Holy Saturday

Holy Week has been a very significant one for our new faith community. We joined St. John's Lutheran and Operation New Hope and invited the neighborhood to Community Prayers in the Park. We gathered Wed., Thurs. and Fri. mornings for a time of prayer, silence, scripture reading and reflection. It was our way of intentionally moving through this Holy Week and intentionally creating spaces where we express our common love for God and one another. It was rich in meaning and relationship.

Today is a much more quiet day and I am forced to confront the reality of my personal Lenten journey. The question that I have been focused on during Lent this year is: where is death needed in order for new life to be experienced? The painful truth is that the story of Jesus' life and ministry teaches us that in order for new life to begin (and I'm talking about new life here and now), there must be some things that are put to rest. It sounds strange to say this, but there are some areas of my life that need death. Here are a few: dwelling too much on what used to be, allowing negative thoughts/doubts about myself to keep me from taking risks, not resting enough, avoiding spending necessary time in silence and spiritual discipline, and I could go on...I think you get the point. There are places where I need to let go so that I can live more fully. That is where my Lenten journey has taken me this year.

Today is Holy Saturday and we have no events on our calendar for this day before Easter. It is traditionally meant to be a day of rest and quiet meditation, remembering the day Jesus rested in the tomb. We will not gather with our community today, but will anticipate being together to serve at the Clara White Mission in the morning. For today, though, we are left to consider a world without Christ, a world void of hope and new life...remembering all the while that "weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning" (Ps. 30:5, NRSV).

The road to new life

Last night at The Well, we discussed the Gospel of John's telling of the raising of Lazarus. Unlike the other Gospels, for John, this is the climactic story that signals the end of Jesus' public ministry. His claim to be the resurrection and the life is more than some can handle, even as they watch with their own eyes the evidence of God's power at work through this miracle. As readers, we are left with the sense that instead of loosening the wrappings and allowing Lazarus to fully live again, some in the crowd would rather have kept him bound. It seems that the blindness to the light of Christ was an avoidance of the scandalous reality of God's power at work through flesh and bone in ways that no one would have imagined.

The feeling of being bound happens to us in a variety of ways. Last week, I was faced with an awkward reminder of the limitations that some still place on female ministers (some reading will be amazed that this is the first time I have felt overtly limited because of my gender). I was scheduled to officiate a funeral for a local funeral home. I did not know the family and they did not know me - they were in need of a minister to perform their dad's funeral, and I agreed. I had a lovely conversation with a female family member and I heard the stories of a man who had lived a long and full life, and who had been active in a local southern baptist congregation. The next day, I received an email from her regretfully informing me that some of the "old southern baptists" in the family could not handle having me lead the funeral.

I have to admit that I knew I was due for one of these awkward and unfortunate experiences. Having been called and affirmed into ministry through faith communities that affirmed the calls of women, I knew that one day I would be faced with a different response. I could go on about how it felt, but I think you could read Kathy Escobar's blog this week and understand my feelings pretty well. I'm not one to dwell on rejection or to let it become my platform for advocating for women in ministry (it really is the incredible stories of giftedness and calling of women in ministry that call for our advocacy!); however, I have really let this get to me.

The road to life modeled by Jesus is one full of mountains, wilderness, rejection, belief, ambiguity, and celebration. If John's climactic placement of this resurrection story is appropriate, then what finally put Jesus' life at stake was the decision to offer life to one who had been bound by death. Perhaps the most beautiful image in this passage is the role that the community plays in unbinding Lazarus. The community around Lazarus are the ones called to unloosen the wrappings so that he can live fully once again. Life is given by Christ, but the freedom to walk in that life is the gift given by the community that dares to affirm the grace of God at work in each of us. Too often we allow fear to keep people in places that are comfortable for us instead of affirming and equipping the work of new life that is leading them to new places.

Last night, we prayed that The Well would be a group of people that loosens the wrappings that keep people unable to respond to the new life they have received through Christ. Instead of trying to control. manipulate and make palpable the ways God is at work, my prayer is that we will celebrate signs of new life and that we will tear apart the wrappings that limit the amazing love, grace and power of the risen Christ.

Mile Markers

Over a year ago now, I ran my first marathon. I still look back and CAN'T believe I made it. I remember trying so hard not to focus on counting down each mile for fear that I would panic when I did not reach each one as soon as expected. It was then that I learned that there is a difference between obsessing over mile markers and celebrating when you reach each one.

As I have continued on the road to beginning a new faith community, I am celebrating a couple of significant mile markers. First, I am celebrating that we have a name! Last Sunday, we decided to call ourselves The Well at Springfield. This name is not only significant in terms of our location, but also in terms of our mission. We are trying to be a place that fosters community, that welcomes all and that serves as a necessary resource for our neighborhood and city. I am so excited about how this new name will help to shape our identity and mission in the future.

Another important mile marker came last Sunday as we identified one role we see ourselves serving in a diverse and dynamic community. We want to be a faith community that helps to connect resources and people. We want to form rich partnerships. We want to promote collaboration. We want to learn from others already doing great work and to listen to the ways that God is calling and equipping us to serve alongside these groups and individuals.

I am already anticipating the next mile markers just up ahead, but for now I'm celebrating where we are on this long and windy road. Thanks be to God for giving us the courage to begin the journey, and the vision to keep on going!

Invitations

It's ironic that I am finally finishing Rob Bell's Velvet Elvis just as the controversy over his new book Love Wins has gotten everyone's attention. It seems that every day I am hearing another person (or group of people) react to Bell's thoughts on reconciling God's love and God's judgment (also ironic, don't you think?) . I can't wait to read it for myself.

