Who Am I?

Today is Ash Wednesday. The first day of Lent.

I have contemplated what practices I might add or things I might let go for this season, and as I did so, I kept coming back to this:

The United Methodist Church's "ReThink Church" campaign.

At first, I thought it seemed silly. Like an excuse to use social media more during Lent.

But then I read the topics more closely. and I thought: what an opportunity. Because in a photograph, it not only invites creativity, but requires a greater deal of reflection on each of them than I might offer on any other day.

Take, for example: today. All day I thought about this question and how I might depict it honestly....

Who Am I?

The same words rolled over and over again in my head...

From dust you came, and to dust you shall return.

But what does that even mean?

For me, today, it means that I am nothing without the God who knit me in my mother's womb.

I am nothing without the God who feeds my soul
and makes life worth living.

I am nothing.

Who am I?

I am dust.

#rethinkchurch #photoadaylent

Life Happens in the Transitions

I haven't quite figured out how to put into words the countless things I've been processing lately. There seem to just be too many things from too many places happening at once.

Enough that I just spent 5 minutes trying to figure out how to write or explain them, concluding only that I can't. So I guess that says something in itself.

It turns out when you're the
photographer, you aren't in many
photos: this is the best I have from GC!

The thing is: they all intersect. Every piece of my life is in flux right now, and yet they are all fluidly and undeniably interconnected. My work life is chaotic as I move from General Conference into Annual Conference season... but processing these things personally have been more difficult than the countless hours at work I have spent on them.

Oh, and Annual Conferences? Lets not forget that in the middle of the ones I'm traveling to for work, is the Dakotas Annual Conference: where I will be commissioned as a provisional elder! That's right folks, I'm finally doing it: I have an appointment in the Dakotas Conference this fall!

So there's that. Not just the appointment part, but the whole "OH MY GOSH: I'M ACTUALLY FINALLY TAKING AN APPOINTMENT!!!" part. I mean this both with great excitement, and with great intimidation, and mostly with great anticipation that holds both in what I think is a well-balanced tension.

Of course, with that also comes other changes. Some are obvious: I need to buy a car. I will miss the easy access to buses and trains but will be grateful to be able to drive my groceries home instead having to walk with them! That trades off too, though: I'll no longer have access to a Whole Foods or Trader Joes. Then there's that other big thing that sticks out: right now, I practically live on the road and out of a suitcase since I travel so much for work. But as a pastor, I'll stay put. A lot. I'm REALLY looking forward to settling in one place - in my own HOME! - but also a bit intimidated by what it may feel like to no longer have a need to monitor those plane ticket prices...

But before I can get that far, I have to wrap up my other pieces of life. I'm going to miss DC, the friends I've made, and cycling!! Oh, the cycling! I have not only a great training/riding partner who lives right above me, but we have access to some of the best trail systems in the country - and weather that lets us ride for extra long seasons!!

Not that I see them much these days, since I've been (and will be) traveling for General and Annual Conferences. Which will conclude for me by a week of debriefing in NYC as my Mission Intern position with GBGM draws near its end. Which, takes me full circle and...

and I find myself thinking and feeling and confused in these circles a lot these days.

Which is why I'm grateful my neighbor and cycling partner recently asked me to go to Yoga with her.

Yep: Yoga.

Never in my life have I been interested in yoga, but something about it just felt right this week. So I went. and on Monday night, we had a theme that has stuck with me all week:

Life happens in the transitions.

If that's not my life right now, I don't know what is.

I am transitioning in every aspect of my life. With my friends, my job, my vocation, my lifestyle. All of it. Every last piece of it is changing drastically. Not just my life, but I am "transitioning."

This week, I appreciate the reminder to stop thinking about all the transitions I'm experiencing and expecting, always anticipating the next one. Instead, I'm moving forward one day at a time, not just existing in the midst of these transitions, but truly living into them.

Because when we think about it, my yoga instructor is right: life is always transitioning. and Life happens in the transitions.

Namaste.

No Place Like Home

As if it wasn't before, the pressure is on. Time is getting short, to-do lists seem to be getting longer, and months of anticipation are turning into reality.

