We need a name!

I had several friends give me reasons why they do not blog when I announced my plan to start blogging about my church starting venture. The number one reason was, of course, that they knew they would not keep up. Well, now I get it - - with all of the other emails, phone calls, FB conversations and in-person meetings, it can get difficult to keep up with another correspondence, but I'm back at it...

As this new year began, I did a little reflecting on the journey thus far. There has certainly been a mixture of excitement, fear, anticipation, wonder and doubt. There have been times when I've wondered what in the world prompted me to say 'yes' to this new direction, and other times when I can't imagine myself anywhere else doing anything else in the world. I've been surprised on more than one occasion, sometimes by a new friendship, other times by an opportunity for ministry that came to me in the midst of trying to begin a place for ministry. It has been chaotic, unstructured and overwhelming, yet also beautiful to watch something take shape that I could not possibly have formed with my own hands.

Perhaps of all the lessons learned, I am most moved by the reminder of God's power to create something out of nothing. I do not always sense God's presence or God's guidance, but looking back, I can see evidence of it. For that, I am so grateful.

As I look ahead, I am anticipating moving forward in a couple of ways. Tomorrow, I begin looking at a few options for meeting spaces for weekly gatherings that will begin on Sunday evening, March 6th. These gatherings for prayer, study, conversation and community mission will also serve as a crucial time of identity formation for a core group of individuals and families. However, before we can invite others to join us, we need more than just an identity, we need a name! We need a name that is not only meaningful to a dynamic and economically/racially diverse neighborhood in transition, but one that also reflects a faith community committed to:

• Offering radical love and hospitality to all people in the name of Christ.
• Being a voice for unity among a community fragmented by race and economic divisions.
• Engaging in worship, dialogue, study, fellowship and service.
• Facilitating the formation of authentic relationships
• Proclaiming the good news of God’s story and discovering together how God’s story continues today.
• Partnering with others in our community to bring about hope and transformation by serving our neighbors in need.

I'm excited about the name we will come up with, and I'd love to hear your suggestions. So, send them my way!

I really have no idea what this year will bring, but just as I can look back and see evidence of God's care in the past, I am trusting this year will be no different. I pray that whatever this year has in store for you, there will be assurance of God's continued love and care.

Thanks for following along!

Still, no baby...

For the last several weeks, I have gathered with friends to participate in "Advent conversations". On Sundays, the conversations have taken place in a Sunday School classroom and on Thursdays, they have taken place in a coffee house. These times of talking and listening have really enriched my Advent journey and have caused me to think a lot about what it means to live in anticipation. Of course, I do not need any lessons on anticipation this year. After all, I have been dreaming of what shape this new faith community will take, waiting for news that Kevin has been offered a job in Jacksonville, and listening for how the pieces of our lives will fit together.

I'm starting to wonder, though if maybe Advent is not about learning to wait, but is more about surrendering to the mystery of what lies beyond our waiting. This is a very challenging idea, I know. I want to plan, predict and imagine the possibilities; yet, the events of the first Christmas remind me that even with all of my dreaming, I can never imagine the way that love, joy, hope and peace will break into our lives. Few would have expected it to happen in a stable, in the form of a tiny baby, or through an unwed mother.

On the first Sunday of Advent, the altar at Hendricks Avenue Baptist Church looked much like a scene from the wilderness. There were no clusters of greenery, no poinsettias on display, and no Christ child anywhere to be found. In fact, even on this third week of Advent, the stable remains empty. Part of me wants to go ahead and get it over with - someone please put the baby in the manger so this stable does not look so bare! It just isn't right! I am so eager to have my expectations fulfilled; yet, truthfully, our expectations are seldom fulfilled. Sometimes we are left wanting, other times we could never have imagined things would have unfolded so wonderfully. In either case, we could never have predicted the end results of our waiting.

My prayer is that in each of our anticipations, we will have the courage to live into each moment, not dwelling on expectations, but surrendering to the One who has and who will be born again in people, places and possibilities beyond our imaginations. Instead of fostering impatience, I pray that the empty stable will prompt a greater awareness of where Christ is waiting to be born in and among us.

Blessings as we continue on our Advent journeys...

Dirt

This morning, I helped to plant the first fruit trees in a community orchard sponsored by Sustainable Springfield. Because I have a history of causing more harm than good when it comes to plants, I am crossing my fingers that these trees survive! It did not take very long, but I left with dirty hands and the anticipation of a Spring harvest.

