Race

"This is not the race I trained for, this is not the race I entered, but this is the race I am in." --Georgene Johnson

A few years back I wrote this quote. Georgene had entered a 10K race and on the day of the race she joined the rest of the group and after about 4 miles, she thought they should be turning back. She asked an official and was informed she had joined the marathon runners instead of her group, which was scheduled to start a half hour later. She kept on with the marathon runners as that was "the race [she] was in".

Sometimes I feel that way about my ministry. I know I trained for race, I entered the race willingly, but it seems sometimes I am running further and harder than I expected. I think, "this is not what I signed up for." And yet, the longer, harder race seems to be the one I have entered. So I look to Georgene for hope--the possibility of perseverance despite my lack of traing for said race. I do believe God has called me to this, and as such, I will keep on in this race--praying for strength, stopping for water, and to replenish my body, and pressing forward--trusting the rewards will be great.

finding our voice

DP and I talked about the functionality of the discussion board for posting reflections, we aren't sure if it will work or not. So I did up a blog we may use instead. For now, it has some pics and some stories on it....hopefully there will be more to come.

225 dead

Yesterday as I sat in the "relaxation room" I looked through a book of pics documenting the pre and post Katrina realities for life here on the "Mi'sippi" coast. One thing it noted was that 225 died because of the storm. My first, and admittedly hard-hearted response was "oh, that's not too many, I thought it might have been more." I should be ashamed at how callous that is, but hopefully to my redemption, I was later struck by the thought "one too many". The reality is that the number is 225 too many, and "one too many" refers to how each family, friend, co-worker, neighbor must see each death. To the people affected, each person is one too many. If only it hadn't been their loved one.

I think that my statistical apathy is symptomatic of the larger reality concerning this devastating tragedy--for those of us two steps removed from the everyday realities of what happened here on the gulf coast--the destruction is "just numbers"--5,000 houses severely damaged, 11,000 completely destroyed, and 8 people who died--in this county alone. It's relatively simple to shrug off 5,000 houses--"at least it wasn't 25,000"--or some other such thing that is equally simplistic and naive. But again, for those people who have lost their homes, all their possessions, their life savings, and more--it was one house too many.

And let me tell you, as someone sanding and mudding drywall for hours on end--it's X walls too many, Y sheets of drywall too many, Z sore shoulders too many....etc, etc, etc. Hopefully you get the idea--rebuilding a house is not as simple as dropping one from the sky like it was manna from heaven. It is a step by step process---slow and steady, hammer, hammer, hammer, saw, hammer, hammer, level, hammer, measure,---on and on for days, weeks, months, and, if doing your own home (as many who have been neglected by mythical government grants, or who have spent their monies on soil testing (mandatory before you can build), clearing their lots, etc. are), even years. It is not simple. It is not easy. Even in the best of conditions.

And most of all, it most certainly cannot and should not be reduced to a simply numbers game.

Team blog site

Glendale UMC (one of our participating churches) has set up a blog on their website, it is open for any of our volunteers to add to, so you can see a running commentary of experiences from those on our trip.

Katrina Mission Trip

This week I am in Waveland Mississippi to do rebuild work post Katrina. We arrived Saturday night (well, actually, the wee hours of the morning on Sunday) and then did worship Sunday morning and orientation, play time in New Orleans, and the started to work on Monday. We are the 4th group of 4 from the Cal-Pac conference--a month solid of 50 volunteers. So there are a total of 50 of us here from the Pasadena and Riverside districts. We are assigned to a variety of tasks--drywalling ("the wallbangers"), siding ("Gulfside out-siders"), framing ("Kitty's, named after the homeowner, framers"), flooring ("what floor are we on?"), plumbing ("plumb crazy"), and painting ("The Mona Lisa's").

It seems I have a hundred ideas that are either blog-worthy or sermon-worthy during the day, but by the time I get home, shower, and have dinner, most of them escape me. So I may have to back-date my blogs after I return to CA. My beginning tidbit for today is that people have been generous in offering help, volunteering, sending money, etc, and yet there is SO, SO, SO much more to do. More volunteers are needed, many more work hours need to be completed, and many more stories need to be heard and shared. If you have not come, it is worth the trip--money, time, long workdays, to be here and try to make some sort of a difference.

Princess Taylor

I mentioned before that I have a new (old) dog. She is 8 and is very sweet, a bit clingy as I had mentioned, but I talked with a trainer and she said that was normal, that I have a "velcro dog". I think that sums it up. The picture I posted originally was just so you would have an idea of what a cavalier looks like, this is Taylor:

aging, sickness, and death

For the last couple of months my Sunday school class has been about world religions. The two girls that come are sisters and one in particular is in a questioning and exploring phase (or lifestyle, perhaps) and I thought it might be helpful for her to have a more structured introduction to the religions she's been pondering and in some cases professing. We are using Houston Smith's book World Religions as our main guide. We started with Hinduism and have moved now into Buddhism. Sunday's class brought along with the story of Siddhartha (the man who later became "Buddha" = "the awakened one") and how he was a prince who was shelter from all things *negative* in the world. His father wanted him to take on the throne when he died and so he made the royal life as appealing as possible, so much so, story goes, that when he walked into town, all the streets were cleared of vagrants, elderly, and the sick. Well, on one occasion, the street wasn't cleared and Siddhartha came upon an old man who was withered and wrinkled and weak. The next time he went out he saw a person ravaged by disease and the third time, a corpse. It was his encounters with the *frailty* or whatever you might term it (I am having difficulty tying an appropriate adjective that both embraces these necessary stages of life and yet also acknowledges how painful they can be, and at the same time does not play into the american cultural obsession with youth...), anyway, his encounters caused him to renounce his priviledged and sheltered life and he went toward a life of ascetism, which almost caused him to die, and then he finally sought "The Middle Way". All of that is a long introduction to the musings to come (but it is important because it laid the foundation for my thoughts).

So, the actual musing came Tuesday night when I was at a United Methodist Men's dinner and concert. As I sat there, (again the youngest person in the room) and looked at all the white heads, I thought of them and the missing youth and young adult (and even in large part baby boomer) heads from that room. I know this is a constant and ongoing discussion in the church as to why the church has "failed" our young people and how we might do things differently so that they might be active Christian disciples. But Tuesday night I was struck by the thought that maybe they (the young people) don't want to be here (with the old people) not just because the service isn't lively enough, or it's not whatever enough, but because being in church with old people means having to confront our weaknesses--age, illness, and death. In a culture that promotes our invincibility, our strength, our youth, and our legacy, it is no wonder that sitting in a room with a bunch of "old people" who embody (at least at first glance) all the things we seek to avoid is less than appealing. For instance, when I googled "old" for images, this was listed as

"Too old?"

Maybe our search for answers regarding young folks in the church has been incomplete and we need to confront the reality that we fear death, illness, and aging--oddly enough, trials Jesus offers care for and salvation from (death, not illness or aging necessarily). Funny, we might just try preaching the gospel.

Facing the facts

Today I had the opportunity to meet with our new incoming senior pastor and his wife. We had a good conversation about *our* church. We shared parts of our stories and he shared part of his vision for what the church could be. The cynic in me raged silently inside ("yeah, good luck with that.") I dared not share my skepticism (which really has nothing to do with him and everything to do with my own experiences here). I think sadly, though I suppose fortunately at the same time, my conversations with them showed how defeated and uninspired I feel here. 10 months ago I was on fire. I had a million ideas and a thousand things I wanted to get accomplished. Now, my ambition seems squelched. I hate to admit it, but I feel I have to be honest about where I am right now.

I think this was all hiding latent. A couple of months ago, I was feeling extremely overwhelmed and I put all that on hold because no one seemed to hear it the way I needed them too, so I stopped mentioning it. Even my spiritual director didn't get it. So, I focused on what needed to get done (Lent studies, Palm Sunday, Easter Sunday). Then I got excited about what was happening with the laity in my church. They were inspired, they were creative, they were thinking and dreaming, imagining and hoping, and that all felt good after so many months of dredging through the mire of hopelessness. I am excited about what they are doing. But what I was forced to see today was that I am not excited about what I am doing. I always feel spread too thin and pulled on from all sides and that no one really gets the *best* of me. Don't get me wrong, I am doing all that I feel is possible (without killing myself or sending myself into the hospital), but it's because there is always something else to do or get done, or, or, or....and my waves of inspiration feel fewer and farther between.

