And Here She is, Folks!

Holy Cow...I'm back. I can't believe I haven't even logged into this stinkin' account since October. What the fuck? Where has all the time gone? What happened to my lofty goals of writing about and processing seminary? I was so serious about trying to do that. Now it makes me chuckle. I feel like I've already moved on too much for such pettiness. Kidding. Now I think I'm just too lazy. Yes. That's it.

Well, that, and the fact that in the last six months my entire world has jostled me to such a degree that this roller coaster ride of life needs to be shut-down and lie dormant while the engineers construct better protective padding to the head, neck, and well, the heart area as well. (Please comment if you remember that only awesome song by Point of Grace, "This roller coaster ride of life, lifts you and lets you down!!??")

I just briefly browsed through my latest postings, and I've decided to start writing on here more like I talk. The other stuff doesn't even sound like me anymore. I cuss--a lot. My three-year-old knows how to use the F-bomb appropriately, and it makes me laugh not punish. I guess that'll stop when she gets sent home from kindergarten for disrespectful language. I also feel like the other stuff is a bit sappy now. Maybe it all goes back to the roller coaster of life thing. I don't feel very sappy these days. I've been sad and angry recently. And well, I am done with evangelicalism. I resent rich white men in positions of power (there I finally wrote it down), and I'm tired of church--not MY church, but Church, mostly when it has all the answers, practices exclusive doctrines, and uses fear tactics. It is sooooo difficult to have any sort of meaningful, inquisitive conversation in the church where the dialogue is not stifled or stuck. I'm tired of all of this.

So, I guess this post is only a warning that I am going to be more blunt on here. I think that's why I've been avoiding it and returned to my private, hand-written journal the last few months. It's a bit safer. But dammit, here I am! "Nice Girls Don't Change the World!" as one of my favorite books is titled, so get ready. I am currently processing a lot of life shit right now and feeling cynical, hurt, and dejected--all relatively new emotions for idyllic, peacefully naive me. I'm not very balanced right now. So, consider yourselves warned.

And as I type this I realize this will still be a seminary reflection, but not so much in a systematic, Thomas Aquinas Summa Theologica format, but instead, through a Derridean, pomo, life-experience-is-the-real-deal-and-stage-for-theologizing sort of way...the way with which I'm comfortable and to which I am more accustomed.

Warning

I'm going to begin blogging again this week. I need to do some reflective writing as it is a discipline longing to be cultivated more thoroughly. I will be offering a series of reflections on seminary. That's it. Get ready.

(Note to self: Now that I have published this, it must become a reality. No more procrastination.)

A Buzz Word about God

Since I am graduating in seven weeks, yes, seven weeks (!!) I have been entertaining off-and-on a resurgence of life questions. What is my denomination? Do I believe in denominations? Why am I not already on a path to ordination? Should I not have an ordination service following the week of the commencement festivities? Where will I pastor? In what context? Shouldn’t God have already worked all this out?! I am twenty-eight, after all!?

Birthing two kids in the middle of my degree has offered me a bit of permission from God (myself, really) to let up on the how’s, why’s, and when’s in place of some more favorable peace. Surprisingly, as life grew busier, the peace became more present. When all of the above questions were hovering around like a poisonous bee at the start of my seminary tenure I thought I was going deaf from the numbing ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz of where is this education leading? The loud buzzing never really went away, but as life progressed, it did drop down to a low dull so that I could proceed through life. Now that damn bee is back and the buzzing can be heard at decibels so electrifying I wonder when our nosy neighbor is going to call the cops for noises in our apartment louder than city ordinances permit. (Maybe I just have mental illness.)

Anyway, I have initiated several conversations with various people in the ministry and my family with the hopes that their guidance will numb the sound. They are people whom I trust and consider wise on such subjects like what the hell is God doing with my life. Their opinions have slightly varied and their ideas of what would be best for me are even sundry, yet one element of the dialogue has remained consistent amidst all my questions and anxiety (again, mostly self-imposed).

God loves you.

Hurumph. I usually huff a little and slightly audible sigh, feeling perplexed wanting more clarity about the here-and-now and not really wanting to continue such an esoteric line of thought. Then I think, actually God’s love is extremely tangible. That’s when my shoulders relax a smidgen. My breath comes a bit deeper on the next inhale, and I reluctantly remember this profound reality. Yes, God loves God’s people.

