Lenten prayer possibility with thanks to Amalee

Hurrah for Amalee who sent this wonderful link to Sacred Space!! It's a great Lenten prayer spot -- time to pray, think, read scripture, offer requests -- all in a great format presented lovingly by the Irish Jesuits.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Amalee! I never get to tell you that I read your blog all the time and highly recommend it to anyone else who needs a little vacation to Derbyshire now and then. Right now you've got some gorgeous hyacinth pictures that are helping me curse the "Winter Storm" warning pressing down on northern Illinois this afternoon!

Oops (or "How an entire liturgical season managed to sneak up and surprise this pastor")

So, um, Lent starts tomorrow.

Oh, not surprised by that?

Well. How nice for you.

I, on the other hand, have almost completely and totally been taken by surprise. Lent begins tomorrow!! Ack!

To be fair, I should mention, I am on maternity leave right now. Today begins week 3 of the whopping 4 weeks I decided to take. (I'm REALLY wishing I'd planned to take 6 weeks and that I would have decided I to just deal with the attendant fussiness of the congregants instead of being ultra-accomodating. )
Before I had Daniel, I got all my bulletins together for my absence and arranged to hold cooperative services with the DOC church across the river on Wednesday evenings. Each week, the services will switch between our two congregations as to which church hosts. And my colleague at the other church is officiating the first three services and I'm officiating the last three. So tomorrow, there will be a Disciples service offered for my congregants, though it won't be at our church, and I think I'm going to pack up the kids and go. Dennis will be at class, but his mom is planning on being there and we can give it a practice run or two before she has to handle both of them at the services that I'm officiating.
I'm actually looking forward to it. I personally love Lent -- I think it's my favorite church season. It's focused and meaningful and full of imagery and possibilities for creativity.
I never manage to do very well observing it personally though, because I tend to be too focused on church stuff. This year, with this little mini-respite at the beginning, I feel like perhaps I could do a better job applying Lent to my own spiritual growth. So I'm going to be thinking about how to do that in the next two hours left in this day. And probably a little more tomorrow.
I just wish it would have occurred to me last week that Lenten possibilities were on the very near horizon. But better late than never, right? Right?

Parenting with a human heart

I am awake far too early this morning having been driven from my bed by a combination of low blood sugar, a kicking baby, and a kicking toddler who never seems to stay asleep when Momma puts her to bed.
I don't like it when I wake up at this time of the night. For some reason, anytime after 4 a.m., my brain wakes up far too eagerly and I find it darn near impossible to just go back to bed and go to sleep. Instead I go back to bed and lay awake, thinking, imagining, turning whatever it is that's going on in my head over and over and over.
Tonight I got up and was thinking about being a parent and making mistakes. I've had a lot of fun being Annalivia's parent lately. I think I go to bed every single night and fall asleep smiling as I glow about some wonderful miscellaneous thing that she has done. (Tonight she was in a very kissy mood -- it's quite precious.)

But tonight I was thinking that as Annalivia matures, I think my daily mistake tally has narrowed when it comes to the obvious and increased probably exponentially when it comes to the less obvious.
Thinking about this led me to wonder -- do experienced parents ever look back and just grieve their parenting mistakes?
I mean this less in a beat-myself-up sort of way and more in the way one's heart feels a heaviness and true sorrow when a deep loss has occurred. Do folks think about their parenting mistakes and just grieve the loss contained therein?

I'm continually realizing -- the job of being a parent is just SO big. And one of the biggest parts of being a parent is being entrusted with nurturing, but also protecting, a child's sense of self. That's such a fragile thing in some ways. Oh, I know -- children are resilient and blah, blah, blah, but there is also a sense in which they just aren't. And how a parent treats a child throughout the child's life forms that child in a way that other relationships just don't.
So making mistakes with a little one is so different, I think, than making mistakes with the other relationships we've been given to nurture and protect. With other relationships, we can also do irreparable harm with carelessness. But as parents, we are powerful in a way that is so frightening sometimes. The things we say and do are stored deep, deep inside this little being and will be there for the rest of their lives. When those things will emerge will not be determined by us or by our children; those things will speak whenever they will speak whether our children are in our presence or whether they are alone at 5 in the morning. Those things don't silence when a child turns 16 or 21 or 31 or, I'm assuming, beyond.