One way or the other, the fact is: SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE. I cannot persist in a job where I am struggling to find my niche, constantly trying to justify and explain why I cannot be all things to all people, how I really am working despite the fact that you never see me (in large part because you don't go to youth group, young adults, Hispanic worship, committee meetings, all church gatherings, and the like).

In addition to reigniting my creative and leader fire, I think I need some nourishment for my soul. I water my soul, making sure I don't get parched or too tired, but really that extra good special soul food....let's just say it's been awhile. and that leaves me feeling like I am becoming one of those pastors for whom I hurt so desperately who were so caught up in caring for others that they neglected their own spiritual health, which in turn made it impossible for them to nurture others. And I really do not want to become one of them. Ya know?

Discernment

Over the last week I have been thinking through a discernment issue. I thought I had it decided and then prayed for a "loud and clear" message from God, and one came (contradicting what I had originally thought), but I still have my doubts, "maybe this is what they want rather than what God wants." So I returned to listening, hoping for clarity (loud and clear). Today I received another confirmation, and again I thought "is this God, or is this them?" Apparently I am waiting for a billboard. I know, I know, the words "thou shalt not test the Lord your God" are ringing in my head, but I'm not trying to test (I don't think), I am seeking true confirmation. So, as I write this and as you read, I ask for your prayers--that those affected and interested would be prayerful and wise in their discernment and that I would be willing to truly hear God in all of this.

Dreaming (the translation)

As some of you already know, I was at the Mexican youth retreat (North western conference) last weekend. When I was there, I had an idea, which I shared with the Mexican Bishop Vasquez; then when I got home, I had another idea. I’m writing this to see what others think of it. The first idea was that when our youth groups go to Mexico for summer mission projects we should try and hook them up with Mexican youth groups so that they can work together on the mission project. I know that MH is planning some youth trips for the end of July and beginning of August, they’re headed to San Quintin, and I wondered if the Mexican youth (who were focusing on service and mission for their retreat weekend) would want to participate.

The other idea was to bring groups from Mexico here to the US to do mission projects. I know it would be more difficult with having to find visas etc, but I thought we might find religious visas. I know that on this side (for my church anyway) there are jobs they could do (some of my youth have already started doing projects at the church). They could work together with our youth here and then we could do a dance one night, a big worship event the next (maybe with some of the groups that performed from San Diego and Tijuana at the youth retreat), we could go to Knott’s Soak City, etc, in other words combine mission with relationships and fellowship. Also, it could work as an evangelism and revitalization for our church here (by inviting those from our community to the dance/concert/worship event) and help us get to know those here who do not have a church community. We could even do scholarships for the Mexican youth so that they would only have to pay for their trip from there to here by doing fundraisers and what not.

I don’t know what we’d have to do to get the visas (I do know an immigration lawyer here in Hemet) and this could all be for this summer (if the arrangements are easy) or even plan for next summer. For now, I pose it to you to think about and let me know your thoughts.

La Chillona

I think with my limited blogging as of late I have failed to mention that I got a dog. She is a cavalier and she is a spoiled brat. (*For the record, I was not the one who spoiled her, I have only had her a month and she is 8 years old). She has some abandoment issues, and as such thinks anytime I leave her, it will be forever. There are lots of good things about her, she is sweet, mellow, house trained, and very amicable in making new acquaintances. She is actually a perfect church dog, even with my youth, she is great. Part of it is that she is 3/4 deaf, so she doesn't hear everything to be distracted by it. But if I could get her to be a little less clingy, we'd be golden. For instance, this morning I at my brother's house and had his dog with me on the couch and he had my "idget" on the chair with him. Well, she just whinned and whinned and then finally he moved her to make her more comfortable and she made a bee-line across the chair over the arm of the couch so she could snuggle next to me. Yep, she's a bit spoiled. (Oh yeah, and she's overweight...so we also have a diet plan, few treats, and lots of exercise). But she's mine, and she thinks I'm the cats meow...so we fair alright.

Sonando

Como unos ya saben, acabo de llegar del campamento de los jovenes de Mexico (conferencia noreste). Cuando estaba alli me ocurrio una idea, y lo comparti con el obispo, y al llegar, me ocurrio otra. Escribo este blog, a ver que les parece. La primera fue, que cuando los grupos de jovenes de aqui van por el verano hacer los proyectos de mision, si es posible, que vayan tambien unos grupos de las iglesias mexicanas y pueden trabajar juntos. Se que hay unos grupos que van por el liderazgo de MH ya al final de julio y primeros dias de agosto este ano, van a san quintin, y no sabia si aun los grupos de alli les gustarria ayudar en los proyectos. Como lo ven?

y la segunda fue intentar llevar grupos de Mexico hacer proyectos aqui en los EEUU. se que seria mas dificil con lo que tiene que ver con las visas etc, pero no sabia si podriamos lograr visas religiosas. Se que por aqui (en mi iglesia por lo menos) hay trabajos que se puede hacer (unos los jovenes mios estan haciendo este mes) y que podriamos encontrar otros con gente por aqui. Podrian trabajar juntos los jovenes de aqui y los de mexico, podriamos hacer un baile una noche, un culto (quizas con unos de los grupos que vinieron de San Diego o Tijuana por el campamento), ir a Knott's Soak City un dia, cosas asi....o sea combinar lo de mision, con relacionarse unos con los otros y divertirse. Tambien, podria servir como evangelismo o avivamiento por aqui (invitar a los demas al culto/concierto/baile) y ayudarnos conocerles a la gente aqui que no esta metida en la iglesia todavia. Podriamos poner becas para que solo tendrian que pagar el pasaje de alli aqui, y lo demas hariamos con fundraisers o lo que sea de este lado.

No se que tendriamos que hacer por las visas (conozco a alguien que es abogada de inmigracion por aqui y le puedo preguntar) puede por el verano (si las cosas son faciles) o que lo planeamos por el verano que viene.

Por ahora, solo les propongo las ideas para que las piensen y me platiquen de como lo ven por su parte.

Debbie Auntie

About a week and a half ago my neighbor from Bombay came to me and said his daughter had to do a California Mission Project, could I help her? Of course. So she and I arranged a time to go to the library and we went and looked for books and info that she might use. I was going to be gone for the next few days with a funeral and then the Mexico trip, so I told her her "assignment" was to read through the books and write down information that she thought was interesting. When I got back the following Monday, I checked in to see how she was coming along. She had done one page (3/4 really) of writing and had misplaced the paper. It took about 10 minutes for her to find, but when she did, she had done a good job. I encouraged her to keep reading and writing things down and I would come back the next day to check again. She had taken moderate steps of progress but last night when I returned *(late from a meeting at 8:00) her parents had shifted gears from, "we'll let her do this one on her own" to "it's 8:00 and she still hasn't finished her other homework, she has to do more pages of writing and a report on Junipero Serra she hasn't even started!" So they too were learning about the California Mission of choice!

Oh how it took me back! Polyhedraville with Mr. M in 6th grade--late night at SM's house gluing together our mathematically/geometrically correct city, and my mom coming over with broccoli to serve as trees! Another late night for Mr. M doing my planet report, dad and me sitting on his bed looking for facts in the Encyclopedia (a 1980's version, I'm sure, thank God it was still accurate!) And countless projects where I would come to my mom and ask for help or ideas and she would say, "When is your project due?" My answer, almost without fail: "Tomorrow." =) It's a wonder more parents don't strangle their last-minute-project-making-paper-writing children!

