I have not been happy in Boston.
It's not that Boston is not a nice city. It is!
It's not that I don't have people I can become friends with. I do!
It's not that there isn't a church community--at least one!--that I can join. There is!
I moved there for work, and work is both the joy and the problem.
I have been given a position that allows me to use several of my (administrative, bilingual, counseling, and collaborative) gifts in meaningful and relational ways. I feel respected by my colleagues and a sense of influence with my students. My hours are 7:30 am to 4 pm, and I have enough time to myself outside of work. It's busy but not overwhelming or stressful. Joy is strength, and even in times when I lack it, He gives it.
At the same time, many structures (that subtly favor patriarchy and white supremacy) are in place, and I haven't quite felt like myself in Boston. People tend to follow gender rules and "normal" life stage choices. There are a lot of cultural Catholics, but my understanding of following Jesus sometimes goes against sociably acceptable (read: safe) forms of religiosity. There are a lot of decent human beings, but sometimes more Grace and Love are required for one to feel truly empowered.
Success at work often depends on my ability to stroke the egos of white men in the right direction, to be a hard-working person of color and a woman to defers to men--while allowing them to take much of the credit for success and none of the blame for failure. Many of my students have said that they feel unfairly treated, and policies do not accurately reflect the needs of the students or teachers--the people the institution exists to serve. Welcome to reality outside the bubble again, I've told myself countless times. It's not like I've never been there before.
My time at Yale was, in some respects, like spending time in a greenhouse--where I was warm and protected and could cultivate many branches and flowers. I have now been transplanted to Boston, where I have more space to breath but where roots must also push harder to find anchorage.
If I view this Boston season as one of pruning, then I can look at things much more happily. If I really believe that I am to go against the grain when Christ calls me to, to embrace my identity as an Asian-American woman in a society that voted Trump into office, and to be an agent of God's Kin-dom, then my work experience right now may be a time of learning how to subvert the system and respect those in power while also helping those who cannot advocate for themselves.
If I can be faithful in the plot of land to which the Spirit seems to have called me for now, maybe one day the branches that truly matter can grow strong and extend to provide shade for a wider circle--for Christendom and beyond. What remains for me to do right now is to abide. For without the true vine, I can do nothing...
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Monday, November 28, 2016
Blasphemy
"So I tell you, every sin and blasphemy can be forgiven--except blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, which will never be forgiven. Anyone who speaks against the Son of Man can be forgiven, but anyone who speaks against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven, either in this world or in the world to come." (Matthew 12:31-32, NLT)
Ever since I was a child, I've struggled to understand this part of Jesus' teachings.
This morning, it struck me: if we think of the Holy Spirit as acting as a whisperer of conscience, then this Truth can be understood to mean that humans must not violate their conscience, regardless of whether they speak for or against Christ--and whether they figure Him into the picture.
People who claim to be Christians can blaspheme the Holy Spirit, and that is unforgivable. People who do not give verbal allegiance to Jesus might follow their consciences in a way that is acceptable. Beware of allowing religion to cloud conscience. Our country can afford that no longer.
Ever since I was a child, I've struggled to understand this part of Jesus' teachings.
This morning, it struck me: if we think of the Holy Spirit as acting as a whisperer of conscience, then this Truth can be understood to mean that humans must not violate their conscience, regardless of whether they speak for or against Christ--and whether they figure Him into the picture.
People who claim to be Christians can blaspheme the Holy Spirit, and that is unforgivable. People who do not give verbal allegiance to Jesus might follow their consciences in a way that is acceptable. Beware of allowing religion to cloud conscience. Our country can afford that no longer.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Coming to the Vineyard to Work
In the fall of 2015, students at Yale held rallies across campus to protest white supremacy (in various forms) at the institution. As a woman of color, I attended as many events as I could in order to offer support--even though I'm not black or brown/a primary victim of systemic racism in America.
At the Divinity School, Dean Sterling held a town hall, attended mostly by students of color, a smattering of faculty, and a contingent of mainline Protestant white liberal students. A group of us helped plan a special chapel service to stand in solidarity with the student movements at Yale.
Meanwhile, certain parts of my community--my local church, respected professors, and white Evangelical friends--were reluctant or unable to join the conversation. I found the silence--of both ignorance and ignoring--to be exhausting and isolating.
At the time, there were 4 white Jonathans in my life. Mr. Hinely, a progressive Mennonite, was totally on board with social justice that took place in the form of student movements and Black Lives Matter. Layvin also showed up at all the important events and meetings. Sanchez attended the town hall--but criticized some of the logic used by students of color.
Jonathan Seitz seemed quite oblivious, which frustrated and pained me immensely. Only when a person he respected--white, male, New Testament scholar, church pastor--mentioned the town hall meeting did it seem to occur to him that something of note was going on. Some of his favorite people at Yale, myself included, were people of color and heavily invested in what was taking place on campus. But somehow our presence in his life seemed to do nothing to alter his tunnel vision, self-justified/God-given calling to "dive into the Gospel for the sake of the Church." This white boy from Arizona--where undocumented immigrants were being deported--and Missouri--where Ferguson had happened--seemed content to keep his gospel tied up in a box whose borders were the walls of the institution of the church. I couldn't help but think that pre-Hitler Germany was filled with pastors who were content to preach on Sunday rather than act on social conscience--and by the time Holocaust happened, it was too late. We had several long conversations on the topic of social justice and its relationship with the so-called Kingdom of God, but I didn't want to press too hard.
And then, in the fall of 2016, Trump won the presidency, and our nation was roused to a conscience-stricken awareness that something was wrong. Along with many other white male Evangelicals, 80% of whom had voted for Trump, my friend Jonathan woke up to the America of 2016--a pulsing, throbbing, colorful, queer, and immigrant society that threatened to undo the very scaffolding that had been holding up American conservative Christianity. In the month of November, he read the news, posted about the election on Facebook, and attended a student rally at Yale.
Progress--and better late than never.
Hillary Clinton preached about the parable of the workers at the vineyard in her concession speech. I took it to heart. When friends join the fight, we must welcome them with open arms, no matter how long it's taken. We all come to realizations in our own timing--and for those of us who got there first, we must acknowledge and recognize the frustrations and impatience that come with our own prophetic giftings and be willing to wait for those who come behind.
At the Divinity School, Dean Sterling held a town hall, attended mostly by students of color, a smattering of faculty, and a contingent of mainline Protestant white liberal students. A group of us helped plan a special chapel service to stand in solidarity with the student movements at Yale.
Meanwhile, certain parts of my community--my local church, respected professors, and white Evangelical friends--were reluctant or unable to join the conversation. I found the silence--of both ignorance and ignoring--to be exhausting and isolating.
At the time, there were 4 white Jonathans in my life. Mr. Hinely, a progressive Mennonite, was totally on board with social justice that took place in the form of student movements and Black Lives Matter. Layvin also showed up at all the important events and meetings. Sanchez attended the town hall--but criticized some of the logic used by students of color.
Jonathan Seitz seemed quite oblivious, which frustrated and pained me immensely. Only when a person he respected--white, male, New Testament scholar, church pastor--mentioned the town hall meeting did it seem to occur to him that something of note was going on. Some of his favorite people at Yale, myself included, were people of color and heavily invested in what was taking place on campus. But somehow our presence in his life seemed to do nothing to alter his tunnel vision, self-justified/God-given calling to "dive into the Gospel for the sake of the Church." This white boy from Arizona--where undocumented immigrants were being deported--and Missouri--where Ferguson had happened--seemed content to keep his gospel tied up in a box whose borders were the walls of the institution of the church. I couldn't help but think that pre-Hitler Germany was filled with pastors who were content to preach on Sunday rather than act on social conscience--and by the time Holocaust happened, it was too late. We had several long conversations on the topic of social justice and its relationship with the so-called Kingdom of God, but I didn't want to press too hard.
And then, in the fall of 2016, Trump won the presidency, and our nation was roused to a conscience-stricken awareness that something was wrong. Along with many other white male Evangelicals, 80% of whom had voted for Trump, my friend Jonathan woke up to the America of 2016--a pulsing, throbbing, colorful, queer, and immigrant society that threatened to undo the very scaffolding that had been holding up American conservative Christianity. In the month of November, he read the news, posted about the election on Facebook, and attended a student rally at Yale.
Progress--and better late than never.
Hillary Clinton preached about the parable of the workers at the vineyard in her concession speech. I took it to heart. When friends join the fight, we must welcome them with open arms, no matter how long it's taken. We all come to realizations in our own timing--and for those of us who got there first, we must acknowledge and recognize the frustrations and impatience that come with our own prophetic giftings and be willing to wait for those who come behind.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
It's Time
It's time for me to write again. It's been awhile, hasn't it?
This blog was birthed out of a desire to leave Fundamentalism, the theological frameworks that had shaped my educational upbringing and spiritual formation.
What I didn't realize was that I was also leaving Evangelicalism to follow Jesus more fully, which entailed both embracing mainline Protestant social ethics and rediscovering my deep connection with Charismatic movements of the Spirit. God brought me to Yale Divinity School to learn from every tribe, tongue, and nation--as well as the array of denominations that comprise God's kin-dom.
It seems (s)He's brought me to Boston to be the very things I learned were worth aspiring for--and to swim somewhat solo and upstream, for now.
Succeeding in my job has meant flexibility, openness, assertiveness, submission, and the wisdom to know when to go along with and when to subvert the (old school Catholic) system (of dealing with students). I am a woman of color, given a position and influence in an institution run by white men, and I damn well mean to use it.
Finding a church has been slow going. I gleaned a lot from Reservoir Church (a church that left the Vineyard Association to become open and affirming, after 2 years of prayer and discernment) and Old South Church (whose senior pastor is a woman and a YDS grad), but it seems that after 3 months of exploration, I have been led to settle down in a church just around the block, which is neither open and affirming nor led by women. It seems that, even in the place I'll call my spiritual home, I am to be myself/different in the midst of a system that is not ideal.
This election has given me a sense of urgency. We were brought to the Northeast for such a time as this, my Divinity School friends and I. I was in New Haven the weekend before and after the election. I needed to be with my friends. Some are queer, some are undocumented immigrants, some are brown, some are black, many are women, and all are not OK with Donald Trump becoming the next President of the United States.
It might be time to beat our plowshares back into swords.
It might be time to speak truth to power for such a time as this.
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
Amen.
[http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/life-after-evangelicalism]
This blog was birthed out of a desire to leave Fundamentalism, the theological frameworks that had shaped my educational upbringing and spiritual formation.
What I didn't realize was that I was also leaving Evangelicalism to follow Jesus more fully, which entailed both embracing mainline Protestant social ethics and rediscovering my deep connection with Charismatic movements of the Spirit. God brought me to Yale Divinity School to learn from every tribe, tongue, and nation--as well as the array of denominations that comprise God's kin-dom.
It seems (s)He's brought me to Boston to be the very things I learned were worth aspiring for--and to swim somewhat solo and upstream, for now.
Succeeding in my job has meant flexibility, openness, assertiveness, submission, and the wisdom to know when to go along with and when to subvert the (old school Catholic) system (of dealing with students). I am a woman of color, given a position and influence in an institution run by white men, and I damn well mean to use it.
Finding a church has been slow going. I gleaned a lot from Reservoir Church (a church that left the Vineyard Association to become open and affirming, after 2 years of prayer and discernment) and Old South Church (whose senior pastor is a woman and a YDS grad), but it seems that after 3 months of exploration, I have been led to settle down in a church just around the block, which is neither open and affirming nor led by women. It seems that, even in the place I'll call my spiritual home, I am to be myself/different in the midst of a system that is not ideal.