I also left with the realization that there's something really important about putting bare hands into dirt. I realized how seldom I do it. I, like many of us learned from a young age to stay clean (particularly as a girl raised in the south), not to mess up, and to hide my messes at all cost. Somewhere in all of this avoidance of "dirt", I suppose I bought into the cliche that "cleanliness is next to godliness". I was reminded today that it is in the dirt that fruit trees take root, and that it's in the dirt of our lives that new life emerges.

This week's Old Testament Advent text from Isaiah declares that after all of the ravage of war and the estrangement from home, "A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots" (NRSV, Isaiah 11:1). In the face of an uncertain future, the Israelites were challenged to remain hopeful and to embrace their humility as opportunity. Their deliverance would not come from a mighty king, but would come from an unlikely source - - from "dirt".

As we turn to this week's gospel reading we also find some rather primitive beginnings. John the Baptist, the prophet announcing the coming Messiah, delivers his message from the wilderness. He was described as wearing clothing made from camel's hair and eating locusts. From this setting of dust and dirt, John announces the coming of the kingdom of God.

I can's help but ask - what's up with all of this dirt? Why is it that prophets speak of and speak from places of such scarcity? Is there something instrumental about the dirt in delivering visions of peace and hope? If this is so, then all of this time of avoiding the mess has been in vain. While I've been told that "cleanliness is next to godliness", it is quite the opposite. The prophets declared that from the scarcity of the earth a Savior would be born, and the God of Advent can be found in the scarcity of our lives. The God of Advent is waiting to be born in our scarcity, in our struggles, disappointments, failures, and scandals - - may we not only see the "dirt", but have the courage to anticipate what will sprout up as we wait in hope.

Waiting

I have never been good at waiting. Anyone who has given me a gift knows that I can't help trying to guess what's inside before I even begin unwrapping it. I get impatient in long lines, filled waiting rooms and after being placed on “hold”. Unfortunately, on average I (we) spend around an hour every day...waiting. For some of us, we wait even longer – for test results, for forgiveness, for employment, for something, anything to come along and move us in a new direction.

I have often heard Advent referred to as “waiting” for Christmas, as if it will unfold again just as it has every year, as if we already know exactly what it is we are waiting for. I find this very inconsistent with the true spirit of Advent. When we re-read the biblical story, we find anything but the fulfillment of pre-conceived expectations. Jesus did not come as a warrior king, he came as a defenseless baby. His parents were not wealthy aristocrats, but were poor teenagers. Jesus was not born in luxury, but in a manger, an animal trough. Those who waited for the birth of Jesus to unfold in a predictable fashion found themselves disappointed and disillusioned - he could not possibly be the One they had waited so long for!

This Advent, I am hoping to be alert to where and how God will be born again in and around me. In Signs of Emergence, Kester Brewing reminds us that we cannot wait with too many formed ideas of where and how this birth will take place, of where and how Christ will be found.

"We must stop. Wait. ...Begin to dream where God might now like to be found. Not in the house, but in a stable; not in Jerusalem, but from Nazareth; not with his family, but in the temple; not in the temple, but with the sick, the poor; the disinterested, the ordinary, the real, the drinkers, smokers, jokers, deviators, and slackers..."

It is with this spirit of anticipation that I look forward to gathering with friends for the next four weeks of Advent to share in conversation, reflection and listening. We will meet at Three Layers in Springfield at 5pm (in the back room) beginning tomorrow night. As we share in great food and friendship, I am excited about how we can encourage one another to engage in the true spirit of Advent - - not simply waiting for Christmas to get here, but participating in God's re-birth in our time and place.

Thanks to Chantelle - ThousandSquareFeet for the advent calendar photo.

"Me, too"

Wherever we find ourselves on life's journey, there are some powerful words I believe we all long to hear. Hearing them lately has reminded me of why. It first happened during a recent night out with other moms. I was introducing myself and sharing a little about our recent move and about how Kevin was still working in Atlanta. When I was finished, two of the women seated around me commiserated, sharing about their situations. One woman's husband is in the military and he gets home every 6 months (talk about getting a little perspective!) and the other's husband has to work very long hours. In the midst of listening to them share, I felt less alone. It was as if upon hearing my story, they were saying, "yeah, me too."