I guess I don't know quite what to do in response to my failures. I work on turning them over to God and I try to apologize for my mistakes and ask forgiveness from Annalivia when I make them, even now when forgiveness is completely forthcoming. But I confess, I think that I will probably always grieve these losses and I imagine that when I start making the really big mistakes, which I'm assuming I will because I am entirely too human, after all, that those things will hurt my heart the way not much has before.

Yes, parenting is a big, big job. And the grace it requires, the grace I will need -- well, I'm just beginning to get small glimpses of just how vast that ocean of grace will have to be. I pray I'm smart enough and humble enough to bathe in it.

And now, I think I'm at least smart enough to go back to bed. Blessings of the day (and night) to all of you.

Does compensation cloud calling?

Another thing that I've been mulling over as I've been thinking about these calling/ coming/ leaving issues the last couple of years is that I really only see this angst-y struggle occurring in seminary-trained, ordained pastors. The lay ministers I've met, most of whom are bi-vocational or second-career folks, many of whom are minorities, don't seem to be dealing with this stuff in their churches and ministries. Why is that?
One of our fastest growing DOC churches, doing really effective ministry here in Illinois is pastored by an African American guy who has two other jobs in addition to pastoring this church of 400. AND...
A good friend in seminary was part-time pastor/ developer in a Hispanic congregation where he was deeply appreciated and respected, where people tithed at a 10% or above level and where the congregation tithed to our denomination at a 10% or above level, where almost everyone was involved in real outreach ministry and evangelism and where the congregation doubled in two years. When I've talked to them about call, they talk about it being dynamic and fluid and developed in relationship with their congregations. Granted -- their churches are dynamic and fluid, so maybe that's where the impetus is, BUT...
I also have a good friend in Peoria who is a lay minister of a very small no-more-than-30-people-in-worship, congregation who is just one of the best pastors I've ever met and also has this sense of continued call WITH his congregation that is just amazing. They don't really do awe-inspiring ministry, but when I'm around those folks, it just seems as though everyone is very happy, very secure and very Spirit-filled. From looking at the numbers, they don't look like a dynamic congregation, but they are, in their own way. *
So why is that? Is there something about becoming "established" in the way that many of those of us who are seminary-trained and ordained have become, that clouds calling? And clouds the calling of both the church and the pastor?
When our denomination, as well as many denominations, took off here in America, churches were established and maintained by lay people. Professional preachers came in occasionally to lead revivals or tent meetings, or even to preach for special services, but for the most part, ministry was maintained by and for the laity. Even when congregations became established, pastors were often called, given a place to live, and given a promise that the congregation would care for them. Their salaries were often not formalized and certainly not to the extent that they included pension, professional expenses, healthcare, etc. In many places, this trend was abandoned only after WWII when other groups of professionals became more organized and formalized and standardized. That's not a long time, really. What generally DID NOT happen was that a congregation would spend 60% or more of its annual budget on the pastor and the pastor's benefits.
I wonder if the interdependence this kind of system would have created worked to the benefit of both pastor and congregation? Obviously, the roles of the pastor and laity had to be those of partnership. The roles of both pastor and laity had to have a necessary humilty to them. I don't, however, want to overly romanticize this situation. It had to be darn hard for men and women called into ministry. It was probably worse on their families. It must have been difficult for congregations, too.
But -- when a congregation calls a pastor and agrees to provide for her/his salary, benefits, housing, etc., do we lose something essential to being in effective partnership together? Does a congregation hand over the responsibility for doing ministry to the pastor, whether subconsciously or consciously? Does the pastor become dependent in unhealthy ways -- afraid to be challenging or resentful of perceived lack of care?
I don't really know if there's an answer here, but perhaps exploring those areas where our congregations are in vital partnership with their pastors would be an excellent step towards increased vitality in other congregations. And among pastors, too. Thoughts, anyone?