This election has given me a sense of urgency. We were brought to the Northeast for such a time as this, my Divinity School friends and I. I was in New Haven the weekend before and after the election. I needed to be with my friends. Some are queer, some are undocumented immigrants, some are brown, some are black, many are women, and all are not OK with Donald Trump becoming the next President of the United States.
It might be time to beat our plowshares back into swords.
It might be time to speak truth to power for such a time as this.
For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.
Amen.
[http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/life-after-evangelicalism]
Monday, June 20, 2016
Hearing from God and Narrating the Past
In 2007, when I was praying about marriage one day, I seemed to get an impression that God would give me someone who had 1) gone to Columbia University 2) played jazz 3) worked in finance and 4) salsa danced. There was no one around me who was remotely like that, and I soon forgot about it.
It wasn't until 2010, more than 6 months into a serious courtship, that I realized that the guy I was with was all four of those things. While this was a confirmation that I was able to hear specific things from God, it also proved to be a point of confusion for me when it came time to decide whether or not to stay in the relationship.
You see, there was one thing from his past that troubled me. We hadn't discussed it explicitly, but it was a shadow in the back of my mind. We were getting to the point of working towards engagement--I had quit my job and relocated to a city just ten minutes away from where he lived--and I needed to know more.
One night, I had a nightmare. So explicit that I felt as if I were seeing a part of his past--and experiencing the emotions that went on back then. I confronted him about it one October night--it was actually Halloween. It turns out that what I had seen was what had happened, and I lost it.
I was furious, and I let him have it. I hurt him deeply, and hope I never fly into that kind of a rage again. To this day, I still tend to erase that memory from my consciousness.
Then the counseling began. It worked insofar as I realized I wasn't ready for marriage and therefore couldn't get engaged to him--at least not yet.
One of the hardest things in the decision-making process was the fact that he was everything I had been prophetically been told about. Was I discarding the One God had prepared for me?
I came to the conclusion that he was indeed someone God had for me--as a gift, for a season, but not necessarily as a life partner.
Hearing from God is a confusing business, and I think it takes practice and community--as well as experiencing failures--in order to purge impure motives and selfish pride.
I ended up dating my ex a second time, due to "hearing from God." I shared with--and got very mixed responses from--my friends and community. The road to becoming potential partners again was not easy, and when we broke up a second time, I was completely confused and disillusioned.
Because church elders had been somewhat involved in our relationship the second time around, I found myself deeply mistrusting religious leadership. I stepped away from Sunday worship for a year and focused on finding myself again without the pressure of having to be a certain kind of Christian woman.
History is a blend of fact and storytelling. There is no journal entry from 2007 that proves that I "heard," but in my memory it is sharp and clear. This is my story, and how I narrate the past will affect how I approach the future. Thank goodness that God is still speaking to me--and that I hear him better as the years go by.
It wasn't until 2010, more than 6 months into a serious courtship, that I realized that the guy I was with was all four of those things. While this was a confirmation that I was able to hear specific things from God, it also proved to be a point of confusion for me when it came time to decide whether or not to stay in the relationship.
You see, there was one thing from his past that troubled me. We hadn't discussed it explicitly, but it was a shadow in the back of my mind. We were getting to the point of working towards engagement--I had quit my job and relocated to a city just ten minutes away from where he lived--and I needed to know more.
One night, I had a nightmare. So explicit that I felt as if I were seeing a part of his past--and experiencing the emotions that went on back then. I confronted him about it one October night--it was actually Halloween. It turns out that what I had seen was what had happened, and I lost it.
I was furious, and I let him have it. I hurt him deeply, and hope I never fly into that kind of a rage again. To this day, I still tend to erase that memory from my consciousness.
Then the counseling began. It worked insofar as I realized I wasn't ready for marriage and therefore couldn't get engaged to him--at least not yet.
One of the hardest things in the decision-making process was the fact that he was everything I had been prophetically been told about. Was I discarding the One God had prepared for me?
I came to the conclusion that he was indeed someone God had for me--as a gift, for a season, but not necessarily as a life partner.
Hearing from God is a confusing business, and I think it takes practice and community--as well as experiencing failures--in order to purge impure motives and selfish pride.
I ended up dating my ex a second time, due to "hearing from God." I shared with--and got very mixed responses from--my friends and community. The road to becoming potential partners again was not easy, and when we broke up a second time, I was completely confused and disillusioned.
Because church elders had been somewhat involved in our relationship the second time around, I found myself deeply mistrusting religious leadership. I stepped away from Sunday worship for a year and focused on finding myself again without the pressure of having to be a certain kind of Christian woman.
History is a blend of fact and storytelling. There is no journal entry from 2007 that proves that I "heard," but in my memory it is sharp and clear. This is my story, and how I narrate the past will affect how I approach the future. Thank goodness that God is still speaking to me--and that I hear him better as the years go by.
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Farewell to Family
I went to my home church this afternoon for the first time in about five weeks.
Between going home for my brother's graduation, having my own graduation, and being in Europe for three weeks, I've been gone for a little while.
It's a strange thing to show up and welcomed back--only to tell your church friends that you'll be moving to Boston in a month.
It was nice to be back, and to know that people missed me and will miss me.
I was so involved on campus over the last two years that I didn't really serve at church. I attended home group faithfully for two years and prayed quite earnestly for its members, but mostly church was the place where I gleaned rather than gave support.
I'd like to serve in a church when I move to Boston. I'll still be very involved at school--but that will be my job and I'll want something else in my life. Plus, I won't be a student anymore!
Thank you, ECV, for shaping the way I approached Divinity School and New Haven for the last 2 years. Thank you for being a community that wants to grow together in learning how to listen to God's voice, and for helping my ears become much sharper in this regard.
I'm grateful, and I promise I'll come back and visit.
Between going home for my brother's graduation, having my own graduation, and being in Europe for three weeks, I've been gone for a little while.
It's a strange thing to show up and welcomed back--only to tell your church friends that you'll be moving to Boston in a month.
It was nice to be back, and to know that people missed me and will miss me.
I was so involved on campus over the last two years that I didn't really serve at church. I attended home group faithfully for two years and prayed quite earnestly for its members, but mostly church was the place where I gleaned rather than gave support.
I'd like to serve in a church when I move to Boston. I'll still be very involved at school--but that will be my job and I'll want something else in my life. Plus, I won't be a student anymore!
Thank you, ECV, for shaping the way I approached Divinity School and New Haven for the last 2 years. Thank you for being a community that wants to grow together in learning how to listen to God's voice, and for helping my ears become much sharper in this regard.
I'm grateful, and I promise I'll come back and visit.
Messages to Facebook
Holidays are hard when the thing being celebrated has not been a positive presence in one's life.
Today America celebrates Father's Day, and I skyped with my dad, who is in Taiwan.
I sent this message out to the Facebook world with the intention of both honoring my dad and being sensitive to those without one worth celebrating:
Today America celebrates Father's Day, and I skyped with my dad, who is in Taiwan.
I sent this message out to the Facebook world with the intention of both honoring my dad and being sensitive to those without one worth celebrating:
YDS folks: now that I've graduated, I shall take this particular day to let you in on a secret and introduce you to the actual person who coined--but did not copyright--the term "kind eyes"!
My dad's family history is a constant reminder to me that love can come in many forms and from many kinds of parents, so here's an acknowledgement of the most important thing of all: to look kindly upon others with eyes that seek to understand.
Letters to Jesus about Love
Jesus,
I've been back in New Haven for nearly a week.
My kind-eyed friend picked me up from the train station, and that was the start to our summer.
We've hung out just about every other day--
On Tuesday, we made dinner at his place and chatted for a bit. Then, folks from church came to pray with him about a potential job opportunity, and I came home for a nice walk to the park.
On Thursday, we walked around New Haven for an hour, sat on his porch swing for half an hour, and then met up with our old prayer group to bid farewell to mutual friends. For dinner we went to Moe's with four of his housemates, then watched a soccer game at an Irish pub from 9:30 onwards.
On Saturday, he picked me up and dropped me off at my spiritual director's house, then headed to a woodsy lake for a picnic and some reading. Our next activity was to water the lawn of a friend on vacation (the campus minister at Yale with whom he worked), and that took over an hour. We headed to the beach close to 4, and the weather was perfect: breezy, warm, not muggy, and not too strong of sunlight. Bradley Point Park is beautiful and faces the Long Island Sound. The tide was low, and we waded out to knee-deep water and made our way along the shore for a good while. Eventually we went to the part of the shore where people walked and roller-bladed on a cement path. A radio station played music for people to dance to, and I took a video to send to my friend Sarah in Germany.
It was past 6:30 when we returned to the car, where we decided to catch X-Men in theaters. We got ourselves on the road, got Wendy's drive-thru right off the freeway, and plopped into our seats in time for the movie.
By 10 pm we were in front of my house again, but we continued to talk until 1 am. It's not that I've never been this honest with a guy before--but it is the first time I can do so and have him be able to handle it.
Do we want marriage? we asked ourselves and each other.
Do we want to continue our friendship, this friends-and-a-bit-more-status?
Does our relationship support or hinder our respective callings?
What concerns might we have? I mentioned mine, because he wanted to know.
We're not really in love, but there's something to explore here.
It's a safe space, this friendship of ours, and I think we truly want what's best for the other person.
It's easy to be ourselves around each other--but is the attraction enough to last when we move away?
Jesus, these are questions we've asked each other--and that we invite you in to help us answer.
I don't think either of us want to love another person more than we love you. But if loving you means loving him, then I trust that time will let me know.
In the meantime, there's more hanging out to be had--and a short-but-hopefully-sweet summer to cherish.
~Natasha
I've been back in New Haven for nearly a week.
My kind-eyed friend picked me up from the train station, and that was the start to our summer.
We've hung out just about every other day--
On Tuesday, we made dinner at his place and chatted for a bit. Then, folks from church came to pray with him about a potential job opportunity, and I came home for a nice walk to the park.
On Thursday, we walked around New Haven for an hour, sat on his porch swing for half an hour, and then met up with our old prayer group to bid farewell to mutual friends. For dinner we went to Moe's with four of his housemates, then watched a soccer game at an Irish pub from 9:30 onwards.
On Saturday, he picked me up and dropped me off at my spiritual director's house, then headed to a woodsy lake for a picnic and some reading. Our next activity was to water the lawn of a friend on vacation (the campus minister at Yale with whom he worked), and that took over an hour. We headed to the beach close to 4, and the weather was perfect: breezy, warm, not muggy, and not too strong of sunlight. Bradley Point Park is beautiful and faces the Long Island Sound. The tide was low, and we waded out to knee-deep water and made our way along the shore for a good while. Eventually we went to the part of the shore where people walked and roller-bladed on a cement path. A radio station played music for people to dance to, and I took a video to send to my friend Sarah in Germany.
It was past 6:30 when we returned to the car, where we decided to catch X-Men in theaters. We got ourselves on the road, got Wendy's drive-thru right off the freeway, and plopped into our seats in time for the movie.
By 10 pm we were in front of my house again, but we continued to talk until 1 am. It's not that I've never been this honest with a guy before--but it is the first time I can do so and have him be able to handle it.
Do we want marriage? we asked ourselves and each other.
Do we want to continue our friendship, this friends-and-a-bit-more-status?
Does our relationship support or hinder our respective callings?
What concerns might we have? I mentioned mine, because he wanted to know.
We're not really in love, but there's something to explore here.
It's a safe space, this friendship of ours, and I think we truly want what's best for the other person.
