"healing" post-election USA

 A couple of weeks after the US election, I was asked to contribute an essay to the Church of Scotland magazine called Life and Work. The topic was about "healing America" after such a divisive election, and they were asking a number of American citizens living and working in the Church of Scotland to reflect. I said that I was feeling a bit cynical about calls for "healing" and that these were likely the most dangerous two months in post-Civil-War US history, but I would try.

The essays ended up having to be significantly edited for length, but I was told I could publish my full original essay here. The magazine was published this week...and after the events of this week in Washington DC and a number of US state houses, I thought it was time.

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It feels difficult to write about healing a post-election USA when the election is, in many ways, still ongoing. It may or may not be too strong to say that I’m writing while we are witnessing an attempted coup, but however it turns out, I think it’s safe to say that the divisions in the United States are deep and present-tense, and will not be easily plastered over.

Indeed, it actually feels a little bit trite to talk about “healing” when that carries some implications of restoration to a previous health that I’m not sure has ever truly existed. From the inception of the nation, it has carried an illness (white supremacy and a sense of exceptionalism) that has inexorably led to this brokenness. Should that brokenness be healed if it means simply returning to the way things used to be? If that’s the road taken, then we will surely find ourselves at this same place again, and again, and again.

I want to be hopeful that the moment we are witnessing now is indeed a moment of transformation. Once upon a time, the racism in the country was institutionalised as a system of enslavement and of colonial expansion. Then it was institutionalised as a system of segregation. Then there was a period when racists hid behind hoods and under cover of darkness. Today it’s again out in the open, and that feels, paradoxically, like a move toward health. After all, we cannot transform what we do not name. Pretending the problem of white supremacy and nationalism does not exist will only allow it to grow (as has happened for the past 50 years when many thought we had made great strides). Now that we can see plainly that much of that progress was an illusion, there is hope for real change. Much like South Africa needed Truth in order to have Reconciliation, the same is true in the USA. And there has not been very much truth-telling there.

For centuries it has been the American way to present an image, to paper over differences (or to melt them together, we might say), and to act as if everything is fine — as long as you’re white, you’re one of us. But underneath, the sense that people of colour might not be “real” Americans, that they were inferior in some way, has persisted, both subconsciously in people (and consciously in plenty of people) and systemically in the way society and economy and culture are structured. Honesty about that could pave the way forward.

Perhaps the fact that so much division is now visible to the white gaze, where it used to be hidden (but still present, and has always been visible to non-white people!), is actually a good thing. It allows us to honestly see how much work we have to do, and to do it for real this time rather than just with a few words that are nothing more than a cheap plaster that does nothing for true healing. This will be heartbreaking work, but also heart-healing work — if we are willing to engage with it at every level, not just as individuals but also in the way the economy works and doesn’t work, in the ways cultural institutions (music, dance, theatre, art, literature) are valued, in government, in systems of power in communities, and within churches. It will mean wrestling with theological language that equates “dark” with “bad,” it will mean changing the way resources are used, it will mean adjustments in who is at the table when decisions are taken, it will mean listening and believing the stories people tell, it will mean stepping aside to allow new leadership, and — perhaps most difficult of all for a nation built on rugged individualism — it will mean actually caring about and for our neighbours in tangible ways and in policy ways.

The current situation feels so destabilising, but maybe that’s exactly what the USA needs if it is to truly achieve a society of “liberty and justice for all” and not just some. So I hope President Biden won’t rush to “healing” but will first encourage some soul-searching and truth-telling, so that the healing that eventually comes will be on a cellular level and not just skin-deep.

28 days until I'm not in my 30s anymore

28 days....4 weeks! So exciting. I love my birthday. Actually, let's be real: I love everyone's birthdays. I love the chance to celebrate. And the thought of turning over a new chapter and having new experiences...that's my jam. I'm all about all these things. #enneagram7 (though that's a learning for another day!)

Today I have been thinking about a lesson that was hard to learn. When I was growing up, I was often told I could do and be anything I wanted. Of course it was the 1980s and we all knew that wasn't true right then, it was more aspirational. Like...obviously my mom would say I *could* grow up to be president, but that's not entirely true, is it? Not because I'd be a terrible president, but because that's not a thing women can do just yet. Between social, political, and economic realities, the statement "you can do anything" is the kind of thing that we hope will become true the more we say it.

Anyway, I am mildly embarrassed to admit how old I was when I realised that one of the things that was causing me some level of unhappiness was that somehow I had internalised the idea that I could, or should, be able to do everything all at once. I'm not sure how people who have spouses and kids manage this, because even as a single person it was a shock to realise that I was going to have to live with a sort of cycle of things I wanted, rather than being able to do literally everything all at once. Clearly, you can't simultaneously work a dream job and travel the world and hang with friends and write a book and climb the ladder of denominational or community leadership, etc etc etc. It's more a rhythm of things weaving in and out than it is an all-or-nothing life experience.

I'm not sure why it took me a long time to figure this out, but it kinda did. I'm glad I learned it though, because I'm so much happier now than I was before I realised why I was feeling so frustrated all the time. :-)

The poem I've been pondering today isn't exactly related to this lesson. Or maybe it is. Anyway...it's by Joy Harjo, the poet laureate of the USA. She is a native woman from the Muscoge (Creek) tribe, and I first heard her during this year's Edinburgh International Book Festival, and I've been exploring some of her work. Today's is a poem called "A Map to the Next World" and it ends with these lines:

We were never perfect.

Yet, the journey we make together is perfect on this earth who was

once a star and made the same mistakes as humans.

We might make them again, she said.

Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.

You must make your own map.

That feels a little like what I think I've learned. 

Hope....even in the Church of Scotland

The Church of Scotland, like many denominations, is facing a crisis. It’s a crisis largely of its own making, as many church crises are. (A good many congregations are in crisis, for example, because they have never learned healthy communication skills, or because they have never faced up to realities in their history that are still affecting them though most people don’t even know what happened....and a good many more because they won’t stand up to a bully....etc.) 

The CofS enjoyed the same cultural dominance that many mainline Protestant denominations did in white western countries in the 20th century....and like many European state churches did from the 16th century onwards. And, like all those mainline Protestant churches, there is a long history of complacency about the church’s place in the society, and that easily leads to taking people for granted, and worse, taking the faith for granted. We have gotten ourselves into this situation by assuming that people would soak up our version of Christianity, and that plus the cultural supports would be enough to keep people engaged and therefore keep the institution going.

It turns out both of those assumptions are false.

And now we are scared. Scared of the falling numbers of ministers (and members), scared of secularisation that (supposedly) steals young people away for other activities, scared of losing our beloved buildings, scared of death.

I understand the anxiety. I do.

I don’t really understand leaders who feed the anxiety or what it does for them, but I do understand the anxiety.

I am concerned as well. But I think I might be concerned about slightly different things than I hear people talking about at the moment.

I am concerned that we don’t seem to have a sense of the Holy Spirit moving in and through us to do something to make the world look more like the kingdom of God. We don’t seem to see her, we just see crumbling buildings and greying heads...

