical power issue and say that God’s wrestling match with Jacob was a spiritual one. The actual wrestling becomes a nonissue and God’s power remains intact, but the text clearly says that Jacob is injured in this struggle and he walks away with a limp—a physical sign forever commemorated by Israel’s dietary laws. Certainly, as we read this story, we need to remember that Jacob is about to return to his brother, Esau (the brother that Jacob wronged and ran from) so yeah, there is spiritual struggle at work here, but that can’t take away from the fact that this is a God who initiates a real, physical, encounter. If anything, the spiritual connotations enhance the physical implications….
When Jacob first ran away from Esau in Genesis 28, God sent Jacob a beautiful dream about a ladder between heaven and earth—an image of hope and harmony; a promise of connectedness. But four chapters later, Jacob is returning to his brother—finally seeking peace and reconciliation and God decides that a vision isn’t enough. It’s not enough for God to just say, “Hey Jacob! I’m here—I’m kind of a big deal.” No, God wants to get involved. God wants to touch Jacob—in his strength, in his weakness—and God is willing to fight for that—even if it means holding back for our sake.
Which brings us to our third option: we can accept and struggle with this new image of God—the God who wrestles with us; the God who steps outside of omnipotence in order to be on our level. We can say that God is God beyond our definitions and outside of our boxes. Our God is Mighty and Powerful but also unexpected. Here and ready now to burst into our realities and stand with us in our struggles.
The more I think about this new image of God, the more I’m struck by the fact that this redefinition of strength—this wrestling God—isn’t new at all. We just usually call him Jesus. Jesus, the word made flesh, who emptied himself of divinity in order to reach into the reality of our brokenness. In Jesus, we see God fully engaged in human weakness even to the point of suffering and fatality. THIS is an unexpected God. But again, God surprises us. In Jesus,we see not only the same God who chooses weakness in order to be with us, but we also see the powerful God of victory when Christ wrestles death itself and walks away victorious. God turns a sign of weakness into life. Jacob’s limp was a proclamation which said “My God wrestled with me and I survived.” Likewise, Jesus had scars on his hands and feet, so that Thomas could touch brokenness and say, “My God lives.”
There’s a huge difference between our calm, collected, neat and pretty ideas about God and the messy, complicated reality of THE God who breaks into our facades and wrestles into our weaknesses. As Pastor Al said a few Sundays back, “God doesn’t tap us politely on the shoulder to get our attention. God is jealous.’ Jacob teaches that God tackles us and wants to be a part of our every day brokenness, weakness, and struggle.
Likewise, when we talk about the kingdom of God or the reality of Jesus’ forgiveness, we can’t just paint pretty pictures with our Sunday morning words. We have to get involved and fight for that to be a touchable reality—we have to let God struggle with us—in our hearts, in our communities, our workplaces, our bank accounts, our hospitals, our bedrooms, our kitchen tables ….Just as we allow scripture to define our understanding of God, we need to allow God to shape the way we understand ourselves.
So let us say, “Yes, God, wrestle with us. Come into every aspect of our lives and make our faith real. Let us be a generation who seeks your face, God of Jacob, but also a generation who seeks the faces of our brothers and sisters. Struggle with us through our brokenness for You are great.”
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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