It's easy to be ourselves around each other--but is the attraction enough to last when we move away?
Jesus, these are questions we've asked each other--and that we invite you in to help us answer.
I don't think either of us want to love another person more than we love you. But if loving you means loving him, then I trust that time will let me know.
In the meantime, there's more hanging out to be had--and a short-but-hopefully-sweet summer to cherish.
~Natasha
Friday, June 17, 2016
Consuming Thoughts
Rarely do I write when I eat.
Today is an exception, I suppose.
Thoughts come at the most unexpected times--in between bites of a carrot, I put the pieces together of an issue over which I've been puzzling for a while: what I think about the church as an institution and how it relates to my own spirituality. In consuming food, I also registered thoughts.
A week or so before finding a church home in New Haven at the Elm City Vineyard, I was at the airport watching the news about Ferguson and waiting for a connecting flight to Hartford, Connecticut. My spirit must have known that I needed to be in a community that actively addressed issues of racism, because both YDS and ECV turned out to be such places.
As an East Asian-American headed to a university that elevated my status within my demographic, it was crucial that I be aware of privileges of race. Coming from a largely Asian and white context, where black issues were often dismissed, I needed to bring racial issues to the forefront of my spiritual formation. I needed for my church home to have black leaders, and I needed to learn from black academics. I found what I needed in New Haven. Josh Williams, Julian Reid, Clarence Hardy, and Allen Reynolds will forever hold a dear place in my formation as a spiritual academic.
Seasons shift by and by, and as I look ahead to Boston and lament what happened in Orlando, I am compelled by the desire--the need--to seek a new church home that is open and affirming. Preferably with a woman as its lead pastor, too. These were things that the Elm City Vineyard did not have, and that's ok.
I'll be visiting a church in Boston on Sunday, I think. If it works out, I'd like to visit Reservoir Church, which began as a Vineyard Church but then became independent in order to be an open and affirming spiritual home for the queer community. Their leadership is very co-ed, and I need that. There are Asian women in leadership, and I've been yearning for that.
YDS and ECV were led by mostly white and black leaders, from whom I learned a lot and who I respect deeply. But I need to be led by someone who looks like me now, so it's time to move on.
Peter Hawkins, one of the professors who was on my trip to the Baltics with the Institute of Sacred Music, made a comment about my impending move: "Boston is a great place for a young Asian-American female."
New Haven was not.
I got what I needed from this season at Yale. It was important, and it's also time to move on.
I end with my Facebook status from today:
Today is an exception, I suppose.
Thoughts come at the most unexpected times--in between bites of a carrot, I put the pieces together of an issue over which I've been puzzling for a while: what I think about the church as an institution and how it relates to my own spirituality. In consuming food, I also registered thoughts.
A week or so before finding a church home in New Haven at the Elm City Vineyard, I was at the airport watching the news about Ferguson and waiting for a connecting flight to Hartford, Connecticut. My spirit must have known that I needed to be in a community that actively addressed issues of racism, because both YDS and ECV turned out to be such places.
As an East Asian-American headed to a university that elevated my status within my demographic, it was crucial that I be aware of privileges of race. Coming from a largely Asian and white context, where black issues were often dismissed, I needed to bring racial issues to the forefront of my spiritual formation. I needed for my church home to have black leaders, and I needed to learn from black academics. I found what I needed in New Haven. Josh Williams, Julian Reid, Clarence Hardy, and Allen Reynolds will forever hold a dear place in my formation as a spiritual academic.
Seasons shift by and by, and as I look ahead to Boston and lament what happened in Orlando, I am compelled by the desire--the need--to seek a new church home that is open and affirming. Preferably with a woman as its lead pastor, too. These were things that the Elm City Vineyard did not have, and that's ok.
I'll be visiting a church in Boston on Sunday, I think. If it works out, I'd like to visit Reservoir Church, which began as a Vineyard Church but then became independent in order to be an open and affirming spiritual home for the queer community. Their leadership is very co-ed, and I need that. There are Asian women in leadership, and I've been yearning for that.
YDS and ECV were led by mostly white and black leaders, from whom I learned a lot and who I respect deeply. But I need to be led by someone who looks like me now, so it's time to move on.
Peter Hawkins, one of the professors who was on my trip to the Baltics with the Institute of Sacred Music, made a comment about my impending move: "Boston is a great place for a young Asian-American female."
New Haven was not.
I got what I needed from this season at Yale. It was important, and it's also time to move on.
I end with my Facebook status from today:
Orlando has been on my mind all week, but the lament has been too deep for words until now.
Jesus wept. Jesus weeps.
God is love. God loves.
The Spirit is moving amidst the pain, and we need to get on board.
Lord, have mercy.
Running Thoughts
I left my phone at home this morning and went on a run.
I hadn't been awake for too long, so I had to work up to it.
I walked over to Edgerton Park, taking in the cheery neighborhood gardens with squirrels and birds going about their business--and landscapers putting in bright flowers. Once inside the park, I found a shaded spot under two tall pine trees and stretched.
I exited the park and began running.
There is a small wooded area by the river that runs under East Rock. My run took me there, and soon I entered the woods by dirt path and slowed down to a walk. At the wooden bridge that spans the river, I sat down and did some stretches and sit-ups.
It's surprising how close to the city one can find refuge in nature. There were storks upon storks--white birds with large wings and long legs.
Eventually I found my way home again, and came upon my neighbor moving in to the cottage next to the church. Together, we carried a few boxes up, and then I was home.
My heart has been overwhelmingly burdened by the horrific atmosphere in our nation this week. Orlando is just the part of the iceberg that happened to have exploded most recently. As a whole, things underneath the surface are not much better.
I've thought about deactivating my Facebook for a while, but have decided that to do so would be a form of escape from the world.
What I have tried to do is to be less introspective, for now.
Instead, I seek to observe nature, to savor food, and to catch up on sleep and exercise.
I hung out with friends last night, and that was nice. The US played Ecuador, and we watched the game at an Irish Pub. All guys, housemates of my kind-eyed friend. And me, the only person who still plays soccer.
I've been asking the Lord to give me a ministry to call my own someday. Something that I can partner with Jesus to give my time and heart to while on earth.
I spoke with my former prayer pastor over the phone the other day, and that was encouraging. She's an Asian woman in pastoral leadership, married to a younger man and the mother of 2 awesome kids. She's a wonderful host, keeps a clean home, and loves hiking. I've never identified more with any other pastor in my life.
There is something profound going on in the heavens. Spiritual battles manifest themselves in earthly horrors, and Orlando is no exception.
Eschatologically, there may be a shift coming, and the Church needs to get on board with LGBTQI issues and become open and affirming.
Slavery and women's rights were battles of past centuries. They still go on today, in parts of the world that I often forget about.
But sexuality is a storm that's been a long time coming, and I'm expectant for Jesus to show up in the midst of a messy topic that divides and wounds.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!
I hadn't been awake for too long, so I had to work up to it.
I walked over to Edgerton Park, taking in the cheery neighborhood gardens with squirrels and birds going about their business--and landscapers putting in bright flowers. Once inside the park, I found a shaded spot under two tall pine trees and stretched.
I exited the park and began running.
There is a small wooded area by the river that runs under East Rock. My run took me there, and soon I entered the woods by dirt path and slowed down to a walk. At the wooden bridge that spans the river, I sat down and did some stretches and sit-ups.
It's surprising how close to the city one can find refuge in nature. There were storks upon storks--white birds with large wings and long legs.
Eventually I found my way home again, and came upon my neighbor moving in to the cottage next to the church. Together, we carried a few boxes up, and then I was home.
My heart has been overwhelmingly burdened by the horrific atmosphere in our nation this week. Orlando is just the part of the iceberg that happened to have exploded most recently. As a whole, things underneath the surface are not much better.
I've thought about deactivating my Facebook for a while, but have decided that to do so would be a form of escape from the world.
What I have tried to do is to be less introspective, for now.
Instead, I seek to observe nature, to savor food, and to catch up on sleep and exercise.
I hung out with friends last night, and that was nice. The US played Ecuador, and we watched the game at an Irish Pub. All guys, housemates of my kind-eyed friend. And me, the only person who still plays soccer.
I've been asking the Lord to give me a ministry to call my own someday. Something that I can partner with Jesus to give my time and heart to while on earth.
I spoke with my former prayer pastor over the phone the other day, and that was encouraging. She's an Asian woman in pastoral leadership, married to a younger man and the mother of 2 awesome kids. She's a wonderful host, keeps a clean home, and loves hiking. I've never identified more with any other pastor in my life.
There is something profound going on in the heavens. Spiritual battles manifest themselves in earthly horrors, and Orlando is no exception.
Eschatologically, there may be a shift coming, and the Church needs to get on board with LGBTQI issues and become open and affirming.
Slavery and women's rights were battles of past centuries. They still go on today, in parts of the world that I often forget about.
But sexuality is a storm that's been a long time coming, and I'm expectant for Jesus to show up in the midst of a messy topic that divides and wounds.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!
Farewells to Friends
We said goodbye to the Harrises last night.
I still remember meeting the group at church, discovering we were all Divinity students, and exchanging numbers. I remember forming a prayer group, called the Imposters, and meeting once every two weeks throughout our first year. I remember thinking how white everyone in the group was--and how specifically Assemblies of God their outlook on Christianity was.
I've always been able to adjust to people I'm around, and to fit in somehow. The Imposters was just one of many social groups I had in New Haven, and I was grateful for them.
It's been a while since we've been together. I was insanely busy this school year, and they all joined homegroups and didn't need as much support anymore.
Last night, we shared some highlights and memories from the past two years, and we did what our friendship was formed around: we prayed.
I'm dating an Imposter now, much to my surprise, and it's so interesting to look back and remember how much like a brother he felt in the beginning. A fellow student, prayer partner, and a kind-eyed friend, but nothing else.
After all, what did someone like me have to do with white Assemblies of God folk?
The Spirit knits hearts together, I suppose.
May we continue to follow their leading (yes, I'm making the Spirit transgender, per the current progressive trend) as our paths branch out from New Haven, with 2 of us staying for one more year of Divinity school, 2 of us moving to Ohio to teach in a Christian school, and my kind-eyed friend and I most likely moving in opposite directions--me moving north to Boston to direct international students, and he looking south to Princeton to pastor young adults.
I'm excited for us all. We're no longer Imposters at Yale, but alumni of a place we learned to call home together. Cheers!
I still remember meeting the group at church, discovering we were all Divinity students, and exchanging numbers. I remember forming a prayer group, called the Imposters, and meeting once every two weeks throughout our first year. I remember thinking how white everyone in the group was--and how specifically Assemblies of God their outlook on Christianity was.
I've always been able to adjust to people I'm around, and to fit in somehow. The Imposters was just one of many social groups I had in New Haven, and I was grateful for them.
It's been a while since we've been together. I was insanely busy this school year, and they all joined homegroups and didn't need as much support anymore.
Last night, we shared some highlights and memories from the past two years, and we did what our friendship was formed around: we prayed.
I'm dating an Imposter now, much to my surprise, and it's so interesting to look back and remember how much like a brother he felt in the beginning. A fellow student, prayer partner, and a kind-eyed friend, but nothing else.
After all, what did someone like me have to do with white Assemblies of God folk?
The Spirit knits hearts together, I suppose.
May we continue to follow their leading (yes, I'm making the Spirit transgender, per the current progressive trend) as our paths branch out from New Haven, with 2 of us staying for one more year of Divinity school, 2 of us moving to Ohio to teach in a Christian school, and my kind-eyed friend and I most likely moving in opposite directions--me moving north to Boston to direct international students, and he looking south to Princeton to pastor young adults.