Anyway, enough nostalgia and back to the story. So, I asked K if she wanted me to stay and help and she seemed to indicate yes. So I sat and helped dig out facts, work on a timeline with her mom searching for dates, and wrote the bibliography out as it should be (having done MORE than my fair share of those!) Due to my nostalgia, it was fairly comic, and it was nice to be able to help with something. At one point bita said, "Debbie auntie, would you like some water?" It was so sweet, both that she had deemed me "Debbie auntie" (and yes, I do know that is fairly normative in Indian culture, but still, it won me over!) and that she was caring enough to offer me water. We sat for awhile longer working on her project (her protests for sleep were beginning to kick in and she no longer cared about the extra credit portion about Junipero Serra). Her mom asked if I was tired, and I said "a little". She said I should go home and go to bed, and then she notified us that it was already 10:00! They had things under control and all that was left on the project was for K to rewrite the timeline in order and the bibliography (and the extra credit if she wanted to do it). So I decided to go. Grateful for bita and her caring heart, my new auntie title, and the nostalgia for late night school projects.

mexican youth retreat

I spent this last weekend in Mexico at a Mexican Youth retreat for their youth from the Northeastern jurisdiction of the Mexican Methodist Church. I had met a Mexican DS a couple of months ago when I went to the Joint Commission meeting. I had gone simply to attend and was recruited into translating for much of the meeting. Well, from that, I was asked to preach this youth event. We had some trouble with the pre-event communication such that I didn't know the text or theme for the weekend until 2 days before. I was not exactly anxious about it (I do afterall regularly have to prepare sermons on Saturday for the following Sunday) but was frustrated that I wouldn't have more notice (let alone even directions for how to get there). Two days prior I got a call from the conference youth president and she was wonderful and had ideas and was open to mine and we clarified the text etc. So, Thursday afternoon I had a beautiful drive through the hills of San Diego and around Tecate Mexico on my way to the camp.

I have to admit, once I was there and the kids started arriving, my anxiety started to build. Not that I don't preach every week in Spanish, but it is my second language and "my people" (i.e., the people in my congregation) sort of expect botched phrases here and there, but I didn't know how gracious these kids would be and all of my self-consciousness about my linguistic abilities started to kick in. Add to that the fact that the DS had recommended I do "interactive" preaching--right...okay. Not something I do, ever really, so that made me even more nervous, and THEN, to put icing on my cake of nervous jitters and self doubt, the Bishop walks in. Great. Yeah, how about he preaches??!?! So, I took a time out, went to my car, sat in silence, sang, refocused my thoughts and then went in for the Thursday night preaching. It actually went really well. I had easter eggs full of candy that I gave out when they were the first to find a passage, could remember something I had said etc....and that seemed to keep them tuned in and interested.

Aside from my preaching, I had sort of an ambiguous role. I wasn't a counselor (i.e., a group leader) but I was a leader, so I was expected to participate, but almost 45 kids had arrived the second day (after a 24 hour bus ride) and had not heard me preach and so did not know who I was. As such they were not terribly keen on taking advice from me or heeding my instructions to join in and participate with certain activities. But it all worked out alright. I helped out in the kitchen during my "off" times, or participated in the leadership development activities, filled in for group leaders when they had other things to attend to, or cleaned up around camp. Overall it went really well. I had a number of youth tell me they appreciated my preaching and even a couple talk to me about call and how to know if God is calling you to ministry.

I also had a chance to get to know some of the Mexican pastors, some of the youth, and some of the other leadership (even more time with the Bishop). It's always amazing to me how easily I am accepted in my mestizo role. There is always grace afforded me for who I am and how God has called me to bridge the gap. Rarely from the latino side do I encounter resistance, a reality for which I continue to be EXTREMELY grateful.

las bendiciones de Dios

Esta primavera ha sido llena de bendiciones para mi. Cuando llegue a esta iglesia el julio pasado fue bien pesado. La gente fue desanimada, quejandose, media bruta--dificil. Me costo mucho trabajo por todo lo negativo que tiraban hacia mi (que no tenia nada que ver conmigo como solo llevaba meses aqui y los problemas años). Pero ya, despues de tantos meses, tantos lagrimas, por fin estamos experimentado creatividad, esperanza, gozo....vamos mejorandonos. Como saben hay 2 congregaciones, la que habla ingles y la que habla español. La de ingles es la que esta llena de problemas, no digo que la otra no tiene ninguna, solo que no es tan herida (digamos). Pero ahora las dos van hacia el futuro. La de ingles, con ideas, programas, cosas nuevas, ministerios, y misiones, y la de español, vamos creciendo, uno a la vez, y vamos creciendo en la fe y la teologia y vamos a ofrecer clases de ingles--asi que tenemos mas mision. Dios es bueno y esta dando fruta en nuestra iglesia. Doy gracias por lo que hay en la iglesia, por haberme mostrado los cambios (no tenia tanta paciencia para esperar mucho...), y por ser fiel en apoyarme y no dejarme solita.

El otro dia me llamo un hombre del radio y me dejo un mensaje: "Bendecida, pastora, le llamo Miguel....." Asi es verdad. Soy bendecida, gracias a Dios.

the 7%

I regularly get Christian forwards....you know the ones, (or at least something similar)....if I am a true believer, I will forward the email.....yadda, yadda, yadda....I just got another one, and it was decent, pretty good even, and yet I am almost never inclined to forward said emails on. While there are some that stick out to me or touch me, more often than not I feel more bogged down by yet another thing to do, or guilty over yet another thing I haven't done. You know? But I just don't believe that being convicted about my beliefs automatically equates to being convicted about spamming my friends with forwards (even if they are Christian/faith based).

This probably isn't the best way to break my blogging silence. Two blogs in a row that are full of cynicism and edge....hopefully the more hopeful areas of my life will shine through shortly.

Something's awry

Warning: this one is cynical and edgy...

I just read a note on the bottom of a Sunday morning attendance sign in: "I haven't been here for 11 years--I hope I'm still a member." What?! Something is clearly missing from the membership training/explanation around here when you can NOT be here for 11 years--not a couple of months, not even just 1 year--11 years--count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 years you have not been a part of this church community, not worshipping, not doing Bible study, not participating in mission, not calling on people, assumedly not tithing, NOT here for 11 years, and you still consider yourself a member...a member of the Christian family--sure, I'll give you that, member of the body of Christ--you bet, that comes with your baptismal vows...but a member of this church--come on. No wonder we have problems with attendance and participation, you can be GONE for 11 years and still consider yourself a member. In that case, our membership is still probably around 1200 or more--because, of course, though many have left the church, moved, gone else where, simply stopped coming, and though the dead have been GONE, their absence doesn't mean they aren't members--especially since, apparently, membership has nothing to do with active ongoing commitment....

6th word

John 19:30—When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.”

While our inclination is to think the drink is that of juice, here and now, we might do better to think of it as the drink of God’s work—the cup God had given to him to teach, preach, heal, train, exorcise and then give of himself so that all might be saved. The cup which held so many burdens and so much pain—Jesus had drank of that agony, that abandonment, suffering, abuse, insults, and blood—Jesus drank of that cup, the last drop of which was sipped on the cross in those final moments, and now his work is completed. Finished in the sense of made whole—drawn into completion. Jesus’ work on earth was finished. He lived the sin free life, the life that focused wholly on God and God’s call for him. Jesus completed what he was called to do, and in him, the work of redemption could also be finished.

4th word

Matthew 27:46

About the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani?”—which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

I see two main themes in this verse—one, it reminds us of Psalm 22 as Jesus uses the familiar words—My God, my God, why have you forsaken me. For the faithful Jew, those words are not just a reminder of the 1st verse, but they draw you into the rest of the psalm—the psalm that articulates the pain and frustration of suffering, of feeling alone, and yet fully turns to God for hope. The psalm that recounts the insults and injuries borne when others hate us and curse us, the psalm that draws us into death—parched, broken circled by vultures, and the psalm that in the end that knows God will save, not just the psalmist, but the poor, the broken-hearted, those that have been broken and neglected, they too will know the saving grace of God.


Two: Jesus feeling forsaken, left there to endure the insults, the pain, the hurt. The Son, endured the pain, the anguish, the suffering, he, God incarnate, bore the worst pains imaginable. Not exactly the fate one might envision for the all powerful creator God. I’m inclined to think the all powerful would never have to suffer, never have to feel pain, and yet, for our sake, God chose pain, God chose suffering, God chose servant hood, and God chose death so that we might have life. And in his full humanity, Christ bore the pain, he suffered, and much like us in our pain and suffering, he asked after God—where are you God? If you are with me, then how can I feel so bad? Have no doubt, Jesus felt pain, God didn’t just play act suffering and death, God lived it. And in that we celebrate, ironically, often. We celebrate that God chose us, that God is not aloof and indifferent to our pain, our suffering, our reality, God knows it and understands it because God lived it. God lived like us, hurt like us, and died like us so that we might live like God.

2nd Word

My senior and I shared 7 last words preaching responsibilities, so you will only find #2, #4, and #6...