It happened again today when I ran into two ministers that I first met a couple of months ago. They asked me what I had been up to and I replied that I was still gathering, learning, and discerning for this new church start (they could probably hear the impatience in my tone!). They said, "us too." Although they are not starting a new work, they shared how their ministry is always a work in progress. It made sense to me and it also made me smile. Yeah, them too.

I guess the power in "me, too" is the subtle reminder that we are not alone. Somewhere deep down we tend to think we are the only ones experiencing heartache and impatience; however, "me too" reminds us that we are in the company of fellow strugglers who also feel, think and experience the ups and downs of the journey.

We need bigger tables!

I have been spending a lot of time at the table lately, dining and drinking coffee with friends I am meeting along the way. It has only reinforced the idea that good food and conversation are the perfect way to form new friendships (no comments needed from those friends who are always harassing me about how strenuous this new work must be for me!). I am finding that given the opportunity, we are all longing to engage in meaningful relationships and to find a place where we experience genuine acceptance.

Yesterday, I met a woman for breakfast who shared her altered perception of God with me. We had never met, but spent a couple of hours exchanging life stories. Although she grew up in a fairly conservative religious tradition, her life's experiences had taught her that God could not possibly be confined to the limited view that was so often expressed through those in her church. While many describe themselves as spiritual, but not religious, she claimed that she was neither at this point in her journey. Then she made this powerful statement:

"I do imagine [however] that there is a Being that holds the world together and keeps us all from killing one another."

When I consider what it means to re-imagine the church, I suppose what it really means is "re-imagining God". For so long, we have allowed God to remain confined to the patriarchal imagery expressed in scripture as "Father", "King", and "Lord". While these images do convey attributes of God that are timeless, they are also limited to the ancient context in which they were first used by God's people. In other words, when we refer to God as "King" today, does that truly communicate and confess our faith in God? or by focusing too much on how people have experienced God in the past prevented us from honoring how God continues to be revealed to us today?

I think that what this new friend of mine was saying is that 'my life experiences have led me to imagine God differently and I no longer find that I fit into the church'. I can't help but wonder just how beautiful a community of faith would be if we held up not only scripture and tradition, but human experience as a valid way of talking about, worshiping and serving God. As I re-imagine the church as an inclusive community that follows Christ in seeking to love God and love neighbor, I pray that it will truly be a place where we can bring all of who we are to the table...a place where we can talk about God in ways that reflect not only an ancient perspective, but in new ways that express how we see God working in our world today.

I could not agree with this woman more - surely there is One who holds it all together!

May the One who created us all be more fully made known as we each find our place at the table!

Blogging about a fast from words (yes, I recognize my hypocrisy)

The words “conversation” and “dialogue” are very popular these days. I find myself saying them more often than ever to communicate the way I’m engaging in relationship and welcoming another’s perspective. I like these words because of the openness they communicate. Words can be very powerful; however, I kids myself if I believe words alone are enough.

I am reminded that words are not enough when I read this passage from Isaiah. Written to a people who often used words to complain, to worship, to recite laws and to pray, the challenge set forth in these verses is nothing less than a call to move beyond speech and engage in action. Isaiah 58 says,

3“Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress allyour workers. 4Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. 5Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the LORD? 6Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 7Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? 8Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. 9Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, 10if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. 11The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. 12Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.

When we do share “conversation” with others (and I’m talking about going beyond ‘hey, how are you?’), we discover that we all have parched places. We are all in need of healing, and according to this passage, our healing only comes when we seek justice on behalf of all who are oppressed. Let’s be honest, although we talk a good bit about wanting to move toward healing, we DO little in the scheme of things to make healing a reality. Words, it seems have become our “fast” from action.

Every day we hear stories of oppression. We hear about racial and economic discrimination, we take note of the loss of innocent life resulting from violence on our streets and in distant lands, we read about women caught in sex trafficking, and we listen to stories of how ridiculed homosexuals are killing themselves rather than endure further alienation. Yet, it seems at times that we as Christians spend more time talking about these realities, arguing bout our differences and celebrating what we have in common than ever acting on behalf of those who are naked, homeless or hungry (physically and metaphorically).

Words are not enough. We do not have time to argue over whether or not yoga is an acceptable Christian practice or which denomination gets it right, we must break the fast of inactivity and enter into a movement of anti-oppression. Only then will our parched places be satisfied, our streets be restored and the glorious light of God break forth like the dawn.