The 2012 General Conference of The United Methodist Church begins in only two weeks. Since I work MFSA, a caucusing organization within the church, it seems that 100% of my life right now revolves around this huge event that happens every 4 years. In fact, it is such a big deal for our organization that our entire staff have already taken one trip down together to visit the area and conference center, and are going to be on the ground and organizing a FULL WEEK before the conference even starts. Which means my D-Day for departure for this year's location (it rotates) in Tampa, Florida is only 8 days. AHH!

Realizing today that this is my last full week in the office, I was ancy, stressed, and as a result quite snarky all day with my fellow staff. Fortunately, so were they and we are all close so all was well and we laughed about it together. But all in all, though nothing specifically went wrong today, this tension and growing pressure really just made today "one of those days."

Which brings me to now. Here. As I sit writing this in the comfort of my home, snuggled up under a blanket sitting on my bed with my computer on my lap.

Something about the growing pressure of this work significantly diminishes as I sit in my safe space to do it.

No, I cannot get everything I need done on this computer. No, I do not have my colleagues next to me to bounce ideas off of before I hit "send" on emails. There are lots of things that make working at work a whole lot better and easier. But tonight, I'm grateful to get lots done, and grateful not to be there.

Because, in the words of Dorothy, there really is "no place like home."

It is good to realize this as I prepare to leave next week for a month-long journey in Florida (I will be there for 18 days for work then take a week of leave with friends in Orlando). It is good to spend time at home, safe and comfortable and in the quiet in my "safe space." It is good to make time for reflection and prayer in the midst of the craziness around me.

And it is good to have this reminder as I prepare for all that is to come. I am excited about it and would have it no other way than for me to be there for the duration, but I have no illusions about it being less than strenuous, difficult, and trying physically, emotionally and spiritually.

So today, I celebrate this opportunity to take in solitude and click my heels. I may even work from home for a day this week. Because really, truly: there is no place like home.

A Packet to Celebrate

THIS is a photo to celebrate, if ever I saw one!

 

Today, I mailed these items in that large envelope to the Dakotas Conference Office of Leadership Development, where it will be passed on to my Board of Ordained Ministry. I have prayed, written, preached, prayed, lost sleep, smiled for pictures, and prayed some more over this packet and all it means to and for my life. Mailing this packet means I have indeed taken the next step on my journey: provided my interview goes well next month and my Bishop and her cabinet find an appointment for me, I will begin my service as an elder in The United Methodist Church this coming fall.

As intimidating as that sounds, I also can't help but to feel one thing: excitement! Excitement that assures me that this is indeed the right next step for me. God has called, and so I do my best to answer.

Here I am, Lord: Send me!

Holy Thursday

Tonight I had the privilege of being one of few to worship at Mount Vernon UMC here in Washington, DC.

This is a place I have instantly begun to feel at home in. After only having attended once before (on Sunday), I already recognized faces and even remembered a couple of names. I found the place incredibly familiar and didn’t really feel like a visitor. It is an incredible feeling to have that feeling in a church. Especially in a city that is in so many ways still foreign to me.

It could be said that it is common for a service of footwashing to occur tonight: Maundy Thursday. It is the night that we not only remember Jesus’ last supper and sharing of bread with his disciples, but it is also the night that Jesus humbled himself - and his disciples - and washed their feet. Jesus didn’t just invite that his disciples - and all of us - follow his lead and humble ourselves as servants: Jesus commanded it.

That always strikes me. That Jesus commanded something: and yet we only really talk about it and act on it once a year. It got me to thinking about other ways we figuratively “wash one anothers’ feet.”

I was thinking about this as I went up to have my feet washed by the Deacon of the church: my good friend Jason. I observed the care with which he poured the warm water on my feet, and how delicate and intentional his hands were as they “worked” to dry my feet. This process really is humbling and beautiful.

Then came the hard part: I sat down.

Let me be honest: especially as Holy Week has arrived, I have missed serving in a church. Crazy, I know: but while all of my clergy friends are running around fretting, my life has carried on “normal” and my only focus on the holiness of this week came tonight: at a service I thought about not attending because I was so tired.

