Paradox: Time or Space

Just recently have I allowed Abraham Joshua Heschel into my reading repertoire. Perhaps I did not know of his works earlier because of evangelicalism. Perhaps I did not read him when I first began learning of him because of a complacency in my own shallow knowledge of Holy Land disputes. Perhaps there are other reasons that don't really matter. But a few weeks ago while I was unable to lay down Israel: An Echo of Eternity, I found myself processing much of the philosophical and theological genius therein.

This work he wrote in the immediate aftermath of the Six Day War, and in the introduction his daughter confesses that so much of his intensity and sheer (arguably blind) devotion to his subject matter—Israel—may have been tempered by a later awareness of the condition of the Palestinian people had he not died prematurely. But this isn't really the focus of my thoughts anyway...too involved, intense, and polarizing for this simple blog.

Early in his argument, Heschel drops this bomb of genius, "To ignore the paradox is to miss the truth." He offers the example of a brief quote from Solomon's inaugural speech for the temple in 1 Kings, "The Lord dwells in thick darkness." A beautiful statement in an of itself, is it not? Heschel marks that although the Shekinah is everywhere, the experience of it is always somewhere because humanity always lives at a particular place. Here's an extended quote:

Living truth is the blending of the universal and the individual, of idea and understanding, of distance and intimacy, the ineffable and the expressible, the timeless and the temporal, body and soul, time and space. Even those who believe that God is everywhere set aside a place for a sanctuary. For the sacred to be sensed at all moments everywhere, it must also at this moment be somewhere.

A few pages later, the point strikes me vividly. It's a point that I, and my fellow post modern Christians, value beyond that of our former generations. It's a point that I beat loudly on a drum myself but received in a new pattern of reverberations at this hearing: "God is no less here than there. It is the sacred moment in which God's presence is disclosed. We meet God in time rather than in space, in moments of faith rather than in a piece of space."

I'm not enough of a scholar to fully unpack this. And I totally take his ideas out of the context of Jerusalem and apply them to contemporary church. Plus, as I consider further the idea of God-in-time before God-in-space, I must celebrate the gift of such awareness.

For those of us who find suspect ideas of anything absolute, especially truth(!), how freeing to think that more than some rational, modern, industrial approach to God's presence marking a place holy or not, God created not the temple first, but the Sabbath. Time. Moments to participate in the divine no matter the space. What a fabulous deconstruction of sacred and holy. (Reminds me of Jesus healing on the Sabbath.)

Here comes a gross over-simplification of such a beautiful idea, and yet, it's this practical situation that brings Heschel to life for me...

I think this is why I struggle so desperately to care about the missing sterling silver, custom-made, totally gorgeous, and yet stolen/missing/neglected communion ware that is so holy and sacred to my current church. I wish I had a photo of one of the goblets; they are amazing. And without taking time to describe the detail with which they were designed and the money they represent, I will say that the team of congregants responsible for their care offer no hesitation in defending their sacredness. To not handle these worship supplies with the utmost reverence and gentility is to defame all that the church represents. No hyperbole intended!

As worship director I continually had to negotiate a balance between the volunteers who so highly value these elements and the building services individuals who actually cleaned them as they would any other dirty cup of juice. As the volunteers themselves struggled to articulate what it is they actually ascribed to these pieces of shaped silver, I found myself fully able to empathize with their concern over something so special to the life of their church. On the other hand, I was/am wholly unable to understand the theological errors in such thinking. Had they known of my irreverence for such pieces of worship, errrr, expensive cups competing with God in stature, our relationship may have been marred—the concern for this part of worship undoubtedly this intense. How does such mis-shaped thinking originate?

I think one way is by limiting God to a certain space. In this case, communion is only special, i.e. sacred, if served
with the pristinely polished, silver cups. (Nevermind the fact that they make the juice taste like metal.) with the 'right' liturgy.
with the elements of the meal resting atop a meticulously ironed brocade cloth.
with the ministers seated in sturdy throne-like chairs in front of them.
and I could go on describing the ritual.
a ritual that in my opinion, which I never shared out of respect for those with whom I partook of the meal, is boring, out-of-context, and way too long.

So much so, that God-in-time collapses for me during this liturgical element that ought to be so central to the life of the church. (Here's where I get really honest) the elements of this ritual where I find God most manifest (the communal aspect, the humility, the simplicity and ordinariness of the act, etc.) are absent because of the damn silver. As I find myself longing to see/taste/hear/feel/sense God move, instead, all I hear is the clanking of the cups on the trays.

To ignore the paradox is to miss the truth, Heschel reminds me.

The paradox, especially one of faith, is uncomfortable and takes much effort to appropriate! But upon such integration sets free the believer to grapple with and explore more deeply the transcendent mystery of God. We are free to value the silver cups for the beauty of their design, celebrate the blacksmith artist who crafted them, and yes, collectively mourn the fact that tourists steal them because they are just that cool. But we are not limited in our divine encounters during a holy meal of remembrance and grace. The point is not lost if we allow ourselves the tension of paradox. We can remember that it's not the cup we honor but a carpenter servant who most likely offered the wine in some type of generously used, bacteria-infested, wooden goblet. The point is that we honor the carpenter.

