Darkness

So, I'm currently reading a book called "Learning to Walk in the Dark" by one of my favorite preachers/writers: Barbara Brown Taylor. This is not a book review, I did not get this book for free, I bought it of my own volition because I LOVE her, but I *DO* think you should read her stuff... just do it...

She follows the phases of the moon as she explores darkness and it's cultural implications - mostly, how often we villainize darkness. Even spiritually, we say we found the light, or turned from darkness. This most recent chapter, where she explores blindess and life without light at all, and how darkness isn't what we really think it is... it's all got me thinking.

When you are born blind, you have no concept of what blindness is, or what darkness is. You have no way to understand that duality. Trees aren't seen by sight, but by the other senses. She says that seeing is superficial, but that it overpowers so many of our other senses; in darkness, though, we come alive. We see trees by their presence, we sense walls by their force, we identify people by their voice, and we feel the ground beneath us.

So why, so often, is spirituality compared to light? She says it's because the people who wrote our texts were people who could see. That is the duality they can use to describe the events that take place.

What if our biblical texts had been written by someone blind? What if it was not light and darkness, but love and apathy that we turned to and from? What if it was peace and calm that we turned to from hate and separation. What if we experienced more than the superficial "light" and got to the meat of the faith?

It makes me really want to spend time with my group exploring our other senses, and perhaps exploring the margins. I am not thinking to plan times where we more consciously not just serve those on the margins of society, but experience life that way. BBT went to an exhibit called "Dialogue in the Dark" where you experience the world as a blind person... really? How awesome would that be? To spend time actually in darkness trying to buy groceries?

What about spending time at the shelter?

What about being less of one of us and more of them? The early Christians were "them" and around the world, they are still the marginalized, but we rarely have that experience in America. Too often we don't realize that it is still dangerous to be a Christian in most of the world. We forget that we started "on the margins" and continue to live on the margins in a majority of the world. Christian acceptance is not a given, and we are told over and over again to cling to our faith when persecution comes... not if it comes.

What about learning to walk in the dark? What about learning about the presence of God without our superficial senses? What about going deeper?

I'm exploring darkness in different ways these days, trying to, as she puts it, learn to sit in it.... my favorite experiences of darkness were those when I was truly removed from the artificial lights of our world, our attempts to stave off darkness as long as possible... nights in India, on top of my mountain, closer to the stars than ever, seeing constellations from a different perspective and being able to reach out and touch them because the power was still out and there were no lights to interfere with their brilliance. Nights in a bach in Hari Hari New Zealand, with the generator off, a fire burning inside, but the light not permeating the darkness of the rain forest we found ourselves - seeing the southern cross and other foreign constellations that we miss in the northern hemisphere....

Rarely do we get to see the uninterrupted night sky in America. Even when I turn off all the lights in my house, street lights shine in...

And perhaps this is not a good thing. Perhaps we are missing the connection; perhaps we are favoring sight over our other senses... perhaps sight is not was allows to do anything we do, but actually, takes away from the fullness of our actions....

She mentions Opaque restaurants: restaurants where you eat in the dark and by doing so, you notice the food more, you notice the people more... She says perhaps we should have Opaque Church... I'm all for that idea. I want to do that. What is worship when we take away our sight? What is worship when we are using all of our other senses?

Perhaps that will be an experience I try to have soon.

Perhaps darkness is what we are missing in our world and in our church.

Perhaps we are too busy always trying to find the light that we forget the true Light. The Light that is much greater than the bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

Perhaps we have gone too far.

The New Covenant

by Bob Emery

I started this post weeks ago... I think it says a lot about this book that I was not in a hurry to write a review, or even to finish it. It's not that it is a bad book, because it certainly provides the story from a different perspective (the first person, actually), but it was just so hard for me to really get into this perspective. Historically, it presents the story as if it has the same main character throughout, but we know that isn't true, and I know part of my dislike comes from that. We can't take too literally the title of the book of John meaning that John wrote it, or that the letters of John were written by the same John from decades before. If you choose not to be so literal, there is no issue, though. In part III, while being culturally and historically interpreted (the beast as Nero), I hesitate to put those words into the text and write them down as fact, as Emery does.