So as I sat in my pew half thinking about servanthood and Jesus’ commandment, I was also half thinking about wanting to be more actively involved in leadership (and leading worship) in a church.

That’s when it happened: I literally had to restrain myself.

I saw my Deacon friend Jason kneeling, sitting before the bucket with water and clean towels, waiting to wash others’ feet: but no one was coming. We had finished: the last person was having their feet washed by the pastor on the other side of the room. But Jason just waited. As if he didn’t notice.

And the longer he sat there, the more I thought, “I should go over there. Someone should wash his feet.” The voice telling me to do so grew louder and louder as I contemplated what to do. Was this the voice of God telling me to go and bless him in this way? Or was this my other voice: the one who wants to be involved. The one who has a hard time letting go. and most of all: the one who has a hard time just being served.

I didn’t go.

I wish I could say it was because this last part occurred to me in time to be content and listen more closely to Jesus’ command to be humbled and both serve and be served.

But I can’t say that.

All I can say, is that I didn’t go because about the time I had convinced myself it would be okay and I wouldn’t be stepping on toes in this new (albeit homely) church if I did so, the music stopped and I realized the others had finished.

Before I knew it the candles were extinguished and the alter was being stripped.

Before I had time to finish processing, people were starting to leave in silence.

Silence that came too quick. I knew it was coming, but I wasn’t ready for it.

But all the same: it has arrived. let the night of prayer and fasting begin as we move onward toward Good Friday...

All Saints Day

Since Monday, I have been thinking about a tradition or “holiday” that I love in the church. A tradition that will be celebrated in churches throughout the world, including United Methodist Churches, this coming Sunday. The first Sunday of November is known as “All Saints Day.”

All Saints Day is a day when we as a church recognize the saints who have come before us. Often, we read the names of loved ones who have passed away in the previous year. I have taken part in All Saints Day practices from lighting candles to writing names on a strip of cloth that was later weaved together and used as an alter cloth.

It is a day to lift up and remember those who have come before us and led the way for us as Christians, as a body of believers, who claim to be, in the words of the Apostles Creed, a part of the “communion of saints.” “Communion of Saints,” of course, referring simply to a community made up of past, present and future disciples of Christ.

So tomorrow is All Saints Day, and I’m preaching. All week I have been battling with what to preach about. The Methodist Church here does not celebrate All Saints Day. Sure, I recognize that this does not mean the congregation would not appreciate a once-off celebration of the saints among us here. The problem is deeper than that, though: the problem is that I am aware I’m being called to preach on something else.

So the battle continues. I have two sermons: the one I want to preach, and the one that came from the lectionary text.

I have been cognitively aware of the difference in these two, affirmed now by the fact that the one that’s drawn from the text is finally coming to be, while the one I initially wanted to preach has come to a standstill and feels a bit un-inspired.

So there you have it: I feel a bit as if this week I have been wresting with these texts as Jacob wrestled with God, and am grateful that in the end, I am not the one who has won. I am sure this is not the first time such a match has taken place, and I know it will not be the last. I just pray that the next time such a match takes place, the winner is as clear as it has been today.

A Running Start

Today was my first full day in Cape Town, and it was certainly an eventful one.

It started beautiful with a peaceful (dry!) walk to the Plumstead Methodist Church, where I how great it is to be in “family worship” and to have a sermon be just the words I didn’t know I needed to hear. It was a good reminder of why I have come to love the church and faith communities so much. It has been a long time since I have had a church I could call home, and yet there is something about PMC that gives me that feeling every time, even as I am only beginning to get to know this community.

After church I had breakfast and spent the rest of the morning/early afternoon doing one of my favorite things that I haven’t done in months: I spent the morning reading the newspaper. Funny how its the small things that can make one so content.

