I lean towards greatness
Yet I long for normalcy
Lifelong tension, this.
Over winter break, I wrote a lot of haikus in an attempt to figure out a life sentence upon which to end my vocational spiritual direction process. Poetry sometimes expresses how we feel without the pressure of explanation. I think I am in a poetic mood today.
To truly find me
"I must decrease"--lose myself
John the Baptist died.
The Ph.D decision has been weighing heavily on me for the last week. After the thrill of being accepted, the reality of what life would look like has paraded before my eyes.
Spending hard-earned savings again while not generating more significant income. Been there, done that--for Yale.
Moving back home again, where people have moved to life stages of buying homes and starting families, while I have not. Been there, done that--for my mom's sake when she was sick.
Becoming a student again, after professional experience. Been there, done that--and about to do it again.
Maybe it's because I grew up as that Asian homeschooled kid in Arcadia, but I've always longed for a sense of normalcy, to not be the person who stood out. In my teenage years, this manifested in a lot of stress over what to wear--don't be the trendy one, but don't get a ticket from the fashion police either. I've always known how to be a people-pleaser, thanks to a decent Emotional Quotient. And I've always paid attention to what society deems as "successful"--and noticed that it is sometime presented as an idealized "normal."
At the same time, I have been pulled towards extraordinary and unusual people, ideas, and ambitions. I was thrilled to meet Yo Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman in college, and to see George W. Bush and Arnold Schwarzenegger from a close distance. I was more into the special experiences I had in college rather than the practical implications of what I majored in. I have always felt incredibly stifled when I need to stay in the same social group, and I enjoy flitting around a lot more.
I tread the line between "normal" and "crazy" in my mind, between wanting to achieve great things and wanting a simple life. I'm not saying that these categories are mutually exclusive. In fact, I think I am more inclined to believe that descriptions are fluid rather than set in stone. But I still cannot help creating binaries in my head, and perhaps that is the problem.
Why do we think that getting married is a marker of success, versus remaining single? Why does everyone work to be homeowners, rather than living as Jesus did, "with no place to lay [their] head"? Why do we want to save up, when we could spend a little more on those in need?
I don't have it all figured out, but I suspect the answers lie somewhere in between a radical mimicking of how Jesus lived on earth--single, poor, criminalized, honored, outcasted, loved, homeless, hosted--and how the realities of life cause us to become. Maybe I was never meant to be as radical as I've wanted to be in moments--tearing down the strongholds of sexism and homophobia and racism in the Church; nor can I quite fade into a normal timeline--tell me, how many women do you know started a Ph.D at age 32?
But what does it all matter, when all is said and done? I'd rather know that I lived life well and to the fullest with the cards I was dealt. Inshallah!
Thursday, March 8, 2018
Sunday, March 4, 2018
Acknowledging Weakness
I heard a beautiful sermon this morning on Peter's denial of Jesus--and how we often do so in big and small ways on a daily basis. My Scripture reading for the day included the part when the Israelites must look upon the bronze snake in order to be healed in the wilderness. There is something in human nature that does not want to look upon suffering (Jesus on the cross, as foreshadowed by the bronze snake) and that is ashamed of the Gospel. (This is why Paul had to state explicitly in Romans that he is not ashamed by the Gospel.)
My Enneagram (personality) type is afraid of weakness. I have been learning about this through my vocational spiritual direction, and this past Thursday, I got to be a part of a panel of other Enneagram 8s at a Vineyard church about 40 minutes north of Boston. It was a relief to hear other people share about their struggle with vulnerability and how they were always in a fighting mode against the world and powers of injustice. We are powerful people who are aware of power dynamics, and we hold the corner of the Body of Christ that involves boldness and truth-speaking and challenging corrupt authority. These are all qualities Jesus (and His disciples) embodied in the New Testament.
But we struggle with the part of the Gospel that depends upon a suffering Savior, the Man of sorrows, and the shame of the Cross. During Lent, I have been trying to strip away my defense mechanisms and to be more honest in a vulnerable (rather than a militant or critical) way. May I learn from Jesus, the One who had nothing to hide and the One who ushered in the Kingdom of God through the power of God rather than His own strength. Amen.
My Enneagram (personality) type is afraid of weakness. I have been learning about this through my vocational spiritual direction, and this past Thursday, I got to be a part of a panel of other Enneagram 8s at a Vineyard church about 40 minutes north of Boston. It was a relief to hear other people share about their struggle with vulnerability and how they were always in a fighting mode against the world and powers of injustice. We are powerful people who are aware of power dynamics, and we hold the corner of the Body of Christ that involves boldness and truth-speaking and challenging corrupt authority. These are all qualities Jesus (and His disciples) embodied in the New Testament.
But we struggle with the part of the Gospel that depends upon a suffering Savior, the Man of sorrows, and the shame of the Cross. During Lent, I have been trying to strip away my defense mechanisms and to be more honest in a vulnerable (rather than a militant or critical) way. May I learn from Jesus, the One who had nothing to hide and the One who ushered in the Kingdom of God through the power of God rather than His own strength. Amen.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Running the Race
A while back, one of my vocational spiritual directors (I meet with a couple) reminded me to keep a "learner's attitude" as I was navigating a confusing and seemingly aimless season of life.