I am concerned that we seem to have decided that the Church’s best days are behind us, despite God’s promise of “plans for your welfare, not for your harm; for a future with hope.” (What is compelling about a faith that has nothing to say to our lives today, or tomorrow, or next year?)

I am concerned that our vision is of consistent decline, rather than a vision for how to participate in what God is doing in Scotland now. (Who wants to join in a vision of increasingly rapid decline?)

I am concerned that our excuses are just that: excuses. Yes, there are lots of other things happening on Sunday mornings now. No, the culture no longer supports the Church by assuming it is the centre of all things. But ultimately are those simply excuses we make to cover for the fact that we have not passed on the fullness of the faith? Or for the fact that we are unwilling to consider that God might be worshipped at times other than Sunday morning between 9 and noon? Or for the fact that we have focused so much on “getting people in” that we have never given any thought to how we go out?

I am concerned that we are insisting on making structural changes when we aren’t clear about vision or mission. Structure needs to be created to serve the mission, not the other way around.

I am concerned that those of us asking for support in discerning God’s vision and then pursuing it are being labeled naively optimistic.

Newsflash: pessimism (which too often masquerades as “realism”) is far more dangerous than optimism, because pessimism has no hope. If we are indeed a Church without hope, then please, by all means, close the doors. Now. Today. Don’t wait. Because that is not a church.

Similarly, if our only hope is for a return to the 1950s Church, then again: close the doors.

If, however, our hope is for the Living God to do a new thing....if our hope is for the Body of Christ to live out its calling...if our hope is for the Holy Spirit to empower us to be faithful in a changed context....then let’s say so. Let’s pray for vision, and then do the work to pursue it. Prayer without action, like faith without works, is dead. 

Surely we believe in a God who is more than capable of building up the Body even now. Or do we believe that God was only living and active before iPhones and Sunday youth sports?

I don’t know about you, but I believe that God has a vision for the Church of Scotland. I believe God has a purpose for us to carry out in every parish. I believe God is capable of giving us everything we need to live that purpose in service of that vision. 

The only thing I believe that may be naively optimistic (though I hope not!) is that I also believe we are capable of seeing the vision, and following it. It will be hard work, it will require changing some things we have held on to for longer than they have served us, it will mean allowing God’s new thing to supersede our fears and even our personal desires, but I believe it is possible. 

Perfect love casts out fear. 

Can we live like it? Here’s to hope!

shells

Currently, I live about 50 yards from the beach. It's amazing, and I walk on the beach most days. Someone on Facebook described my photos as "the moods of my beach" and that seems about right...sometimes it's glowing:

And sometimes it's a little...well...moodier:

One night recently I was out walking and this tiny perfect pink shell caught my eye.

As you can see, the beach is not fine sand in this particular spot, but rather it is in various stages of becoming sand. Rocks and shells in many sizes, from complete to tiny fragments, being pounded by waves and rain and wind and people and dogs and horses and seagulls, until it becomes the kind of sand people think of when they think of a beautiful beach. The other side of the harbour has that kind of sand, but this side is more beautiful, I think, as you see a little more behind-the scenes of beach-making.
Anyway, I was looking at this shell, which was perfect, and pink on the inside, and gorgeous in every way, and pondering how it caught my attention in the midst of this particular beach. I picked it up to take home with me. I sent Julia a picture, and told her about it...and then I noticed that it wasn't in my hand anymore.
I had dropped it somewhere along the way.
I hadn't walked far or fast, as I was enjoying the beach and also texting (which normally I try not to do when I'm on the beach!). But still, it was gone.
I immediately tried to retrace my steps and figure out when I'd dropped it and if I could find it again. The tide was coming in, which changes the colours, and also, as you can see, finding one shell in this walk is easier said than done:

I looked and looked. I walked slowly, head down, bending over constantly. I tried to guess when it had slipped silently from my hand and back to its beachy home. I probably went over the same twenty feet of beach, in an 18-inch-wide swath, three times. My Fitbit must have thought I was insane. I looked until my back was beginning to get sore from hunching over, and until the water encroached on the very place I had been walking. 

While I was looking, I had several times I thought I found it. The first one was so similar I actually texted Julia that I'd found it (phew!)...but on looking more closely, I realised it wasn't the same shell. Then I started to find others that were obviously the same animal/type, but again, were not the same shell.

Eventually, I had three that were not the one I was looking for, and I couldn't stay out there any longer with no coat and the tide coming in. I debated: drop the three shells that weren't the perfect one I thought I wanted but had lost? Or take them home, as a reminder not to text on the beach?

As I walked home, three shells in hand, mild self-recrimination reverberating through my disappointment at having lost the shell I thought I wanted (even though just moments before I dropped it, I'd never even seen it before and didn't know I wanted it), I realised:

I'm embarking on a search process, hoping to find the church community God is calling me to spend the next portion of my life with. And sometimes it feels like sifting through thousands of really similar shells. And sometimes it feels like the one I really really wanted is lost to me. And sometimes it feels like every option has something not *quite* right. And sometimes I need to just be in the midst of it all, not distracted and letting things slip through my fingers.

And sometimes the three in my hand are beautiful, and perfect in their imperfection, and one of them could be just the thing.




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Note: I'm literally at the very beginning of this process....as in, today I worked on turning my PCUSA search paperwork into the type of CV that is expected here. I've not actually applied anywhere and I don't have any particular place in mind as yet, other than hoping God is calling me to someplace where I don't have to figure out how to afford a car...and also not-secretly hoping to stay somewhere near a beach, LOL.

  

hearing the stories

I have had a number of conversations lately that really drive home how different the historical and cultural context in which I now life is from my previous life experience.

Today I visited a woman who talked for an hour about the 21 boys she used to play football (soccer) with as a child, and how many of them didn't come home...and about her husband and the nightmares he had...and about a cousin who was killed during an air raid on his training camp...and about the many American soldiers she met when her mother took them in during their leave. She spoke of how she was just a teenager then, only 13 when the war broke out, and she naively thought there could never be another one like it.

I have sat in the living rooms of women who were evacuated to the countryside when they were children, and one whose family took in child evacuees. And I have sat by the bedsides of women who never married because a generation of men was lost. And I have sat around the table with women whose husbands never spoke of what they'd seen, or who felt an immense sense of unearned luck because all their brothers came home when so many didn't.

A lot of my time these days is spent with women in their 80s and 90s. These are women who lived through World War II--who bore the brunt of the reality of war both in terms of the cost at home (family lost, rationing, women in the workforce in new ways, etc) and in terms of the long-term cost of lives forever changed.

The stories are incredible--of bombs bursting in the garden, of rationing that extended well after the war was over because of the immense national cost of rebuilding, of large gaps between siblings because one parent was away at war, of sweethearts lost and found, of letters exchanged and news reports anxiously read.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, these are people who feel abject horror at what happened in Charlottesville last weekend. They cannot fathom that Nazis marched through the streets, or that white supremacy is an acceptable ideology.