Luke 23:42-43

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Contrasted with the other criminal, this one comes to faith—he recognizes Jesus’ role, his coming kingdom, and his rightful authority. And in that recognition, he is redeemed. The man’s past is not worthy of paradise, and he has no earthly future in which to live out his faith, perform good deeds., yet he is to still promised a place in paradise4. No where else could Paul’s words ring more true: (Eph 2:8-10) “For by grace you have been saved by faith, and this is not your doing, it is the gift of God—9 not the result of works, so that no one may boast. 10 for we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”

In this criminal we see the epitome of salvation by faith. It is not the ways we make ourselves “Good enough” for God. We cannot justify ourselves. We do not earn God’s grace. It is gifted to us, as it was gifted to this criminal. And while good works are the fruits of God’s transforming work in our lives, neither do they keep us saved or pay God back for what God has done. God’s justifying work is what saves, purely and completely, regardless of our past and in spite of our future, we come to salvation through our faith in Jesus Christ, through God’s merciful and bountiful gifts.

So then the question stands: saving toward what?—paradise—also known as a garden—THE garden, the garden of Eden, Christ’s word “paradise” has a double intender—it also represents the Garden of Eden—the place of god’s perfected creativity. The our place in the garden needed to be restored, we had been bared, kicked out, and to get back in, only God’s perfection, could open the gates, and so, Christ, the second Adam, the perfected and redeemed human, unlocked the gate, and offers passage to those who believe. And the promise is not for some far off visit. Some destiny lost in time, the promise is Today---“today you shall be with me in paradise. We enter in with Jesus as soon as we believe. We are restored by our words of affirmation. We are granted re-entry through the second Adam—the one without sin.

Heal my friend

Spirit of Grace
heal my friend
take him and make him whole
take his heart and make it yours
purify the air he breathes
take the toxins out of his body
welcome Holy Spirit
Welcome in that place
Welcome Holy Spirit
Make known your saving grace
Heal him Lord.
Heal him Lord.
Heal him Lord.
Give us strength to be by his side
Give us patience with the not knowing
Give us love to share with all
God of grace, heal my friend.
Amen.

Prayer in suffering

God of grace,
Give me peace as I seek you today
As I touch the depth of my pain—
Fill me with your cleansing water
Fill me up and make me whole.
Help me to push out
The spirit of darkness that lies within
God, draw me under the white warm blanket of your love
Cover me up and make me whole
Draw me to you
Comfort me and hold me
As I hurt and cry today
Thank you for being in my pain
With me
And for taking it away
From me
Amen.

Call me a cynic

Yesterday I went to the Youth Network meeting for area youth pastors. I have been going off and on now for just over a month. They are a good group of folks, but most of the time I feel like an outsider. I don't get the jokes or know the inside story. I am there, but not really a part of things. I have been inclined not to go back, but also think it's a good exercise for me in helping me to understand how visitors feel when they come to church or to youth group.

Anyway, yesterday they had invited two guests--publicity folks for "Left Behind: the PC game". I have to say I started out leery because I had received emails a few months back highlighting the pitfalls of the game. After an hour of presentation I was only mildly less cynical. I will say that you get more points/power whatever for praying regularly--that is a plus, and you can regress if you make a bad decision (like killing people). Those are lessons I can applaud. But I am still concerned about simplifying one's spiritual life. The more people you convert, the more powerful you are....the good people look like Johnny from down the street and the "bad" people have tatoos, goatees, and a shaved head. That's not profiling.... I don't know, maybe I'm too "hard-hearted", but I also was not impressed by the fact that Focus on the Family and Pat Robertson's son endorsed the game. Call me crazy but they aren't exactly the folks I look to for my spiritual compass. They did give me a sample of the game, so I can play it and see for myself, though not being a "gamer" I am likely to lose--a lot. Anyone out there tested it for themselves? Any thoughts?

Play time societies

As I listen to the kids from my apartment complex teeter on their own version of The Lord of the Flies, I hear their taunts and jeers toward one another. “Everyone hates you!” “Go away, _______.” On occasion I have chosen to referee their lawless playtime society. Originally I thought they self-governed well: “Don’t do that ______, your mom wouldn’t approve.” “Be careful _____.” I thought I might even write a general letter to their parents, complementing them on how good their kids are. Then I started to see the fights, hear the bullying, they’re not so diplomatic these days. I feel for the kids who are bullied. Especially when I hear parents arguing through my wall, I know they are guided (or not, as the case may be) by things much larger than their play-time peers will ever realize.

As I heard tonight’s shout: “Everyone hates you!” I thought to myself, no one should ever have to hear that. And I was taken back to a 4th grade play time of my own. Lunch recess, I had just gone to the nurse to take my inhaler, a sign of “uncool” I had yet to realize. I walked out to the soccer field to find my regular group of friends. It was Thursday—white jeans day. I had none. That meant I couldn’t become an official member of the “Angels”—a group SS had thought up. As I walked toward my friends, they all started running away. They figured my asthma would slow me down. At first I didn’t realize they were running from me, so I ran after them, I heard shouts aimed at me to “stay away.” They kept running. And I stopped.

I stood alone on the field only for a few moments. I did not have to run to a teacher, or hide in a corner, or simply hide in the bathroom. I had other friends on the field that day. I stopped and ran to them in tears. Instead of running, KK, RV, AG, and others took up for me. They rallied around me and, if memory serves, even confronted SS on how mean she had been. Nevertheless it wasn’t their actions that marked me, it was SS’s.

It’s ironic how minor moments can have a monumental affect on your life. For years I have said my mantra is “I’m not good enough”—regularly: “I’m not cool enough.” I think those mere moments that day in 4th grade are what branded my heart with that horrible mantra. As I look to the new life/new birth/new beginning we (I) celebrate on Easter I think it’s time to leave two things in the past—1) My resentment (albeit minimal after all these years) toward SS. She was a kid, and she did what kids do—made a place for herself, distinguished herself, and threw a couple of play-time *punches*. 2) I think it’s time to let go of the mantra that has so molded me (especially my habits of self-deprecation). I think I can manage to let go of 15 minutes of history for the following 15 years of my life that they haunted. It’s time for new birth, a new mantra, and new esteem.

Welcome to Worship Prayer

Gracious God,
Giver of peace
Creator of life
Fill us with your spirit
Come into this place and move within us
Glide between us
We have come to witness your greatness
And to honor you for the ways you have blessed our lives
We are abundantly grateful
for your grace and goodness
we revel in the praise songs of the robins
and the sparrows
and the rooster’s call to worship
Here we stand in your midst
And in your home.
Guide this worship
That it might glorify you
And that each of us will be touched
By your goodness
In praise and adoration,

Amen.

Prayer for Wholeness

Lover of my soul,
Convince me—convict me.
Logically, I know your love
I see it in grace, compassion, and love
I see it in Christ
Help my heart hear
I often feel your love—
Assurance as I walk into a difficult situation
A warm embrace to hold my tears
And yet I still don’t connect
I don’t feel worthy
Lover, connect my spirit—
Let my heart feel you with assurance and acceptance
Help me receive your gracious gift with celebration and gratitude
Connect my spirit that I might feel you throughout
My body and my soul—my entire essence.
Amen.

Food for thought

I feel as busy as an accountant these days. He is preparing 104oEZ forms, I am preparing sermons. While it's no where near what some preachers have to preach, I have 5 sermons to write in the next couple of weeks. Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter, and then two for a youth retreat in Mexico. I am reading and writing like a mad woman.

In preparation for the 7 last words sermon(ettes) I will co-preach with my senior, I am reading one book by Charles H. Spurgeon and another by Arthur Pink. Pink referenced a Spurgeon quote: "I will just stand to what I ever shall and always have preached, and take God's Word as it stands, whether I can reconcile it with another part of God's Word or not." Spurgeon claims "I don't know" where he cannot reconcile harsh contrasts or the inexplicable. He trusts Scripture and preaches accordingly, somewhere in there the Spirit moves and speaks and he is called to be faithful to preaching the text.

That's a significant challenge for me. One I will probably need to chew on awhile longer. I do trust Scripture. I do believe it is divinely inspired and that the Spirit continues to inspire us as we read it today. I fully believe in sticking to the text and being faithful in that. And, nevertheless, I struggle with discrepancies. I struggle with the Old Testament God vs. New Testament God theories/arguments. I don't find peace in the God of wrath. One of my lectionary partners regularly challenges me on that front (though I don't think he knows that or does it intentionally). I don't want to worship a God of vindication, and so, I struggle to preach those texts without a reminder of God's grace and love. I preach amor, justicia, paz, y compasion so much that I wonder if my congregants feel any variance week to week.