*(I could go on and on with examples, but, as I've said before, I hate to be too specific because we are, after all, "The Brotherhood," and the association with the mafia that might have popped into your head is apt, not so much for the internal squabbling/ rub-outs (although there's far too much of that), but more for the fact that we all know each other and even a small number of facts can clue almost anyone in on who exactly I know. These three guys know of my admiration for them and the fact that I regularly hold them up as shining examples of calling.)

the JC password

So apparently our Lord, Jesus Christ, was sometimes a little confusing.
Who knew?
I'm enjoying reading Brian McLaren's The Secret Message of Jesus. It's provocative, but a quick read, which is exactly what I need for my gestational-hormone-addled brain. I'm taking it with me to doctor's appointments and am zipping through.
Anyone else read it? I'm interested to hear others' thoughts on it. I've not read any other McLaren, but was reading on some conservative blogs that he's "asking the right questions, but not coming up with the right conclusions" or something like that. And on some liberal blogs, he and Jesus apparently go to parties together, they're so tight.
The young female clergy who have agreed to participate in a blog initiated by a RevGal are discussing it later this month, probably right around the time I give birth. Although I'm interested to hear that discussion, we are all from the same liberal, mainline traditions. It would be nice to hear some other voices weighing in.
I'll keep y'all updated.

Apparently even the popular kids need Jesus

I found out this week that yet another seminary colleague is leaving his/ her church position for the second time since we graduated five years ago.

I don't know why this distresses me so, or if it bothers anyone other than me that the average length of time for a minister in his/ her first call after seminary is less than two years. (I have no independent confirmation of that figure, fyi -- that's just the casual wisdom cited around the seminary when I was in attendance.) But it really bugs me that my generation of clergy are bailing out on congregations, and in some cases, leaving ministry all together. I've been thinking about why this is a lot and I've come up with one of my theories that I'd like to post here, knowing fully that this probably doesn't make a lot of difference to pretty much anyone who may be reading this, but also knowing that some of you will suffer through my rant just because you're nice people. So thanks.

I want to admit up front before I start said rant -- I am someone who has thought about moving a thousand times and in the last five and a half years of my employment at FCC, Rock Falls, I've had my name in the Search and Call system three times. The first time was when I'd been here for about two years and was prompted, by some miscellaneous discontent -- I think I thought I wasn't being paid enough, the church wasn't changing enough, people actually wanted me to visit their friends in the nursing home -- something like that...

Anyway, by the grace of God, and by the grace of God alone, I was never contacted by any viable options when I put my papers out into the system. And each time, within a couple of months, something happened -- I got a raise, met Dennis, got pregnant -- that would prompt me to return to my belief that God called me here in the first place.

(Point of clarification for those who don't know and do care -- in our denomination, congregations call ministers directly; we are not appointed. Our denominational system to "facilitate" "(whether it actually "facilitates" is an entirely other post/ rant) this process is referred to as "Search and Call" which is a pretty self-explanatory term.)

Here's my experience, that I think pretty similarly echoes the experience of many of my seminary colleagues, if they are honest about it. I'm sure there are exceptions and this really may not apply to anyone out of my denominational circle. You can let me know.

Like many of my clergy colleagues, I grew up in the church. My home congregation was "home" in more than one way. It was the place I felt loved and embraced. It was a place of comfort and nurture. It was also the place that I was adored.

I loved being adored at church. My congregation, like those of many of my clergy colleagues, was one that had been gloriously relevant about 10 years before I was born and was/ is still adjusting to a lack of young families and the whole-hearted involvement of children, youth, young adults, middle aged adults, older adults, etc. in its' programs.

When I was growing up, there were about 10 of us in our youth group. About five of us were die-hards. And we were adored. We were allowed to sit in the back of the church and leave and go hang out in the youth room during the sermon. We were allowed to direct Christmas pageants and present special "Youth Worship" services. We were encouraged to plan all sorts of fun fellowship events. And when we did these things, we were lauded and applauded and smiled upon by our elders.