This is not to say there is no racism in Scotland, of course. But it is to say that people who lived through the Nazis the first time, who sacrificed far more than most of us who are from North America experienced (including those who gave significantly to the war effort, once we got over enough of our own white nationalism to enter the war), cannot understand how on earth it is possible that Nazism rises again, unchecked, or even encouraged by those in power.

Today's conversation included the casual observation that the woman's husband, at age 19, had been issued a revolver with only a couple rounds of ammunition. It's purpose was to use on himself, should his plane come down behind enemy lines.

Imagine being 19 years old and given those instructions, then put into a plane with rockets, a pop gun, and a map, and told to go up just 250 feet because any higher would make their bombs less accurate.

Now imagine being that person, or their family, and seeing the images from Charlottesville.

One of many things I am enjoying about living here is the sense of freedom to speak truth even when it might be politically unpopular. I don't know if that will always be the case, but in this moment at least, no one bats an eye when I say white supremacy and Nazism is antithetical to the gospel. I have been in churches where that would be a controversial statement...and that is, frankly, an abomination. There should be no room for Nazi sympathizing. If there are people who disagree, then what they need to hear is not something that they can construe to agree with them--they need to hear the hard good news that brings them to confession and repentance. Period.

If they won't listen to Jesus, maybe they'll listen to the stories of these amazing women I've sat with over the past several weeks, and be reminded that hate does not win. It cannot win. And it cannot be allowed to even try.


***Yes, I'm aware that there's plenty of racism and xenophobia to go around. See: colonialism, Brexit, Grenfell, etc. And yet many of these women have spoken to me about those things as well, fully aware and concerned that people don't remember what they fought for. And also, honestly, racism is different here. Not better or worse necessarily, just different. Because history is different. The context of the World Wars, and of slavery, is different across the ocean....

teenage democracy

We in the USA are fond of pointing out to anyone that will listen (and many who won't) that we are the greatest nation on earth, and in the history of nations. We are definitely the best.

We are so much the best that we are constantly trying to get other nations to set up governmental systems like ours.

(which, for the record, is based on the Presbyterian system of governance. Thanks, Presbyterians.)

And it works, sometimes. We love to look at those photos and videos of people going to vote for the first time, or at least to cast a meaningful vote for the first time. The purple-inked fingers, the big smiles, the excitement in the air when a new democracy is born through a peaceful and free election process.

We don't so much like to do it ourselves, of course.

We're like teenagers, who've outgrown the excitement of voting and participating in our political system. We're in the rebellious stage, where we look back on those things we used to do as children with a bit of nostalgia mixed in with a bit of contempt and a heap of cynicism.

Generally elections like the one still going on in Western states right now bring out a mere 40% of voters.

Fewer than half of us vote in elections that make the most difference to our everyday lives, to our cities and towns and schools and courts, to our basic civilization.

When it's a "big" election (meaning a President is on the ballot), we might get to 60%.

It's like we lost interest. We used to do this democracy thing, but we don't anymore.

Not unlike the first people who were able to read the Bible for themselves, and were all excited, and actually, you know, read it...we've stopped doing that too. People literally fought wars, shed blood, and died for us to hold that book in our hands in our own language, and we're kind of over it.

People also fought (and continue to fight), shed blood, and die for us to step into that voting booth (and for us to inform ourselves about what we'll see on the ballot through our many sources of media, both corporate and independent). But we're kind of over it. We've given in to the idea that there's only really one party anyway, and there's too much money in elections but we can't do anything about it, and negative attack ads that go on for 6 months before election day are somehow normal. And nothing changes, because more than half of us stay home.

But we stay home and spout these words about loving our country, and supporting our troops, and being patriotic, and praying for God to Bless America.

But if we don't vote, we don't love our country. We are the worst kind of unpatriotic. We do not support our troops. And we are not interested in the ways that God has proven to bless--through the actions of people who are compassionate and invested.

So don't just put your hand over your heart and sing the anthem, don't get all teary-eyed at Proud to be an American, and then stay home on election days. Don't wear a flag pin and pretend you love the country when you haven't bothered to read up on people and issues and then take the time to vote. And don't spout all that "greatest nation in the history of Earth" nonsense if you're not willing to participate in what makes this nation great: citizens who are engaged in their communities, paying attention to their politicians, and holding the government (of/by/for the people) to account for seeking the greater good. Prove how much you appreciate the good luck of being born here or the privilege of having become a citizen, and get your butt in the booth.

/rant

no pain no gain?

Recently I've heard a couple of teachers (on different, though related, subjects) say that, as adults, we do not learn from positive experience the same way we learn from painful experience.

At the same time, I've read and heard several times about how successful organizational (and personal) change is about building on strength and celebrating success, even small success.

And of course lots of what we know about children (and about animals, now that I think about it, haha) involves practicing positive reinforcement.

And yet there's something about change and transformation (two different things) that really do require us to face up to discomfort, and go through it, rather than avoid it.

Of course, avoiding discomfort is practically our culture's national pastime.

And yet pastors are taught that our job is to both comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable...because God's transformative work involves both.

So why do we insist that it only be comfortable? We want church to be warm and friendly, to meet our needs and to make us feel good. A moment of discomfort has us skipping the next few weeks, and pretty soon every time we come we're frustrated by something that's different, or challenging words, or the fidgety person in the next pew (whose fidgetiness we'd gotten used to when we sat there every week, but now that we're out of the habit, we just can't take one more moment of rustling the cough drop wrapper).

Why do we insist that the gospel be warm and friendly, when a straight-up reading of any one of the four accounts of Jesus' life will bring us up short?

Why do we insist that the Body of Christ give us warm fuzzies, when we know perfectly well that any human community, and any worthwhile relationship, requires work and compromise and continual hope, prayer, and effort?

One of my least favorite sporty sayings is "no pain, no gain." It feels like a fast track to getting injured, to ignore the pain signals my body is sending. I wonder if the saying is even true--is pain necessary for growth?

Well...Jesus talks about transformation with metaphors like pruning, refining fire, and death. So...maybe. As much as I don't want to think about it this way, the teachers who say that transformation--not just the change we make with our willpower, but the kind of transformation that comes from the Holy Spirit, the kind of transformation that lasts, the kind of transformation that makes us agents of the Kingdom--will hurt, at least a little (I mean, it might be stretching-hurt, it might be breaking-open-hurt, it might be grief-hurt)...they might be right.

Now to just trust that it'll be worth it.

time...zones, change, free, etc

When I went to California a few weeks ago, I felt like my body never quite made the time zone shift.

Until I got home, that is, and proceeded to feel like everything was two hours earlier, which meant I was staying up ridiculously late.

And then the time change happened and plunged mornings back into darkness.

And, just to top that off, I've had something at work every night pretty much since I got home--4 (or even 5) nights each week.

I've been sleeping in and working from home in the mornings, but somehow even when I shift an 8-hour work day to the afternoon and evening, it still ends up feeling like I'm working non-stop with no free time. There's something about having the morning free that feels different than having the evening free.