God did not bring me this far in life, with a husband, two kids, an (almost) advanced degree, various life experiences across the country, etc. to suddenly say, “ummm…yeah, good job on the grades at seminary, Lauren. You’ve arrived. You are now a Master of the Divine. So….yeah, good luck with all that. See you in a few years at the next resurrection.”

Sometimes I tend to think that’s the case, given what I’ve learned and misunderstood about process theology and practical theology and everything in-between that discusses how God may or may not interact in the world. However, everything inside me screeches (or wants to stand) against that.

Liv loves the book “Moo, Baa, La La La” by Sandra Boynton. (A great children’s poet!)
It goes:

A cow says, “Moo!”
A sheep says, “Baa!”
Three Singing pigs say, “La! La! La!”
“No, no,” you say. “That isn’t right.”
The pig says, “Oink!” all day and night.

Rhinoceroses snort and snuff
Three little dogs go, “ruff, ruff, ruff.”
“Quack,” says the duck and a horse says, “neigh.”
It’s quiet now.
What do you say?

No! No! I say to God, “This isn’t right!” you love us still, to our delight.
(Sorry, I suck are rhyming.) Which is code for, God’s not going to forget about us (i.e. me). Or anyone for that matter, even if you are marginalized and deprived of certain human rights. (Do I even have the right to say that? That’s a whole ‘nother post for a later time. We’ll see if I still believe that after a trip to Cape Town later this year.) even if you are in the midst of foggy transition that rates low on the frontal visibility scale.

So yes, my life seems to be transitioning, the bee is buzzing, and yet “it’s quiet now.” What do I say? The opportunities are many and the possibilities somewhat limitless. What a tremendous, inexplicable, unmitigated gift! Truly. Who am I to query about it being otherwise simply because it’s a bit vague and full of ubiquitous ambiguity right now?

It’s quiet now. What do I say?

Well, I’m a bit too overwhelmed really to say much at all. I speculate that my husband is as well since he’s on a parallel existential track of life-purpose. Good timing we’ve got, eh? At least one of us in the marriage could be a stabilizing force. Oh well. ☺

Instead, I think I will permit the golden Barbara Brown Taylor to once again, use her magical powers of clear and metaphorically enhanced articulation to speak for me.

In response to Terry Gross’ inquisition about her underlying assumptions of the word/image of “God,” as she perceives and believes it to exist, Taylor inspires me with this.

“When I say the word, “God,” I am so aware that I’m using a code word…I suppose my own image, my own idea of God as imperfect and evolving as it is, right now, would be the glue that hooks everything together. The consciousness that moves between all living things…I do not envision a large person…I envision instead some (a slight pause) presence so beyond my being. A presence that both knows the stars by name and knows me by name as well. That is not here to be useful to me, that is not here to give me things as much as to ask me to give myself away for love …but when I say I believe in God, I trust. I trust in the goodness of life, of being. I trust that beyond all reason. I trust that with my life.”

To give myself away for that love…That love which is God’s-self. So then I think, duh. I can do that. What’s so hard about that? And then I’m awake all night wondering about that. Geesh (wink, wink).


(I wrote this on my flight to DC. Expect a follow-up soon, post-trip.)

Our Place in History

A few weeks ago, Kyle, Tyler, and I attended panel #2 of a two-part series at Claremont School of Theology. The first one was on Church in Society, which I was sad to miss, and the second was on Transforming Society--or something like that; I don't remember exactly. The panel consisted of several liberal theologians from top schools across the country. In a fascinating attempt to keep the audience involved, we jotted down what we believed to be theological predicaments that ought to be at the forefront of theologians' and clergies' minds when it comes to making the world a better place. Then the scholars each volunteered to address a specific one. The list was the usual: economic meltdown, AIDS, poverty, homosexuality, global warming, and on and on. It was actually quite the downer. But to hear the smart people articulate approaches to discuss and even implement change in these areas was inspiring and encouraging. (It reminded me again and again that before I am anything else good, like a philanthropist, volunteer, educator, mother, etc. I am a spiritual being intimately related to my environment, family, neighbors, and Creator. --Perhaps affirming again that I am entering the right profession for me.)

