It’s been a while …
January 27th, 2012 § 3 Comments
I’ve never been good at doing something every single day for any length of time (except eating — I’m a champ at breakfast, lunch, and dinner). I get gung-ho about exercise programs, and lose it a few weeks into it. So Lent has been a challenge for me in the past. I’ve done well with the “giving up” Lent-ings, but I try to do something more challenging each year by “taking on.”
This year, I am going to blog daily through Lent.
I always write better with a prompt, so I am hoping to use a 40-part book, or book of the Bible to use for this practice. And I always appreciate input from those around me, so I’m looking for recommendations:
What text should guide me through my Lenten journey?
UPDATE: Looks like I’ll be following the Revised Common Lectionary through Lent, and I’m hoping some other folks will join me. Are you in??
Losing Our Lives For Christ // Exploration 2011 Saturday Night
November 13th, 2011 § 2 Comments
“Those who try to save their lives will lose them; those who lose their lives will save them.”
Don’t you love those completely absurd-sounding lines from the Bible? The ones you have to read and re-read to even begin to grasp the meaning? I am so thankful that we have a holy book that is not simple (though some might try to make it appear to be so). If our holy book is a word from our great God, I expect it to reflect God in some way; I am not interested in a simple God.
When I heard Bishop Hayes share this passage tonight, he encouraged all of us to lose our lives to Christ. It’s an almost cliche phrase at this point because those of us in the church hear it so often, but as he spoke those words, he brought new life to the concept for me, and I’m sure for many more.
As he gave a passionate call to action to all of us young folks, though, I began to wonder what revelation that passage might hold for the United Methodist Church.
We have been talking all weekend about the fact that this is the generation that will change the church. We are the ones who must stand up to reach our generation and the next, and we cannot do it with our current church structure, climate, and style. We must take risks and reach out in new and different ways. We must explore new means of worship and discipleship. We have to be creative.
The concept of trying to save one’s life speaks so directly to the state of the United Methodist Church right now. We are a dying denomination, plain and simple. We heard from Adam Hamilton that the last time our denomination grew was back in 1964 when we were still the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren. Technically, the United Methodist Church has never been a growing church.
That being said, I find myself inspired by our theology. Our history is a passionate call to action. At our best, we are a church that could easily be embraced by this young adult generation. But I fear we are too concerned about saving our life as a church. We are so focused on survival that we forget this all-too-familiar passage. As we try so desperately to save our collective life (and livelihood, for so many), we are ever more quickly losing it.
But what if we did have a group of 600 young people who were passionate about living out Wesleyan theology who were willing to give up their lives? What would happen? What would the “church” look like?
I glanced at the basketfuls of commitment cards tonight and tears rushed to my eyes. I love what we stand for. I love what we are founded upon. I believe in the United Methodist Church. However, if we are only holding Exploration events to be sure we have enough young people to fill pews to “save” the life of the church, I’m not interested.
But if we are holding this event to inspire and commission young people to go out and live our theology in the church and the world, giving their lives in the name of Jesus Christ, with the goal not of renewing a denomination but of transforming the world, I’m in.
I pray that we are, as a church, willing to lose ourselves to Christ. Sure, I know it’s idealistic. Sure, I know my salary depends on apportionments. But at ordination I did not give my life to the United Methodist Church; I affirmed my call from God and gave my life and ministry to Jesus Christ.
As these young people take their next steps in this journey we call discernment, I pray that they will find themselves enthralled not by a denomination but by a Savior that is all-consuming and all-loving, and that they will desire to transform not only our church, but foremost all of God’s world.
You Are Not Alone // Exploration 2011 Saturday Morning
November 12th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
I shared in my last post that I came to Exploration 2006 solo. I’ve never been one to have an issue showing up somewhere by myself. Even though I’m an introvert, I don’t have any issue with meeting and getting to know new people. I love traveling (one of the many fringe benefits of the Explo event), and I love hearing people’s stories.