And I, and most of my seminary colleagues, received our calls to ministry during this time. Usually these calls came at church camp when we were surrounded by other teens in a potent mix of devotion and hormones and exceedingly high humidity or mission trips where we were free of parents and aware in a new way of a world beyond us and the possibility of being part of something larger than ourselves. And we took those calls and earnestly expressed them to our home congregations where they lauded and applauded and smiled at us and directed us towards our denominational colleges, which, incidentally, were coming to terms with pre-ministry programs that had peaked about 50 years before I was born. And when we applied to these colleges, they directed us to the fellowships and scholarships and endowments left by folks who had graduated 50 years before we were born and put us in contact with a Chaplain who encouraged many of us to work with our region in the camping program during the summer or at a church as an intern during the year where we were, of course, lauded and applauded and smiled upon. And when we graduated from college, we went to our denominational seminaries where most of us received free or mostly free tuition and where we remained in the very small world that is our denomination, well-connected to regions and camping programs and pastors who had smiled upon us. And those same people encouraged us to apply near them or for them or to them for positions when we came to ordination and then we ended up in our first churches.
But somewhere along the line, someone forgot to memo these first churches and tell them that we were supposed to be adored for simply being young and at church. For a while, most of us were, of course, adored for just being there, but like all honeymoons periods, eventually the moon waned. And that's when many of us put papers into Search and Call and moved on to a second congregation where we settled for while, though many of us are vaguely or even keenly aware that there MUST be another congregation out there somewhere that is a better fit for us.

So with that background-- here's what I realized about myself about a year ago that led me to my thoughts on why me and so many of my colleagues have wrestled with our first (or second) callings (or, as I like to call it -- April's Grand Theory on Wussy and Whiny Pastors). Those who know me, know that I have a very annoying habit of thinking that everything that applies to me probably applies to everyone else as well...
I should mention -- I have seen apparent exceptions to this theory and actually am privileged to work with one in my neighboring town. He inspires me. But what I've observed in him also convicts me that I may just be right about this theory.

ANYWAY -- I realized that in all that time of connection to the church, I had developed a strong relationship with the church, but not actually with Jesus. In fact, my spiritual development was about nil. I knew what to say about it to convince my ordination committee that I was sufficiently prepared to lead a church. I knew how to pass off to a search committee my sacrificial love for a potential congregation. I knew how to be indignant about other clergy who didn't share my apparent devotion to some miscellaneous cause/ theology or another. But in actuality, the relationship with Jesus that had the power to sustain me in ministry -- the reason on which I should have based my entire life -- did not exist in any real form. Oh sure, it was there when I was desperate or angry or tired. But it was not an integral part of me.

And though ultimately my spiritual development was/ is my own responsibility, almost NEVER was I challenged about that on the way through the hoops to ordination and my first call. My ordination committee raised a perfunctory question that was sufficiently distressing to me that I should have seen red flags all over the place, but they were easily pacified. And I was/ am one who wears my spiritual disfunction on the outside. When I was in seminary, I was a 350 lb, slobby, and desperate mess of a person and I'd been that mess of a person since my sophomore year of college. I don't know if I would have had ears to hear it, but I do think someone in the church should have said, "You know, going into the ministry is not going to fix this self-loathe thing you have going." And then someone else probably should have said it again. About 100 times.

But they didn't. And seminary certainly did not help it. And though none of my seminary colleagues wore their fear/ anxiety/ spiritual angst like I did, I can tell you -- many of those people had/have BIG issues -- and the most common one that I saw and experienced and shared was the desperate need for adoration from others. And though many of us got that at church growing up, I think a lot of us are in crisis because adoration is much less forthcoming after the first year of ministry and we don't have the spiritual resources to fall back on when the adoration is gone.

In my personal experience, about a year ago, I was once again flummoxed by dissention at church. Some of it wasn't fair, but some of it was and I found myself retreating back to the old "well, maybe it's time to move on" thought process. And suddenly I realized that when God called me to ministry, He called me to follow Jesus. He called me to minister to people. And ministering to people WAS NOT dependent on whether they ministered to me first. When God called me to ministry, He called me to a missionary position. My job, from God, is to minister. And whether I'm ministered to -- well, that's someone else's job. It's real nice if it happens, but my calling -- to ministry and to this congregation in particular -- can't depend on whether they minister to me first. I was called to follow Jesus. And Jesus ended up on the cross. I hope it doesn't come to that, but that's what I was called to do and that's what I agreed to do so that's what I have to do.