The best part of the book, to me, is the Appendix at the back, giving a great amount of historical and much more factual information. Maybe I'm too close to DivSchool to do this book justice, but unlike some others I've read, I can't see myself buying the others of the series unless they are significantly better than this one, nor can I see myself recommending them to people looking for a good way to read the story. It would be much better, I think, to just recommend The Message if someone wants an easier read of the story, rather than this.

Perhaps I will give it another shot at a later date. There is no reason I can't like it later, but today, Go buy another book I've mentioned before (Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor is a good one if you're looking right now!!!).

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255.

Home(?) Again

I could write on the topic of home over and over again, because my heart is in pieces all over the US and the world. I have left parts of it with each member of my family, wherever they are (meaning a large concentration of pieces exists in upstate NY), pieces in New Zealand, pieces in India, pieces with people I've met in Australia, Germany, and other countries, and now, pieces of me in NC.

For those whom I haven't told, or haven't heard, I now reside in Virginia, right off the route that takes me both to NY and to NC, and I'm making a new home; a home I have no plans of leaving any time soon. Building community again, and reflecting on what home is...

They gave me cookies for signing my lease!!

There was about a month where I was "homeless". I had a place to sleep, and friends I consider family that offered me a home, but I didn't have "my" space. Work (church) became the place that kept my routine going, my sanity (most of the time) in place, and the place where it was "mine". Then, two days before I was supposed to travel for my trial weekend, the church was broken into, things stolen, door jambs split, and glass all over the floor... This space had just been violated. Already being in a time of transition meant this hit me more than it would have any other time. Suddenly, even church wasn't safe. I was constantly wondering if the doors were locked (something we always struggled with), if, when I showed up for work in the morning there would be someone else in the building with me, or, if somewhere there was another weakness being exploited...

Of course, no-where is ever completely safe from intruders and/or damage. No place is anything but that: a place. Home is more than that. Home is WAY more than that.

Home is the people you care about, the people you love, the people that have molded and shaped you through your interactions, great or small.

I wrote quite a lot as I was preparing to move, much of it private that will never see the light of day (until I publish a book, perhaps!). But still I wrote. And I drew. And I spent a lot of time thinking...

My move was not a bad thing. It is something to be celebrated - finishing seminary, being ordained - the next step is to find a ministry position - and my church was SO supportive of me and my accepting this call. But the move definitely brought up things I hadn't realized before; the main one being:

I have a very big family biologically, but I consider a lot of people part of my family outside that.

There is way more to that than I have time to write tonight, nor do I know for sure if this is the space to write that out in. Suffice it to say, I have many, many friends that I consider family, even if they don't consider me family (the nature of pretty much always not being geographically close to family).

So, here I am, sitting in my new living room, again procrastinating the next stage of settling in (going through all the things that got thrown into boxes because I could "sort them out later"), writing the first blog in a long time. Hoping to make it more regular, but for now, going to watch a movie.

Also, family, come visit me. :-)

I am here

As I approach my ordination council and the service itself, I've been reflecting on the journey. Always, as part of your ordination, you get to tell your story, and talk about your call. Givens. So, last night, I pulled out the Bible that I bought in New Zealand and was so crucial to the next 4 years of my life. You see, when I moved to NZ, I didn't take a Bible with me. I was so far gone that I thought God could never love me again, and there was no reason for God to. Early on, though, a pastor (ironically named Steve) preached a sermon that shook me to my core and caused to me to cry at the altar for a good long time. And not just a little cry, but the really deep, really hard, ugly cry. I had many revelations that night but the largest one just destroyed the wall that was standing between me and God. The next day I bought this little Bible on the way to the station to meet some friends for a trip we were going on that weekend. I was done-for. Over. Out. Life. changed. So that Bible holds MANY stories. Stories of street preaching in Sydney. Stories of me re-discovering the grace of God that I had forgotten in my own heart. Stories of me preaching with no notice in India. Stories of me struggling. Stories of me reaching out time after time. Stories of people reaching out to me…