I'm excited for us all. We're no longer Imposters at Yale, but alumni of a place we learned to call home together. Cheers!
Thursday, June 16, 2016
Letters to Loved Ones
Jesus, I don't know how to even begin processing what happened in Orlando. Every day I read others' posts on Facebook, and I just feel more numb and more helpless. It makes me want to hide from humanity altogether.
Lord, thank you for providing employment so quickly after graduation! I don't think I'm quite cool enough to live in Boston, but I think I can rise to the occasion. If you've provided me with a job, I trust that you'll also provide me with housing.
Holy Spirit, guide me in the way I should go. There is a calling beyond employment, and a ministry beyond vocation. As well, a kind-eyed friend whom you've placed in my life for this season...
St. Petersburg, Natasha is thankful she got to visit you. What a magical place.
Finland, you were a bit too chic for me, but I wish you all the best.
Tallin, you charmed my heart and I'll remember you fondly.
Bethesda House, it's been real. Cheers to the handsome roommate who never did his chores but got away with it anyway. To the liaison who also disliked chores and always left the lights on. To the boys who learned how to cook and were more willing than the rest to do chores. And to Pastor Tim, who made it all happen and who I've come to like quite a lot.
To YDS, it's been real as well. I gave you 200%, and I'm ready to move on. Thanks for letting me come study for free, and good luck--you'll need it!
To the ISM, you aren't as amazing as you think, but I'm grateful for the chance to transfer in during my final year and have expenses paid for. Thank you for taking me to the Baltics.
To my girlfriends who both crave and give unconditional love and care, that's real. Men are poor substitutes for love, and love can be found in so many other places and ways. I hope you always know how worth it you are, and how not worth the time most relationships with men are.
To my guy friends, I love you all. Polyamory is a thing, but in my world it's a celibate thing. I will always love the men in my life, even though they are far from perfect.
To my queer friends, you understand love and humanity in a way that I want to. I celebrate you, and I can't even imagine what something like Orlando must feel like.
To the U.S.--I didn't miss you at all when I was abroad. You're a fucking mess, and Lord have mercy on us all!
To New Haven--I did miss you when I was away. I can't wait to make love to you for one month before I leave you.
To my church home in New Haven--it's been good. I'm ready to leave, but I'll always owe a tremendous amount of spiritual growth to your grounding and consistent presence in my life over the last 2 years.
To my home group--you've been family. I'll miss you, and I truly wish you all the best.
Love,
Natasha
Lord, thank you for providing employment so quickly after graduation! I don't think I'm quite cool enough to live in Boston, but I think I can rise to the occasion. If you've provided me with a job, I trust that you'll also provide me with housing.
Holy Spirit, guide me in the way I should go. There is a calling beyond employment, and a ministry beyond vocation. As well, a kind-eyed friend whom you've placed in my life for this season...
St. Petersburg, Natasha is thankful she got to visit you. What a magical place.
Finland, you were a bit too chic for me, but I wish you all the best.
Tallin, you charmed my heart and I'll remember you fondly.
Bethesda House, it's been real. Cheers to the handsome roommate who never did his chores but got away with it anyway. To the liaison who also disliked chores and always left the lights on. To the boys who learned how to cook and were more willing than the rest to do chores. And to Pastor Tim, who made it all happen and who I've come to like quite a lot.
To YDS, it's been real as well. I gave you 200%, and I'm ready to move on. Thanks for letting me come study for free, and good luck--you'll need it!
To the ISM, you aren't as amazing as you think, but I'm grateful for the chance to transfer in during my final year and have expenses paid for. Thank you for taking me to the Baltics.
To my girlfriends who both crave and give unconditional love and care, that's real. Men are poor substitutes for love, and love can be found in so many other places and ways. I hope you always know how worth it you are, and how not worth the time most relationships with men are.
To my guy friends, I love you all. Polyamory is a thing, but in my world it's a celibate thing. I will always love the men in my life, even though they are far from perfect.
To my queer friends, you understand love and humanity in a way that I want to. I celebrate you, and I can't even imagine what something like Orlando must feel like.
To the U.S.--I didn't miss you at all when I was abroad. You're a fucking mess, and Lord have mercy on us all!
To New Haven--I did miss you when I was away. I can't wait to make love to you for one month before I leave you.
To my church home in New Haven--it's been good. I'm ready to leave, but I'll always owe a tremendous amount of spiritual growth to your grounding and consistent presence in my life over the last 2 years.
To my home group--you've been family. I'll miss you, and I truly wish you all the best.
Love,
Natasha
Monday, May 16, 2016
There and Back Again
There's an hour to kill before our ride comes to take us to LAX. I arrived in SoCal on Wednesday afternoon and am leaving again tonight.
It's a real blessing to be 30 years old and to be able to come home to the house in which you grew up.
Although, a large part of this trip was also to visit the newly purchased home in which my parents hope to grow old.
In between shuttling between the two locations, old and new, I watched my brother graduate from my alma mater with an Master of Public Policy and got to see family, neighbors, and 3 friends--the smallest amount of catching up I've ever done on a trip home.
Last night, Mom and I visited our neighbor Jan and her cousin Christine. We four ladies raised our champagne glasses (mimosas, anyone?) to toast to life, friendship, graduation, and retirement. I didn't take a picture, but that scene will be forever embedded in my mind.
This morning, I drove for several miles down Fair Oaks, a major street in Pasadena. I passed by Huntington Hospital, where Jan's husband passed away in December of 2014. My family was there the day before he died, and he kissed us each on the forehead before we said goodbye.
Huntington Hospital is also where I had my cystectomy in February of 2013, right before being maid of honor in my friend Jamie's wedding. This afternoon, I saw that her for the first time in 2 years and met her 20-month son--the product of that marriage.
My final destination was 711 S. Fair Oaks, an El Pollo Loco in a regular corner strip mall where my friend Joyce agreed to meet me for her lunch break. Turns out she works in 625 S. Fair Oaks, the same building that housed my first job out of school--the office of Mission Hospice. It's been 6 years since I left, and I will forever be grateful for the invitation to start a music therapy program there.
Things have a way of coming full circle, don't they?
This afternoon, three of us girlfriends, along with Jamie's son, had a picnic in Wilderness Park, just up the street from my home and the site of many a childhood memory with my family.
I've been away from home for a while now, but I still feel grounded whenever I come back.
I don't know when the next visit will be. It depends on jobs, living, and relationships on the East Coast.
'Till next time, then. There's no place like home.
It's a real blessing to be 30 years old and to be able to come home to the house in which you grew up.
Although, a large part of this trip was also to visit the newly purchased home in which my parents hope to grow old.
In between shuttling between the two locations, old and new, I watched my brother graduate from my alma mater with an Master of Public Policy and got to see family, neighbors, and 3 friends--the smallest amount of catching up I've ever done on a trip home.
Last night, Mom and I visited our neighbor Jan and her cousin Christine. We four ladies raised our champagne glasses (mimosas, anyone?) to toast to life, friendship, graduation, and retirement. I didn't take a picture, but that scene will be forever embedded in my mind.
This morning, I drove for several miles down Fair Oaks, a major street in Pasadena. I passed by Huntington Hospital, where Jan's husband passed away in December of 2014. My family was there the day before he died, and he kissed us each on the forehead before we said goodbye.
Huntington Hospital is also where I had my cystectomy in February of 2013, right before being maid of honor in my friend Jamie's wedding. This afternoon, I saw that her for the first time in 2 years and met her 20-month son--the product of that marriage.
My final destination was 711 S. Fair Oaks, an El Pollo Loco in a regular corner strip mall where my friend Joyce agreed to meet me for her lunch break. Turns out she works in 625 S. Fair Oaks, the same building that housed my first job out of school--the office of Mission Hospice. It's been 6 years since I left, and I will forever be grateful for the invitation to start a music therapy program there.
Things have a way of coming full circle, don't they?
This afternoon, three of us girlfriends, along with Jamie's son, had a picnic in Wilderness Park, just up the street from my home and the site of many a childhood memory with my family.
I've been away from home for a while now, but I still feel grounded whenever I come back.
I don't know when the next visit will be. It depends on jobs, living, and relationships on the East Coast.
'Till next time, then. There's no place like home.
Saturday, May 14, 2016
Hello from the Other Side
Greetings from Southern California, where the skies are bright blue and there are palm trees and blooming jacaranda trees!
I'm starting to feel like a human again, and not like a zombie.
For the last week, I was so exhausted that I couldn't really rest. Your mind goes numb when it's been under such strain for such a long time, and after a point it becomes even hard to pray. All I could say was, "Jesus, I know you're here with me, and that's good enough for now." All I could think about was how tired I was.
This morning I woke up feeling like myself again--a little more alert, with my digestive system back to normal, and not wondering when the next nap would be. And that's a good place to be =)
I'm starting to feel like a human again, and not like a zombie.
For the last week, I was so exhausted that I couldn't really rest. Your mind goes numb when it's been under such strain for such a long time, and after a point it becomes even hard to pray. All I could say was, "Jesus, I know you're here with me, and that's good enough for now." All I could think about was how tired I was.
This morning I woke up feeling like myself again--a little more alert, with my digestive system back to normal, and not wondering when the next nap would be. And that's a good place to be =)
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Pilgrimage
We're all familiar with the trope of leaving home in order to find out who we really are.
Perhaps the fact that I've taken so many short trips away from New Haven this spring means that it's truly become home--because I've been restless to leave it.
Each trip brought about different emotional processes, and God spoke different things to me each time. Some of it was some pretty deep wrestling. Other experiences pointed me towards thoughts about my future and my calling. All of it took time and money in a season of life where both were quite limited.
Was it all worth it? Pilgrims of old spent their life savings--and sometimes the remaining years of their life after they left home--on the road, in the company of other spiritually-minded transients, in search of something deeper than the routine they knew. Pilgrims wrote travel diaries that we--well, at least the DivSchool-kind-of-folk--still read today.
Part of me thinks that I needed to get out of New Haven to escape an atmosphere that feels quite oppressive sometimes. A month ago, I left one difficult spiritual territory for another, arriving in San Francisco only to overhear a traumatic experience in the hotel. The week prior, I was in D.C., where the friend I was visiting had a very uncanny encounter with an ex. In March, during Spring Break, I had to confront my own demons while out and about, first in New York City and then in Kennebunk, Maine.
I'm traveling again today, going home for a few days before flying back again (with parents in tow) for graduation. As I write this post mid-air (Fly-Fi is amazing!), I am feeling absolutely exhausted. For the first time in weeks, I can actually afford to feel tired, and my body is slowly coming off of the adrenaline it's been running on. I can hardly believe that, for the next leg of transit--I started at 5:30 this morning, from home, Union Station, to Grand Central Station, and then to JFK--will simply involve walking out on to the Long Beach Airport curb and getting in my dad's car to go home. It will sure feel good to just go home and not have to do anything for an afternoon--except be with my parents and eat some food.
There's travel yet to come, and I won't really be back (in New Haven ) "for good" (-ish) until June 12th, but I'm not going to think about that right now. Right now, I'm blogging on the airplane, listening to iTunes, and ready to take a little nap again.
Zzzzzz.....
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Weather
It's been cloudy all week, with spurts of heavy rain, and I haven't seen the sun in days.
We're so close to the end, my housemates and I, and two of us have been feeling under the weather.
Thank goodness for burnt toast, Pepto-Bismol, and wine to settle upset stomachs and calm heartburn.