So when I arrived alone in Jacksonville, I wasn’t exceptionally uncomfortable. I quickly found a group of other folks who also came without a group, and we made quick friends. Many of those people are still friends today, and I know they are praying for all the Explo participants right now.
Although the worship experiences workshops, and small group experiences were formative, the most important part of my Explo experience was forming relationships with other participants.
I knew I was called, and the ministers in my life understood that and supported me in that call, but most of my peers, though they were supportive, did not truly comprehend my journey. The experience of being called is one that cannot be put in words. It is something that is difficult to share with someone who doesn’t know that feeling themselves.
So when I began to engage in conversation with other participants at Exploration, I was amazed. Each time I shared a story or a feeling or a frustration, I was met with more comprehension, understanding, and compassion than I had been since my call journey began. It was incredible to be understood so well by people I had just met.
This morning, our teaching time included a word from the Lord through Rev. Juan Huertas. He encouraged us all to hear God’s voice through others in our lives. He reminded us that we are not alone — that the Spirit is with us. He encouraged us to trust in the Spirit as we continue on these journeys of discernment.
It’s not always easy to trust in the Spirit. I am not always that strong or faithful. But when the Spirit moves in a group of people such as those found here at Exploration — in the community of understanding and compassion that is not easily found elsewhere — it is powerful. It is a unique opportunity, and I find incredible encouragement and strength in thhe community here.
I hope you who are participating are finding that experience as well. I hope you have felt that connection. I hope you have felt understood and cared for in a way you might not have felt before. I hope you know that you are Not Alone.
And again, for those of you who are not here, please welcome these young people home with open arms, and even if you don’t fully understand what they’re experiencing, love them through it.
We are Not Alone.
What if I Can’t Remember My Baptism? // Exploration 2011 Friday Night
November 12th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
When we hear the phrase “remember your baptism,” it always feels a little awkward. I don’t remember my baptism; I was a newborn. (My formerly Southern Baptist husband has a much easier time with this task.) I deeply resonated with the video testimony shared tonight — what if I can’t remember my baptism??
Even with a theological education and having “passed” my theological interview and paperwork for ordination, the concept of baptism is a little fuzzy at times. Remembrance, though … remembrance I can do.
As I boarded the plane in Orlando at 8 a.m. Eastern, a flood of memories rushed back. No, I don’t remember the flights from the last two Exploration events, but the events themselves are firmly etched into my spiritual memory.
I gazed over the airplane wing and the faces of so many people rushed by me. Most of them were people I have only been with in person for three days of my entire life, but they were people that changed my life forever.
My first Exploration event was Explo 2006 in Jacksonville, Florida. The theme was “Dive In, Make Waves.” I remember finding it a bit cheesy at the time, but it was kinda fun to raise strips of cloth above our heads and make an ocean of discernment around the room. That’s an image that sticks with me, to be sure.
I remember a Saturday night birthday supper shared with folks I had not known 24 hours before. I had come alone to Explo, but quickly we loners found each other and formed a ragtag group of individuals desperately seeking community, and desperately seeking discernment (which we did — together).
I remember sitting in the front row of Saturday night worship weeping with a new friend as the Spirit engulfed us, clarifying our calls to ministry.
I also remember one lone admissions director standing by her table just outside the worship space, as the final worship service of the weekend was about to begin. Soon after I remember a whirlwind campus visit during which I found a place that would change me forever, and a place in which I would begin a lifelong journey of theological inquiry and love for ministry.
I remember in 2009 returning to represent that same school in Dallas, sharing my seminary, call, and ministry experience with other young people who were walking around with the same excitement and bewilderment as I had been only three years before.
There are so many more memories that can’t be captured with mere words, and I look forward to experiencing another weekend of memories here in St. Louis.
Remembering is exciting, and if we’re honest, memory is often about an image. The image of water is powerful. It represents renewal of life, a new beginning knowing that God is present in our every move. Baptism is a time to prepare to share in the work of Christ, a cleansing of those things that keep us from God. I experienced much of that in the rather haphazard community I found at Exploration 2006, and in the devotion of an admissions director to stick around for those last few moments, and in tears that fell on newly kindred shoulders.