I had graduated from my dream school and moved to work at a school in a city with a competitive environment. Little by little, as I transitioned from being a student to an administrator, my mindset shifted from one of openness and learning to one of achievement and self-protection.
Getting into a graduate program has reminded me of the joy of approaching life as a student. Being a working professional can make one feel that our sole existence is to produce results, but the learning should never stop.
My co-worker said the other day that his goal each year is to be a rookie at something so that he never gets into a rut. I think that's a great approach to life (and aging)!
When I finish my days on earth, I want to feel like I completed the degree of life to the best of my ability. No matter what I may have accomplished, I want to know that I had a teachable attitude and learning spirit.
Is this not one iteration of what Paul describes in 2 Timothy 4:7?
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Give Me Jesus
Right now, I am listening to sacred choral music on KUSC, which they broadcast every Sunday morning.
Lent continues, and although I have not technically given up anything, I do find that there is more space in my soul for introspection and reflection. I am watching far less TV/Netflix, and I am feeling more connected to God, myself, and slowly, others. This is a little terrifying at times, because I am an introvert who has been living alone in a cold city for a while now and who has, in many ways, intentionally distanced myself from many of the connections that clamor for my attention.
I was a telling a friend on the phone yesterday that feeling connected to oneself often means the difference between feeling isolated and feeling recharged.
I woke up feeling the grace of connection. (Yesterday did not feel this way, and I longed for it.) I journaled a bit and then walked down the street to get a bagel and a turmeric latte. After breakfast (eaten to a beautiful rendition of "Give Me Jesus" by Barbara Hendricks with the Moses Hogan Chorale), I wrote a few postcards and then opened my laptop to blog.
Church comes later, but my worship has already begun.
And when the morning ends, at noon, I will be rising from my pew as the minister says, "Now ends our worship, and our service begins."
Amen.
Lent continues, and although I have not technically given up anything, I do find that there is more space in my soul for introspection and reflection. I am watching far less TV/Netflix, and I am feeling more connected to God, myself, and slowly, others. This is a little terrifying at times, because I am an introvert who has been living alone in a cold city for a while now and who has, in many ways, intentionally distanced myself from many of the connections that clamor for my attention.
I was a telling a friend on the phone yesterday that feeling connected to oneself often means the difference between feeling isolated and feeling recharged.
I woke up feeling the grace of connection. (Yesterday did not feel this way, and I longed for it.) I journaled a bit and then walked down the street to get a bagel and a turmeric latte. After breakfast (eaten to a beautiful rendition of "Give Me Jesus" by Barbara Hendricks with the Moses Hogan Chorale), I wrote a few postcards and then opened my laptop to blog.
Church comes later, but my worship has already begun.
And when the morning ends, at noon, I will be rising from my pew as the minister says, "Now ends our worship, and our service begins."
Amen.
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Reflection 7: Redemption
All creation groans until the redemption...
I have felt this groaning in my early 30s. 32 came upon me a month ago, and I realized that I needed to renew my efforts towards healthy living, lest age catch up to me.
My mom was the mother of 2 children when she was my age. Like me, she had 2 master's degrees, but she had also emigrated to a foreign country and was married.
Life is not what I had imagined--living by myself, far away from family and community. I have a great job, but there are some things money can't buy.
But I am grateful. Today was the last day of an extended weekend, thanks to President's Days. My roommate and I drove 2 hours west to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA. We both really enjoyed 2 hours of looking at his artwork, and then we grabbed lunch at Main Street Cafe. It was a beautiful day--amazingly warm for February--with a (mostly--things change quickly in New England!) blue sky and miles of woods bare from winter.
We left our apartment at 8:30 and got home at 4:30. Though we live together, it was our first "full-time day" together.
I took a nap, and at 6:30, I went to a Strengthen and Stretch class at the YMCA. It kicked my butt =)
When I got home, I checked the mail. There was an admissions packet from Claremont School of Theology, offering me an invitation/opportunity to begin a Ph.D in Spiritually Integrative Psychotherapy this fall!
There is so much to process and think about and eventually plan. But right now, I feel grateful and humbled and excited to embark on whatever comes next in this journey of life.
Yes, we are still awaiting redemption, but moments like this give foretastes of the fulfillment of hope.
19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God;20 for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.22 We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now;23 and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.
(Rom 8:19-23)
I have felt this groaning in my early 30s. 32 came upon me a month ago, and I realized that I needed to renew my efforts towards healthy living, lest age catch up to me.
My mom was the mother of 2 children when she was my age. Like me, she had 2 master's degrees, but she had also emigrated to a foreign country and was married.
Life is not what I had imagined--living by myself, far away from family and community. I have a great job, but there are some things money can't buy.
But I am grateful. Today was the last day of an extended weekend, thanks to President's Days. My roommate and I drove 2 hours west to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, MA. We both really enjoyed 2 hours of looking at his artwork, and then we grabbed lunch at Main Street Cafe. It was a beautiful day--amazingly warm for February--with a (mostly--things change quickly in New England!) blue sky and miles of woods bare from winter.