Mid-afternoon I went with Pete and Lisa to another church in the circuit. The youth at the Methodist Church in Vryground, an informal settlement within our circuit, invited us for a program they prepared. They had spent time learning about their culture and invited us so they may have an audience to share it with. This was also their effort at a delayed “67 minutes” of volunteer service in honor of Nelson Mandela. (Mandela asked that for his birthday this year, every South African give 67 minutes of their time back to the community. 67 - in honor of the 67 years of his life he has given to community service. The youth were on retreat on Mandela’s birthday, so they decided to make it up today instead of skip it). The singing, dancing and sharing of food were incredible reminders of the beautiful mix of cultures and traditions we are living so nearby, and yet have so few opportunities to interact with and live into.

This evening, we (the whole family and I) went to see a stage production of Mama Mia! It was the first time I’ve been able to see it live, and it was great! As happens every time, I was marveled at the genius of how so many hit songs were put together to form this story line. The talent was incredible, from the acting to the dancing, and least of all the singing: the vocals really were phenomenal- and made the show. The costumes didn’t hurt much either, though, with an abundance of hilarious sequins and sparkles reminiscent of the age of ABBA. As great as the show was, I must confess: topping it off for me was an adorable little girl sitting in front of me who would get my attention every once in a while so she could say hello and get a smile and wave from me. She was great, and really added to the show in her own precious little way.

Indeed, this was an eventful day and a certain kick-start to my stay in Cape Town. While I anticipate a bit of a slower start to work and daily routines as I begin to settle in, I am grateful for such an incredible introduction to the local church, community, and recreation all in one day. I look forward to what the days ahead hold.

United In Prayer

One of the things I loved the most about the World Cup is how small it made the world feel. It truly was a blessing to celebrate “futbol” with others from around the globe, and to be able to celebrate together even when cheering for opposing teams.

Sunday night was the final game. All over the world, people were tuned in to see who would win the cup this year: Netherlands or Spain. I was no exception. I went to a fan park to watch the match on a big screen in Johannesburg with thousands of others. People gathered in this way all around the world.

They gathered that night in places in Kampala, Uganda, too.

My night ended in celebrations with new and old friends.

Uganda has a different story to tell.

During the final match, the Somali terrorist group al-Shabab, who is linked to al-qaeda, sent suicide bombers to two places in Kampala where people gathered to watch the match: an Ethiopian restaurant, and a rugby club.

I first heard about the blasts on Monday afternoon, when I heard through friends that Nate Henn of Invisible Children had been at the rugby club and didn’t make it. His death is a huge loss to all humankind… read a bit about him in this IC blog.

As news travelled, I soon learned through a blog posted on CNN by Thomas Kemper, GBGM General Secretary, that there were two UMC Mission Teams in Uganda at the time: One team (from Alabama) was completely unharmed, while the other team (from Pennsylvania) reported that 5 of its 6 team members sustained injuries (some very serious), though all were in stable condition.

This morning, we got a phone call. Due to Rachel’s connections to home and the Pennsylvania Conference, she had been put in touch with the pastor of the church where these missionaries are from. At the time we were told three, we now know only two, of the missionaries (a high school girl and her grandmother) were being sent to Johannesburg for “specific or higher quality medical services.” It took us all day to find their names and which hospital, but as soon as we retained that information, we made our way there.

Both are in ICU, where the medical staff are truly taking great care of them. They even let us break the two-at-a-time rule so the three of us (Rachel, Hannah and I) could greet them together for the first time.

It was a privilege to hold the hands of, speak with and pray for these two incredible women tonight. It is humbling to see their unstoppable desire to be of something greater than themselves, even when they have been through so much. Had it not been for the bombing, they would have made their way home today after serving in Uganda for the past month. No doubt, they are longing for home more now than ever. Yet that was far from the first thing we heard. What did we hear first?

Prayer requests.

Prayers for their three beloved Ugandan friends sitting next

to them at the restaurant, who did not make it:

Pastor Peter, Becky, and Francis.

Prayers for their only teammate who did not sustain severe

injuries, as she stays behind to bury their friends.

Prayers for their 3 teammates who also sustained injuries and were
still to travel to hospitals outside of Uganda
for further medical help.

(We have now received word that they are at a hospital in Nairobi)

Prayers for everyone they left behind: the church, children and
community they worked with and grew to love during the past month.

Lastly: Prayers for themselves: for healing, coping with

pain, for the difficult processing as they try to

wrap their minds around it all.