I think I've narrowed it down to two main things...
1. in the morning, I'm not really off, I'm working but in my pajamas with a cup of coffee and a cat. Whereas in the evening, I'm more likely to be on the couch with a glass of wine or some ice cream and a movie or a book...not checking my email, writing liturgy, etc.
2(a). I miss cooking dinner. For some reason, eating breakfast and lunch and then going to work feels less restful and whole-persony to me than cooking and eating dinner does.
2(b). When I get home late, I still want to eat or read or watch a movie or do something like that, which means I'm not going to bed until late...which is perpetuating my general feeling of tiredness, even if I go to bed at 1 and get up at 8 or 9, it still feels weird to never cook dinner at home.

I don't know how people work that second or third shift, because it turns out I really like to make dinner. Something about that is what makes life feel normal and livable and with enough pause/rest to go to the next day.

is there a thing that makes your day feel "normal" (as opposed to "too full")? What is it?

feelings part 2

Writing yesterday's post made me realize that I've actually been carrying around quite a bit of hurt that I wouldn't necessarily have expressed as such. Which reminded me of something I've often thought but haven't said out loud, and I'm not sure other pastors have either:

Believe it or not, your pastor has feelings, and cares a great deal, and can feel hurt and betrayed and upset and frustrated, in addition to feeling compassion and sadness and happiness and excitement.

So much of professional ministry is about hearing others' feelings, making sure everyone feels heard and supported, and offering energy for things. So much, in fact, that I think people forget that those who do this work have feelings of their own, and we are indeed affected by the things people say (to or about us, about church, about anything really) and the things people do. We pour time, energy, heart and soul, hopes and dreams into the work we believe we are called to do. We put our whole selves in. When people are unkind, it cuts, it hurts, we bleed...and we have to do most of that hurting where no one can see. We have to grieve separately, because our task is to offer comfort to others. We have to be the "bigger person" in a conflict, modeling good boundaries and healthy communication, being a non-anxious presence, which means we take our hurt or betrayal elsewhere.

Not that that's good, necessarily--people need to know that they have been hurtful. But the full expression of feelings is generally not what people expect of their pastor. They expect the full expression of the good half of feelings, and a hint of sadness if it's appropriate, but anger and hurt? not so much. We say we want authenticity, but my experience is that we only want that to a point...

So, just a PSA: we care deeply, we have feelings, and we are affected by things said and done (or not done).

**note, this is true not just of pastors but of everyone, so: how about we be kind?**

politics, or theology?

There's lots of chatter this week about Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, which just voted to leave the PCUSA and go to ECO. The vote was overwhelming (93% in favor of leaving). Paired with last week's news that First Presbyterian in Houston's vote to leave failed by 36 votes, it's an interesting study in denominational politics.

Of course, the way MPPC is spinning it is as about theology, not polity. And they are entitled to believe that. Especially with quotes like this one:

...citing a 2011 PCUSA survey that suggested 41 percent agreed with the statement, “Only followers of Jesus Christ can be saved."

I took that survey. And I am one of the 45 percent that marked that I disagree with that statement. Here's why:

It's un-Reformed.

Because the primary theological principle of the Reformed tradition is the Sovereignty of God. There is no way I was going to mark "strongly agree" on something that said "only followers of Jesus can be saved." Because to say that is to limit God's sovereignty. What if God decides to save someone who is not a follower of Jesus during their earthly life? Or is not a follower of Jesus in the way I think they should be? Can God save them? Absolutely yes. It is not my place as a fallible human being to limit God's power.

Jesus said "I have other sheep not of this fold" (John 10). The confessions say that we are to have "good hope for all" (Second Helvetic Confession, chapter 10). How then could we presume to answer an unequivocal yes to any question that states what God can or cannot do?

So yes, Menlo Park is right that this is a theological break. Because they have decided what God can and cannot do, and that is a break from the historic Reformed tradition. I wish them well as they seek another path. May all of us, whatever path the Spirit places us on, find ourselves daily in the presence of God.


**there are of course a variety of factors involved in this decision, ranging from property ownership to LGBT issues to a desire not to be burdened by other mission foci than their own. But this theological issue is the one they have cited as the heart of the problem, so I have taken them at their word.**

obstacles

Last fall, we had a day we called "worship through service" (instead of a "worship service"). During the regular church time, we sent the whole congregation out to different places in the community to do some work that couldn't be done during normal business hours. We cleaned up landscaping at the school next door, cleaned the food pantry, painted the women's shelter thrift store, packed emergency kits, prepared the homeless shelter for the coming season. It was an amazing day.

At the end of the day, I brought home my painting supplies and put them in a place where I knew I'd have to deal with them soon. They were in my way, and I couldn't ignore them, but I was so tired I just couldn't deal with sorting and putting them away right then.

So I left them in the doorway, where I'd be forced to step over/around them every time I went in or out of the garage, so I'd remember to put the stuff away soon.

You know where this is going already.

The box sat there for a week...then two. Eventually I started thinking "this is going to make a great blog post one day" so I snapped a photo, then moved the box out of the way. It's still right where I left it down there, but now behind that recycling bin you can see in the pic, so at least I can walk through the door unimpeded.

The box was annoying, it was in my way. It was a constant reminder that I wasn't doing everything I thought I could do--whenever I'd need to pass by, my hands would be full or I'd be in a hurry, and I'd think "I'll deal with that later" as I stepped over and carefully nudged the door open.

At some point, the stuff needs to be dealt with. If we leave it where it is, one day we'll trip. But just moving it to the side and ignoring its existence isn't a long-term solution either.

Pretty sure that's a life lesson, right there. A Lent lesson, even.

There's something in here about letting go. And something about facing up to the stuff I'd rather ignore. And something about brushing things aside or sweeping them under the rug, and how dangerous that is in the long term. And something about priorities and busy-ness and full hands.

Mostly, right now, I'm wondering what's in the box currently sitting (metaphorically) in my way, waiting for me to deal with it?

What's in the box metaphorically blocking your doorway?

State of The Church

I hesitate to write this, for several reasons. Among them: I do not want to be perceived as writing only about the congregation of which I am a part, because I am not. The Church (capital T capital C) is much bigger than we are, and I see these things in both my own denomination and in The Church (especially the American Church) in general. I do not want to be arrogant--my perceptions are just that: mine. I do not want to create drama…there's enough of that already.

But I also see things I think need to be said.

Every January, the President gives a speech on The State of The Union…and he inevitably says that the state of our union is strong. Even when that is patently untrue, every president says it.

So what about the state of The Church?

Here is what I see in The Church.