We left our apartment at 8:30 and got home at 4:30. Though we live together, it was our first "full-time day" together.
I took a nap, and at 6:30, I went to a Strengthen and Stretch class at the YMCA. It kicked my butt =)
When I got home, I checked the mail. There was an admissions packet from Claremont School of Theology, offering me an invitation/opportunity to begin a Ph.D in Spiritually Integrative Psychotherapy this fall!
There is so much to process and think about and eventually plan. But right now, I feel grateful and humbled and excited to embark on whatever comes next in this journey of life.
Yes, we are still awaiting redemption, but moments like this give foretastes of the fulfillment of hope.
Monday, February 19, 2018
Reflection 6: Wrestling with God and Returning to our Past
For the last 2 evenings, I have listened to sermons from Reservoir Church, the church I first went to when I moved to Boston. Although it's been 6 months since I have set foot in the building, I still feel connected to what this community is up to. This fall, they hired a Korean-American female pastor, which was something I cared about deeply and was encouraged by. And currently, during Lent, their sermons are a weekly boost--a protein shake to augment my regular meals (personal devotions).
This evening's sermon talked about Jacob wrestling with God before his reunion with Esau. It talked about his shift from being a hustler (favored and looked after by God, but also conniving with his human smarts) to being weakened by God's touch.
Over a year ago, I had my own wrestling match with God--to the point where I literally felt, for a few days, a soreness in my hip that resulted in a slight limp.
Recently, I felt God speaking to me (while I was watching a move on Netflix, of all times) and saying, "You need to make peace with your past."
Like Jacob, I have been led far away from my community of origin--from the people and beliefs that raised me and blessed me and from which I fled. Leaving the Evangelical world and mindset has been excruciating at times, and this has been one of my loneliest years--not for lack of people who care, but because it's been hard to share with people exactly what my process has been like.
Making peace with my past is not exactly the same as Jacob seeing Esau again, but I've taken the liberty of relating to this story in ways that I hope will spur me to more connection and healing and growth.
This evening's sermon talked about Jacob wrestling with God before his reunion with Esau. It talked about his shift from being a hustler (favored and looked after by God, but also conniving with his human smarts) to being weakened by God's touch.
Over a year ago, I had my own wrestling match with God--to the point where I literally felt, for a few days, a soreness in my hip that resulted in a slight limp.
Recently, I felt God speaking to me (while I was watching a move on Netflix, of all times) and saying, "You need to make peace with your past."
Like Jacob, I have been led far away from my community of origin--from the people and beliefs that raised me and blessed me and from which I fled. Leaving the Evangelical world and mindset has been excruciating at times, and this has been one of my loneliest years--not for lack of people who care, but because it's been hard to share with people exactly what my process has been like.
Making peace with my past is not exactly the same as Jacob seeing Esau again, but I've taken the liberty of relating to this story in ways that I hope will spur me to more connection and healing and growth.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Reflection 5: Death
Yesterday, I had a conversation with a friend about knowing people--in the prime of their lives--who recently passed away. For some, it was drug overdose. For others, it was despair causing them to take their own lives.
Today, the lectionary passage was on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. The sermon at United Parish was titled: "Live and Let Die" and had the accompanying blog post: http://www.unitedparishbrookline.org/blog/live-and-let-die
Aside from ontological mysteries, there are smaller deaths that I ponder. A while ago, I asked God to take away a particular spiritual gift because it seemed to be getting in the way of me relating well to others. Not that there was anything wrong with the gift, but maybe I wasn't yet mature enough to handle it.
It's like what it says in the chapter we all know so well:
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If 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. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love 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. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When 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. 12 For 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.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Today, the lectionary passage was on Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. The sermon at United Parish was titled: "Live and Let Die" and had the accompanying blog post: http://www.unitedparishbrookline.org/blog/live-and-let-die
Aside from ontological mysteries, there are smaller deaths that I ponder. A while ago, I asked God to take away a particular spiritual gift because it seemed to be getting in the way of me relating well to others. Not that there was anything wrong with the gift, but maybe I wasn't yet mature enough to handle it.
It's like what it says in the chapter we all know so well:
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If 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. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
8 Love 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. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When 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. 12 For 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.
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Reflection 4: Discernment of Spirits
Work can be a very stressful place. I often find it hard to explain to people why I feel so drained from work. Part of it is that I am an introvert, so to have my office open to students and coworkers streaming in and out is exhausting. Part of it is that taking public transportation and walking to work exposes me to winter elements that give me fatigue. But I think part of it is that there is a spirit of unhealthiness at my workplace that is hard to put into words.
I actually came to a clearer sense of this yesterday, when two colleagues who have significant power at school happened to be out of the office on the same day. It seemed to me that the overall atmosphere was much lighter, and that teachers were interacting with one another with a spirit of camaraderie and support rather than complaining and backstabbing. Just to make sure I wasn't making things up, I asked my office-suite-mate if she noticed it too. She said she did...