Afterwards, while the three of us were enjoying a flavorful and aromatic hookah at a trendy Mediterranean joint in the Claremont Village, the conversation veered into something along the lines of, what right do those people, those smart people, the "scholars" and theologians have to make any claims about anything, be it a doctrinal truth they uphold, or personal approaches to social issues (like Just Peacemaking Theory), or whatever. Before we can argue one way or the other for anything, don't we need to humbly position ourselves, our minds, and our ideas about the world in a larger context, and that context being all of world history? I don't think the panel would have disagreed with us, but they certainly might argue that there isn't always time for such macro-approaches to conversation, so we need to just assume some things from the get-go. However, we decided that there needs to be time, if only a sentence or two, in which the speaker can acknowledge her seemingly inconsequential ideas and then go on to share them at length. This would make the ideas so much more credible, would it not?

But how un-Enlightenment of us to admit from the start that perhaps we do not have this...this God-thing, this theology-stuff all figured out, especially us scholars. I'm not harping on the academy, just the opposite, in fact. I love it when I begin a new class each quarter and my professor confesses not having all the answers, not always understanding everything that ought to be understood, and therefore not always able to articulate complex ideas about the nature of God in as clear way as necessary. I like these professors way more than the ones who boldly and arrogantly claim, "look kids, here's how it is. now go pastor."

So, all that to say, I opened Latourette's volume-one church history book last week (a mere 1000 page work) and to my delight, the entire first chapter devotes itself to adequately addressing the need for the church to remember the small, small, small fraction of time it has existed and experienced influence on the world when considering the course of world history. Fabulous! I was a bit embarrassed that I had a church history class on Evangelicalism at Yale in Latourette Hall, that this is my third church history class at Fuller, in which I read pieces of Latourette's works in the prior two, and it was only this fourth time that I bothered reading chapter one, and that's just because Dr. Bradley actually assigned it. (THANK YOU!)

Here a bit of what he says.

Christianity is relatively young. Compared with the course of mankind on the earth, it began only a few moments ago...If one accepts the perspective set forth in the NT that in Christ is the secret of God's plan for the entire creation...Christianity becomes relatively even more recent, for the few centuries since the coming of Christ are only an infinitesimal fraction of the time which has elapsed since the earth, not to speak of the vast universe, came into being...Christianity has been present during only a fifth or a sixth of the brief span of civilized mankind.

Again, fabulous! Now, I am can talk, or listen to someone else talk about her doctrine of the trinity. Now I can discuss the significance of Protestant denominations. Now, I can embrace the call to live as a pacifist. Now, when it's all contextualized and we are free to admit that we don't have this Christian-follow-Jesus-live-in-the-kingdom-life-thing all figured out can I begin to start claiming Christianity and following Jesus to that I can live life in the kingdom of God. So please, yes, let's have as many panels as possible that discuss minutia like hte doctrine of the Trinity, just so we can remember that although it's a huge and orthodox concept, really, it's fairly small. (How heretical of me, I know, since our entire faith hangs on the existence of said doctrine.)

I'll stop with this last quote which I find incredibly freeing. Latourette goes on to say,

If Christianity is only near the beginning of its course it may be that the forms which it has developed, whether institutional, intellectual, or ritual are by no means to be final or continuously characteristic.

Praise God! Let's move on people! And thank you to all you pastors, theologians, preachers, and laity out there who are already embodying this for me as I seek my own road of pastoral ministry. This all merges for me in a way that has given me more permission to dream about new church communities outside the institution, denominational constraints, and the pressures that come with ordination. hmmmm....

Immanent God, Intervening God: A Semantic Matter or Not?

I have been so hands-off of this topic for most of my seminary career; funny how it comes up in what is one of my last three classes before graduation this June--Anglo-American Postmodern Philosophy. (and yes! you read that correctly...I'm graduating in a few months!!) How does God speak? Does God speak? Is God a being who intervenes and if so, for what purposes? Or is our universe a modern, enlightened, rational, well-oiled machine that has been set in motion by a great Creator in the beginning and only left to its own workings and happenings so many billions of years later, i.e. today? 