I see a lack of trust--of each other, of the leaders we believe God has called for us, and of God.
I see a lack of resources--in part because we choose to spend our money, our time, and our energy elsewhere, and in part because there are fewer of us than ever.
I see an urgent desire to return to the way things used to be, when things seemed more predictable, church attendance was culturally mandatory, and the church was the center of social life.
I see an urge for every congregation to be all things to all people.
I see an inability to handle disagreement or conflict without triangulation, gossip, withdrawing, and withholding grace.
I see a pervasive spirit of comparison--constantly trying to figure out how we can be like this or that other church that seems to have all the people and all the money.
I see an unfulfilled longing for true community.
I see us holding tightly to the things we desire, and ending up with no hands free to grasp what God desires.
I see us hurting each other when we don't get our own way.

And I see imperfect people learning from other imperfect people who followed Jesus (through scripture, through study groups, through prayer).
I see people singing together even though that's not something our culture does anymore.
I see people spending their nights staffing a homeless shelter.
I see people longing to share how their lives have been changed.
I see people who write cards to every person who visits, or gets sick, or has a birthday.
I see people who read Scripture together and pray for guidance on how best to explore that reading in a worshipping community.
I see people who discuss hard theological questions out in public.
I see people who get dirty in order to grow food for others.
I see people who give hours and hours (along with dollars and dollars) to make a building a welcoming space for people who are cold, who need a rehearsal space, who need a safe place to admit their addiction, who want to learn, who need a place to eat and sleep.
I see artists who use paint, music, dance, and words to express grace.
I see people who know they can walk through Church Doors and find help.
I see people who advocate for justice in every imaginable arena.
I see people who don crazy outfits and sing terrible songs in order to help kids become friends with Jesus.
I see people who have known great joy through their church and want others to know that joy too.

Most of all, I see the face of Jesus in each of those people.

So…while the picture may seem bleak from the outside, or from the perfectionist side, or from the view of someone who wishes that all of us lived in the Kingdom of God right now, the reality is that all those people, in all their small and large acts of faithfulness, are what makes the church. The Church is not a building, not a governance structure, not an institution--the church is a Body made up of many members, and it's those people who remind me, one by one, that the State of the Church, while it could be stronger, is actually pretty darn good.

Don't get me wrong, we have room for improvement--just like the Union does. But the foundation is there, if only we'll build on it.

the year of Plenty

In church on Sunday (and this coming Sunday, since weather prohibited so many from attending last week) we handed out little paper eyes with words written on them, and invited people to look through the lens of that word throughout the coming year. These eye-words (a variation on epiphany star words) will hopefully be a way to focus prayer, open us to outside-the-box thinking, and provide things for us to share in the community.

I told people as we passed the baskets to simply take a word without looking and pass it on--don't go through the basket looking for the right word, just take what comes to you and trust that it will be a vehicle of grace in the coming months.

Of course then when it was my turn to take a word, I immediately wanted to put it back for another one.
Granted, I didn't draw the dreaded Patience, so I should be grateful.

plenty.

the hopeful side of me (yay! plenty means a lot!) is offset by the cynical side (plenty of what? "opportunities" to practice patience?).

So the dictionary definitions of plenty include "adequate to meet the need" and "more than sufficient." That seems like a good definition to me. Enough. Not gorging, not overflowing, not ridiculous, just enough.

My therapist loves that I got this word, as she's been trying for two years to get me to think of myself as enough.

I think it's intriguing to be the pastor of a church, a pastor who preaches that God's abundance means there is always enough for everyone, not an overflowing ridiculous cornucopia, but enough for everyone…and, like many pastors of many churches, to know that "plenty" seems a lofty and unlikely thing (there's never enough money, people, time, etc)…and to ponder this word for a whole year.

Whose idea was this, anyway?

(the next word in the basket was "pleasure"…and you know that if I could have discreetly traded, I would have. but I was in front of the sanctuary and was 30 seconds away from admonishing people to stick with the word they got, so…)

SO: plenty. enough. adequate to meet the need. sufficient.

or, to use words that directly address one of my most recent laments: adequate for the task.

The part of me that is a perfectionist (okay, it's a big part…but surely some part isn't?) has its own internal rebellion going on right about now. I don't want to be just enough, not just adequate…I want to be amazing! Not just plenty, but overflowingly abundant. And I also want that in my own resources--more than enough money, time, energy. And in the church. And in the world. (yes, in that order…because this part of me is also selfish.)

So plenty will be a two-way word, I think. Pushing on my perfectionist self, and on my sense of unpreparedness for the tasks this year holds. Pushing on my understanding of what it means to be a pastor in this community and to be a person trying to live a life.

I think that's plenty for one year's pondering.

assumptions

Yesterday at church we got a call from a young man who was looking for a place he could do 10 hours of community service. Before Thursday.

…

…

And already at this point in the story, everyone to whom I've told it has made some assumptions about this young man.

When I add in his name, which (let's just say) is not a "typical American name" (even though it is), the assumptions solidify. If I told you his skin color, we wouldn't even need to say anything more beyond "required community service" and we'd have a complete picture in our minds.

This is problematic on so many levels.

We'll start with just two things:
1. When did community service become a punishment? And why? I have so many issues with that. Probably its own blog post.

2. Why is our first assumption--often our only assumption--that this young man must have gotten into trouble?

I remember being about his age and filling out my National Honor Society paperwork. At the last minute. And looking at the requirement for community service hours and wondering how to pull that off.

I remember being in seminary and filling out paperwork about myself and wondering if something I technically got paid for, but badly, could still count as "service to the wider church."

A couple of years ago the youth group was doing an Earth Day service project cleaning up trash in a local park, and nearly every conversation we had with community members using the park was about kids "serving their time," not about kids giving back or kids being good citizens or kids caring about their community. Afterward the youth and I talked about that feeling of being stared at like they're criminals, and the assumption that the only reason they would go clean up a city park is because they were paying off some kind of debt to society.

It's possible that this young man needs community service hours for a scholarship, for a Boy Scout requirement, for a club at school, or for his own church. Or it's possible that he's been in trouble--whether of his own volition or by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Why is one of those our go-to thought? (and let's not pretend it isn't…every conversation I've had about this situation has made clear what people's first thoughts are. Even mine, I regret to say.)

A few years ago I was at a David LaMotte event where he said something about "at risk youth" and how that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, because at-risk always means something bad. No one is ever at risk of being awesome.

What if we--ESPECIALLY those of us in the church, who have been admonished to think about whatever is good, to look for the image of God in one another, to bear one another's burdens--what if we first assumed people were at risk of being awesome?

That's a prophecy I'd love to see fulfill itself. And when this young man comes back to church after school today for another 3 hours, I plan to make sure he knows that's what I expect. :-)

weekend interesting

Okay, so between being sick, getting ready to go to Europe, and Ideas Week and I've been too busy rushing about doing fun things to actually post all the cool stuff I've seen on the interwebz in the past couple of weeks. Consider this your opportunity to waste all of Saturday sitting in front of the computer, because none of this is particularly time-bound, but it's all awesome....

First, before you do anything else, go over here and support Carrie Newcomer's latest adventure--it'll be worth every penny and every moment!

You need to see this. So much more to the world than we can see or even imagine.

There's also more to us, our potential, our community, our creativity, than we can normally see or imagine. 