See -- the thing was -- the relationship with the church was not enough to sustain in times of pressure and frustration. The adoration was fleeting. And the relationship with the church was not deep enough to redeem me when I'd made mistakes and hurt people. It was usually not enough to redeem others when they'd made mistakes and hurt me. Being lauded and applauded and smiled upon was just not enough, especially when I knew that I didn't deserve the applause.

I've realized that the relationship with the church is a wonderful side-benefit of my relationship with Jesus. And I have to say -- it has gotten 1000 times better since I stopped expecting the church to prove its love for me before I was willing to show my love for it. It's still icky sometimes. Sometimes it's downright shitty (sorry, Gramps, for the curse word). But inevitably there is grace somewhere in the midst of the gunk that arrives when I focus on why exactly I am in ministry.

What distresses me about my colleagues in ministry dropping off like flies to the left and right is that our denomination is already in decline. Big-time decline. And many congregations have very distrustful relationships with pastors partly because pastors have treated them poorly. And to be fair to pastors, many congregations have treated pastors incredibly poorly, too.

BUT -- expecting that a congregation will understand its calling before we ourselves are willing to understand and enact our callings is reverting back to that adored high-school youth group member mentality. I'm not saying that we offer ourselves up for crucifixion everytime the CWF wants to change the silverware in the kitchen, BUT we MUST be willing to sacrifice more than a commensurate salary in a secular job and a nice house, right?

IT IS OUR JOBS AS PASTORS to be willing to "go for them." And if we don't do it -- who will? Didn't God ask us? Didn't we say, "yes?" So why are we complaining, whining, and wussing out from where we need to be?

Yes, so. That's my rant. It is, indeed, SO one-sided and one-dimensional. I do know that and I continue to remind myself to pray for my brothers and sisters in ministry.

My prayer is that God will raise up in each of us a willingness to be called and to respond to that calling. Sometimes doing God's work seems so exhausting. But I think there are wings like eagles waiting for us if we are willing to set down what keeps us from being lifted up. And it seems to me that believing that promise and searching out the Promiser has made such an enormous difference in being able to hear the call in the midst of frustration. I hope others are renewed and restored. I need them to be here.

Into my heart, as into the world

I am sitting here at one minute before midnight while Dennis finishes wrapping the last present we will take to my hometown tomorrow. There is much to do before we leave and we are both tired.
It has been a busy day. We met with our orthopedic surgeon today to check on the progress of our bones, and though they are healing well, the prognosis for the next few months involves more therapy, a possible surgery, many more bills and most of all, uncertainty. I found myself responding in frustration, worry and anxiety.

When we returned home this evening, I worked hard on the Christmas eve candlelight service. I put the service together using many of the words of John Bell and the Wild Goose Worship Group that I found in Cloth for the Cradle. In the midst of the preparation, I grumbled and glowered, feeling weary and inept. I was creating a cloud of darkness to hover over me. And how sorry I felt for myself!

But then I found myself reading again and again the words, "the world was not ready..."

"For He came to his own and his own did not know him."

Born in a cattle stall among dirt and grime and animal droppings. We made no room for him. No, we were not ready to receive him.

And yet, still, He came.

Oh, how I wish that I was one who prepared my heart as well as I have prepared my house to celebrate Christ's birth. But the fact is that I haven't. There's fear and worry and darkness and doubt dwelling there. My heart is not ready to receive him. There is no room at this inn.

And yet, still, He will come. He will come into what little space there is for him amidst cobwebs and dirt, smell and stench... he will come. He will come into my heart as He came into the world. Perhaps unnoticed. Perhaps unwanted. Perhaps uninvited. But He will come.

And I pray that what He finds here will be enough -- that just as the dank darkness of the stable could not hide the Glory within, the veil on my heart will not shadow the Light that has come to dwell among us and within me. For though I am not ready to receive him, I need Him deeply.

Even so, Lord Jesus, quickly come.

Talking for me

So often I am so very inarticulate, especially the more pregnant I become. Or I'm lazy and don't take the time to spin out the many ponderings of my heart.
Imagine my joy today when I found that wonderful, amazing, and incredibly articulate Sarah is voicing what I haven't, but have wanted to for some time, though she does it far more beautifully and faithfully that I could. Check it out here.
And thank you again, Sarah, for using that heart of yours so generously!