I sort of imagine that last concept like one of those old fashioned toy tops where a kid yanks a string with force to send the top whirling across the table on its own volition and where it stops, nobody knows...not even God. The past few months, or years maybe, I have been moving progressively left in most of my theological suppositions. The ways in which I relate to God are more and more "liberal" as I wean myself off of tidy evangelism for a more hodgepodge of practical understandings of discipleship. But the movement of God in the world is one bit that I want to keep dusting off over and over so as to keep it pristine and easy.  

Thanks to liberals like Schleiermacher, I'm all about God being present in the Eucharist insofar as it is a gathering of God's children, as we all are created in God's image and  bearers of the Holy Spirit. I'm fine stopping there on this trajectory. A few stops too early on the theological tracks for my conservative brothers and sisters. What is more, I tend to veer away from the idea that God's miracles come to us in trite manifestations for our own edification. (I'm going to leave that vague for now as well.) Okay, so maybe it isn't as squeaky clean as I thought. In this way, God's presence traces back to the community for me. 

On the other hand (grab your dust cloth now), I cannot forsake the idea of a God who intervenes in our lives for the benefits of others who have yet to experience life in the kingdom of God. Isn't that what the incarnation was all about--God coming down so that we might have love | joy | peace? (There is a great Mennonite chorus we sing about this.)  I want to think that we are not on a conveyor belt like at the Toyota plant where everything is set in motion and cars are built whether or not the president of the company is present. God is not our CEO, and I am not an employee in the modern company pushing my way forward to grab a seat at the conference table in order to get a word in edgewise with the director. I regret that our modern liberalism has, in effect, worked us out of our own need for a present, immanent, redeeming God who still participates in the manifestations of what it means to be human and alive. Nor do I see God, however, as this little angel on my right shoulder arranging life so that my every want will be supplied. How consumerist is that?

So I had to write a brief reflection paper the other day on how this affects my prayer life. Do I pray for cures from disease? Cessation to genocide? Quick fixes and instant satisfaction? Isn't this a rebuttal against the ideas of free will and systemic evil? If God is going to immediately interrupt the transmission of AIDS, how does this not limit our response to God? (And won't skeptics like the Brites and other atheists ascribe it to modern science anyway?) Instead, would it not be more theologically astute/correct to ask for God to give grace and presence and peace to those suffering with AIDS while also asking for people who have resources to educate others about the prevention of AIDS to respond to a "call" to the need for this education? Like joining the Peace Corps?! Instead of praying for California voters to wake up and make gay rights legal over night, is it not more appropriate to ask God to interact in ways that awaken people to the need for more protests, education, and interaction with the issue so they can see up close and personal the bigotry that our current legal system promotes? I think the difference that I am trying to articulate is this:

Rather than God intervening in our world from the high heavens above (whatever the hell that means), God immanently exists from within all of us and from within all situations. In this way, (go ahead and lambaste me all you scientists) God, through the power of the Holy Spirit, calls us, provokes us, and leads us to ministerially (is that a word) respond and be present in the world in a way that benefits the good of the whole--not just ourselves (a.k.a. poor, pitiful, me--perhaps a syndrome to which only rich westerners are subject). Anyway, this makes sense for me right now. God gets to be bigger, albeit a bit more elusive, yet at the same time, still mystically present in the mundane of life while directing the whole of the cosmos for the blessing of all humankind. It is allowing me to pray on a personal level again because I do not have to be overly consumed with seeking the results of my prayers as they only pertain to me or my family or my situation in life. I can pray for my kids to get over their colds now so that they can be a blessing to the world in the ways that God created them to be, and free from the ways in which their colds were hindering this. In this way, it's not just about them leaving snot all over the cuff of their shirt and me being grossed out by it and wanting the laundry pile to stop being so insurmountable. I think God is more concerned with things other than my laundry, but I want to believe that God is totally concerned with whether or not my children are fully engaging in the world around them. 

Is this ridiculous? Am I just hanging on to this idea of God in the world so I can sleep better at night? Am I working too hard to keep the belief dust-free? Or do I need to let go of it completely like all those other liberals out there whom I so respect? Can someone please pass the Pledge? I need to get this idea dusted off.