I suppose I was doubly challenged today. A man relatively new to our congregation loaned me a book "Licencia Para Pecar" (License to Sin). The book challenges the loose way the church treats sin in the modern world. It is actually a wonderfully written book. And while I don't agree with all of the authors conclusions, he is stimulating my thoughts around sins, Sin, etc. He wrote about the ways we dismiss God regarding sin. First, he gave an example of a burglar who takes a son hostage. The family pleads with him, offering money, then cars, jewelry, whatever in exchange for their son's life. The man refuses. Appealing to a sense of compassion, then the family pleads with the man to think of how young their son is and how much he would suffer. Still indignant, the man continues to hold the son hostage. They plead that he is their oldest son, that he is necessary to their well-being. Nothing. Finally, without alternatives, the family begins to threaten the man, they will call the police, he will be put in prison, maybe even face the death penalty. Still nothing. The man is hard-hearted.

The authors parallels the hardened heart of this man to those entrenched in sin. He made me think differently about how I approach conversations about sin. I tend to stay toward the "nice" side of the conversation--look at how much God loves you, cares for you, look at how wonderful life is when God is present and real to you. I forget what it takes when one is stubborn, hard-hearted. Sometimes we become so indignant that only fear of penalty stops us, and other times, when we feel we have nothing left to lose, even that serves to hinder destructive behaviors.

One of the (Bible) teachers in my congregation tends toward the other side. He regularly talks about God's judgment and wrath. He has served to balance me. And hopefully with this book, I will come to see the other side with less resistance, greater clarity, and may come into some "softer" language (at least by my standards) with which to explain/preach the realities of sin/Sin.

Daddy God

Daddy God,
Bringer of strength
In your warm embrace
You have taught us responsibility and demanded accountability
You encouraged us to try and do our best,
You did not expect perfection
Because you understood our weaknesses
But did not allow us to give on the basics
But to give all we could.
Daddy in heaven,
You were patient in our learning—
You stuck with us until we understood
And continue by our side
Cheerleading us on as we continue to struggle and grow.
You offer a warm hug in our sadness and frustration
And a jovial laugh and a proud smile in our success.
Daddy God, we love you.

Amen.

Tofu recipes?

So, the last time I was at the store Tofu was on sale and I went a little crazy and bought 4 packages. Unfortunately my reportoire of tofu recipes is pretty limited. Anyone have any good tofu recipes to recommend?

Mother God

Mother God
Giver of peace
Bringer of comfort
We find solace in your embrace
Your kiss of love heals
Our cuts and bruises
The warm aroma of bread of life
You baked and kneaded
Fills the air
You bore us in your womb
You gave birth to our selfhood and faith
You raised us up in justice and kindness
Admonishing us when our hearts went astray
Calling us home with your dinner bell of grace
And embracing us in love as we ran to your arms
Mother God, we are thankful.
Accept these our thanks.

Amen

Alli esta Dios

Cuando todo no se cumple,

alli esta Dios.
Cuando todo te parece imposible,

alli esta Dios
Cuando estas frustrado y sin opciones,

alli esta Dios.
Cuando te sientes mal por no haber hecho,

alli esta Dios.
En todos momentos esta presente nuestro Dios,
pero en los momentos mas difíciles,

aparece mas claro.
Cuando fallas,

cumple Dios
Cuando no encuentras posibilidad,

Dios hace el camino
Cuando no te queda paciencia,

Dios intercede tranquilo
Y cuando fallas,

Dios corrige.
Y en nuestras debilidades,

el poder de Dios nos ayuda.

En todos momentos
esta presente nuestro Dios.

Going Home Prayer

God of all spirits
Take up our loved one
Create in your kingdom a home for her
Show her the wonderful secrets of creations
Listen to her sing the hallelujah chorus
Rejoice in her revelrous dance
As she relishes the warmth of your love
Let your wondrous love
Fill her heart and heal her soul.
God of all spirits
Take our loved one home.

Counting my blessings

I am thankful for:
1) The Spirit's movement in creating a sermon that reached people
2) A youth mom who has great ideas AND is ready to organize the events
3) Youth who want to be at youth and are willing to do mission work around the church
4) The trust of my congregants
5) my new (albeit clingy) dog
6) Time with my dad
7) The ingeneous creativity of people at Disney
8) A supportive Senior pastor
9) Good food
10) Laughter with my young adults
11) Raw vulnerability
12) Perspective
13) Hope
14) New faces in my congregation
15) Seeing God's work after a seemingly long "winter"

God of the Children

Blessed God of the children
Who first loves those who are weak
Who hurts when they hurt
And hungers when they hunger
Help us to be prayerful
Not just in our thoughts and words
But in our actions
That we may not have generalized prayer for food
Btu will feel them ourselves
That they might go to bed with a full belly
God, you have blessed us so abundantly—
Help us to bless as well
You say our will provide for all our needs
And sometimes we forget that you provide through us
Open our hearts to the pain in this world
And our eyes to recognize the need in your world
That we might do our part
Doing unto that one child
as we would have them do unto us
as you have already done unto us
Help us to love them
As you have loved us
That we might honor you
Through our actions
For the health and welfare
Of your children everywhere.
Amen.

why all the prayers

As I mentioned a couple days ago, I have been feeling to post items of more substance, and coupled with that is my regrets over not writing more poetry or prayers in the past months. I was inspired to dig through old journals (there are close to 30 in all) and see what I found. Most, if not all, of the prayers I am posting currently are from those pages. They relate to different etapas in mi vida. Some were written for me and by me, others were written for others, or about others so that they might be freed to converse with the Divine. While I still don't have the words to be writing now, it is comforting and inspiring to know that when the Spirit moves, I will regain some creative juices.

A place to start

Gracious God,
Fill my heart
I am weak, confused, hurt, and frustrated
Help me to find your peace.
God, I desire a relationship with you
But I don’t know where to start
Show me where my words meet your ears
Show me God that you are here,
Present with me, holding my hand.
Give me the strength to persevere,
To be strong
Show me your will for my life
As my heart is pulled from both sides
I come to you yearning for peace
Bathe me in your grace and love
That the fragrance of your mercy may touch all those I meet today
Take me up and make me whole
In your grace I pray.
Amen.

Prayer to keep on going

Dear God,
Please give me strength for the journey.
I am weary and tired and feel I can ingest no more.
My legs are weary on this race-and I fear I am too fatigued to finish.
Yet there is hope.
The finish line is so close.
People are preparing for my reception.
God it is their work that gives me hope.
I do not want to disappoint them.
I also know I do not want to start this race all over again.
The remaining few miles seem like nothing compared to the miles I have already run.
Give me the water to rinse my parched mouth
and the strength to keep me moving forward.
God, this journey is long—but I know you have not left me.
Hold my hand and lead me on.
Take my hand and remind me of the beauty of your works.
Pull me up the mountain.
Remind me to catch my breath and not push too hard,
but to just keep climbing—for the view will be worth it.

Prayer for Mindfulness

Merciful creator God
Thank you for today
Thank you for the sun
And for the life you have breathed into me
God, so often I forget
To take account of the beauty of your creation.
Remind me to walk a little slower
Taking in your palate of colors
Remind me to listen to the chorus of your bird choir.
Remind me to smell
To inhale the gragrance of your flowers
Remind me God of your creativity
Remind me to look at people’s souls
Not their past or their designer fashions
Remind me to see you at work in each of their hearts
Thank you God for today
Remind me to be mindful
In awesome wonder of your creation, I pray. Amen.

It's all a matter of perspective

The other day I met with a women’s circle. To be quite honest I wasn’t sure why I was supposed to be there. The host had mentioned it to me, asked if the speaker had contacted me, and asked if I could come. I agreed. After a busy week with an even busier day ahead, I debated bowing out. They’d understand. But my morning appointment was shorter than I expected and it gave me a chance for a pick-me-up nap. I went. The speaker was sharing her idea for how our church might reach out to the community, and, hopefully, as a consequence—grow. Her idea is good and is circulating already through the various committees of the church. I had the “extra” knowledge about what is happening, what the plans are, what our needs are, etc. I was there to make the connections, answer questions, and do some “P.R.” work. (I seem to do a lot of that).