Return to normalcy -- sort of

Well, today, Dennis got up at 5:30 to go back to work! This is the first time that he has been to work since Sept. 19, when we had our accident. That's a long time!
He is going back for five-hour days for right now until the doctor sees how physical therapy is progressing. I imagine that I will have a tired love when he gets home after lunch today.
I am glad that he gets to go back to work because he needs it. At the same time, I've really liked having him around and still getting an income! But it is time.
Annalivia wondered where he was this morning. She woke up and called his name for a while, then got up and ran out of the bedroom talking to him, then ran to the basement steps to see if he was down there. I explained to her that he is gone and will be home soon and so she moved on to Sesame Street. I guess things are back to normal.
With Dennis gone, I've realized again the importance of routines for me. Although I did manage to get the sink clean and house ordered last night, I didn't set up breakfast, so Annalivia ate a banana and leftover chicken nuggets this morning. Not the worst food ever, but tonight I need to soak pancake batter so we can actually eat real food in the morning. And I need to do little things like setting out my clothes and showering at night to make the a.m. more smooth for her. With Dennis here, I can slack off. Without him, Annalivia is left bearing the slack and that's hardly fair.
I was thinking about this last night and this morning -- about how much easier it is for me to handle things when Dennis is here, but also how much more I don't handle things because he's here. It is stewardship time at church, and I realized that many of us do this. We use our gifts only when it is absolutely necessary -- when someone else doesn't cover our slack. And in our church, I think we've created a self-perpetuating system to uphold this. We don't just offer ourselves -- all of ourselves that we can. Instead, most of the time, we offer out of guilt or worry or fear or anger. It's a begrudging giving and so it's not really giving. We feel like someone else is taking from us, and that's hardly a gift to anyone.
So I've decided to work on my motivation for giving myself to my family and church. It should be about Love, shouldn't it? The Love Divine who gave All should inspire me to give my all.
Or at least it should inspire me to make a better attempt at breakfast!

Does God want you to be rich?

I've been slowly reading my way through our latest issue of Time. This is the cover story: Does God Want You to Be Rich? You can read an abstract from CNN here. (Shame on Time for not making the entire article available.)
It's interesting that Prosperity thinking is on the rise at the same time that the Crunchy Con and Emergent movements seem to be addressing the same target group with completely differently oriented messages.
I plan to add more thoughts when I actually have any mental clarity, but in the meantime I'd be interested to hear from anyone else who has read the article or has knowledge/ understanding of/ or experience with the movements mentioned above.

Late night thoughts on arrogance

It is 3:12 here and I've been up for about an hour. Wide awake -- cannot sleep. My mind is racing and yet, I'm so tired. I need to get back to bed.
However, I've been thinking about arrogance and how I have been and probably will be guilty of gross arrogance throughout my life. This has been brought into sharp focus for me as we've pondered the possibility that something is really wrong with our baby. I've realized my arrogance of assumption that I would have a healthy baby, my belief that I could prevent something being wrong if I just did everything "right", my belief that somehow I'd have the answers to whatever would come next...
I've also realized the arrogance I've applied to others. I've thought that I have answers for them, that I would handle situations better than they have, that my solutions and thoughts would clearly make their lives much better if they were somehow just able to receive my superior wisdom...
And most of all, I've realized the theological arrogance that I've bought into. I've realized this before, but in talking to people in my congregation and hearing how they perceive God to be working both in their own lives and in the life of my family, I realize that often I have dismissed their views as lesser than my own. What I often haven't realized is that the theology they hold close brings them peace and comfort. The theology they hold has, in most cases, been earned by more suffering, pain, joy -- by more life than I have, or may ever, experience.
My arrogance is humbling and humiliating. I don't know why I've needed to define myself in superior smug self-satisfaction, when clearly I am neither superior nor self-satisfied and any smugness is a facade.
The truth is -- I have no answers, really. I don't know how to handle what comes next. I am groping to find God in the midst of all my fears and anxiety.
In short, there is no room for arrogance here. And that -- well, that is very scary.