The Bible has been on the shelf throughout DivSchool. Put down so I could read the Oxford Annotated NRSV for school, and compare the original Greek and Hebrew languages to different translations to find the meaning in and between the words. Put down so I could learn the technicalities of faith…

Until last night when I picked it up, thinking about my journey to ordination and the people that have meant so much to me.

That's the beauty of ordination: It's a landmark - one of those times that culminates and begins all at once. It is a journey to that moment and it is a journey after that moment. It is liminal. Suspended time. A time when, whether physically present or not, people gather to affirm the call God has placed on a life.

I am blessed to sit and think about those who have meant so much to my journey, to invite them to participate. To know that those who can't be here are here in spirit. I am blessed because there are so many on this journey that I will never see again, and that's okay because it does not change anything.

My Bible is held together with a rubber band because there is just too much stuff in it, and that's okay. Each thing in there holds special meaning to me: a fossilized leaf from the rain forest in Hari Hari, New Zealand, photo strips of Hawke's Bay, notes from dear friends, a band-aid, Tibbs' business card, the cards from the funerals of people important to me, quotes that mean a lot to me…. It's written in, it's used, and it's well-loved.

So much of my journey is wrapped up in that little Bible that I put on a shelf. And when I pick it up, I am overwhelmed by the journey. Joyful to be affirmed by everything that book symbolizes. Joyful to be loved and affirmed by the people around me. Joyful for the family that has been by me through thick and thin. Joyful for friends from birth, to new friends, to friends I will only spend time with on the internet. Joyful for the men and women who stepped up to fill significant roles in my life. Joyful for the kids who keep my heart young. Joyful for animals that have loved me and taught me. Joyful for those who have stretched me. Joyful for those who have held me. Joyful for those who make me laugh. Joyful for those who challenge. Joyful for those who teach. Joyful for those who critique. Joyful for those who have gone before me to pave the way. Joyful for those that don't even know how much they meant to me. 

So much joy in this time that I can't even explain. And it's ironic that tonight I was doing some more cleaning and found letters I wrote 7 years ago to people that have meant a lot to me. I could write so many more today. I could write so many words and it still would not be enough. 

So this is for you. This entry is for you. Because my journey is nothing without you. Each and every one of you have left a mark on me and I hope you know how closely I hold you in my heart. And even if we don't talk so much anymore, and even if you can't be here for my ordination, you are here, because I am here. 

Theology from Exile: Luke & Matthew

This will be a joint review, as both are part of a series, and each review would be quite similar.

The first thing that sticks out to me is the layout of the books - it follows the lectionary (revised common lectionary, found here), and goes through each season and Sunday including the relationships of all the lectionary texts for that day (Epistles, Old Testament). There are 4 questions that frame the readings and interpretations of these texts:
1) What is the nature of God? Violent or non-violent?
2) What is the nature of Jesus's message? Inclusive or exclusive?
3) What is faith? Literal belief, or trust in God's realm of distributive justice- compassion?
4) What is deliverance? Salvation from hell or liberation from injustice?

There are so many lenses through which I can read these commentaries and answer these questions that I think it merits a positive review on my part. Any book that can immediately capture me with its thesis and has me thinking (especially this close to graduation) deserves at least that.

I especially enjoy the commentary on the Magnificat provided in Luke - any good commentary brings points together that you hadn't considered before and this commentary does just that, AND pulls in other scholar/author opinions, research, and perspectives. Sea Raven does a good job of pulling resources together to expand understanding, and that is something I enjoy.