It will be nice to feel human again--in the sense that the demands of academia are finally shed. It will be nice to breathe again and to be able to see friends without time limits--because assignments are no longer calling. But in the meantime, I'm really grateful to be finishing my semester and my degree. What a privilege this has been!
We're so close to the end, my housemates and I, and two of us have been feeling under the weather.
Thank goodness for burnt toast, Pepto-Bismol, and wine to settle upset stomachs and calm heartburn.
It will be nice to feel human again--in the sense that the demands of academia are finally shed. It will be nice to breathe again and to be able to see friends without time limits--because assignments are no longer calling. But in the meantime, I'm really grateful to be finishing my semester and my degree. What a privilege this has been!
Saturday, May 7, 2016
A Dream
I wonder if this will all feel like a dream, when it's all said and done.
My YDS experience is already beginning to feel surreal, even as I'm wrapping up with final things.
The real world will not be as amazing as this environment has been. I don't think I'll ever feel as empowered and free to be myself ever again, and for being able to say that, I feel both grateful and sad.
What lies next is unbeknownst to me. When asked what I've got coming after graduation, I usually answer, "I can't wait to find out!" or "Only God knows!"
The point, though, is that He does know. And that's enough for me to trust in.
Good night. Tomorrow will be a new day. Sweet dreams...
My YDS experience is already beginning to feel surreal, even as I'm wrapping up with final things.
The real world will not be as amazing as this environment has been. I don't think I'll ever feel as empowered and free to be myself ever again, and for being able to say that, I feel both grateful and sad.
What lies next is unbeknownst to me. When asked what I've got coming after graduation, I usually answer, "I can't wait to find out!" or "Only God knows!"
The point, though, is that He does know. And that's enough for me to trust in.
Good night. Tomorrow will be a new day. Sweet dreams...
Stillness
There's a stillness that comes after the storm, and the in the aftermath of a paper, I cleaned my room, listened to music while coloring, and then just lay on my bed and listened to the stillness.
Tonight I rest my brain. Tomorrow I study again.
Soon enough it will all be over. And then-- on to other things: some travel, some family time, some friend-time.
Thank you, Lord, for helping me crank out 19 pages in 2 days. May I sleep soundly so that I may study well tomorrow.
Amen.
Tonight I rest my brain. Tomorrow I study again.
Soon enough it will all be over. And then-- on to other things: some travel, some family time, some friend-time.
Thank you, Lord, for helping me crank out 19 pages in 2 days. May I sleep soundly so that I may study well tomorrow.
Amen.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
The Bride
We've all seen it, perhaps.
A twenty-something-year-old bride, walking down the aisle, looking both scared and smug as she loops her arm around her father's.
She's made it this far, and she feels like she's made it.
She's half-gloating over the others who have yet to find a soul-mate, and she's also feeling horribly inadequate and insecure as an adult.
Getting married elevates one's status in society and the church, whether or not one has earned it.
She may not realize that consummating her wedding on the honeymoon necessarily mean that she knows how to love. She may not realize that becoming one with her husband in no way proves that she's a mature woman.
Young bride, there is so much more to life and love than you could ever imagine!
Read the writings of celibate nuns and monks of old, whose spiritual quests and earthly lives demonstrate something far deeper and more legitimate than marital bliss!
Eventually, she will have to learn to get over herself--her selfishness, her immaturity, her insecurity. She will realize that it is more blessed to give--validation, encouragement, time, energy, and understanding--than to receive. She will realize how much she didn't realize before she got married.
There is nothing wrong with getting married. But it has to be done with humility and grace, otherwise you leave a bad taste in everyone else's mouth.
A twenty-something-year-old bride, walking down the aisle, looking both scared and smug as she loops her arm around her father's.
She's made it this far, and she feels like she's made it.
She's half-gloating over the others who have yet to find a soul-mate, and she's also feeling horribly inadequate and insecure as an adult.
Getting married elevates one's status in society and the church, whether or not one has earned it.
She may not realize that consummating her wedding on the honeymoon necessarily mean that she knows how to love. She may not realize that becoming one with her husband in no way proves that she's a mature woman.
Young bride, there is so much more to life and love than you could ever imagine!
Read the writings of celibate nuns and monks of old, whose spiritual quests and earthly lives demonstrate something far deeper and more legitimate than marital bliss!
Eventually, she will have to learn to get over herself--her selfishness, her immaturity, her insecurity. She will realize that it is more blessed to give--validation, encouragement, time, energy, and understanding--than to receive. She will realize how much she didn't realize before she got married.
There is nothing wrong with getting married. But it has to be done with humility and grace, otherwise you leave a bad taste in everyone else's mouth.
The Fight
The fight is never over, at least on this side of eternity.
We fight our inner demons, insecurities, pettiness, fears, and inadequacies for most of our teens and twenties. In our thirties, things feel more settled, but there are larger battles with which to contend.
Social injustices.
Economic inequalities.
Friends' lives teetering precariously, on the brink of just OK and much better.
I feel like I've been fighting for my friends lately--my girlfriends who are worth so much and are beautiful to behold, but may not always feel or recognize it.
There is a lot in this world that wants to bring us down, ladies. Sometimes we just need to tell evil and the devil to get the fuck out of our lives. And don't forget: the best way to chase out darkness is to let the light in.
"Behind every successful woman is a man who prays," a friend proclaimed recently. Brothers, would you stand up and fight for the women in your life and champion their integrity, strength, and happiness?
The fight thickens. Who will join us?
We fight our inner demons, insecurities, pettiness, fears, and inadequacies for most of our teens and twenties. In our thirties, things feel more settled, but there are larger battles with which to contend.
Social injustices.
Economic inequalities.
Friends' lives teetering precariously, on the brink of just OK and much better.
I feel like I've been fighting for my friends lately--my girlfriends who are worth so much and are beautiful to behold, but may not always feel or recognize it.
There is a lot in this world that wants to bring us down, ladies. Sometimes we just need to tell evil and the devil to get the fuck out of our lives. And don't forget: the best way to chase out darkness is to let the light in.
"Behind every successful woman is a man who prays," a friend proclaimed recently. Brothers, would you stand up and fight for the women in your life and champion their integrity, strength, and happiness?
The fight thickens. Who will join us?
Thursday, April 21, 2016
A New Spirituality of Sexuality
The lovely thing about being a part of a community that validates wider forms of sexuality than might normally be found in a local church is that deep hugs of healing and affection occur on a daily basis.
Several of my close friends here are married males, whose wives I know and totally respect and adore. Some of my most admired (s)heroes are fighting for the freedom to express same-sex love in a world that is still quite homophobic. Single people are not made to feel less adequate, because regardless of marital status, dating life, and sexuality, we are all students with something to learn and teach.
There is a way that this community celebrates the physical, emotional, and spiritual beauty of its members in ways that are non-threatening and that are expressions of love rather than exertions of power. There is an incredible freedom in this space to be who we were created to be--and to rejoice in others doing the same. This means that I can tell a friend how beautiful she looks, and ask how her same-sex partner is doing, and give a long hug--all in the same breath. This means that I can cuddle with my housemate's girlfriend, with him there, and rejoice that love is love, and hugs are healing.
Not quite so in the "real world," where society cares about status--marital, financial, and otherwise--more than about a person's core beauty. How can the Kin-dom of God be made manifest in my life after YDS?
I don't know, and I don't need to know now. May Jesus show me how best to channel His love to a world that shames sexuality, singleness, celibacy, faithfulness, chastity, and promiscuity. The bottom line is that we are sexual beings, with deep spiritual and emotional needs that are intricately woven in with our sexuality. Oh, we are broken, and I know that many things have gone awry in the course of the human narrative. I take Scripture seriously and still wonder how to reconcile my personal experiences with Paul's letters. But I won't give up on love, and I know that ultimately, love does conquer all.
Amen.
Several of my close friends here are married males, whose wives I know and totally respect and adore. Some of my most admired (s)heroes are fighting for the freedom to express same-sex love in a world that is still quite homophobic. Single people are not made to feel less adequate, because regardless of marital status, dating life, and sexuality, we are all students with something to learn and teach.
There is a way that this community celebrates the physical, emotional, and spiritual beauty of its members in ways that are non-threatening and that are expressions of love rather than exertions of power. There is an incredible freedom in this space to be who we were created to be--and to rejoice in others doing the same. This means that I can tell a friend how beautiful she looks, and ask how her same-sex partner is doing, and give a long hug--all in the same breath. This means that I can cuddle with my housemate's girlfriend, with him there, and rejoice that love is love, and hugs are healing.
Not quite so in the "real world," where society cares about status--marital, financial, and otherwise--more than about a person's core beauty. How can the Kin-dom of God be made manifest in my life after YDS?
I don't know, and I don't need to know now. May Jesus show me how best to channel His love to a world that shames sexuality, singleness, celibacy, faithfulness, chastity, and promiscuity. The bottom line is that we are sexual beings, with deep spiritual and emotional needs that are intricately woven in with our sexuality. Oh, we are broken, and I know that many things have gone awry in the course of the human narrative. I take Scripture seriously and still wonder how to reconcile my personal experiences with Paul's letters. But I won't give up on love, and I know that ultimately, love does conquer all.
Amen.
Liberation Theology for Single People
When I started dating someone seriously for the first time--this means that my parents and their friends knew about it, as opposed to something I was figuring out on my own or just with peers--my life changed.
Not only was I getting more attention than ever from one special person, but others around me were also constantly asking, blessing, and praising me for the "accomplishment" of finding someone. Apparently, just because I'd had great chemistry with a guy I met at the wedding of mutual friends, I had somehow "earned" a higher status in the eyes of society.
In the church, singleness is often framed as a time of preparing for marriage. We save ourselves so that we can offer ourselves to our mate. We serve the church so that we can one day love a family. And we're not "real adults"--or full-fledged members of church leadership--until we find another half.
Things completely changed when I decided not to be in a relationship anymore.
During the discernment process, adults told me, "This is as good as you'll ever get. If you don't take this opportunity, another one won't come along." The only time someone is allowed to give me such important advice is 1) If they have committed to praying for me regularly and 2) If they are willing to walk with me in the aftermath of the decision.
It is the most bizarre thing to be in a serious relationship (on and off) for a few years and then suddenly be thrust "back" into the world of singles. Married and dating couples no longer want to hang out with you. (So "let's go on a double date!" was more of an exercise in validating un-singleness than in truly spending quality time, after all.) Adults get on your case for being a failure in the relationship department. Nobody really asks you what actually happened and how it's affecting you.
I was glad to learn of a liberation theology for single people recently. Read more here.
Lately, the wounds of which I speak have healed more completely. It's been an uphill battle for the last few years, but I have found myself to be happier than I ever was when I was in a romantic relationship. Without looking for it, I have found myself having deep relationships with good guys, and now I invest more into friendship than in the idea of romance.
This is not to say that I will resist something if it develops, but I am more interested in building people up as a friend and encouraging them to follow their calling than in asking them to give particular attention to me. I am in a time of discernment right now, and the things I think about concern both marriage and vocation. Before things are made clear, I want to take time to say:
I promise to validate singles for the rest of my life. In sickness and health, in my own times of singleness and in my times of exploration with a potential partner. I promise to pray for the church and for our society, that individuals would be celebrated for who God has made them to be rather than the "status" they possess or have been given.
It breaks my heart to see the institution of marriage put on such a high pedestal at the expense of those who are outside of--or not benefitting from--it. This means gays, singles, divorced, unhappily married, domestically abused, and the polyamorous.