And then we break for TEH CUTE:


Ever wondered how it's possible that every single apple looks exactly the same at the store, but they don't ever look like that on a tree? Turns out that's not good, actually. (I know this is not a news flash to those of us who are avid farmers market shoppers...but then why on earth is it still true at the store???)

Want to be happy? If you've ever paused to read the cover (or worse, the articles) of a magazine in the checkout aisle, you've probably accidentally internalized a whole bunch of messages about happiness. Ditto on ever watching TV, seeing an advertisement, or being on the internet. Or, you know, living in western culture. But this is the only article you need about being happy. Seriously.

And then you need another break of adorable and happy.

Now for some church related stuff...

The internet angst about millennials (and everyone else) not being in church continues. This week I've seen articles about why churches don't grow, how to ensure your church dies or doesn't, young people old people in between people and church, men and women and teenagers and church.... And thankfully some research. (in the research, regular churchgoing = 1x a month!! Think about that for a moment...)

Those who stay were twice as likely to have a close personal friendship with an adult inside the church. Millennials need guidance on engaging culture meaningfully, and from a distinctly Christian perspective. 

This idea of finding a way to bring their faith in Jesus to the problems they encounter in the world seems to be one of the most powerful motivations of today’s practicing Christian Millennials. They don’t want their faith to be relegated to Sunday worship, and this desire for holistic faith is something the Church can speak to in a meaningful way. 

Young people want to be taken seriously today—not for some distant future leadership position. In their eyes, institutional church life is too hierarchical. And they’re not interested in earning their way to the top so much as they’re want to put their gifts and skills to work for the local church in the present—not future—tense. 

 Related...

How we think about Jesus matters. a lot. Otherwise how can we be more like him?

Speaking of being like Jesus....I was once a kid on food stamps and free lunch. Let's make sure that a) help is available for those in need, and b) no one grows up shamed for that need.

Ensuring that kids don't go hungry in our own neighborhoods doesn't preclude us from making sure kids elsewhere don't go hungry either:



And while we're thinking about other parts of the world, ponder this for a moment. Just a few years--within the lifetime of many who read this blog--makes a world of difference. Perhaps we should spend our time and energy ensuring that the world of difference is for the better, not for the worse. One way to do that is to be aware that things like this have happened, and it is fascinating and distressing all at the same time. Seriously, be sure to click through this one.

And then to end on a high note: SO MUCH FLOOFY HAPPY ADORABLE!

words matter, part 2

There is a distressing language epidemic going on in American English right now.
I don't know if it happens in other languages, or in other parts of the English-speaking world. I'm sure it's been going on in the USA for a long time--it's part of our cultural linguistic idiom. But it's problematic and disturbing nonetheless.

The problem is this: talking about ourselves in the second person.

Maybe you're listening to the radio and you hear someone being interviewed, and you just have to translate whatever they're saying because you know they're talking about themselves, but they're talking as if they're talking about you.

See what I mean? that whole sentence was really about me, but I managed to write it as if YOU are the ones who spend all your time listening to interviews on NPR.

It's fairly innocuous when it's just something like this, but what if I was talking about how I organize my time, how I pray, how I understand the responsibility of pet ownership, how I find meaning and value in relationships, how I navigate the world as a single young woman? What if I was a parent, talking about how I manage parenting and working and having an adult social life? What if I was a major cultural role model, talking about how I see my responsibility to my fans?

All over the place, people are talking about all kinds of topics, many of them deeply personal or individual or at least contextually bound, and using the second person to do it. The result is that I end up feeling as if they're telling me I should do what they did--it's like constantly being told what to do, how to do it, how and what to feel when and where. Which is not what they mean at all, but the phrase "you just gotta..." followed up with whatever they actually do/did is insidious. Much like exclusive use of male pronouns for God or humanity eventually burrows into the subconscious, giving the impression that God is male and only men are full human beings, using this second-person idiom eventually leads us down the path of shame, copy-catting, etc.

We already live in a culture that constantly tells us we are not ____ enough. This sloppy use of pronouns is only making that worse.

I get why we do this. I get that it is hard to be vulnerable enough to simply own our story and tell what we do. I get that our fluidity of language can be hard to pin down, and that people will insist I'm being overly sensitive. But really: listen for a day to the pronouns you hear. You won't be able to help but notice how infrequently people speak for themselves using the first person singular pronoun. It's as if we can't stop ourselves from telling other people what to do, even when what we're really doing is telling our own stories.

So how about this: use I. tell your own story. I'll tell my own story. speak for yourself, and I'll speak for myself. Watch for that second-person instinct, and notice how it feels to use the first person instead. We might just find a lot more honesty, a lot more civility, and a lot more compassion when we speak for ourselves rather than always simply at one another.

words matter, part 1

That's right, I have so much to say I'm being merciful to my four readers and splitting into two posts.

Words matter. A lot. The words we use contribute to the reality we experience. In some instances, our words even create that reality.

We have become a people who are sloppy with words. We speak and write with unclarity, walking in circles until we've said nearly everything and nothing at the same time.

But sometimes we use words with perfect clarity, and that can be even more disturbing.

Case in point: here are two quotes from news stories from the past week.

1. "While we're not ruling anything out, we do not suspect terrorism."
2. "Dozens killed in a terror attack at Kenyan mall."

The first quote is what was said repeatedly about the shooting at the Navy Yard in Washington DC. The second, obviously, is the characterization of the tragedy at the big "new" mall in Nairobi. Both are mass shootings involving more than one gunman. Both were planned and carried out by people who intended to create fear even as they killed as many people as possible.

In other words: they are both terrorism. They were actions meant to create terror.

But we have relegated the word "terrorism" to mean "something foreigners do (to us)" and generally those foreigners are of darker skin tone--only rarely do we classify a light skinned person as a terrorist, and then only if they use a bomb. We have forgotten that the meaning of terrorism is "an act designed to instill fear."

And worse: somewhere along the way, we Americans decided that a mass shooting does not qualify for terrorism. (at least not when it happens here)
Maybe this is because they are so common and we don't want to believe we live in a place plagued with terrorism.
Maybe this is because there are powerful people and many dollars behind the gun lobby, and we don't want to create the impression that gun violence is on par with "real terrorism."

Whatever the case, the two news stories this week--news stories of shocking similarity in other respects--highlight that words matter, and we use them on purpose to create a particular reality. In this case, one shooting is essentially just another in a long line of regrettable but unstoppable tragedies, while another is the target of a multi-trillion-dollar war. Guess which one involved brown people?

I wish I believed that this was evidence of poor use of language, but I think it is evidence of the opposite: very intentional use of language designed to ensure that we remain in our bubble of exceptionalism, where we don't have to deal with the shortcomings of our society as it currently exists.

The people at the Navy Yard, and their families, were terrorized. The people in the Back of the Yards neighborhood, where 13 people (including a 3 year old) were shot during a basketball game at the neighborhood park this week, were terrorized. The people of Newtown were terrorized. The people of Aurora CO were terrorized. I could go on (sadly).