At the close of Velvet Elvis, Bell reflects on the early church's role in continuing the renewal (the "putting things back together") that Christ began in his time here on this earth. I was particularly challenged by these words:

"It is important to remember that we rarely find these first Christians trying to prove that the resurrection actually occurred. ...They [early Christians] understood that people are rarely persuaded by arguments, but more often by experiences. Living, breathing, flesh-and-blood experiences of the resurrection community. They saw it as their responsibility to put Jesus' message on display. To the outside world, it was less about proving and more about inviting people to experience this community of Jesus' followers for themselves." (Velvet Elvis, 64)

Those early Christians certainly lived in a different time and place, but I imagine that we faced some of the same challenges. There were competing theologies, cultural oppositions, and enormous obstacles to the reception of their message. What challenges me about these early believers is the evidence that their focus was not on arguing or persuasion, but rather was on living as a resurrection community - on letting the life of Christ determine how they lived together and how they invited others to join in new life.

All of the debates over Bell's new book have really gotten people's attention, but I can't help but wonder how many of the arguments will just end up being distractions (although, I do think many transformative conversations will be had over this book!). As Christ-followers, when will we get it? Arguing about whose right or wrong, in or out, can be great distractions from living out the life and ministry of the One who came to put things back together. What would it look like if we followed the way of these early believers and were ruthlessly dedicated to putting things back as they should be? How much better would the invitation be heard and received?

May it be so in our lives as Christ-followers and in our communities who gather in Christ's name!

Here we go (again)!

On Sunday night, eighteen of us gathered to participate in our newly forming faith community's first gathering. We met for dinner, prayer and scripture exploration. We talked, we shared concerns, we ate, we listened, we watched as children shared their artistic interpretations of the text. There were also some significant questions asked as we sat at the table together...What drew you to this neighborhood? Where do we go from here? How do we invite people into something that has no definite shape yet? There was enthusiasm mixed with uncertainty.

Tonight at Hendricks Avenue Baptist Church, we gathered to begin another journey. We heard scripture, we sat in silence, we sang, we left with black crosses drawn on our foreheads. There were significant questions asked as we worshiped together...What will be given up in order to make room for new life to take root? How do we remember that we are dust and that to dust we will return? Where do we go from here? There was anticipation mixed with uncertainty.

While we who confess Christ acknowledge our belief in God's ultimate love and care, the ways of God remain a mystery. On Lenten journeys, new church ventures and life's many ebbs and flows, uncertainties abound. Sometimes the best we can do is to live fully into each moment of our lives and to trust that God is with us as we journey on. And, if we are lucky, we can also recognize that all around us are fellow travellers - - and we can begin asking our questions together - -and we can listen, and learn and encourage and wait together in anticipation mixed with uncertainty, in enthusiasm mixed with doubt until we watch as something new and needed begins to emerge.

I hope I am ready for what lies ahead because here we go (again)!

Connections

No situation is ever as cut and dry as I try to make it. I like to categorize and classify. I like to know what to call things, people and places. I want to know how to think about them - that place is a dump, they are close-minded, this situation is hopeless. It seems so much easier to live in the black and white than to experience the gray, and to make room for a new perspective.

As some excitement is building about our first community gathering on March 6th, I received an email from a friend this week. She had visited the diner where we plan to host our Sunday gatherings, and enjoyed a good conversation with the waitress. In her email to me she wrote:

"God is good, and I am seeing things that have been happening for almost the past two years for me, seem to have a purpose."

Open encounters with others do that to us. Insights like these seldom happen in isolation. Our faith calls for connections, for collisions you might even call them. Faith in God and God's Spirit calls for openness and attnetiveness to how God might stir us to see and experience life differently - through relationships, circumstances, scripture, successses, failures, nature, etc. As we come together as a faith community and listen to one another and really see each other, our old definitions and classifications are broken down. We learn things about others, about ourselves, and about our Creator.

A faith community is a place where deep connections are made, but those relationships are more than just friendships; they are intentional encounters where we are vulnerable to having our story intersect with another's story - - and where we find our place in God's story.

Our "connecting" place will be Carl's Main Street Restaurant. My hunch is that rich relationships will be made there as we eat, share, reflect and explore scripture. My prayer is that as we connect, we will not only be shaped by one another's stories, but that we will be shaped into the image of Christ - One who lived in a way that valued relationships and who allowed them to be avenues for knowing and sharing the life-giving love of God.

Looking back and forward

Last night, a group of new and old friends shared a meal together in our home. This was more than a meal though, it was the beginnings of a new community. There were introductions, conversations, ideas shared, connections made, and imaginations sparked about the whats, whens and hows of this new faith community. There was energy and excitement as we sensed the emergence of something meaningful and necessary.

As I sat back for a moment and looked around, there was an awareness of something stirring in my spirit, a reminder perhaps. When I was ordained 3 years ago at Peachtree Baptist Church, I was blessed by a congregation of friends and family who affirmed my call to ministry. Those gathered blessed me by their presence, their participation and their tender words spoken during the laying on of hands. Truly, it was a gift I will cherish forever. At the close of the service, this benediction was read from the 3rd chapter of Ephesians:

"Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen."

Last night as I looked around the room, I heard these words again, this time resounding in my spirit. I was profoundly aware of something greater at work, something capable of drawing a group of strangers together to imagine a new faith community. While I too often obsess about the details and the decisions of each step, I was reminded of God's power at work to do something far greater than what I could even ask or imagine.

I cannot predict what this new church will look like; yet, I am reassured that no matter where the journey takes us, it will not be me that gets us there. It will be the God who gives us the ability to dream and works with and through us to bring about God's kingdom on earth. I am thankful that it is not me, but God's Spirit at work, that will ultimately shape the life of this newly forming church. Thanks be to God for what has already begun, and for what will be!