"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.
Monday, November 28, 2016
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]
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