The people of our nation are being terrorized every day. Perhaps if we called it what it is, there'd be some action to change?

view from the X-Millennial bridge

Over the past several months, I have witnessed or been a part of a large number of conversations in which people, often Baby Boomers, lament about "young people." By "young people" they mostly mean everyone under 50, so...at least two generations (X and Millennial) are lumped into that category.

This lament has taken several forms, including but not limited to:

• young people are entitled, wanting things without working for them.
• young people are lazy, expecting everything handed to them.
• young people think they're special, because everyone always got an award.
• young people are apathetic and don't work for justice.
• young people don't listen. They think they know everything.
• young people don't appreciate what we did for them.
• young people are excluding us. We're still young on the inside!

There have been so many answers to the first several points here, I just don't even think one more blog post is going to matter. So, in short: the economy sucks, the world has changed, and it's no longer possible for most of us to get a job with insurance and a pension and a salary to support a whole family with just a High School diploma or even a Bachelor's degree. We're not lazy, we're working harder than ever just to pay the rent, and putting everything else on the credit card while we pray not to get sick. We're not entitled, we're looking for work that fits in with our two other jobs' schedules. I don't know where you saw everyone getting an award and no scores kept, but that's a fallacy so stop perpetuating it--when we were being noticed at all while you were climbing the career ladder, it was to be taught to play harder and run faster and be better so we could get into the best schools and have the best resumes so we could get a job. Not even a better job than our parents had, just a job, period. We have experienced some of the most competitive and pressure-filled lives, all just to live up to your expectations...only to end up unemployed because *somebody* (ahem) killed the economy and society with their runaway desires and entitlement. (if there are actually younger people, those squarely in the Millennial generation, for instance, who really did grow up with everyone getting an award and no one keeping score, who do you think started that? are you telling me that a whole generation of kids in the most individualistic competitive nation in the world suddenly went all ubuntu on us all by themselves???) And as for the working for justice part: I'm not even going to dignify that with a response beyond this: just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not happening. It means you're controlling the media and don't want to see.

Now, to the last few points, where I really want to focus.

It's hard to listen when any of the above sentiments infuse nearly every sentence.

And when we're being told that "young people" are untrustworthy by the original purveyors of "never trust anyone over 30."

And when we are told we're lazy entitled worthless blobs by the same people who insist they're 30 on the inside.

It ends up feeling like people who realize they are no longer "young adults" are trying desperately to hold on to those glory days (even while still holding basically all the power and all the money and most of the jobs in our country) . Meanwhile, the rest of us are just supposed to wait in the wings until the two older generations have had their fun, lived their dream, found themselves, and gotten everything just how they like it. (but we'll be called lazy while we wait. and entitled for being upset that what we're left with is minimum wage jobs, crushing debt, broken systems, and a ruined planet.)

Let's be realistic: 50 is not the new 30. 50 is the new 50--as in, those of you who are 50 are making 50 brand new, doing 50 the way no one has ever done it before. You can do that without wishing you were 30. And you can do that without insisting that 30 year olds be the same as you were when you were 30 (or that you wish you were when you were 30). Because you know what? 30 is also a new 30.

And while we're at it: it is good and right for people who are experiencing life in a similar cultural and generational cohort to be together. (this is why the Young Clergy Women Project exists--because being a 20-something clergywoman is a very different experience than being a 50-something clergywoman, even if we were both ordained yesterday.) AND it is good and right to have intergenerational friendships, gatherings, and groups--IF those intergenerational gatherings are not primarily about one generation informing another about how they should be/act/think more like the other. (this is why groups like RevGalBlogPals are so important--because clergy of all ages and experience levels can learn and laugh and cry and pray and dream and work together.)

So here's the deal.
We are grateful for the amazing work done by those who've gone before us. We are grateful for the stories we hear and the doors that are open for us in ways they weren't for others. We want to learn from those who have blazed trails. We see that there is still work to be done, and we see where the battle lines have shifted along the way.
And we also recognize that the world today is strikingly different than it was a generation ago. We have other trails to blaze, because we're solidly along some that others worked on for decades. We have a rapidly changing globalized culture and technological reality that takes serious work to navigate. We can't have the same kind of American Dream that previous generations had, if we can have it at all. We don't use the same social outlets, trust the same institutions, or anticipate the same retirement (or any retirement...even if you have been retired since before I was born, that doesn't mean I'll get that...).

So how about everyone stop with the smugness. Every generation has challenges. Every generation learns things that the next generation ends up not needing to know, and forgets things that will be necessary to survival someday down the road. Every generation has amazing victories and horrifying mistakes that will echo down through the lives of the future. And every generation must see and create change--because if we keep doing the same things the same way, that's insane. Things change. The world has changed and is changing. 

Please: if you hear yourself starting with "we used to...", stop and ask what's changed since you used to do that. If you hear yourself going down the "I'm not old!" road, stop and ask why it bothers you to allow young adults to exist without you among them. Why does it matter so much that you're in a new life stage with all its attendant possibility (and, realistically, power and influence and relative wealth)? In other words: why do you insist that "young people today" need to "grow up/mature" but you don't? And young people: if you feel the eye-roll coming on, squash the urge and instead listen to the stories. 99% of stories contain a nugget that can work its way into the 21st century framework, or a thought that can break open a problem, or an experience that shines light on the next part of the road--IF you listen with the right lens.




PS:
this post probably sounds angry. I've written and deleted it half a dozen times over the last few months, but the conversations I've seen both on news articles and in groups I'm a part of lately pushed me over the edge. I am tired of people refusing to relinquish the adjective "young" even as they trash young adults, all while ignoring some serious economic and cultural realities. So I guess this is my really long way of saying SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE? SERIOUSLY. In my best 80s kid voice: can't we all just get along? Or is it literally impossible for people who wish they were still young to move on without ripping everyone else to shreds? Because that's what's happening here. One generation is building itself up by tearing the next down. just stop it already. (or, as I said in my sermon on Sunday: It is not okay for us to sacrifice one another on any altar. Not even the altar of our own whitewashed memory or the altar of our own self-esteem.)

bad religion

Tonight's TOP-ic (Thursday On the Patio) was "Bad Religion." People were wondering just what that was going to mean, which was awesome because I turned it back and asked "what is bad religion"...or what is it that makes for a toxic faith that does not promote the abundant life we know that Jesus came to give us?

I was trying to keep it away from particular religions, because the reality is that every religious tradition has bad and good, just like every person. And the further reality is that in the USA, our media covers the extremes of religion, not the majority. I recognize almost nothing of the Christianity that is represented in the media. I suspect the same is true for my Muslim friends--what they see on TV and hear on the news bears little resemblance to their faith tradition. I know it's true for my Jewish friends. And when you leave Abrahamic religions and get into the more "exotic" traditions, well, if they are portrayed in the media somehow, it's almost always poorly.