New Blog

Head on over to my new blog. It's for my Wealth and Poverty in the New Testament class.  Please feel free to join in the conversation. The more we're talking, the better my grade. :-) I'm still getting it up and running, so hopefully the appearence of things will be changing as you view.

Shoot

Once everyone wakes up from their naps we are heading to Pasadena for the day to run errands on Fuller's campus. I am withdrawing from my one lone class for the quarter because life got in the way a little more forcefully than I had originally planned on when I first signed up for the course. Tyler is studying for his exams, preparing to teach his first class, finishing his last major paper, taking a class on Ugaritic, and working at the ABMC. That leaves little time for him to stay with the kids while I am away all day every Wednesday.

Livia is nothing short of a crazy toddler who's first impulse is to take over the entire house every waking moment with her toys, emotions, and demands. Jude's food allergies leave me running on low steam by the end of the day to the point that opening at dense text book on Organizational Theory doesn't sound like much fun. Plus, if I were to stay in class and take Sundays to study (our original plan) that means we put our marriage on hold until May after his exams, or really until June, when our classes are over. I can't square that. What was I thinking when I signed up for this in the first place?

Oh yeah, Rick Beaton is one of the best at Fuller, and this class is possibly a one time deal. It's titled "Biblical Organizational Leadership." During the first meeting Beaton had us share our reason for enrolling. Several suck-ups said because they liked him so much. So in an effort to be a little less obnoxious, even though that was my main reason as well, I said that I was sick of pastors not knowing how to lead a group of people. I'm tired of there being no vision in the church and therefore no progress forward in how to best implement the Gospel into our daily lives as we seek to be more like Jesus simply because weak leaders are the pastors. I don't want to be a pastor that shies away from speaking the difficult messages, or doing the challenging administrative work of hiring and firing the right people simply because I am afraid people may get upset. Give me a break. I think being a "Christian" extends beyond not wanting to hurt someone's feelings. So I wanted to take the class. Alas, maybe now that I don't have to read the text books with a highlighter in my hand and a computer on my lap I can scroll through them while feeding Jude and Livia every now and then. Because I still don't want to be a pastor that is a wimp.

Plus, this class was a great example of practical theology. How does the fact that Scripture is our final authority on life influence the ways in which we practice living? It was a complete intersection of theology and lifestyle. It was going to help us, as leaders, better use our theological suppositions to creatively structure ways of thought about leading that are both biblical and theologically savvy. Seminaries need more of this: teaching us how to integrate heady academic stuff with the nitty-gritty of dealing with parish people.

Anyway, I feel sort of like a loser for not pulling this off, but realistically, what am I trying to prove? Instead I think I'll take the route labeled, "I'm human, not superwoman." I already feel more emotional well-being and more satisfied having made this decision. So on we go. Maybe in the Spring the kids will be older, the family a bit more stable, and Tyler less swamped. We shall see...(also my favorite line in Charlie Wilson's War.)

Major Apologies

I just finished Ronald Sider's "Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger." Like anyone else I've talked to that's taken the time to read it, the face of Christianity has just undergone a radical face lift for me, and the pains of the surgical incisions have not yet worn off completely. In fact, I think it's time for some repentance.

Mostly, recounting experiences of my trip to Bangladesh a few years ago is plaguing me. I was so stupid in the ways that I chose to be an emissary for Jesus to the developing world. Often we would travel to the capital, Dhaka for errands, visits with other missionaries, and trips to the national bank to cash in traveler's checks. Once while a few of us waited in the van while a friend ran into a store, beggars and Bengali onlookers would swarm us. Some just wanted a look at the white girls, others were wounded, sick, blind, or starving and in need of a few taka (the currency). So what did we do while they tapped the windows and called out to us?

We sat there. I sat there.

Disengaged. Eyes-downward. Silently begging myself for our shopper friends to quickly return. I am so sorry I was unable to generously pass out my crisp taka to those people. Instead, even then, it was burning a hole in my wallet. Now the memory of my wallet has spontaneously combusted. Why did I return from that trip with so much money left over? Why was I so negligent to their needs?