Love is for everyone, folks, and it's about time we started sharing it!
Not only was I getting more attention than ever from one special person, but others around me were also constantly asking, blessing, and praising me for the "accomplishment" of finding someone. Apparently, just because I'd had great chemistry with a guy I met at the wedding of mutual friends, I had somehow "earned" a higher status in the eyes of society.
In the church, singleness is often framed as a time of preparing for marriage. We save ourselves so that we can offer ourselves to our mate. We serve the church so that we can one day love a family. And we're not "real adults"--or full-fledged members of church leadership--until we find another half.
Things completely changed when I decided not to be in a relationship anymore.
During the discernment process, adults told me, "This is as good as you'll ever get. If you don't take this opportunity, another one won't come along." The only time someone is allowed to give me such important advice is 1) If they have committed to praying for me regularly and 2) If they are willing to walk with me in the aftermath of the decision.
It is the most bizarre thing to be in a serious relationship (on and off) for a few years and then suddenly be thrust "back" into the world of singles. Married and dating couples no longer want to hang out with you. (So "let's go on a double date!" was more of an exercise in validating un-singleness than in truly spending quality time, after all.) Adults get on your case for being a failure in the relationship department. Nobody really asks you what actually happened and how it's affecting you.
I was glad to learn of a liberation theology for single people recently. Read more here.
Lately, the wounds of which I speak have healed more completely. It's been an uphill battle for the last few years, but I have found myself to be happier than I ever was when I was in a romantic relationship. Without looking for it, I have found myself having deep relationships with good guys, and now I invest more into friendship than in the idea of romance.
This is not to say that I will resist something if it develops, but I am more interested in building people up as a friend and encouraging them to follow their calling than in asking them to give particular attention to me. I am in a time of discernment right now, and the things I think about concern both marriage and vocation. Before things are made clear, I want to take time to say:
I promise to validate singles for the rest of my life. In sickness and health, in my own times of singleness and in my times of exploration with a potential partner. I promise to pray for the church and for our society, that individuals would be celebrated for who God has made them to be rather than the "status" they possess or have been given.
It breaks my heart to see the institution of marriage put on such a high pedestal at the expense of those who are outside of--or not benefitting from--it. This means gays, singles, divorced, unhappily married, domestically abused, and the polyamorous.
Love is for everyone, folks, and it's about time we started sharing it!
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Jesus, Take the Wheel
It's been one of those weeks where Jesus has been in charge of my schedule.
From last Tuesday to last night--essentially, in the week that I've been back in New Haven and not traveling anymore--I had several unplanned and unexpected conversations with my close friends at YDS. God is definitely doing some serious work here!
At the end of the semester, when everything is due, one does not expect to find oneself immersed in heart-to-hearts about relationships, sex, power, Pentecostalism, speaking in tongues, fighting the devil, praying in the spirit, calling, pastoring, the role of Scripture for academic people, what to do when God stops speaking to you, family dynamics, trauma, or rape. But I've had them all.
And somehow, my work is still going to get done.
As the Country song goes: Jesus, take the wheel!
From last Tuesday to last night--essentially, in the week that I've been back in New Haven and not traveling anymore--I had several unplanned and unexpected conversations with my close friends at YDS. God is definitely doing some serious work here!
At the end of the semester, when everything is due, one does not expect to find oneself immersed in heart-to-hearts about relationships, sex, power, Pentecostalism, speaking in tongues, fighting the devil, praying in the spirit, calling, pastoring, the role of Scripture for academic people, what to do when God stops speaking to you, family dynamics, trauma, or rape. But I've had them all.
And somehow, my work is still going to get done.
As the Country song goes: Jesus, take the wheel!
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
All Hands on Deck
I've hit the ground running.
I got home at 1 am, slept at 2 am, and was back at school by noon today for lunch, class, and meetings.
In the evening, I ended up having some pretty urgent and powerful conversations with an assortment of friends here--from 5-10 pm! There are others I need to catch up with at some point, after being gone for 2 weekends in a row.
I have 4 weeks to write 4 papers and take 1 final. I'm Community Life Coordinator and Class Gift Officer, which means there are 3 big events to help plan before Graduation, and a LOT of emails and budgetary decisions to make.
How can I possibly spend quality time with my community here, keep in touch with friends back in California, and get all this work done?
It's gonna happen, and it won't be by my own strength.
In the meantime, I'm processing a ton of stuff related to career and calling:
Feed my Lambs:
John 21
15 When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”
16 Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”
17 The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. 18 Very truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.”
And the greatest of these is Love:
More Love, More Power: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzQwqpjHQV0
I Believe: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qfeb7dlChmE&ebc=ANyPxKqNrxI059YtaufNekuqkDsSwoCrgj_p15_sGoIbGpKK_Mx47QFcQEnMnLW0M51Qip1wIbfZI18hOzU15KCdkrh7vdzCrw&nohtml5=False
I got home at 1 am, slept at 2 am, and was back at school by noon today for lunch, class, and meetings.
In the evening, I ended up having some pretty urgent and powerful conversations with an assortment of friends here--from 5-10 pm! There are others I need to catch up with at some point, after being gone for 2 weekends in a row.
I have 4 weeks to write 4 papers and take 1 final. I'm Community Life Coordinator and Class Gift Officer, which means there are 3 big events to help plan before Graduation, and a LOT of emails and budgetary decisions to make.
How can I possibly spend quality time with my community here, keep in touch with friends back in California, and get all this work done?
It's gonna happen, and it won't be by my own strength.
In the meantime, I'm processing a ton of stuff related to career and calling:
Feed my Lambs:
John 21
15 When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”
16 Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”
17 The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”
Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. 18 Very truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.”
And the greatest of these is Love:
More Love, More Power: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xzQwqpjHQV0
I Believe: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qfeb7dlChmE&ebc=ANyPxKqNrxI059YtaufNekuqkDsSwoCrgj_p15_sGoIbGpKK_Mx47QFcQEnMnLW0M51Qip1wIbfZI18hOzU15KCdkrh7vdzCrw&nohtml5=False
Monday, April 11, 2016
Homeward Bound
This is fantastic--I'm getting so much done online using Fly-Fi on JetBlue. I've never done this before, and it sort of ruins the crazy liminality one gets to experience mid-air and between time zones. Oh well, why not...
My San Francisco weekend was incredible. There was so much being activated in my spirit and I felt this wonderful new level of grounded-ness growing within me. I do believe that there is something about traveling outside one's bubble that can bring new clarity and confidence. Saints of old spent time and energy embarking on pilgrimages, so clearly this is a thing.
The day before I left for my trip, we had extended prayer time at home group. This is a home group that seeks to help its members learn to hear from God, in community. Encouraging words and images were spoken over and to me, and they were further expounded upon during my travels.
God gave me the best glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge this morning. It came completely unexpectedly, as my friends and I rounded a corner on a coastal hike. I ran when I saw it, going towards the vista point to take it all in. I fell in love with this symbol of both hope and despair when I was 12 years old, and it's meant something to me ever since. It reminded me today of the strong sense of calling I felt during my time at Yale to be a #bridge--between black and white students; the church and society; and between liberal and conservative Christianity.
I thought a lot, too, about the significance of the month of April in my life. My first date 10 years ago, with a college sweetheart, who was also here this weekend, with his wife, who is exactly the perfect woman for him and someone I cheered for as they dated. They got married 4 years ago, right around the time things ended with my ex. In order to make it to their wedding and to be with a mom who was experiencing intense physical and spiritual illness and attack, I packed my car and drove home to LA. A good friend--the one who got married this weekend--was also driving down to the wedding and helped me bring a few items that wouldn't fit. April is an important anniversary for many other things that I won't mention here. What I will say is that anniversaries always remind me of God's incredible goodness and mercy in my life--in all of its brokenness and beauty.
I will always love my City by the Bay, but I'm going home now, to a community that I've been given and that I've invested in. New Haven gets me for the next few weeks, and then exactly a month from today, I fly back to California again for my brother's graduation.
Oh Jesus, may I treasure up all the things from this trip in my heart. I'd rather live them out through your Spirit than hold onto and remember exactly what (in what exact words) you impressed upon my heart. May I embody what I write about, and may they pass through me as I try to follow Jesus with every breath of my being.
I think I'll stop here for now and end by mentioning, randomly:
2 articles I read over the last 2 days, taken from friends' recommendations/Facebook shares:
http://www.refinery29.com/call-girl-confidence?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=adsales&utm_campaign=STARZ
http://www.christenacleveland.com/2016/04/a-liberation-theology-for-single-people/
2 talks:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBGNJQWSYHY&app=desktop
http://www.desiringgod.org/
My San Francisco weekend was incredible. There was so much being activated in my spirit and I felt this wonderful new level of grounded-ness growing within me. I do believe that there is something about traveling outside one's bubble that can bring new clarity and confidence. Saints of old spent time and energy embarking on pilgrimages, so clearly this is a thing.
The day before I left for my trip, we had extended prayer time at home group. This is a home group that seeks to help its members learn to hear from God, in community. Encouraging words and images were spoken over and to me, and they were further expounded upon during my travels.
God gave me the best glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge this morning. It came completely unexpectedly, as my friends and I rounded a corner on a coastal hike. I ran when I saw it, going towards the vista point to take it all in. I fell in love with this symbol of both hope and despair when I was 12 years old, and it's meant something to me ever since. It reminded me today of the strong sense of calling I felt during my time at Yale to be a #bridge--between black and white students; the church and society; and between liberal and conservative Christianity.
I thought a lot, too, about the significance of the month of April in my life. My first date 10 years ago, with a college sweetheart, who was also here this weekend, with his wife, who is exactly the perfect woman for him and someone I cheered for as they dated. They got married 4 years ago, right around the time things ended with my ex. In order to make it to their wedding and to be with a mom who was experiencing intense physical and spiritual illness and attack, I packed my car and drove home to LA. A good friend--the one who got married this weekend--was also driving down to the wedding and helped me bring a few items that wouldn't fit. April is an important anniversary for many other things that I won't mention here. What I will say is that anniversaries always remind me of God's incredible goodness and mercy in my life--in all of its brokenness and beauty.
I will always love my City by the Bay, but I'm going home now, to a community that I've been given and that I've invested in. New Haven gets me for the next few weeks, and then exactly a month from today, I fly back to California again for my brother's graduation.
Oh Jesus, may I treasure up all the things from this trip in my heart. I'd rather live them out through your Spirit than hold onto and remember exactly what (in what exact words) you impressed upon my heart. May I embody what I write about, and may they pass through me as I try to follow Jesus with every breath of my being.
I think I'll stop here for now and end by mentioning, randomly:
2 articles I read over the last 2 days, taken from friends' recommendations/Facebook shares:
http://www.refinery29.com/call-girl-confidence?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=adsales&utm_campaign=STARZ
http://www.christenacleveland.com/2016/04/a-liberation-theology-for-single-people/
2 talks:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XBGNJQWSYHY&app=desktop
http://www.desiringgod.org/
Sunday, April 10, 2016
And the Greatest of These is Love
I'm sitting at the dining room table of an AirBnB in San Francisco, hoping to finish a paper due tomorrow.
My companion, a college buddy, sits in the living room just a few feet away, working on a paper for his final semester at Columbia Law School.
The others--3 engineers and a wife--went out to see the Golden Gate Bridge, a sight I would have loved to see again. This is the city that I love, and that I left 4 years ago, in April, without a proper goodbye. I've since visited three times, and each time has given me more closure. Still, the city remains close to my heart, and I love it.