As a part of the sharing, one woman described her frustration that we don’t advertise in the local paper anymore. She shared that when she came, 4 years ago, she had looked in the paper and seen an ad for our church and that’s how she came to be a member with us. One woman had been on the committee that voted to stop advertising in the paper. 1) It’s expensive and we were/are struggling financially. 2) Younger generations aren’t reading the paper—not the paper one anyway…we use the internet. 3) The younger generations generally also use the internet to find a church. Hence the decision. The woman continued to air her frustration. It’s common in our church of “older” members. They take the paper daily and always read it; it makes sense to advertise there.

I left the meeting wondering how it is that we properly finesse the whole issue. It isn’t that this woman doesn’t want younger members, or that she doesn’t want to advertise on the internet, and despite her insistence on its importance, I don’t think she’d pay to keep it in the local paper. So the question becomes, does she really want to see the ad in the newspaper? Probably. But why? If I heard her right, her real statement was: “If it weren’t for the newspaper ad I wouldn’t be here, and if you think the newspaper ad (and who comes as a result) isn’t important, then you don’t care whether I am here or not.” That’s why she persisted—she needs to know (as I believe we all do) that her presence matters to someone. She needs to know, by our affirmations, that we wouldn’t be the same church without her, and that’s important. In many ways, we have failed to make that clear to her. Actually, I would say much of the problem with our “numerical decline” (though there are a multitude of other reasons) is that the church is not convincing people that their presence matters, that we are a weaker body without them, that we need people—not just people who say closet prayers, but we need people who come and move with the body in worship, prayer, lament, mission, study, and discipleship. We all long to “be a part of” and part of that sense of belonging is having a role, generally one that is acknowledged and recognized, and making a difference because of our role. So, how do we affirm our members, hold them accountable, AND become more relevant to those outside the church (particularly those generations that are almost completely unfamiliar with religious practices)?

Reconciliation

"I just want to be reconciled with you; will you pray for that?" Do you know what reconciliation means? Have you thougth of what it really entails? It is not simple or cheap. It is not an "I'm sorry" or "I forgive you." Not words alone. It cannot turn back to how things were before. It demands repentance--change in direction, not the same old path. Reconciliation between us requires grace and understanding, along with action and change. Reconciliation cannot truly take place if we simply return to old habits. It is profound and powerful. So let us be reconciled, if you desire--you do your part and I'll do mine. Two souls marching forward. Neither of us can move forward if we continue to hold to misconceptions, misinformation, prejudices, or hate from the past. We must clear a path down which we can walk toward greater connection and wholeness in ourselves and with one another.

Something of Substance

As you might have noticed, I meander back and forth between random musings or ramblings, and more introspective thoughts or theological dialogue. My deeper side has been a little lacking in the blogosphere as of late and I feel the unceasing need to step it up.

In On the Anvil, Max Lucado writes: "Once upon a time there was a tiny hamlet in the Swiss Alps. This hamlet was in serious trouble. The well that supplied water to the village went dry. Th people began to panic. A river was near the community, but it was located at the bottom of a deep, deep gorge. Hence, no one could reach the water. And it was the middle of summer, so the snow on the mountain had long since melted. There was, however, another well flowing with water across the gorge on the adjuacent mountainside. An imaginative young thinker came up with a solution. He built a bridge across the gorge. The villagers were elated. A bucket brigade was formed immediately, and the water supply was replenished. Needless to say, the bridge became very important to this group. It was their source of life. They honored the bridge. They named the bridge after the builder and painted it a beautiful gold. Tinsel was strung fromt eh bridge. Miniature bridges were built and sold in the streets. People wore them on their necks and hung them in the windows. A committee was formed to pay homage to the bridge. Only certain people were allowed upon it, and then only on certain days, and then only when wearing certain clothes. The bridge keeper became the most respected and revered position on the mountain. No one could see or cross the bridge without his permission. Unfortunately, there were disputes within in the committee. The disagreement centered around whether a canopy should be built over the bridge. So the bridge was closed until a decision could be made. Many villagers died of thirst while the leaders debated. In the search for truth, the means often become the end."

This short piece spoke to me loud and clear about overly rigid structures or traditions, those which used to provide a pathway to God, to abundant life, to *living water*, to peace, joy, assurance, and grace and yet have often become the focus of our energies and attention. The structure becomes overly prized and we forget all about why it was prized in the first place. The bridge is worthy and honorable only as long as it gets us there. When it ceases to take us to that which actually sustain us, its value is gone. The old addage: "Keep the main thing the main thing" could also be applied here. The bridge, the structure, or tradition fail us if we can no longer use them freely and inclusively. The exclusive bridge doesn't even meet its original purpose. If only some may cross, or if they meet with certain restrictions and regulations first, then the bridge ceases to offer a true path to the water (i.e., life, abundance, God).

What is your bridge? Your means? Your path? Has it become your idol? The all-important, set-in-stone, gold-painted, don't-use-it-'cause-you-might-wear-it-out, used-to-get-us-there-but-now-it-don't super-structure?

Me hace mas facil

A veces lo encuentro mas facil expresarme en espanol que en ingles. Por la creatividad y facilidad con palabras, el ingles casi siempre es mas facil, es "mi" lenguaje, pero para expresar mis sentimientos, me salen mejor en espanol. Realmente, no se por que. Puede ser que me parece mas "emocional" el espanol y uno debe expresar los sentimientos. O puede ser que los sentimientos dichos en ingles tienen mas peso, hay mas historia etc con ellos y por eso es menos pesado describirlos en espanol, o puede ser que los que los van a leer son los que entienden mejor esta parte de mi ser, y espero menos juicio de ellos. No se. Y a ti, ?te hace mas facil expresarte en el ingles o en el espanol? lengua materna o segunda lengua?

Call me crazy....

....but I think it might be a bad sign that I have made it to the "retired pastors directory" before I have even become "officially" ordained. Thursday I received a call from a retired clergy friend who said he had seen my name in the most recently published clergy directory. I think either God or the higher ups in my conference might be trying to tell me something....somehow I just don't think it's normal to be identified as retired before you've even finished your first year...though as D & S joked, could I get 30 years of service in my pension to go with it?!?

You're not the greatest thing since sliced bread....

....you're a servant. Those are the kinds of things good friends tell you. You aren't the best, you aren't supposed to be the best. There is no way you should expect perfection from yourself. You are a servant. Lowly. Now suck it up and move on. Now, let's be clear, I do not think I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread. I just think I should be. I mean, if I truly lived into the expectations I have for myself, I'd be the greatest thing since sliced bread, or at least something close. R reminded me of reality. I am a servant, and an imperfect one at that. I'm going to fail, fall short, have issues, break down, continue to be broken. And even in all that weakness, I can serve. That's my calling--to serve. Not to be perfect, not to be flawless, not to get it all right all the time, but to serve with a humble and compassionate heart. I need to be reminded of that and sometimes it takes the hard-edged southern boy to help me see the truth.

I love my neighbors

My current neighbors have been here (as in next door) for about 4 months. They moved here from Bombay about 8 months ago and lived with family for a couple months and now they grace me with their presence. They are a beautiful family with wonderful openness and hospitality. The husband has studied religion a lot and we have had a couple of good conversations. And while my youth Sunday school studied hinduism, he came in to speak, which was great. I met them their first or second day here and see them now and then. I am out more often than not, so we don't have the most regular interactions. But they really marked their presence in my mind one day when my parents came and were bringing in some furniture. i wasn't home yet and they were just bring stuff in. The husband stopped by to see if I was moving out or where I was. He was concerned that there were people in my apartment and I wasn't. He'll often check in if I have been out of town for a few days and they haven't seen me. He'll stop to make sure I am alive and well. It may seem silly, but for a single woman, it's nice to know someone checks in on me, and not just to make sure I'll be at a meeting!

He's also getting back into his own meditative and devotional practices and we talk about that. I've encouraged him to come to the church to pray in the chapel in the mornings after dropping off the kids. He brings me CDs burned with songs that have moved him (the first was Amazing Grace--which he had never heard before and fell in love with and played 60 times the first 2 days!) the second was a video that moved him that he found here. It's nice to share that part of his journey with him.

Where I can I offer "insider"information. Cultural norms or rules or other random things that come up. We've talked about how they can work their work schedules around childcare and the kids being home alone, they saw a tea kettle for the first time, =) and most recently the ins and outs of buying a car. They were excited to know that it's a lot like street bartering!

I'm grateful they are here. I'm grateful that they have offered so much hospitality, even as the "stranger in a strange land". I'm grateful for their smiles. And I'm grateful to know someone would notice if I didn't come out of my apartment for days on end, or if someone were making off with my furniture!