So if the sacred is not partial to the secular, nor is it distinct from the secular but everywhere holy, then I want to embrace the totality of that Presence so fully that I do not miss it for fear of it seeming too misplaced.

At the end of his book, Heschel nearly comes full circle with this statement,

Are customs and ceremonies, are services and sermons, an adequate antidote to the massive dehumanization, to the emerging monsters of absurdity?...Ritual, loyalty, theology, remain deficient unless there is an ongoing responsiveness to the outbursts of immediate history, our own situations.


Being alive means being exposed to contradictions and defiance, facing challenge and disappointment. Religion may die when its truth becomes trite—its poetry a conceit, its observance inane. Truth becomes half-truth; worship, comfort; belief, vapid...To have faith is to be in labor.


And as a woman who types this while seven months pregnant, anticipating the arduous, joy-infused road to and of labor, all I can say is, "holy fuck." I'm alive! I'm in the middle of a really intense situation, and the church's rituals are dying. They labor not on the things of God but the accoutrements of this world. And the paradox is forgotten... the truth is being made trite...



(Congratulations if you bothered reading all of this rambling!)

Unravel this Mystery for Me

The ability that all of us humans carry to inflict hurt and pain on one another leaves me indignant sometimes, and at others, I just feel like rolling my eyes as I lament, "Get over it! We're all abusers." The fact of the matter is that we are abusers. We all long to be known and feel threatened when we are not. We put ourselves out there in relationship with our humans and if our needs are not met, or our insecurities feel unmatched, or our vulnerabilities dominated then we protect ourselves by throwing down our attacker. Sometimes we do it on purpose, like middle school girls jockeying for the proverbial top rung on the social networking ladder. Other times, and probably more commonly, we hurt the people we love without realizing it.

An overly aggressive word to our spouse in a heated argument,
the inability to accept a friend's dysfunctional state,
or belittling the person whose stereotypes and assumptions do not match our own.

Yet, it's all on a spectrum isn't it? Some people hurt more than others, and others seem to never hurt at all. However, I'm talking about those of us who live supposedly "normal" lives as we walk around with our issues and struggle with how best to give and receive love inspite of them, but also giving and receiving pain in the meantime because of them.

This makes me sad. It leaves me feeling cynical and violated. I feel naive and foolish for thinking that love is a mystery that conquers all fears. Doesn't true love trump the desire to hurt, even when we might feel over-exposed?

Buddhism has four central tenants--the Noble Truths as they have come to be called:
1. Suffering comes up in everyone's life.
2. This suffering is caused by craving.
3. We can stop suffering by stopping craving.
4. To stop craving, follow Buddha's path (basically and in a Christian lens, follow the Golden Rule and seek spiritual experiences through meditation).

Christianity claims that God is love and perfect love casts out fear.
Hmmmmm....

And God is a relational God, isn't that what the Trinity is about? Paul Knitter writes that the most "fundamental, deepest truth Christians can speak of God is that God is the source and power of relationships." In God we live, move, and have our being. We exist through relationships that center on knowing, loving, and giving since that's how God exists. It's about community. Where is God in our readiness to abuse?

I abstractly believe Paul when he wrote that there is one God above all things, through all things, and in all things. God promises never to leave or forsake God's created people. So in loving our friends, we are engaging in the work of God and living God's life (another point Knitter makes).

...And yet...

And yet we still crave and consequently suffer as well. Cravings so deep that Buddha says we are willing to suffer as we hope for their fulfillment. Or we're even willing to cause others to suffer.

The duality that ensues from this has let me down. Perhaps we should thank modernity for the duality. I like that Buddha teaches that instead of some Transcendent Other, or as Paul Tillich said a "Ground of Being," God can be viewed as the "Ground of Interbeing" (ala Knitter). In other words, God needs us as much as we need God.

Before you label me a heretic, hang with me. I'm trying to make room for evil, I think. Abuse is evil. People intentionally or unintentionally hurting other people seems evil.

Tracing back to Buddha, he says that wisdom comes when we are awakened to the reality that everything is interrelated. But you can not achieve this enlightened, wise perspective without compassion. We are all interconnected with one another; we cannot see both sides of the coin and pick just one and claim enlightenment. Either we care about our neighbor as much as our self, and vice versa, or we are not wise. Again, it's essentially the Golden Rule.

Knitter explains that "One's self becomes one's self-power. One's self-power becomes an expression of Other Power, as a wave is the expression of the Ocean...There is no individual self that can be neatly identified and that acts by itself. There is just interconnection, InterBeing, InterBeings. Lyotard, much later, said that no man is an island. Thomas Merton titled one his genius works this.

So, we are a confluence of good and evil in this sense. No one is 100% abuser or 100% abusee. No on is all perpetrator or all victim.

And as a Christian, I want to say through the teachings of Jesus and by the power of the Spirit we are able to experience a sense of groundedness that yields inner peace, as well as a sense of connectedness/InterBeing that produces compassion for others. When we are living our insecurities, fears, and therefore hurts, and we malign other beings with whom we are innerconnected, we are not at peace with ourselves and lacking wisdom. We are living out of our selfish cravings and therefore suffering with a lack of peace. In this sense, we are abusers.