It’s interesting to reflect on the 2006 theme: “Dive in.” The image of water is pervasive in my story in particular, but I pray that we can all dive into this experience, and be immersed (no, not just sprinkled) in God’s presence, that we can listen for God’s voice, that we can put aside those things that distract us and remember our own baptisms, when God began that work in each of us.
I loved the possibility sprinkled through Adam Hamilton’s sermon tonight — that this weekend in St. Louis could represent a reawakening in the church. Tonight could have begun an opportunity to reaffirm its own baptism, in a way. As young people, we do hold the keys to the future of the church. As a young clergyperson, I feel that pressure more and more each day, and I was reconvicted tonight during his sermon.
I have to confess that I’m an idealist. I believe in what the church can be, not just what it is. I still believe that I (we) can do anything. When Adam Hamilton began the Church of the Resurrection, he was told his dreams were too big; but I loved his response: “I was 25 and I didn’t know it couldn’t happen yet.” Well, I will be 27 next week, and I still commit my life every day to minister within a denomination that appears to be dying. The statistics scream at me, “Get out while you still can!”
But, I see in events like this light that has the power to “knock some holes in the darkness.” This weekend could be the beginning of something big. So this weekend, do remember your baptism. Let it be a renewal of mind, with clarity of intention, and openness of heart, to hear what God has for you — for us.
And for those of you reading this who are not present in St. Louis, know that there are nearly 600 young people seriously trying to figure out what God wants them to do with their lives. Pray for them. And support them when they return to your communities with newfound clarity and excitement. You will be amazed at what can — and will — happen.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned at Camp
October 29th, 2011 § 4 Comments
I remember seeing the poster before I knew it was a book: “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.”
Cover via Amazon
The poster shared these incredibly deep thoughts:
- Share everything.
- Play fair.
- Don’t hit people.
- Put things back where you found them.
- Clean up your own mess.
- Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
- Say you’re sorry when you hurt someone.
- Wash your hands before you eat.
- Flush the toilet.
- Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
- Live a balanced life.
- Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.
- Take a nap every afternoon.
- When you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
- Be aware of wonder and wonderful things.
- Remember the little seed in the plastic cup. The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are still all like that.
- Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the plastic cup – they all die…So do we.
- And then remember the story book about Dick and Jane and the first important word you learned, the biggest word of all: LOOK!
Those were life lessons that, even as a kid, I could understand. I could see the breadth and depth with which to apply them and realized that those simple concepts really did underlie what it meant to live a good life.
Now, when I think about the most important life lessons I’ve learned in my nearly 27 years, I always think of Camp. Particularly when I saw this recent column in USA Today, I was reminded of how I was impacted by my experience working at camp. The writer speaks to the gravity of what is expected of a camp counselor:
“I am fully integrated into the aforementioned professional hierarchy. I am given great responsibility; indeed, I am responsible for the physical, emotional and mental well-being of … children …”
Sometimes I am reminded that to consider what we are actually doing when we do summer camp is an absolutely absurd endeavor. Basically, a bunch of overprotective parents forget about all of that for a week or more, drop their children off in the hands of high school and college students who have had minimal training, and allow them to care for their children’s well-being in potentially hazardous situations. Yeah, it’s best not to think about it that way.
But the crazy thing is, it works. A ragtag bunch of college students somehow step up, come together, and meet the challenges that are in front of them. It has worked for decades, and each summer, campers and staff return to have yet another “best summer of their lives.”
I could wax poetic all day long about why this writer has it spot-on about the great learning experience it is to work on staff at camp. Although I have ended up working as a camp professional, I still recognize the non-camp-related skills that working at camp taught me.
But I want to hear what you learned at camp. What are the bullet points under the title “All I Really Need to Know I Learned at Camp”?
What if Jesus Didn’t Die for Me? – Guest Blogger: Joy Wilson
October 10th, 2011 § 10 Comments
He sat in a red chair and watched while I was raped. I was only four, but I knew who he was. Jesus didn’t do anything but speak into my mind, over and over, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to be OK.” And I believed him as I slid into darkness from pain and suffocation.