Sometimes people carry a certain spirit--for example, a spirit of bitterness, fear, control--that they are not even quite aware of. Scripture says we are not to "wrestle...against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." I wonder what it would look like for me to resist/pray against unhealthy spirits in other people while being totally for them as people. I have to confess that it's sometimes hard for me to separate a person from what they carry, but I'd like to try to look at others the way Jesus did--with compassion and with love.
I actually came to a clearer sense of this yesterday, when two colleagues who have significant power at school happened to be out of the office on the same day. It seemed to me that the overall atmosphere was much lighter, and that teachers were interacting with one another with a spirit of camaraderie and support rather than complaining and backstabbing. Just to make sure I wasn't making things up, I asked my office-suite-mate if she noticed it too. She said she did...
Sometimes people carry a certain spirit--for example, a spirit of bitterness, fear, control--that they are not even quite aware of. Scripture says we are not to "wrestle...against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." I wonder what it would look like for me to resist/pray against unhealthy spirits in other people while being totally for them as people. I have to confess that it's sometimes hard for me to separate a person from what they carry, but I'd like to try to look at others the way Jesus did--with compassion and with love.
Friday, February 16, 2018
Reflection 3: Intercession
A friend of mine texted and asked if I would be willing to pray regularly with her. She has felt that we are both intercessors--it takes one to know one, I suppose, and two is certainly better than one!
Intercession is another word that has somehow dropped off of my radar screen. But looking back, it's always been a part of my spiritual identity and how I tend to operate within Christ's body.
In college, I prayed regularly with a few girl friends. At Hope Christian Fellowship, I was part of the prayer team. At Yale, I also prayed regularly with friends. And I was invited to join the prayer ministry at Elm City Vineyard before I moved to Boston.
In Boston, this identity fled from my consciousness, in part because there was no one to really pray with. Also, because my theology was undergoing major overhaul, it was hard to find people to pray with that would be able to understand my perspective on the issues I was wrestling through.
And yet, in the loneliness of the wilderness, I have not been able to stop the prophetic part of myself from operating. Even in times when I told God I needed a break from being a Christian, I would find myself being awoken at dawn to write down the visions and words that I was receiving.
Intercession is behind-the-scenes work that involves spiritual warfare, pangs of childbirth, and seeing and feeling things before others in the church become aware. I didn't choose this role, but if it's what has been assigned, then I'm in!
Intercession is another word that has somehow dropped off of my radar screen. But looking back, it's always been a part of my spiritual identity and how I tend to operate within Christ's body.
In college, I prayed regularly with a few girl friends. At Hope Christian Fellowship, I was part of the prayer team. At Yale, I also prayed regularly with friends. And I was invited to join the prayer ministry at Elm City Vineyard before I moved to Boston.
In Boston, this identity fled from my consciousness, in part because there was no one to really pray with. Also, because my theology was undergoing major overhaul, it was hard to find people to pray with that would be able to understand my perspective on the issues I was wrestling through.
And yet, in the loneliness of the wilderness, I have not been able to stop the prophetic part of myself from operating. Even in times when I told God I needed a break from being a Christian, I would find myself being awoken at dawn to write down the visions and words that I was receiving.
Intercession is behind-the-scenes work that involves spiritual warfare, pangs of childbirth, and seeing and feeling things before others in the church become aware. I didn't choose this role, but if it's what has been assigned, then I'm in!
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Reflection 2: Revival
Revival.
The word came to me on the bus ride to work. It's one that I have not pondered much in this current season. I wrote it down when I got to work.
As a child, my family was a part of communities that emphasized and longed for revival. When we attended a charismatic church, we went to revival meetings filled with signs of the Holy Spirit. At Yale, we prayed for revival.
Ever since moving to Boston, though, I have been in more of a Lenten mode of seeing Ashes everywhere in the Evangelical world and of wanting to see many parts of Christendom burn to the ground. "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
So I was rather surprised to have revival put back on my heart. But it is a rather hopeful thing to look towards.
Another thought I had today, which I find significant: "If I make to the end of my life on earth and have accomplished nothing noteworthy except that I was simply a good friend of God's, then that's good enough for me."
Lent is producing some fruitful thought patterns already--I can feel it.
The word came to me on the bus ride to work. It's one that I have not pondered much in this current season. I wrote it down when I got to work.
As a child, my family was a part of communities that emphasized and longed for revival. When we attended a charismatic church, we went to revival meetings filled with signs of the Holy Spirit. At Yale, we prayed for revival.
Ever since moving to Boston, though, I have been in more of a Lenten mode of seeing Ashes everywhere in the Evangelical world and of wanting to see many parts of Christendom burn to the ground. "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
So I was rather surprised to have revival put back on my heart. But it is a rather hopeful thing to look towards.
Another thought I had today, which I find significant: "If I make to the end of my life on earth and have accomplished nothing noteworthy except that I was simply a good friend of God's, then that's good enough for me."
Lent is producing some fruitful thought patterns already--I can feel it.
Wednesday, February 14, 2018
Reflection 1: vaLENTines Day
Ash Wednesday falls on Valentine's Day this year.