Some realtively unformed thoughts on "literal meaning"

Thanks to another provocative discussion at the CH forums, I have realized that I have a difficulty getting over the word, "literal" when someone says, "I believe the Bible is literal" or "I take the Bible literally."
I know what they mean. They mean -- the Bible is true, inspired, infallible. But the word "literal" is so very difficult here.
The things is, language is, by its very nature, representative, which means that it will ALWAYS need to be interpreted. And though some might argue that, well, yes, of course, language is interpreted, but we all KNOW what words really mean, I would point out that all of us, at some time or another, have misinterpreted the language that is very clearly set before us. How many of us have read an email from a dear friend and missed the humor or sarcasm therein? Or how many of us have read a post by someone we don't know and have inferred something about their character or compassion by their writings?
When it comes to the Bible, I do believe the Bible is inspired by God. And I could even say that I believe that what God inspired is infallible -- without error. I believe it to be unquestioningly true. However, the Bible has been interpreted by fallible humans for over 2500 years. Even if we believe the Holy Spirit gives us the power to interpret, we are still human. We are still imperfect beings trying to glean from language, some of which has been copied and re-copied and translated and re-translated for over 20 centuries, a representation of God, who is beyond all human representation and comprehension.
And this -- this reminder that we can only grasp small glimpses of God in metaphors and representations -- this is what most of all, bothers me about the word, "literal." God simply IS NOT literal. God is beyond literal. God is beyond what humans can possibly conceive of as fact, meaning, truth, exactness, etc.
All of this is absolutely, unequivocally, not to say that the Bible is meaningless. It is FULL of meaning. I would just posit that the meaning is far greater than we will ever, ever, ever understand. God is revealed and is being revealed in our reading of the text, but we will never, ever get to grasp God's fullness until we are Home.
To say that the Bible can be understood "literally" seems to me to imply that we grasping it IS attainable. That if we just study and pray and dig enough, someday, we'll "get it."
What I personally find is that the more I study the Bible, the more I learn about the language, the bigger God seems. The bigger the process appears. The bigger the picture represented by the words. I begin to understand why Paul said, "now we see only in part, then we will see the whole."
So as I've been turning over these thoughts in my head and pondering the nature of this most instructive and revealing of books I think I've realized that, the more I read the Bible, the less and less "literal" it seems to me.
But, of course, that could just be this weirdo...

Godsecrets

If you want to see some interesting/ challenging/ moving God stuff, check out this blog. There are some good things in there!

Just when you think they've got it all figured out...

They don't.
Isn't it amazing how so many of us spend so much time and effort searching for answers and solutions and tips and tricks and models and methods?
And, inevitably, we find that all along, whatever answer we really wanted someone else to provide for us had to be uncovered or discovered by our own searching and wondering and prayer?
I'm reminded that we are beautifully and wonderfully made and what works for even the dearest sister or brother in Christ, may not be the mold into which we are to be pressed.
Lovely. And frustrating and terrifying, too. But mainly -- lovely.

Does What Would Jesus Do apply to you, too?

I've got a question for those of you who are in the more conservative camp? When you read scripture, especially in the epistles, do you apply it against the actions and words of Jesus? I guess I'm asking, do you ask yourself, "What would Jesus do?" or does it matter?
I'm wondering this because I think there is a tendency in the liberal mainline tradition to do this, at least where I come from, especially when thinking critically about passages of contention or contrary messages, i.e. passages on the authority of women to teach.
I think my people tend to look to Jesus as the big authority and sometimes disregard Paul as lesser spokesperson, whereas I see a lot of conservative church practice and policy based pretty strongly on Paul and less so on Jesus in these points of contention.
I know it's more complex than this, but am I misreading this? Or is this the way it really is?

Ooooph... that hurts...

From an interesting and very personally resonant article in the New York Times...

For the most part, congregations want a young married man with children, according to research Ms. Lummis conducted in 2001. “The whole demographic image of a pastor had not changed much since the 1950’s,” she said.

Smaller, poorer congregations will hire a woman, but often, only grudgingly, clergy members said.

“When we met with the search committee in Louisville, people on it said to me, ‘We really didn’t want a woman, because we know that we’re dying when we get a woman,’” the Rev. Lucia Oerter said of her experience at John Knox Presbyterian in Louisville three and half years ago.