Their request is a humble one, and yet so urgent. Tonight I was reminded of what a very, very small world we live in. I am grateful that our God hears our prayers, no matter how great or small the world feels. I am grateful for this, and for opportunities to laugh together at a bedside as we decided that the prayers of the children they left behind are probably reaching the ears of God long before ours: there is nothing like the faith of a child!

These are two women of tremendous faith, and no doubt their intense prayer and love for others have sustained them. Wont you please join me in praying with and for them?

Digging Deep: Speaking the Unspoken

A lot of what we discuss during Spirituality and Health week at the Centre is theory. Much of what we are learning is difficult to learn in any other way: Christian Ethics was our first topic. Healing and wholeness are topics discussed every week. Discipleship and Counseling are just two topics, among others, that are yet to come. While each of these lessons will (hopefully) play a role beyond the classroom, it is helpful to begin there first. We must understand what (Christian) African Ethics are and why they are important if we want to live holistic Christian African lives.

The same was absolutely true this week as we entered into another delicate but essential topic: HIV/AIDS. It is essential that we as community leaders are well informed about HIV/AIDS, for as we talked about this week, it impacts everyone. If one is not infected, they are affected. Everyone agreed this is true in all of our communities, even if we are unwilling or unable to talk about it. It cannot be ignored any longer, and this week our students learned all about it.

What do we do, then? How can we prevent further spreading of HIV if some communities will not even acknowledge its existence beyond the works of witchcraft? No one said it would be easy, but we all agreed, the key to preventing further infection always comes back to one thing: education!

The students learned this week that education starts with the basics: how does one get infected? There are only three ways: can you name them? You may successfully avoid means of further infection from now on, but: do you know your status today? What if your neighbor, friend, or kin discover they are HIV+? Do you know what that means? Do you know the ways you will NOT be infected if you continue to interact with them? Do you understand testing HIV+ means a lifestyle shift is in order, and that it does not mean the positive person is facing a death sentence? In many places today, if medication (ARVs) are needed, they are distributed for free! As are means of prevention of spreading the virus, such as condoms. To discuss sex, condoms or STIs is not easy nor is it often welcome in public domain, but it is necessary.

This is what we are aiming for at Espoir: ways to take all the theory and facts we are learning in our lessons in the classroom, and move out into the community to share them. This is the goal of each of our students when they return to their home countries in July. We must practice and have experience before we begin to teach, however. So this week, each of our students took one day out of the classroom to visit a VCT clinic. Many had never seen one before. Some had never been tested. This changed for many of us at SHADE as we (students and staff) were (voluntarily) tested together. We then stared fear in the face as comfort was thrown away so we could personally visit HIV patients with trained home-based caregivers. What was the most common response upon returning from visits? “They looked so healthy! I never would have known…”

The Methodist Church of Southern Africa has a campaign that says, “The Church has HIV/AIDS.” We - Christians - have AIDS. We - the body of Christ - have AIDS. We - SHADE - have AIDS. Who is your “we?” Perhaps you are infected. Perhaps you are affected. Perhaps you are both. You can only know for sure if you are willing to know your status. Get tested. Get informed. Get involved. Share your knowledge. HIV is real and present and - for now - here to stay. What are you doing to help change that?

A Good Day in New Mexico

Today has been a long, but great, day.

As I stated before, everyone seems to be in better spirits today, myself included. For me, its been no one thing that has helped the switch, but rather a combination of the small things. Sleep has certainly helped. Its also been good to have Dave’s guitar pulled out a couple of times in the past couple of days – more by Greg than anyone else, but it doesn’t really matter who is playing. I can’t explain it, but something about the sound and feeling of someone near me playing acoustic guitar warms my soul. It is in moments like that in which I feel closest to God. Even when the songs are about Show Low or Tires and Wires. Music is worshipful in itself… just something about the joy that comes with making a joyful noise, I guess.