The ways in which we live are the ways in which we meet the Creator God, or fail to meet the Creator God.

So that, the more I give and love and create and celebrate with and for other people whom I both love and do not even know, I more fully experience the utter mysterious presence of God at work in the world and in all people. It's not through the abuse that God is most manifest, but in the healing and wholeness that can still come in the aftermath of such destruction.

And in this way, God needs us. God needs us to respond abuses on a personal and global level so that God can be made manifest in the wake of evil!

(Sorry if this post makes no sense at all. I'm in process here...)

What is God?

This is fascinating. I like it. Compare it to Barbara Brown Taylor's idea of God, which is the end of my last post.
This is the stuff that really makes me excited about pastoring! Notice the question is "What is God?" but most of the people answer the question, "Who is God?". Not quite sure what to make of that.




Pluralism at its best!

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....

Wading

So many people I know right now, most of whom I'm related to, are wading through murky waters of disillusionment with institutionalized church. And while I welcome this dialogue, even thrive on the potential that such disenchantment raises, I can't help but internally get a little panic-y and rant, "No! No! Don't be done with it! Don't give up." But then those who are ecclesially frustrated begin to relay a plethora of anecdotes that have taken place in the confines of the local church over years of service and ministry. Eventually the ignorance, frustration, and poor theology that is espoused in the stories only leaves me feeling a bit nauseated and fat, i.o.w., heavy hearted and sad right along with them. Dang! Why is that?! 

On a different, yet still related note, I listened to this fantastic podcast yesterday with my ole NPR buddy Krista interviewing a mother-turned-rabbi who was advising parents about the ways of inculcating spirituality in the life of their children. We are born with an innate awareness of a spirituality or mysticism that extends beyond ourselves and is part of the greater cosmos, the rabbi reports, that eventually prompts all/most young children to begin asking questions of their origin, along with reasons for pain and injustice in the world, tempered with more specific queries like 'who is God' and 'why should I believe in God.' (Not that any of that information is really all that new, just that I loved her response.) The rabbi says the point is not so much about answering our children's questions correctly, so much as it is about cultivating a vocabulary that promotes future dialogue about things spiritual and mystical. In a similar vain, I tend to agree with her when she espouses ways in which spirituality and a spiritual language is best developed and enhanced--not so much through our words or doctrine, but through our acts. (duh!) 

Even today in my philosophy class, we were discussing speech-act theory and how postmodern philosophers finally (almost) agree that language is performative. We don't know what a word means unless we understand the act that accompanies it. So, when I want to teach my children that injustice in the world is a problem, I hope that less then hearing me drone on ad infinitum about it, they will see me treating the homeless person with dignity, or we can together mourn over the loss of one of God's creatures when we see it on the side of the road, etc. 

And back to my initial point, is this one of the reasons so many of you are done with church in the modern sense of the word? Instead of having all of your doctrine well-articulated in a rational, uniform thought pattern (with words that have lost meanings), and instead of obeying the denominational "rules" about how one ought to conduct oneself in a given worship service or prayer meeting (with actions that are void of relevance), and instead of hounding members about their time availability and whether or not they are going to tithe 10%, why do our churches not embrace more radically the mystical elements of life with God? Why do we not less about indubitable faith propositions and more about intense questions of divine immanence and intervention, or how to live as community in American suburbia, and the list goes on? I, too, am tired of churches getting lost in the translation of what it means to be church. 

And as I debate denominational affiliation these days (more to come on that later), I find myself caught in the --dare I use the word 'trap'-- of going through the motions myself, of doing church the same old way. And for what, just to call myself "ordained," or is it because ordained pastoral ministry really is an authentic representation of church, i.e. family of God representing Christ to the world? hmmm. (Sorry if this sounds too cynical; I hope my message isn't hidden too far beneath it. I'm mostly just wondering.)

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.

Really, this really exists?

Dear God

The new site Dear God is midly addicting and a fascinating image of online spirituality for our current generations. You can post a prayer to any diety, it's a broad range, in a myriad of categories. It's mostly confessional while there are also challenges to God. It's fascinating and great. Not to mention, the images that go with each prayer are prayerful in and of themselves. Check it out. 

The post with this particular image: 

Dear God,Thank you for bearing me to a broken family. Thank you God for birthing me to an abusive father. Thank you God for infilitrating my culture and raping any sort of history and tradition that my family’s race had and leaving us sublimated to the power of the elite. Thank you God for allowing me channels of ill-supposed-truth to open my eyes to the untruth that is taught in the belief of you. Thank you God for the anomaly that is New York City and how it opened not only my eyes but my inner-man to the depths of what humanity is.Thank you God of ridding me of God.Remoy Philip, New York/USA

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.)

Here we go

Obviously this is my first post. I'm starting this series of ongoing thoughts because I have a lot of them flying too losely through my brain, and frankly, it's exhausting me. So hopefully these regular mental purges will free me up to get on with life a little bit more fully. As we prepare for Pentecost, I have a series of desktop images on a cyclic rotation. Here are a few of my faves. I especially like the feminine one!