Ugh. Not sure if anyone would admit it here, but I'd say this feeling is probably pretty close to the surface in Rock Falls, IL, too...

What God calls a girl to be

Recently, we've been having an interesting conversation at the Choosing Home Forums about the role of women in the church, which is complimentary to a conversation carried on that the CH Blog a month ago or so.
What I think is really interesting in these discussions is the idea that seemed to be simmering beneath the surface that God creates women to be wives and/ or mothers and that one of the primary reasons women should not be in church leadership is because women with families are not fulfilling or are compromising their primary role to their families.
This is interesting to me because I think I have always assumed that what God has created us to be first and foremost is servants of Him, not our families, regardless of how noble that idea actually is. The idea that women should only be wives and mothers, is to me, as ridiculous as saying that women should only be attorneys and police detectives.
It is true that the calling to ordained leadership is one of sacrifice and often one of sacrifice borne by the family of the one called. But the calling of helpmeet and mother is one of sacrifice, too, and the family of the one called bears the sacrifices therein, regardless of whether the sacrifices are as obvious as Daddy having to put the Bug to bed because Momma's at a meeting. I would love to stay home with my kids, but I also know that if I get that chance, my poor husband and children are going to have to deal with a wife learning to handle restlessness, seeking ways to engage her brain, and longing for friendship and adult human interaction. And I know that if that's where God wants me to be, we'll figure out a way to deal with it, just like we figure out ways to deal with meetings and hospital calls and funerals.
Isn't all calling, when it comes down to it, about dying to self? Yes, being a pastor means that I have to balance the time I spend online blogging, with the time I spend on the floor playing, with the time I spend researching a sermon, with the time I spend calling my peeps. I often fail at dying to self, but I'm fairly certain that I'll always struggle with it. Because if I am following my God-chosen path whether in motherhood or ministry, won't that always mean I am giving up something ?
Edit to add: Molly actually JUST posted on an aspect of being a faithful woman at her blog. Check it out.

My varied reading material

A couple of months ago, I subscribed to three journals using my book and journal allowance (one of the true perks of being a pastor!) -- Christian Century, Sojourners, and Christianity Today. I got Christian Century because I need to read it, not only to keep up with my colleagues, but also to hear the voice of my religious tradition in a thoughtful, well-edited format. I got Sojourners because I thought it would cause me to think and I got Christianity Today, expecting to agree with hardly any of it, but again, knowing that I need to hear/ read the stuff therein.
What has surprised me is that while I enjoy Christian Century, and Sojourners just ticks me off with its earnestness (is that a word?) the thing I really look forward to reading is Christianity Today.
I don't know if it's because Christianity Today is a voice I don't usually hear so it's interesting to be exposed to it, or whether it's becuase Christianity Today is really, really good at writing engaging articles, or whether it's because the format is really very similar to the news magazines I have always loved, but I have really enjoyed this magazine!
I am also surprised at how much I actually agree with what is said/ written. Perhaps this is because I hang out with the evangelicals online or because I'm learning to read for what I can learn from something, rather than what I can prove to something. Whatever it is, I like it.
I have some colleagues who have been shocked/ borderline- disgusted that I have considered fraternizing with "the others" in this regard (i.e. reading and paying for! their publications). These are the same colleagues who generally launch into loud rants about what "they" do or do not believe/ practice as contrasted with whatever "we" do or do not believe/ practice, which is, of course, far superior. Interestingly, these same colleagues apparently refuse to expose themselves to "their" writings, so I'm not quite sure how these folks have figured out what "they" believe, but y'know... I'm sure they're justified somehow... or not.
ANYWAY, it has been a JOY, an absolute and complete JOY to become informed. I feel like the world is much bigger now and I'm really quite enthralled by how much I don't know. Perhaps I'm getting ready to shake the dust off of Fowler's Fourth. Or perhaps I've still a long way to go...

Intentional consciousness

Please click here to read about this wonderful idea.

Dennis and I are seriously considering taking part, though we're not sure we'll do all 30 days. I think Tonia's come up with a brilliant way to stand in solidarity with those whom we affluent Christians are all too eager to ignore. This has been on my heart for a while. I'm pleased to begin thinking about doing something constructive with these concerns.