I saw a picture on facebook, posted by a former professor. It was ashes sprinkled into the shape of a heart. Quite fitting--love and loss often go hand in hand.
My grandmother died on Valentine's Day, 3 years ago. I thought of her today, and of the generations of women in my family. The common theme seems to be that none of them seemed to have been happily married. My grandmother, in particular, had a husband who was unfaithful--they finally divorced later in life.
My Lyft driver told me she was a single mother working 3 jobs to support herself and her 6-year-old son. "Today, I'm gonna treat myself honey," she said. "That's what we single ladies do!"
I've decided not to give anything up for Lent this year. Instead, I am seeking to enrich my life with life-giving practices and thought patterns. And as I treat myself lovingly, I may find, along the way, that things that I should be giving up fall by the wayside on their own.
I saw a picture on facebook, posted by a former professor. It was ashes sprinkled into the shape of a heart. Quite fitting--love and loss often go hand in hand.
My grandmother died on Valentine's Day, 3 years ago. I thought of her today, and of the generations of women in my family. The common theme seems to be that none of them seemed to have been happily married. My grandmother, in particular, had a husband who was unfaithful--they finally divorced later in life.
My Lyft driver told me she was a single mother working 3 jobs to support herself and her 6-year-old son. "Today, I'm gonna treat myself honey," she said. "That's what we single ladies do!"
I've decided not to give anything up for Lent this year. Instead, I am seeking to enrich my life with life-giving practices and thought patterns. And as I treat myself lovingly, I may find, along the way, that things that I should be giving up fall by the wayside on their own.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Life Sentence
In my vocational spiritual direction, one of the assignments was to come up with a life sentence.
In any previous season of life, this would not have been difficult. I've been writing mission statements for myself ever since I was a kid.
But in this particular time, I have felt unmoored from many of the anchors to which I was tethered. I have felt attacked and beaten down by society and ideology and much of what prevails in theology.
Three weeks after the session in which I was to discuss my ideas, I have begun to dream again, and to think more purposefully about my passions.
I am (and have for a long time been)
drawn to engaging deeply with individuals (seeking answers, help, and healing)
who have been hurt (emotionally, spiritually, mentally, or physically)
by church (aspects of Evangelical and Fundamentalist culture that detract from the Gospel preached and lived by Jesus)
and the Christian religion (theology that quenches or obstructs the ongoing revelation of God's Spirit)
This includes individuals who have been shunned by church communities, who have been abused by those in spiritual authority, whose doctrinal beliefs have prevented them from achieving their full potential as people, and even those who had positions of leadership and lost their integrity or faith by having undue expectations put upon them.
I seek to do this through intentional relationships that include:
-verbal sessions of conversation and prayer
-organic and fun gatherings of misfits and the "motley crew"
-writings that engage larger ideas and issues and reach wider audiences
Jesus came to heal and to set the captives free. As the body of Christ, we are to partner with God's Spirit to share this Gospel with the world, starting in Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth.
In any previous season of life, this would not have been difficult. I've been writing mission statements for myself ever since I was a kid.
But in this particular time, I have felt unmoored from many of the anchors to which I was tethered. I have felt attacked and beaten down by society and ideology and much of what prevails in theology.
Three weeks after the session in which I was to discuss my ideas, I have begun to dream again, and to think more purposefully about my passions.
I am (and have for a long time been)
drawn to engaging deeply with individuals (seeking answers, help, and healing)
who have been hurt (emotionally, spiritually, mentally, or physically)
by church (aspects of Evangelical and Fundamentalist culture that detract from the Gospel preached and lived by Jesus)
and the Christian religion (theology that quenches or obstructs the ongoing revelation of God's Spirit)
This includes individuals who have been shunned by church communities, who have been abused by those in spiritual authority, whose doctrinal beliefs have prevented them from achieving their full potential as people, and even those who had positions of leadership and lost their integrity or faith by having undue expectations put upon them.
I seek to do this through intentional relationships that include:
-verbal sessions of conversation and prayer
-organic and fun gatherings of misfits and the "motley crew"
-writings that engage larger ideas and issues and reach wider audiences
Jesus came to heal and to set the captives free. As the body of Christ, we are to partner with God's Spirit to share this Gospel with the world, starting in Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth.
Building God's House of Worship
I have been reading in Exodus about the instructions for building the Tabernacle. Each household was to contribute what they felt stirred to in their hearts, and what they contributed--fine linen, gold, etc.--would be used in the building of God's house of worship.
This relates to my previous post about worship being a participatory act. It is not about showing up to sing along to a contemporary band and then listening to a pastor (usually a man, and therefore not at all representative of half-or-more of the congregation) who (often) likes to listen to the sound of their own voice and ideas.
Yes, there are appointed leaders who are responsible for guiding God's people. Moses was invited into private audience with God and to receive the 10 Commandments. In fact, he reflected God's glory to such a dazzling extent that he had to wear a veil over his face when he returned to the camp where the rest of the Israelites were. Clearly, there is a dimension of his spiritual experience that cannot be fully shared with the "rest of them"--the congregation.