I can say that I was a good house guest to the women who spent more than they had on lavish bowls of rice and even meat in service to us. I ate bowl after bowlful as was expected and pleasing to our hostesses. But then why was I so reticent in dining with the family who housed us? Often we would retreat to bed early instead of sharing in quality time with them. While we were certainly tired and the language barriers difficult, still, there were ways to be together that I avoided. What missed blessings and occasions for learning for all of us.

I am sincerely remorseful. I want to say that I didn't know. I want it to be okay that I missed so many opportunities to serve. I want to say that the trip was less about me and more about the people we met. And to some extent, I think God understands all of this. On the other hand, I seek forgiveness now for mistakes then. I don't want to repeat them.

The homeless individuals that I see at the end of the exit ramp in Pasadena on my way to school each day are a helpful reminder of my affluence and need to simply live, share, and serve more passionately, sincerely, and holistically. But still, I ask the question, how do we radically separate ourselves from the ways/lies of our materialistic culture, yet stay engaged enough so as to enact change and show the world that we Christians love the world's inhabitants without contempt.

P.S. Sider is really theologically conservative, and this was a little annoying every now and then. But geesh, the book speaks for itself and compels me to examine so many aspects of my current theology that still need a nip and tuck. Nurse, another shot of morphine please.

Ethics Yikes

Well, Here I am. Back from a blogging hiatus of what?...three months now. Where does the time go? I have an ethics midterm tomorrow morning, so what better time to begin anew on the blogspot then the night before the big exams in a great effort to procrastinate on further study. Frankly, the thought of defending just war and just peacemaking along with articulating arguments on euthanasia, in vitro fertilization, premarital sex, and divorce is exhausting me at the moment. Oh, why I can't I just pray for God to divinely inspire me and claim the A now? Just kidding.

Anyway, my brain has been processing lots of theological issues lately: church planting, salvation vs. redemption, and reconciliation. I am not going to get into all of it right now (my conscience is telling me to hurry this up and get back to studying somewhat), but I will say that a realization has hit me amidst recent conversation and ethical readings: I have never fully been wounded by another person. Yes the occasional backslap of petty middle school girls and sorority (don't tell anyone that I used to be Greek) mishaps have come my way, but I'm talking about for real woundedness. The realization came about through the ethics lecture on divorce and the power that comes from a covenant relationship that has been broken and then seeks healing through the power of God, rather than quitting the marriage. Until now I have doubted the powers at work here: forgiveness, healing, authentic reconciliation. But I am beginning to believe in the possibility of it all, and it is radically changing the way I think about larger issues in the world where we need to forgive and seek healing in order to continue living.

On a different note, I began my 22nd week of pregnancy this past weekend. It's flying by and that makes me a little nervous because life with an 17 month old and newborn is going to be insane for a while. But I can't hardly wait either!! The pic is from several weeks ago, so he's a lot bigger now.

And with that, to Glen I return...one of three professors who keeps me sane at Fuller so far. Many thanks!

Moodiness and School

I've been acting like a dumb mutt the last few days chasing my tail in vigorous circles only to collapse in an unsatisfied heap of exhaustion. I blame it on the influx of pregnancy hormones. Phone calls have gone unreturned, homework assignments are piling high, and the state of the apartment makes even the unpregnant nauseous. So what has me in such a whirlwind, you ask? School. Plain as that. It's so conservative I don't like going. I'm tired and pukey so I don't feel like going. And because of the above two, I'm completely unmotivated; so often I find myself doing homework during class and irritated if the professor keeps us a second too long. Get a grip, you say. Yes, that is what needs to be done. So based on the advice of my husband, mother, and pastor, I am in process of doing just that.

As a result, life is getting better. I just need for this morning sickness to finish its course, and then I can get off the couch to do what needs to be done. But alas, a few more weeks of it remain, and in the meantime I will work to stay positive about school. I really believe that God doesn't plan the course of our lives so that we will always be happy. So I am forcing myself to live out that belief, which mean I'm not going to quit school, even though I think it would make me happy right now. Deep down, I know that's a lie and I would feel even more unsatisfied than I do right now. So, I'm done with the spoiled brat routine and moving on to more important things--like drinking some delicious chilled Minute Maid Light Lemonade--ahhh.
P.S. Did Burke really leave Christina? What the heck--I waited for the wedding all season! I'm pissed.