Being with college friends reminds me of my decision to leave "ministry" 10 years ago and enter into a different "calling"--a secular iteration of what it means to love people. Being with these friends reminds me of the college fellowship we were all a part of and found community in. I remember how difficult it was to be in fellowship with friends from this community, even while negotiating tension and disagreement with its leaders.
In 2006, I met with the campus minister of my college fellowship and effectively "resigned." I stepped down because I had some fundamental disagreements with some of their policies. My involvement with Christian "ministry" tapered out as I began exploring the helping profession and eventually landed in the field of music therapy.
The biggest issue that arose in college was this: our campus minister had views about mental illness and sexual assault that seemed unloving and unsympathetic. His views seemed to be unChristian, even though he maintained that they were biblical.
I struggled, because this was a community that loved Scripture and made it a spiritual practice to memorize it. This was a community that took the Great Commission seriously, making disciples of college students and spending hours to that end. This was a community where I had made some of the best friendships of my life. The fact that, 10 years later, I'm in San Francisco for a wedding during my final semester of Divinity School is proof of the strength of those friendships.
I have spent the last decade wrestling with what it means to be a born-again, Bible-believing Christian (#Evangelical) while being completely engaged with the world around me. Several of my closest friendships from this decade are with people who do not know Jesus personally. Most of my time has been spent outside the church in the secular helping profession. And yet, I still call myself a Christian and have not given up hope on contributing my gifting and passion to a local church someday. I still show up for Sunday worship and attend home group regularly.
Divinity School has been instrumental for helping me iron out many theological kinks. The community at Yale has opened my eyes to deeper and wider ways of conceiving of God's kingdom. I am okay with having more questions than answers, and I am more convinced than ever that a posture of humility is the key to having more confidence in Christ and Christ's work on earth.
Even more importantly, the love of Christ (which has been shed abroad in our hearts) is the ultimate source and resource for incredibly confusing times. Were we not put on earth to love God and others with all of our hearts? What I do with my Yale degree is secondary to how well I love others. What I know about Scripture and its proper interpretation/implications is ultimately trumped by the reality that Love is a life-force that can truly conquer all. I was born out of the love of two human beings--my parents--and I was born to love all human beings, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, class, intelligence, looks, and personality.
This morning, I was able to process things that have been on my heart for years. Layers of questions that began in adolescence, were highlighted in college, reactivated again when I lived in San Francisco, and are still being enlightened today. There are times when the Spirit of God speaks to your spirit in ways that transcend intellectual understanding, and this morning felt that way. I'm not ready to articulate it all just yet, but I can return to Scripture and remind myself that:
Amen.
My companion, a college buddy, sits in the living room just a few feet away, working on a paper for his final semester at Columbia Law School.
The others--3 engineers and a wife--went out to see the Golden Gate Bridge, a sight I would have loved to see again. This is the city that I love, and that I left 4 years ago, in April, without a proper goodbye. I've since visited three times, and each time has given me more closure. Still, the city remains close to my heart, and I love it.
Being with college friends reminds me of my decision to leave "ministry" 10 years ago and enter into a different "calling"--a secular iteration of what it means to love people. Being with these friends reminds me of the college fellowship we were all a part of and found community in. I remember how difficult it was to be in fellowship with friends from this community, even while negotiating tension and disagreement with its leaders.
In 2006, I met with the campus minister of my college fellowship and effectively "resigned." I stepped down because I had some fundamental disagreements with some of their policies. My involvement with Christian "ministry" tapered out as I began exploring the helping profession and eventually landed in the field of music therapy.
The biggest issue that arose in college was this: our campus minister had views about mental illness and sexual assault that seemed unloving and unsympathetic. His views seemed to be unChristian, even though he maintained that they were biblical.
I struggled, because this was a community that loved Scripture and made it a spiritual practice to memorize it. This was a community that took the Great Commission seriously, making disciples of college students and spending hours to that end. This was a community where I had made some of the best friendships of my life. The fact that, 10 years later, I'm in San Francisco for a wedding during my final semester of Divinity School is proof of the strength of those friendships.
I have spent the last decade wrestling with what it means to be a born-again, Bible-believing Christian (#Evangelical) while being completely engaged with the world around me. Several of my closest friendships from this decade are with people who do not know Jesus personally. Most of my time has been spent outside the church in the secular helping profession. And yet, I still call myself a Christian and have not given up hope on contributing my gifting and passion to a local church someday. I still show up for Sunday worship and attend home group regularly.
Divinity School has been instrumental for helping me iron out many theological kinks. The community at Yale has opened my eyes to deeper and wider ways of conceiving of God's kingdom. I am okay with having more questions than answers, and I am more convinced than ever that a posture of humility is the key to having more confidence in Christ and Christ's work on earth.
Even more importantly, the love of Christ (which has been shed abroad in our hearts) is the ultimate source and resource for incredibly confusing times. Were we not put on earth to love God and others with all of our hearts? What I do with my Yale degree is secondary to how well I love others. What I know about Scripture and its proper interpretation/implications is ultimately trumped by the reality that Love is a life-force that can truly conquer all. I was born out of the love of two human beings--my parents--and I was born to love all human beings, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, class, intelligence, looks, and personality.
This morning, I was able to process things that have been on my heart for years. Layers of questions that began in adolescence, were highlighted in college, reactivated again when I lived in San Francisco, and are still being enlightened today. There are times when the Spirit of God speaks to your spirit in ways that transcend intellectual understanding, and this morning felt that way. I'm not ready to articulate it all just yet, but I can return to Scripture and remind myself that:
1If I speak in the tonguesa of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,b but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Amen.
Saturday, April 9, 2016
Bless the Lord, Oh My Soul
There has been a lot of ugliness in the last 24 hours.
But I praise the Lord nonetheless.
Thank God for YouTube and for the accessibility of praise music.
"Still my soul will sing your praise unending..."
But I praise the Lord nonetheless.
Thank God for YouTube and for the accessibility of praise music.
"Still my soul will sing your praise unending..."
Uncanny (**R-Rated post, PART 2**)
You know, yesterday I was pretty stressed about my travel plans.
I had booked the cheapest flight from JFK to SFO, which meant that I would arrive in California at 1 am. This was a huge inconvenience for my friend Darren (the groom, whose wedding is tomorrow!), who had to pick me up from the airport. I'm staying at the same hotel as he and his fiance. The rest of the crew arrives today and we'll share an AirBnB the next 2 nights.
I hate inconveniencing people, especially on the weekend of their wedding. So I was feeling anxious and irresponsible.
Could it be, though, that I was put in Room 312 so that someone would report the violence that happened in 310 last night?
I checked with the front desk this morning, and they said the police did come to pick someone up last night. I hope and pray that it was the perpetrator next door.
Most rapes happen among acquaintances. Lovers, even. Usually, a rape is not the random stranger you come upon. It's usually someone you know. Someone you're dating. Someone you're in a committed relationship with.
It sounded like that was the case last night, and my heart hurts from that.
I saw a woman walking around the hotel grounds this morning, looking like something bad had happened. I have a feeling it was her. How I wish I could reach out to her, but since I can't, I pray.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
For the wounded, the violated, and the hopeless, we pray.
For the wounders, the violators, and the hopeless, we pray.
Holy Spirit, clear away the evil that is in the heavenly territories above South San Francisco, as well as in New Haven. Let Christ's light shine through. We pray that Your kingdom would come and Your will would be done on this wretched earth!
Amen.
I had booked the cheapest flight from JFK to SFO, which meant that I would arrive in California at 1 am. This was a huge inconvenience for my friend Darren (the groom, whose wedding is tomorrow!), who had to pick me up from the airport. I'm staying at the same hotel as he and his fiance. The rest of the crew arrives today and we'll share an AirBnB the next 2 nights.
I hate inconveniencing people, especially on the weekend of their wedding. So I was feeling anxious and irresponsible.
Could it be, though, that I was put in Room 312 so that someone would report the violence that happened in 310 last night?
I checked with the front desk this morning, and they said the police did come to pick someone up last night. I hope and pray that it was the perpetrator next door.
Most rapes happen among acquaintances. Lovers, even. Usually, a rape is not the random stranger you come upon. It's usually someone you know. Someone you're dating. Someone you're in a committed relationship with.
It sounded like that was the case last night, and my heart hurts from that.
I saw a woman walking around the hotel grounds this morning, looking like something bad had happened. I have a feeling it was her. How I wish I could reach out to her, but since I can't, I pray.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.
For the wounded, the violated, and the hopeless, we pray.
For the wounders, the violators, and the hopeless, we pray.
Holy Spirit, clear away the evil that is in the heavenly territories above South San Francisco, as well as in New Haven. Let Christ's light shine through. We pray that Your kingdom would come and Your will would be done on this wretched earth!
Amen.
R-Rated
***WARNING***
This post contains content that may trigger very unpleasant and difficult emotional responses. Please read with caution.
I have put a picture here so that those who do not want to read it don't encounter the first line of the post.
I listened to a woman get raped last night.
It was 2:32 am, PST. I had arrived at my South San Francisco hotel not more than an hour ago, exhausted from nearly 10 hours of travel and having tried to sleep on the plane from JFK to SFO.
At first, I heard a bang, like a door was being slammed. Then a scream, piercing, as if the woman was in pain. The walls here are not very soundproof. It too me a few seconds to wake up, but soon I realized that there was a sexual assault happening right next door to me.
I called the hotel operator: "Someone is getting hurt in Room 310. A woman is screaming."
They said they would take care of it. I really hope they called the police. If I hadn't been cautious about my own safety, I would have walked over and banged on the door.
I've known many people who have been raped--and told me about it. Friends, clients.
I've seen movies about rape, because I think it is an extremely important issue.
I still remember going to the Vagina Monologues in college and learning about the statistic that 1 in 4 women is raped during her lifetime. That is a very, very high number.
It's one thing to have researched and found your vocation from encountering stories of rape. It's another thing to actually "hear-witness" it happen, on a completely unexpected night.
I'm still exhausted and a little delirious from traveling and from a few extremely busy weeks of schoolwork. My vision is a bit blurry, probably from lack of sleep and doing homework on moving vehicles.
But the screams from last night ring clearly in my head, the sounds of a woman begging for a man to stop hurting her.
My desire to be in the world among hurting people has been growing immensely this season, and I have sensed strongly that I am to be a pastor outside the church--a chaplain. I am more passionate about that than ever this morning, and I pray that wherever the couple is this morning (I think I heard them leave the room later in the night--perhaps hotel management did deal with it) that God's angels will minister to them.
Misogyny is a devilish force that both women and men need redemption from. This in no way pardons men from the heinous crimes they commit. I would have beat up the perpetrator last night if I could. Women have endured unspeakable wrongs at the hands of men and society for far too long. I stand in the gap for them today, interceding in prayer and claiming my own spiritual authority as a warrior in Christ.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. In your mercy, judge and convict those of us who treat another human being as less than beautiful and worthy of absolute honor and respect.
Holy Spirit, give me the only thing that can conquer evil in this world. Give me more of God's love.
Amen.
This post contains content that may trigger very unpleasant and difficult emotional responses. Please read with caution.
I have put a picture here so that those who do not want to read it don't encounter the first line of the post.
I listened to a woman get raped last night.
It was 2:32 am, PST. I had arrived at my South San Francisco hotel not more than an hour ago, exhausted from nearly 10 hours of travel and having tried to sleep on the plane from JFK to SFO.
At first, I heard a bang, like a door was being slammed. Then a scream, piercing, as if the woman was in pain. The walls here are not very soundproof. It too me a few seconds to wake up, but soon I realized that there was a sexual assault happening right next door to me.