So the group tonight decided that the hallmarks of "bad religion" are attempts to control, excessive certainty, using fear, manipulating or isolating people, allowing one person to have too much power, promising material rewards. The usual suspects that you can find in the vast majority of people's perceptions of religion, in other words.

The question I wanted to ask but didn't was: when have we participated in bad religion? When have we, as individuals around that table or as a church community, perpetuated this pop-christianity or used religious words and ideas in such a way that they hurt people rather than lead to the flourishing of God's kingdom?

When we are unkind to one another, when there are cliques in the church, when our love is only for those who look like us, when we insist on our own way or bolster our own power, that's bad religion. When we use the words of scripture to wound rather than heal, that's bad religion. When we allow one person to hold the church hostage to their way of doing things, for fear they might leave, that's bad religion. (no, it's not the same as following a cult leader...except it kind of is, in a way.) When we focus on the building or a program or a historical moment at the expense of loving our neighbors who currently exist right outside our doors, that's bad religion.

I'm guessing very few people disagree with that.

But what about this:
is it bad religion when we hear someone claiming that Christians/Muslims/Hindus/Sikhs are (or do, or believe) _______ and we don't speak up about the stereotyping?
is it bad religion when we see someone in need and pass by on the other side?
is it bad religion when we have an opportunity to be a little bit of good news in someone else's life, and we don't take it?
it is bad religion when we hear someone using scripture to hurt and we don't chime in with another interpretation?
is it bad religion when we reinforce unrealistic expectations for our kids/coworkers/family?
is it bad religion when we talk about another church member, or a coworker, or a friend, when they're not around?

If bad religion is primarily about things that work against Abundant Life, aren't we all participating in it in some way?

And then the question I did ask: how can we be people of good religion instead? How can we be people of life-giving faith, of good news, of hope and love for neighbor? How can we show our love for God, and more importantly God's love for us, all the time? It's hard work to counteract this culture of toxicity. But the only way to counter it is to be like a shot of good news. Can we do it?

Wednesday Interesting

yeah, last week I got distracted and didn't post all the cool stuff I came across. It happens.

Therefore, this week is a REALLY LONG post. But seriously, everything's awesome. Save it for your day off or when you need a brain break or something.

Obviously, this week's news is heavy on Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman/race/guns/etc. The whole situation is so horrifying I don't even really know where to begin. So instead I'll point you to just three things. One is a reflection on the sad reality of life for too many people. One is a reflection by a friend and fellow clergy woman, on the ways that white women (like both of us) play into this story. Otis Moss III is my secret (not anymore) preacher crush. That man can bring a word to just about any situation.


Meanwhile, there might be hope--if we can figure out how to let our kids grow up before we either kill them or ruin them:


While we're on the subject of race and class and opportunity and whatnot, you need tissues for this one. Read it AND watch the video. Seriously--it's worth your time. There aren't a lot of good news stories these days, so you need this.

"'Things like this don't happen to kids like us,' he cried on that unimaginable night, his face beaming bronze, his tears soaking into my shoulder. And he is right. Blind and legless kids from the ghettos don't get college educations and shiny accolades, but they should. And that is why I stayed. Because hope and love and rejoicing and redemption can happen to kids like them."

And in case you were thinking "well, at least we got the women thing sorted out"...watch this. The title "what every woman already knows" is exactly right. There's more to the world than what those in power experience.

There's also more to our experience than we may have thought before. Turns out that some of the external factors of our lives influence our genes in ways that can be passed on to the next generation. So interesting to think about! (and gives new meaning to the business about our sins being visited on our children.)

While we're thinking about things that shape and form who we are, this is a beautiful reflection on church--one of the last places for multi-generational experience. How do we ensure that we are able to speak to multiple generations, formed by such different experiences, with the same gospel?

How do we minister with and to people whose lives and faith are shaped by this emerging new world, who need a form of faith that answers the questions that arise in this new world? How do we at the same time and within the same congregation minister with and to people shaped by a fading world, who respond to a form of faith that was shaped by that world? How do we do both without tearing ourselves or each other apart?

One start would be to not be dismissive of either younger or older generations. While this is pretty snarky, it's also right on when it comes to the experience many of us are having. (says this member of the X-Millennial bridge) Please stop putting "young people" down. For starters: it doesn't make "us" want to listen or engage. Shaming never works, it just shuts people down.

And while we're at it, maybe we could contemplate ways to be an actual community full of kind compassionate people? Yes, we're human. That doesn't mean we have license to be mean to one another. If the church's purpose is to "exhibit the kingdom of heaven to the world" (as per the PCUSA Book of Order) then shouldn't we be trying harder to be that?

I firmly believe that by finally dragging our differences and petty arguments into the light of day, it will be a massive first step in breaking our mean habits. For far too long, while we have been waging a war within our own foxholes, the real enemy has had the run of the place. He has been unchallenged because Christ's army is too wounded from friendly fire to even crawl to the battlefield for the real fight. And an enemy who is unopposed is no longer your enemy. He has actually becomes your ruler.

One of the things I spend a lot of time thinking about is language: how do we use it, what's correct and what's emerging and where do those trajectories meet, what are we saying when we use particular words or phrases? This is one of the reasons I am a proponent of inclusive and expansive language. But the pesky English pronouns....


There's some really cool stuff going on in the world, in addition to all the drama and horror of life. Check this out--there could one day be streets that eat pollution! I just think that's worth more exclamation points. !!! Of course, the ideal is a world in which we're not producing pollution, because we've moved beyond fossil fuels. But one thing at a time, right?

Also, gorillas were observed learning and applying their knowledge in the wild.  So cool. And I confess there's a part of me that wants to say something like "take that, evolution-deniers." But that's neither kind nor helpful, nor exactly accurate. But still. Cool.

For everyone who's forgotten, Egypt is still happening. While some days are promising and other days terrifying, this article (admittedly 10 days old now--what happens when I skip a week) is a pretty good meta-analysis. Thought-provoking too, about the consequences of approaching things this way. (As an aside: please remember that our own revolution took over a decade to solidify into a constitutional government, and we weren't even being watched every second on the internet. Why do we expect others to happen overnight?)

"The price Egypt has paid and will pay for the consequences of this decision are too high. It has created a generation of Islamists who genuinely believe that democracy does not include them. The post-June 30 fallout reaffirms this belief, especially with Islamist channels and newspapers closed down, as well as leaders detained and held incommunicado, apparently pursuant to an executive decision. For 30 years, Mubarak told them that due process is not for them, and a popular revolution is confirming that. It is Egyptian society that will pay the price of the grievances this causes, and the fact that, with a silenced media and no coverage from independent outlets, they have been left with virtually no channels to get their voice heard."

This column beautifully weaves together a typical day at the beach and a reflection on our calling and responsibility as people of God. Love it.

And, last but never least, a treat for those who made it to the end. Today is the anniversary of the opening of Disneyland! I heart Disneyland, and while I never see anyone dressed this way there anymore (how would you go on rides in those skirts???), it's fun to see how much is the same and how much has changed in nearly 60 years. Not to mention the celebrities. :-)