Sometimes you just wing it!

My *probationary* period pre-ordained ministry is supposed to do lots of things: 1) affirm/confirm my call 2) teach me about the church workings 3) shape me for full time ministry 4) prompt me to self-learning and 5) (though I don’t think this is on the official list) disillusion me completely about my own capabilities and the realities of the church. No more naïve ignorance from me! =) Anyway, I am definitely learning a lot. Two of the loudest/strongest/most prevalent lessons this year (appointment year that is, July-June) have been 1) HUMILITY and 2) personal limitations. As much as I would like to be super rev, “we all sin and fall short of the glory of God.” I seem to fall short a lot. No seriously. A lot. Sometimes even I am amazed how frequently I don’t quite nail it. And yet, (here lies the humility in the face of grace part) somehow God seems to work through me and in spite of me. That’s a miracle.

I’m really not trying to be self-deprecating here. (Though I am good at it). It really is a reality check for me. I wing it a lot. I mean honestly, I’m 25 and offering advice to 70 year old trying to raise their grandchildren or re-raise their own children. Not much experience there, so I offer what I can about personal relations, seeking God’s direction, loving without enduring abuses, and family systems. More often than not, I wing it. Sure, three years of seminary taught me a lot and I would be lost without the experiences I had there (especially work at the Carpenter’s House, First Hispanic UMC of Atlanta, CPE, Forest Park UMC, and The Open Door) but there’s still a lot to learn.

My latest “winging it” experiment (don’t tell him I said that) is with a congregant who has been in a spiritual desert for a few years now. We met and he told me his story (faith and personal) and I asked my “really hard questions” and I gave him a *homework assignment*. I asked him to look through magazines and pick out images that speak to him, that he likes, that depict things he likes to do. Faithfully, he is doing his tarea. The obvious question is “Deb, what are you going to do with the images?” Therein lies the winging it piece. Beats me. The idea just popped into my head so I went with it. I think I will exegete the *text*. I’ll do what I do with any text—look for words, phrases, ideas that pop out at me, look for themes, see what comes up, and go from there. And who knows where that will take us? My prayer is for guidance and wisdom. After that, I don’t have much.

A touch of hospitality goes a long way

Back in the fall I met a fellow colleague here in Hemet. She and I had lunch and figured out we both like to walk. We were both relatively new to the area and had few “friend” connections and decided we would both benefit from time together and decided we would do so as we walked around Diamond Valley Lake. We walked weekly for a couple of months and then the crazy advent season hit and we both had to defer to church and family responsibilities. Strangely, and yet typically (apparently in the church anyway) the Epiphany and Lent seasons are just as crazy if not more so than Advent, and so it is only now that we are finding time in our schedules to start walking again. When she called to set up a time she asked if I would also be willing to do her a favor—tutor her son in Spanish before a test. I said I’d be happy to and we arranged for me to come over tonight. I was supposed to have come straight from prayer group but had ended up not going because of a migraine. They live about 30 minutes (walking) from me and I decided the exercise would do me good, so I threw on a sweatshirt and headed over. When I got there she asked if I had dinner, I said I had. She said she thought I had come from church, I told her about the migraine and having stayed home and had dinner while I was there. She had prepared an extra chicken breast and enough sides for me to eat. Though I didn’t partake, I was EXTREMELY grateful. Those things mean the world to me. Too stubborn for my own good, I wouldn’t dare ask for a favor like that, but her foresight and care go a long way in my book. Thanks M!

Affirmations

A few weeks ago my father shared a sentiment that he would rather my siblings and I were driven by the affirmations God offers than those he might offer. So he was going to offer fewer verbal affirmations in hopes that we might turn more to God for a pat on the back or word of encouragement. Asi lo entiendo yo. And la verdad is that I struggle to accept this. I thought, "wait a minute, I struggle enough with not feeling good (read: affirmed) about what I do and now I am going to receive even less affirmation??" I think that was his point. And ever since I have been wondering if I am too dependent on the affirmations of others. Do I listen for God's affirmations enough that God might fill that seeming void in my life?

I was struck from the other side last week in talking with a congregant who is struggling in a spiritual desert and also struggles with issues of self-esteem. I shared that I too struggle with self-esteem and that the incarnation has been the most profound theological idea that speaks to me--God values me (US) so much that God was willing to come in the most fragile human form and entrust God's self to our care. Not only does God love me but God TRUSTS me. Two pretty distinctive ideas in my mind....and ever since I gained a little clarity about the incarnation, it has been my theological stronghold. All that is lead in back to the issue of affirmations, because after I shared this with the congregant he said he was surprised that I struggle with self-esteem issues and that when I got a full ovation from our english congregation after my first sermon that I "must have felt pretty good about [myself]". And it hit me: it was nice to receive applause, but I doubt the sincerity of it, the value of it, and there was the other side of my coin....I want and crave affirmations, and yet more often than not, when they come, I led them slide right off...

So, this year, I think it is high time that I truly allow the crucifixion and resurrection speak to me and God's affirmation of my life, of all of our lives, and maybe I will be less reliant on those words of others.

As a side note, I regularly read JT's blog and ran across this quote as I caught up: (I thought it applied...)

if the examination of our life is rooted in the world rather than the Spirit we will find that we are examining ourselves according to the world’s standards. We will be mired in the world’s standards of success. We will be trapped by the world’s standards of life and wealth. The world’s standards are at odds with God’s standards. To examine our life according the world’s standards rather than the Spirit’s grace we will be rendered a hollow shell, perhaps beautiful on the outside, but empty on the inside.

what was I thinking?

After a short ride to Claremont with a colleague friend last night where he thoroughly enjoyed joking about the "Mr. Perfect" doll who hangs in my car (a "man" my mother gave me since I do not have an active dating life), we spent a couple hours with two other friends joking and talking. It came out that I used to be a cheerleader (not a past time you would suspect simply by looking at me, not even necessarily once you know me). The guys decided it would be great if I did a cheer for them. Yeah, whatever. A little further into the night C was telling jokes and I was asked to take a turn. I am NOT a joke teller. Never have been. Never will be. I pleaded to get out of it and the alternative was that I do a cheer. Now, you take your pick--telling the one bad joke you know, or doing a cheer in front of three relatively new friends who will be colleagues for 40 years, in a crowded room with live jazz....tell me, just which one would you have gone for??? I went for the joke. I warned them, but they insisted. And then they sat there in stunned silence at just how bad my joke was. A laughed I think more out of pain at how poor my skills were than anything else, the other two couldn't even muster courtesy laughs. yep. it was that bad. The consensus was I should have gone with the cheer. Maybe next time guys. Maybe next time.

So this morning, I sat next to A for another riveting day at our conference, and he starts talking about setting me up on dates. Huh? Did I say I needed a date? I asked if he was any good at setting people up seeing as how I have endured my fair share of bad dates. He wasn't sure. Then this evening, apparently prompted by my earlier conversation I linked to an online dating site. All you have to do is login with virtually no information to look at possible dates in your area. Why did I do this? It only seems to bring out the shallow "first impression" woman in me. Can people really find a date simply by scanning pics to see who is attractive and then see if their profile says anything interesting? Does this work? I clicked on one, he's a publicist--read: marketing, of course he sounds good. He works at selling things. I do not. So the other horror of online dating--I think the reason (well one of the many anyway) why I have avoided such sites like the plague is that they require that I too develop a profile to sell myself. Uh....I think not. Really, now that I have my wits about me, it really creeps me out....I know that sounds like a harsh judgment on those who do it, it really isn't. I get how hard it is to find a date and why not try and use the internet to provide some dating options.?..and yet I can only see such an endeavor going horribly, horribly wrong for me....

So apparently it's back to "Mr. Perfect". And maybe somewhere along the way A will use his skills and set me up with someone who's willing to date an ex-cheerleader who CANNOT tell a joke! =)

Wanna hear my passions....

It is now well engrained in me to debate, often it's simply as a "devil's advocate" (possibly heresay in my profession!) and other times it's because I hold very strong opinions about an issue. Immigration is one of them.