I called the hotel operator: "Someone is getting hurt in Room 310. A woman is screaming."
They said they would take care of it. I really hope they called the police. If I hadn't been cautious about my own safety, I would have walked over and banged on the door.
I've known many people who have been raped--and told me about it. Friends, clients.
I've seen movies about rape, because I think it is an extremely important issue.
I still remember going to the Vagina Monologues in college and learning about the statistic that 1 in 4 women is raped during her lifetime. That is a very, very high number.
It's one thing to have researched and found your vocation from encountering stories of rape. It's another thing to actually "hear-witness" it happen, on a completely unexpected night.
I'm still exhausted and a little delirious from traveling and from a few extremely busy weeks of schoolwork. My vision is a bit blurry, probably from lack of sleep and doing homework on moving vehicles.
But the screams from last night ring clearly in my head, the sounds of a woman begging for a man to stop hurting her.
My desire to be in the world among hurting people has been growing immensely this season, and I have sensed strongly that I am to be a pastor outside the church--a chaplain. I am more passionate about that than ever this morning, and I pray that wherever the couple is this morning (I think I heard them leave the room later in the night--perhaps hotel management did deal with it) that God's angels will minister to them.
Misogyny is a devilish force that both women and men need redemption from. This in no way pardons men from the heinous crimes they commit. I would have beat up the perpetrator last night if I could. Women have endured unspeakable wrongs at the hands of men and society for far too long. I stand in the gap for them today, interceding in prayer and claiming my own spiritual authority as a warrior in Christ.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. In your mercy, judge and convict those of us who treat another human being as less than beautiful and worthy of absolute honor and respect.
Holy Spirit, give me the only thing that can conquer evil in this world. Give me more of God's love.
Amen.
Friday, April 8, 2016
Love. Humanity. The Kin-dom
I've been doing quite a bit of traveling lately. It's an insane time of semester, but somehow, with grace and faith, I'm managing. This week alone, I passed through Grand Central Station twice.
On Sunday night, I was there at 11 pm, having just taken a Megabus from Washington, D.C. I caught the 11:39 train to New Haven and got home at 2 am.
I was there again this afternoon, in the midst of the Friday rush, to catch a bus to the JFK airport.
I'm flying to San Francisco to attend the wedding of a college friend this weekend. Last weekend, I visited 2 friends (Bekah, from my music therapy internship 7 years ago and Dina, who I went to 8th grade with) in Washington, D.C. On the 5-hour Megabus ride from DC to NYC, I befriended and got to share Jesus with 2 students from China who are studying law at Columbia. Traveling again this weekend, I prayed again for God to work in me during my travels.
Today, as I beheld the writhing masses of humanity streaming around in New York, I saw again with new eyes the way God sees us. I've been wrestling a lot lately with my identity and my calling. But I was struck on the bus with the reminder that I cam called to love people, no matter where I am and what I'm doing. Humanity is a broken mess, but we are called to love them as Jesus loves them. That is what the kingdom of God is about. Or, as we like to say in Divinity School, in an effort to remove language of conquest and male domination: the kin-dom, the family of God!
Last night at home group, we prayed over the City of New Haven and the spiritual darkness we have felt over it. Even at the Divinity School, there are sometimes spiritual forces and battles beyond my comprehension--but which I sense and feel discouraged by. My friend Tori encouraged me to confront the darkness with love. We win battles through praise and worship (like Joshua toppled Jericho), and we must exercise our spiritual authority in such a manner.
Jesus, may I confront all the spiritual darkness in the world with your Love. I will go wherever you take me among the writhing masses of humanity. May your kin-dom come and Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven!
Amen.
On Sunday night, I was there at 11 pm, having just taken a Megabus from Washington, D.C. I caught the 11:39 train to New Haven and got home at 2 am.
I was there again this afternoon, in the midst of the Friday rush, to catch a bus to the JFK airport.
I'm flying to San Francisco to attend the wedding of a college friend this weekend. Last weekend, I visited 2 friends (Bekah, from my music therapy internship 7 years ago and Dina, who I went to 8th grade with) in Washington, D.C. On the 5-hour Megabus ride from DC to NYC, I befriended and got to share Jesus with 2 students from China who are studying law at Columbia. Traveling again this weekend, I prayed again for God to work in me during my travels.
Today, as I beheld the writhing masses of humanity streaming around in New York, I saw again with new eyes the way God sees us. I've been wrestling a lot lately with my identity and my calling. But I was struck on the bus with the reminder that I cam called to love people, no matter where I am and what I'm doing. Humanity is a broken mess, but we are called to love them as Jesus loves them. That is what the kingdom of God is about. Or, as we like to say in Divinity School, in an effort to remove language of conquest and male domination: the kin-dom, the family of God!
Last night at home group, we prayed over the City of New Haven and the spiritual darkness we have felt over it. Even at the Divinity School, there are sometimes spiritual forces and battles beyond my comprehension--but which I sense and feel discouraged by. My friend Tori encouraged me to confront the darkness with love. We win battles through praise and worship (like Joshua toppled Jericho), and we must exercise our spiritual authority in such a manner.
Jesus, may I confront all the spiritual darkness in the world with your Love. I will go wherever you take me among the writhing masses of humanity. May your kin-dom come and Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven!
Amen.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Surrendered and it Feels So Good
Lent was a time of deep thinking and processing.
Holy Week was especially intense, but I got through it.
We are always to surrender our own will and desires to those of God, but sometimes that surrender comes more intensely during certain seasons and moments. Contrary to what we may assume, our desires do not always conflict with God's, but sometimes surrender does mean that we must lay down our own ways of thinking and let God speak to us in ways that Sh/He can't when we're caught up in our own head.
I've felt a new sense of freedom after the last round of surrender. It feels damn good, and in the words of my fiesty friend, "I'm so fucking happy!"
Really, though, when we follow through with our promise to Jesus, our promise that we'll follow him wherever he goes, we are released from our own limited capacities for joy and contentment.
Amen.
Holy Week was especially intense, but I got through it.
We are always to surrender our own will and desires to those of God, but sometimes that surrender comes more intensely during certain seasons and moments. Contrary to what we may assume, our desires do not always conflict with God's, but sometimes surrender does mean that we must lay down our own ways of thinking and let God speak to us in ways that Sh/He can't when we're caught up in our own head.
I've felt a new sense of freedom after the last round of surrender. It feels damn good, and in the words of my fiesty friend, "I'm so fucking happy!"
Really, though, when we follow through with our promise to Jesus, our promise that we'll follow him wherever he goes, we are released from our own limited capacities for joy and contentment.
1 Timothy 6:6-11New International Version (NIV)
6 But godliness with contentment is great gain. 7 For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. 8 But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. 9 Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trapand into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. 10 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.
Leaving and Cleaving
For this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife...
We've all heard this before, those of us who grew up in the church and attended friends' weddings.
But does anyone ever stop to think about the actuality of Christian marriages nowadays? Too often it is the woman who relocates to join the man, who gives up her career to support his and bear his children, and who relinquishes her last name--her family name--for his.
So who's really doing the leaving and cleaving here?
Just some food for thought =)
We've all heard this before, those of us who grew up in the church and attended friends' weddings.
But does anyone ever stop to think about the actuality of Christian marriages nowadays? Too often it is the woman who relocates to join the man, who gives up her career to support his and bear his children, and who relinquishes her last name--her family name--for his.
So who's really doing the leaving and cleaving here?
Just some food for thought =)
Relationships
I look at some couples and I think: they seem happy and loving, and it's a functional relationship, but they aren't necessarily making the world a better place by being together. It's a selfish relationship, in which both people benefit, but there is no sense of something greater.
Some friendships are like that, too, and there is nothing wrong with that. We all need spaces where our value comes not from what we do, but simply from who we are. And it's a blessing to have someone else--romantic or platonic--appreciate and enjoy us.
My desire, though, for if I ever find a partner, is that we would be able to do more for the world, our community, and those around us by being together than if we were apart. That's the only compelling reason for me to give up my freedom.
If the Lord wills, we shall live, and do this or that...
Inshallah.
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Easter
It's Easter, and I couldn't be happier!
This was my Facebook post this morning:
At 6:15, I set out for Bradley Point, which is about 15 minutes south of New Haven. I stumbled upon a sunrise service and stood as a participant for a bit, watching the sun break through the morning fog. It was cold, but I was glad to be out.
Holy Week has been very meaningful and rather emotional for me. For Holy Thursday, I was up in Maine on a personal retreat. I stayed at a monastery and got to do Mass with Lithuanian Franciscans, followed by Adoration (until midnight--but I only lasted until 10:15).
For Good Friday, I was back in New Haven, at my home church. I was asked to do a Scripture Reading, and I did so with joy.
Last night was the Easter Vigil at Bethesda Lutheran Church, where I currently live. It was absolutely wonderful! One of the oldest Christian traditions/rites, it gives Holy Saturday a meaning that Evangelicals often gloss over.
My soteriology has expanded lately. A friend mentioned the book, A Crisis in the Life of God. I haven't read it yet, but I according to my friend, it suggests that Jesus was sent to atone not for human sins, but as God's apology to humankind.
In the same conversation, another friend mentioned Process Theology, which posits that God is learning and developing along with creation. Thus, we co-create the narrative with God. I would be very interested to learn more about this!
Even as my academic interests have broadened to accept and accommodate ideas that some might label heretical, my personal relationship with Jesus has only grown deeper. This might seem like a paradox, but for me, it's a dialectic.
During Holy Week, I wrestled with reaching a new level of surrender in my life. I can't say I'm there yet, but Easter Sunday certainly feels much more triumphant than Good Friday did. Jesus, I'm yours, and I'm going to follow you wherever you lead me. Give me the grace to do so--and thank you for what you have done and are continuing to do!
This was my Facebook post this morning:
Happy (Easter*) Sunday from West Haven, CT! The S(u/o)n is rising... smile emoticon
*for those who celebrate
At 6:15, I set out for Bradley Point, which is about 15 minutes south of New Haven. I stumbled upon a sunrise service and stood as a participant for a bit, watching the sun break through the morning fog. It was cold, but I was glad to be out.
Holy Week has been very meaningful and rather emotional for me. For Holy Thursday, I was up in Maine on a personal retreat. I stayed at a monastery and got to do Mass with Lithuanian Franciscans, followed by Adoration (until midnight--but I only lasted until 10:15).
For Good Friday, I was back in New Haven, at my home church. I was asked to do a Scripture Reading, and I did so with joy.
Last night was the Easter Vigil at Bethesda Lutheran Church, where I currently live. It was absolutely wonderful! One of the oldest Christian traditions/rites, it gives Holy Saturday a meaning that Evangelicals often gloss over.
My soteriology has expanded lately. A friend mentioned the book, A Crisis in the Life of God. I haven't read it yet, but I according to my friend, it suggests that Jesus was sent to atone not for human sins, but as God's apology to humankind.
In the same conversation, another friend mentioned Process Theology, which posits that God is learning and developing along with creation. Thus, we co-create the narrative with God. I would be very interested to learn more about this!
Even as my academic interests have broadened to accept and accommodate ideas that some might label heretical, my personal relationship with Jesus has only grown deeper. This might seem like a paradox, but for me, it's a dialectic.
During Holy Week, I wrestled with reaching a new level of surrender in my life. I can't say I'm there yet, but Easter Sunday certainly feels much more triumphant than Good Friday did. Jesus, I'm yours, and I'm going to follow you wherever you lead me. Give me the grace to do so--and thank you for what you have done and are continuing to do!
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