We shared a lot of laughs in the van today. For example, there was construction on the highway, so traffic was being allowed only one way at a time. As we waited, the bike team pulled up front and we waited behind. A woman in the front car was talking to them and got out to take pictures. So I grabbed some brochures, ran up to meet her (they were 3-4 cars up), and passed one off to her (everyone laughing) as I went to take pictures. I had a nice (though brief) chat with the construction worker holding the stop sign. I told him about our mission, he told me Gregg had passed through 15 minutes earlier, and after I gave him a brochure and snapped a picture, and ran back to get into the van.

It was a busy day but after going through Arizona, temperatures in the mid-90s that come with hot sun and a cool breeze seem amazing. We know we've been on the road too long when it is "only" 95 outside!

As the day neared the end, it was also good to catch up with Matthew briefly via telephone. It is amazing how one person leaving our close-knit team can make such a huge difference. We missed him a lot today (our first full day without him), and are continuing to pray for him and for his dad. I hope you can join us in that as well. Please know that when I did talk to him, though, he was in great spirits and still left plenty of room for making fun of Methodists (long story, ongoing joke). We stayed in a GREAT United Methodist host church last night... so I just needed to make sure he knew on all the wonderfulness he missed out on. :)

Visiting a New Church

It was a strange but wonderful experience to go to a different church this morning. I had a failed attempt last night at trying to find someone to go with me to a new church this morning, so I got up and made the trek anyway. I am glad I did.

Until today, I forgot that I used to only ever go to church by myself. It was not until I reached seminary that I ever had a consistent group of folks to worship with. Even when I worshiped in the same congregations (plural, as I was a part of several, depending on the day of the week!), there was not enough consistency in attendance of others for me to have accountability.

Today I went to a new church by myself. I sat by myself in worship. I was anonymous and had no responsibility. I was there only because I wanted to be, and I was there to be led and fed rather than to lead. It was amazing and beautiful and wonderful. It was a great reminder of the path I have taken to bring me to here today. I do not go to church because it is a job or even because it is a responsibility. I go to the church as a response to a call I have to lead people in this way.

Church feels very different when you are leading it or when others have expectations of you. I am thankful for the opportunity to worship in a new congregation this morning that feels very "normal" (meaning not as exciting and as unique as Holy Covenant, but I am not convinced that is a bad thing). I am thankful for the affirmation of why I go to church, and how much I love being a part of such communities. I am also thankful for the things I took notice of during worship this morning, and how those notes reflect how very much I have learned this year, both in the classroom and in the church. Thanks be to God.

The Small World of the Connectional Methodist Church

Yesterday was our Charge Conference at Holy Covenant (for those who don’t know, that’s the annual meeting of the congregation in which we express joys of the year past, and discuss with hope and vision the future. This also includes technical things like approving the budget, and voting on candidates from the congregation seeking ordination).

While it is something that takes a lot of preparation on behalf of the congregation as annual reports, etc are prepared, it is actually a great meeting and a wonderful opportunity for anyone to come and hear/see the many things going on in the congregation. It was an especially joyous occasion on which we were able to report a budget in good standing, paid apportionments, and new work on the balcony that is finally underway!!!

It was also an exciting time for a completely separate reason. There are many clergy who serve in other ministry contexts who are attached to our congregation. Most of these people worship with us regularly. Lisl is a name I have heard many times- she is an elder working for the University of Chicago, but as she is newly affiliated with our congregation, I had yet to meet her. We finally met last night, and it was a wonderful occasion that nearly immediately turned to the fact that she is from the beautiful country of South Africa. She was THRILLED that I had just spent my summer in ministry with the Methodist Church there, and I was equally excited for the opportunity to have (an even brief) conversation about it with someone who understood both contexts in which I have been working. Knowing how connectional Methodists can be, she asked if I met any of the Storeys while there… and while it was indeed a brief meeting (Peter and Alan at the gay-friendly clergy gathering, and I attended the “Manna and Mercy” class with Alan), it brought us both great joy to express that I in fact did know (of) some of the people she did. Evidently she knows the Storeys very well- I believe she said Elizabeth is her godmother!

Such a small, wonderful world in which we live!! I am greatly looking forward to our future lunch date (though it can’t be until after finals for me!) when we shall be able to further explore the unexpected connections we are likely to have. And of course she wants to see pictures from this summer!