The incest went on for years, and Jesus stayed with me, more like a stray dog than God. He followed me into bars and hotel rooms with strangers, in and out of church, through three divorce hearings, into alcoholic blackouts. Sometimes I appreciated his company; sometimes I just wished he would leave me alone. Often I took him for granted, but I always knew he was there, as real as I was.
Along the way, our relationship got messed up when church told me that Jesus did things for those who believed, for those who asked in faith, for those who followed him. I couldn’t figure out the “follow” part because we always traveled side by side. But what about “faith”? I had believed Jesus from the very beginning. He did what he said he’d do: never leave. But what about everything else in my life? He hadn’t stopped the rapes, kept me out of trouble, helped me get sober. Whose fault was that? Apparently mine. I didn’t have enough faith or pray right or behave enough or or or.
Then I heard that “All things are possible with God.” Except for me. It seemed like my Stray Dog God shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Sure, I can do anything, but for you?” Silence. I knew I could never go to All Saints Academy. If I got into heaven, which was questionable, my crown would come from Burger King with painted paper jewels. And the crucifixion story – all that gore and torture made me shudder. I’d had too much abuse for too long. Instead of making me feel connected with a fellow sufferer, I fled in revulsion. If being “washed in the blood of the Lamb” was required for salvation, well…..I couldn’t do that or go there. I was already lost. Now I had to stay lost.
So what did that make Jesus for me? A partner in crime, like the guy at the wheel in the getaway car while I robbed the bank? Or was he my little friend who let me play with his toys until it was time for him to go home to his Daddy? Was Jesus on loan to me until I died and went…….where? I didn’t know, but I was getting really pissed off. I had a useless God on my hands whom I loved and hated at the same time, and I didn’t know what to do with him.
The day came when my years of compressed pain and anger erupted all over Jesus. I screamed at him, wanting to hurt him as badly as I hurt, and to my complete shock, he screamed back – his love. And that’s how I learned to pray. We began talking, and I let him have it, trying to be as blasphemous as possible, and he just laughed and said, “Finally! You’re being honest with me. Come on, let’s get in the mud and fight dirty. I love to wrestle.” And we did, and I didn’t always win, but I always wanted another round.
You see, he wouldn’t give up on me. What I didn’t realize was I hadn’t ever given up on him, either. No matter what had gone wrong in my life, I was never alone, never abandoned by my God like so many other people had. I discovered I couldn’t offend him – he hadn’t ever run off screaming or struck me by lightening, right? And come to think of it, Jesus had done a lot for me. I wasn’t in prison from killing someone while driving drunk. I wasn’t dead, though I should have been. Jesus had been working his ass off protecting me. Why? Because he loved me just as I was. In fact, he made me just like I was, knowing how I’d turn out, which is totally insane.
And then lightening really did strike – in my brain: Jesus had been saving me all my life. I didn’t have to get saved – I already was. We shared a deep, personal relationship like I had with no one else. I was loved and accepted unconditionally, which meant I didn’t have to pray right, have enough faith, act like Mother Teresa, or be someone I wasn’t. Then lightning struck twice, and I realized it had been awhile since I’d done something self-destructive. I was getting better at telling the truth, being kind, stuff like that. I was starting to act like…..him.
Last night we were talking outside in the carport, and I said, “I love you so much. But what about the crucifixion?” And Jesus said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got you covered.”
Joy Wilson is the author of Uncensored Prayer: The Spiritual Practice of Wrestling With God and a contributor to Not Alone (both Civitas Press, 2011). She and her husband, Bud, are two life-long hippies. They live in Bartlett, TN, with six cats, two dogs, and no TV. She is part of an eclectic group of Jesus-followers called Outlaw Preachers and has a passion for prison ministry. Also, Joy is an advocate for middle-aged and senior women, and anyone who suffers from depression. Joy’s website is joyleewilson.org and you can contact her at joyleewilson@gmail.com.