But God still wants God's people to participate in worship, and to bring the best of what they have. Isn't that always what the invitation has been?
This relates to my previous post about worship being a participatory act. It is not about showing up to sing along to a contemporary band and then listening to a pastor (usually a man, and therefore not at all representative of half-or-more of the congregation) who (often) likes to listen to the sound of their own voice and ideas.
Yes, there are appointed leaders who are responsible for guiding God's people. Moses was invited into private audience with God and to receive the 10 Commandments. In fact, he reflected God's glory to such a dazzling extent that he had to wear a veil over his face when he returned to the camp where the rest of the Israelites were. Clearly, there is a dimension of his spiritual experience that cannot be fully shared with the "rest of them"--the congregation.
But God still wants God's people to participate in worship, and to bring the best of what they have. Isn't that always what the invitation has been?
The Work of the People
Liturgy.
It's a word I didn't hear much about until Divinity School, when I rubbed shoulders with the more "high church" traditions. In the Evangelical world, church was called "worship"--and anything other than rock-band-style music followed by a lecture-like talk was scoffed at as being "ritual." As if ritual is a bad thing.
Liturgy has been defined many ways, but the one I remember most is: the work of the people.
This means that we participate in worship. It is reflected in services where there are times people stand up to read, sit down to listen, stand up to play, and have a call-and-response interaction with the person delivering the "sermon."
Sermons in high church settings are much more compact--14 minutes versus 40 minutes. One gets the feeling that the sermon is not the main part of the service--whereas in Evangelical settings, one can stroll into "worship" late, as long as you don't miss the sermon. But in a one-hour, high-church liturgical service, I want to be on time, because I have a part to play, and the whole thing is one experience that I don't want to miss.
Liturgy is a beautiful thing. It is the work of the people in response to God's work, and I want to participate with my body, soul, and heart.
Amen.
It's a word I didn't hear much about until Divinity School, when I rubbed shoulders with the more "high church" traditions. In the Evangelical world, church was called "worship"--and anything other than rock-band-style music followed by a lecture-like talk was scoffed at as being "ritual." As if ritual is a bad thing.
Liturgy has been defined many ways, but the one I remember most is: the work of the people.
This means that we participate in worship. It is reflected in services where there are times people stand up to read, sit down to listen, stand up to play, and have a call-and-response interaction with the person delivering the "sermon."
Sermons in high church settings are much more compact--14 minutes versus 40 minutes. One gets the feeling that the sermon is not the main part of the service--whereas in Evangelical settings, one can stroll into "worship" late, as long as you don't miss the sermon. But in a one-hour, high-church liturgical service, I want to be on time, because I have a part to play, and the whole thing is one experience that I don't want to miss.
Liturgy is a beautiful thing. It is the work of the people in response to God's work, and I want to participate with my body, soul, and heart.
Amen.
Saturday, February 10, 2018
When "Do Your Job" Isn't Enough
So I'm still glowing a bit from the Patriots' defeat against the Eagles.
The Patriots have a motto: "Do your job." They are not wrong in this. Doing what's required of you and what you've been trained for is important. It accounts for all of their previous Superbowl titles.
Tom Brady has a very disciplined lifestyle and diet, and that's why he's still playing football at 40.
The Eagles, on the other hand, are a bit of a wreck. They went through a lot to get to being champions this year. They were open about it. And they celebrated shamelessly.
My co-workers read about all the riotous celebrations in Philly--the greasing of poles, the overturning of cars--and said, like typical New England snobs: "We don't do that here."
It's true--we don't. Here, we do our jobs. We do not make promises that we do not keep, and we do not flake out on commitments we have made. I moved up here for a job, and here, we get it done.
But sometimes in life, "Do your job" simply isn't enough. Sometimes, it's about the messiness of passion, and the rollercoaster of emotions and creativity that help us defeat the winning team--the status quo, if you will. The Eagles played their hearts out, and their fans erupted uncontrollably. Isn't it important, sometimes, to let go of control?
I struggle sometimes between being disciplined and orderly and being passionate and spontaneous. This is what I conclude today: do your job, to the best of your ability. And when it's not enough to do your job, let destiny and the Divine help you get to places beyond your wildest dreams. It happens, and it's the best feeling in the world!
The Patriots have a motto: "Do your job." They are not wrong in this. Doing what's required of you and what you've been trained for is important. It accounts for all of their previous Superbowl titles.
Tom Brady has a very disciplined lifestyle and diet, and that's why he's still playing football at 40.
The Eagles, on the other hand, are a bit of a wreck. They went through a lot to get to being champions this year. They were open about it. And they celebrated shamelessly.
My co-workers read about all the riotous celebrations in Philly--the greasing of poles, the overturning of cars--and said, like typical New England snobs: "We don't do that here."
It's true--we don't. Here, we do our jobs. We do not make promises that we do not keep, and we do not flake out on commitments we have made. I moved up here for a job, and here, we get it done.
But sometimes in life, "Do your job" simply isn't enough. Sometimes, it's about the messiness of passion, and the rollercoaster of emotions and creativity that help us defeat the winning team--the status quo, if you will. The Eagles played their hearts out, and their fans erupted uncontrollably. Isn't it important, sometimes, to let go of control?