First, my encouragement for you to take political action: S774 (Senate Bill) a.k.a. "The Dream Act" has been resubmitted to Congress for approval. This is a bill that allows undocumented youth (who entered the US before age 14) to go to college. The age limit is there because it presupposes that these youth were subject to their parents' will rather than their own and that as a result they have gone through the public school system and done well. Having graduated high school with a clean record (criminals are not afforded the privilege under this bill) these youth are granted legal residency status so that they might attend college. I advocate for this bill for a number of reasons: 1) these youth (as do ALL youth) deserve an education 2) barring these advances these immigrants are forced to remain in the American underclass (a fate no one should be subjected to) 3) They have done well in public education, demonstrating an ability to do well in higher education as well. If you are willing to advocate, please write your senator urging them to vote yes for S774 (to find an email address for your senator go to: www.senate.gov)

Second, my rant. A year after having written to the "beloved" (cough, cough) senator of Georgia--Johnny Isaakson, I received this gag-worthy email:

On February 20, 2007, I had the opportunity to travel with Secretary
of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff to the U.S.-Mexico border in Arizona ,
where I was proud to help weld a section of the double-barrier fence that is
being constructed along the border. My one-day visit there convinced me more
than ever that we can - and we must - secure our border first before we grant
legal status to anyone who has come to our country illegally.

Quite frankly I could go on for hours about immigration and the issues related to it. There are so many misperceptions and a surplus of misinformation that it is sometimes difficult to know where I should begin. In response to this wonder of a representative, I will say that the fence is NOT the appropriate answer to the issue of illegal immigration. Those who do humanitarian aid on the border have shown that the fences do little to actually deter those who cross and actually serve to increase the number of (often heat related) deaths. A few years ago a fencing project was titled "operation deterrant". The basic premise was that people WOULD die as they had to go further into the desert to cross and that would serve to deter others from crossing. The action proved both right and wrong. Right: people DO die in the desert as they cross (For a vivid and true account of this read: "The Devil's Highway" by Luis Urrea). Wrong: most have not been deterred by the deaths. Why? Well, when the need to cross is so profound that many spend almost two years of wages, stake their lives and the well-being of their families by allying with coyotes, and spend days in deadly heat--the prospect of death is already present, they are not deterred.

The perpetuation of false information and fear based propoganda really gets me going. I will stop for now as I am off to a Bible study, but will probably post more related to this information in the coming days. I realize not all of you are on the same page as me on this issue, please bear with me and know that I have not always believed the way I did. Going into college I held a staunchy "right" position regarding immigration--it took a couple years of God unhardening my heart before I came to the place where I am.

It's the little things

I was watching The Reading Room tonight and one of the teacher's remarked that the most gratifying thing was to have a student return (after 15 or so years) to her classroom and tell her he was in his 3rd year residency. It made me think of my youth who recently brought me a copy of her report card so I could see it. I had tutored her some in math last semester and she had a stellar report card overall. I was very proud of her initially when I saw it, but didn't feel much more than that. But tonight I was struck by how cool it is that not only did she get good grades and was excited about them, but that she really wanted to share her excitement with me. Then when I finished the movie I was reading email and had one from another youth, just a note congratulating me on being a godmother and telling me youth went well in my absence. Neither of which are life-changing, but it is pretty awesome to have youth who call to check in on me, and to have it confirmed that the other youth leaders (who are still "in training" in so far as they have only been 5 or 6 times now) did a good job with it. It really is the little things that make it all worthwhile.

The Miracle of Birth

The reason I have been absent from the blogosphere lately is because I have been pulling double shifts of hospital duty. I had the blessing Wednesday of witnessing the birth of my goddaughter! I know it's terribly cliche, but it truly is miraculous and amazing. It also was a lot of hurry up and wait throughout the day! We started at 4:30 am to get to the hospital and have B induced, and then we waited, breathed through contractions, waited, breathed through the epidural, rested, waited, breathed through contractions, waited, breathed through contractions, rested, waited, waited, and waited, and then it was time to push! Only 30 minutes of killer pain and breathless pushing and we had ourselves a beautiful baby girl! While I have seen my fair share of The Baby Story, the last time I saw a full on shot of a birth was in 9th grade in health class watching The Miracle of Birth. Let's just say that 10 years ago I wasn't diggin' the scene, but this time around it was awe-some. Truly amazing!

Since the birth B & K have dubbed me their personal doula, and quite frankly, I love it! I do swaddling lessons, tips on all kinds of things, baby watch so they can rest, and nursing consults. I'd say that if my "season of ministry" ends prematurely, I could be a doula as an alternative.

I am off to sit and stare at this beautiful baby girl.

what's with the spacing

can someone please tell me how to get my spacing all the same. I can't figure out why it does single and double and how to fix it....

More questions than answers

Despite my unsuccessful encounter with the Spiritual Director, I have continued to ponder scriptures through Lent. A member of my church mentioned that she sees our church like the wine skins. So, I had to take a look: (Luke 5:36-39)

He told them this parable: "No one tears a patch from a new garment and sews it on an old one. If he does, he will have torn the new garment, and the patch from the new will not match the old. And no one pours new wine into old wine skins. If he does, the new wine will burst the skins, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins. And no one after drinking old wine wants the new, for he says, 'The old is better.'"

For the church, what is new wine, what are the wineskins, which are the old ones and what will be the new ones to hold the new wine? What is our container? What are the goods? And what do we do with the last verse: "And no one after drinking old wine wants the new, for he says, 'The old is better'"?

You can't have old wine without first having new wine, right? So what is the "aging process" for the wine in the church? How long does it take for it to age/ Is sit good after only a year or two or do we have to wait 50 years? and is there a point when it turns to vinegar because we waited too long?

Similarly, without answers, I was reading Luke 13:1-9 and was left with the following questions:

Now there were some present at that time who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mixed with their sacrifices. Jesus answered, "Do you tink that these Galileans were worse sinners than all other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you no! But unless you repent, you too will perish or those 18 who died when the tower of Siloam fell on them--do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish." Then he otld this parable: "A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it, but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, 'For 3 years now I've been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven't found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?' 'Sir', the man replied, 'Leave it alone for one or more year, and I'll dig around and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.'"

So are we to understand these two together as one illuminating the other? If yes, if the vineyard illuminates "repent or perish" does our repentance serve as the fertilizing and watering of our lives (either physical, spiritual, or eternal)? So if we don't repent, we don't nurture ourselves toward life? Such that then we perish? If the analogy is not clearing debris or weeding, but feeding and watering--how does that change or enhance how we understand repentance? What if we understand repentance not as clearing away the junk as much as offering nutrience to our being? How does repenting nourish me? How does it offer me space to grow (i.e., "dug around it")?

This is why I do ministry

Last week when I realized I was the only scheduled to plan and lead Wednesday night's lent group my first thought was, "not something else to do!" And then it dawned on me: this time I could do whatever I wanted. I was not bound by anyone's order of worship. I wasn't even really bound by their expectations. The description of the time was "Pastor Debbie will lead us in a different style of worship". That's just vague enough that I could do whatever I wanted as long as it wasn't the same old same old, and I was stoked! So last night we sang some of my favorite songs, read scripture, prayed together, lit candles for those we lifted up silently, and made a worship quilt/wall hanging. There had been 5" swatches of 5 fabrics to choose from as people entered the chapel, each representing a different part of worship and people were to pick the one for the area of worship that speaks to them. At the end of our worship service, they came to the table that had a cross already laid on it (as Christ is the center of our worship) and each added their own "worship" to the image. As I shared with them, worship is dependent upon us, our participation, what we give to it, and depending on who is there, the image we create in collective worship will look different every time. It was beautiful, and hopefully helped them (re)see worship in a new light--a light that gives them agency, and doesn't leave it all in the pastor's or choir director's hands.
But even more fun than all of that was that I had them side stepping (as best as my fair skinned novice parishoners could) and clapping or snapping. Remember I work with an aging congregation, so there were two young adults there, and everyone else collects social security, so this is no common place occurance. And God bless 'em, everyone was up and moving as they attempted to use their bodies to worship--to dance like David.
It was fun to do, and exciting to not experience resistance. And despite my limited music skills, we learned new songs and sang them well, they filled the chapel with their voices. It was beautiful. I think it was the second olive branch God has extended to me this week. The olive branch of hope, of not giving up, the olive branch of promise. Apparently the rough waters I lived on for so many months were just that, rough waters--flood waters, and now hopefully the storm is over, the waters are calming, and receeding, and God has sent me an olive branch. Reason to keep going with this calling of mine, even though there has been so much trial over the last 8 months. God is good my friends....God is good.