I struggle sometimes between being disciplined and orderly and being passionate and spontaneous. This is what I conclude today: do your job, to the best of your ability. And when it's not enough to do your job, let destiny and the Divine help you get to places beyond your wildest dreams. It happens, and it's the best feeling in the world!
Sunday, February 4, 2018
Chemistry
I am realizing that I have really good chemistry with my girlfriends who are bisexual.
There is something incredibly open and intuitive about women who understand attraction on many levels and with many people. Perhaps this fits with my polyamorous bent--it means that we are compatible as friends in our sexual orientations. By this, I do not mean simply gay or straight, but I mean an awareness of and comfortability in our sexual capacity.
By sexual capacity, I do not necessarily mean sexual behavior. I am referring to a spiritual sense of being that extends to our understanding of our own sexuality and that of others. It is, simply put, an embrace of others that happens on a human and emotional level. It means a comfortability in our embodied presence--and this translates to very warm displays of physical affection that do not at all have to be sexual.
Visiting New Haven this weekend reminded me of all the beautiful souls that I mingled with in Divinity School. People in the "real world" are more stiff and reserved. I often feel a sense of tension when operating in that mode. I yearn for a deeper connection that is fluid and transcends discrete interactions. YDS was a place that embraced "all the feels." I miss it.
I spent the day with a dear friend who was also visiting New Haven. We have not seen each other since May of 2016, but we melted into a warm embrace as soon as I walked in the door of Atticus, a bookstore Cafe downtown. People stopped their conversations to look at us with curious but approving eyes, but we continued our long hug. That is the power of an embodied emotional connection.
We caught up over breakfast, holding hands at times and gazing into each other's eyes. For those living in a binary mentality of platonic versus romantic, our behavior might be confusing. But love is love is love is love--and that means that when you love someone, you enjoy them are the beautiful soul that they are, and they are not the object of selfish desire or careful distance. You simply enjoy being together--on emotional, spiritual, and physical levels.
We went hiking up East Rock after breakfast, talking the whole way and sharing about things both painful and delightful. We sat on a bench by Mill River and prayed. I felt the Spirit move several times during the course of our time together--I get chills whenever God feels near. We had lunch at a friend's house, and then I took her to the train station. We parted ways not knowing when we'd see each other next--but confident in the power of staying in touch.
She went 2 hours south to New York city, and I drove the opposite direction, back to Boston.
I had a memorable day, and it tops even the best romantic date I've been on.
There is something incredibly open and intuitive about women who understand attraction on many levels and with many people. Perhaps this fits with my polyamorous bent--it means that we are compatible as friends in our sexual orientations. By this, I do not mean simply gay or straight, but I mean an awareness of and comfortability in our sexual capacity.
By sexual capacity, I do not necessarily mean sexual behavior. I am referring to a spiritual sense of being that extends to our understanding of our own sexuality and that of others. It is, simply put, an embrace of others that happens on a human and emotional level. It means a comfortability in our embodied presence--and this translates to very warm displays of physical affection that do not at all have to be sexual.
Visiting New Haven this weekend reminded me of all the beautiful souls that I mingled with in Divinity School. People in the "real world" are more stiff and reserved. I often feel a sense of tension when operating in that mode. I yearn for a deeper connection that is fluid and transcends discrete interactions. YDS was a place that embraced "all the feels." I miss it.
I spent the day with a dear friend who was also visiting New Haven. We have not seen each other since May of 2016, but we melted into a warm embrace as soon as I walked in the door of Atticus, a bookstore Cafe downtown. People stopped their conversations to look at us with curious but approving eyes, but we continued our long hug. That is the power of an embodied emotional connection.
We caught up over breakfast, holding hands at times and gazing into each other's eyes. For those living in a binary mentality of platonic versus romantic, our behavior might be confusing. But love is love is love is love--and that means that when you love someone, you enjoy them are the beautiful soul that they are, and they are not the object of selfish desire or careful distance. You simply enjoy being together--on emotional, spiritual, and physical levels.
We went hiking up East Rock after breakfast, talking the whole way and sharing about things both painful and delightful. We sat on a bench by Mill River and prayed. I felt the Spirit move several times during the course of our time together--I get chills whenever God feels near. We had lunch at a friend's house, and then I took her to the train station. We parted ways not knowing when we'd see each other next--but confident in the power of staying in touch.
She went 2 hours south to New York city, and I drove the opposite direction, back to Boston.
I had a memorable day, and it tops even the best romantic date I've been on.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Mission Accomplished...
Today, I visited my 12th church in Boston in 18 months. I think I may have found the One for me.
I found street parking on the side of the church and walked in a side door, which led to the left side of the Nave, the North Transept, where I sat.
United Parish Brookline is an ecumenical congregation, affiliated with the American Baptist Churches, the United Methodist Church, and the United Church of Christ. It is open and affirming and uses gender-neutral language for God. The welcome was given by both pastors--a male and a female. These factors alone were enough to make me feel quite at home.
The music was excellent--all acoustic, with technically trained vocalists in the choir. The congregation engaged and friendly. They had children hand out flowers to newcomers. Children sat with their parents during the entire service--another thing I liked. The congregation was diverse--in my pew, I was sandwiched between white and black women.
I love liturgical services. They help me to experience God in congregation in an embodied--rather than a passive, consumeristic--way. I went to Yale Divinity School because I was tired of Evangelical church culture. And now I think I'm ready to identify with Mainline Protestantism not just in spirit--but also in the flesh.
I found street parking on the side of the church and walked in a side door, which led to the left side of the Nave, the North Transept, where I sat.
United Parish Brookline is an ecumenical congregation, affiliated with the American Baptist Churches, the United Methodist Church, and the United Church of Christ. It is open and affirming and uses gender-neutral language for God. The welcome was given by both pastors--a male and a female. These factors alone were enough to make me feel quite at home.
The music was excellent--all acoustic, with technically trained vocalists in the choir. The congregation engaged and friendly. They had children hand out flowers to newcomers. Children sat with their parents during the entire service--another thing I liked. The congregation was diverse--in my pew, I was sandwiched between white and black women.
I love liturgical services. They help me to experience God in congregation in an embodied--rather than a passive, consumeristic--way. I went to Yale Divinity School because I was tired of Evangelical church culture. And now I think I'm ready to identify with Mainline Protestantism not just in spirit--but also in the flesh.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Super Bowl Sunday
The smallest things can be the biggest indicators.
When I learned that the New England Patriots were going to the Super Bowl, I was not surprised and not interested.
But as soon as a friend told me that the Philadelphia Eagles was the other team, I got excited and decided to root for them.
It's no secret that I have not been happy in Boston--it's not you, baby, it's me--but the instinct (it wasn't even a decision) to root for the other team got me thinking about my relationships with other cities, and how it has worked out between me and others.
Philly is sentimental and sensitive--at least, according to this link that a friend sent me today--and thus much more suited to my INFP than stoic and traditional Boston. I did have an affection for the City of Brotherly Love. It just sort of exists, with its old buildings silently looking on as new issues unfold, and you can visit and enjoy it without being asked anything in return.
It's much quieter and sparser than New York, where bustling energy borders on chaos but is contained within the grid of the streets. New York welcomes ambition and creativity in the way stretches on for miles and never goes to sleep--and in its soaring skyscrapers. The blue sky is the limit.
Boston, by contrast, is older and more conservative. Ironically, that also means that it has newer skyscrapers than New York--they waited a few decades to make sure the towers didn't collapse in other cities before attempting building their own. It also has circular roads and one-ways, making driving confusing and walking quite indirect. Perhaps its citizens make up for this by being forthcoming and honest.
If there's anything I've learned about Bostonians, it is that they are reliable and trustworthy. Not a bad thing when one lives and works here, I suppose. But not something that makes them fun and exciting to be around. They are also quite unable to understand when someone expresses a dislike for their city. They lack the self-awareness of New Yorkers who love to hate their concrete jungle, and they have so much unconditional pride in their sports teams that it goes without saying who you should root for.
Well, this is my way of not conforming to Boston culture in a tangible way. I'm rooting for the Eagles, and of continuing to maintain my individuality in a city that collects and then colonizes those within its reach.
When I learned that the New England Patriots were going to the Super Bowl, I was not surprised and not interested.
But as soon as a friend told me that the Philadelphia Eagles was the other team, I got excited and decided to root for them.
It's no secret that I have not been happy in Boston--it's not you, baby, it's me--but the instinct (it wasn't even a decision) to root for the other team got me thinking about my relationships with other cities, and how it has worked out between me and others.
Philly is sentimental and sensitive--at least, according to this link that a friend sent me today--and thus much more suited to my INFP than stoic and traditional Boston. I did have an affection for the City of Brotherly Love. It just sort of exists, with its old buildings silently looking on as new issues unfold, and you can visit and enjoy it without being asked anything in return.
It's much quieter and sparser than New York, where bustling energy borders on chaos but is contained within the grid of the streets. New York welcomes ambition and creativity in the way stretches on for miles and never goes to sleep--and in its soaring skyscrapers. The blue sky is the limit.
Boston, by contrast, is older and more conservative. Ironically, that also means that it has newer skyscrapers than New York--they waited a few decades to make sure the towers didn't collapse in other cities before attempting building their own. It also has circular roads and one-ways, making driving confusing and walking quite indirect. Perhaps its citizens make up for this by being forthcoming and honest.
If there's anything I've learned about Bostonians, it is that they are reliable and trustworthy. Not a bad thing when one lives and works here, I suppose. But not something that makes them fun and exciting to be around. They are also quite unable to understand when someone expresses a dislike for their city. They lack the self-awareness of New Yorkers who love to hate their concrete jungle, and they have so much unconditional pride in their sports teams that it goes without saying who you should root for.
Well, this is my way of not conforming to Boston culture in a tangible way. I'm rooting for the Eagles, and of continuing to maintain my individuality in a city that collects and then colonizes those within its reach.
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