Sea Raven's conversational and relaxed style makes this commentary wonderful to read, as seen by the chapter in Matthew called "Baptism-Schmaptism," but should not be judged by that because the insights are amazing. This is a book I could hand to a congregation member and they could easily understand the conversation taking place without the "headiness" of theology pouring through their brain confusing them.

All in all - I got the Year of Luke as an e-book format, and it will definitely be purchased and put on my shelf - that's high praise from me. I enjoy solid voices and different perspectives and this will join my collection.

You can buy the books here.

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255.

"Let it Go" on the Cross

The blessing of divinity school is that you can think of just about anything theologically…

And the curse of divinity school is that you can think of just about anything theologically… 

So, I haven’t watched Frozen, but I keep hearing the song “Let it Go” – and I read a blog about it that paints the song as an egotistical, self-involved, terrible song. Actually, I've read a couple of them, but those were not my thoughts the first time I heard it. I heard strength and empowerment... And after being invited to do a devotion for a meeting I decided to really get down to what else can be seen in "Let it Go." So, now I present "Let it Go" on the Cross:

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen.
A kingdom of isolation,
and it looks like I'm the Queen
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in;
Heaven knows I've tried

I wonder if Jesus thought any of this in the garden. Alone, praying, knowing what is to come. He always told his disciples to not tell anyone who he was, that his identity was and is a realization we have to come to ourselves through our own experience… and here he sits in the garden…  saying:

Don't let them in,
don't let them see
Be the good one you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel,
don't let them know
Well now they know

Struggling, always struggling. When the guards appear on the mountain and Jesus is sitting there knowing the time has come; this cup cannot be passed…

Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore

Not Jesus’ will, but God’s be done. The time has come…

Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don't care
what they're going to say
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway

Ridiculed and sent to court – it didn’t matter what people were going to say because it was already in motion. The cross was imminent...

It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all

With his will completely turned over to God, it didn’t matter what anything else was. It didn’t matter what anyone else said. Some distance from everything – in solidarity with God – no longer asking for the cup to be passed… 

It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me,
I'm free!

“It is finished.”

Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You'll never see me cry
Here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on

Truly one with God now – leaving the earthly world behind – the storms still raging on the earth, the ever-going struggle between belief and unbelief – Jesus, now one with the wind and sky, all of creation… 

My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back, the past is in the past

One with God – Coming back to earth to breathe the spirit on the disciples – breathing grace on the world, because the past is the past and we’re never going back… 

Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect one is gone
Here I stand
In the light of day
Let the storm rage on

The storm rages on, each and every day in the aftermath… but we rise in grace because the image of perfection is gone, in the light of day we stand - mistakes, scars and all, and now we can let it all go – give it to God. The storm will rage on… but… 

The cold never bothered me anyway!

Carrying a Prayer

The winds are blowing, carrying a prayer,
Come land on me, fresh clean air.
The times, they are changing,
The river keeps on raging.
Flow river flow.
Blow wind blow.


I wrote this last month, and I couldn't right now tell you what was going on at that moment, other than I felt the ground shifting beneath my feet as the world turned. There was something different that day in everything around me. Perhaps it is the uncertainty of life that got me, or the recognition that things are always changing, or, really, my sudden acceptance and willingness to face the changes head on. 

The moment where you remember that change isn't a bad thing and that we never stop changing, so why fear it when it is more obvious? 

Flow river flow. 
Blow wind blow. 

Blow me where I should be, flow to a new destination, carve pathways where there were none, and soar through the trees. Do not be content and stagnant, rotting in stale air. Breathe the breath of nature on the breeze, and feel the life of water in the stream. Embrace the sound and life present in both of these things. 

We don't see the current wearing away at the rock; we don't watch the wind move in the clear sky. 

But we can see the path, and we can see the remnants. 

The river is not the same from one moment to the next, always rounding objects and obstructions, and the wind blows through through the sky and all we see is the remnants of its power. 


I can't stop thinking about these few lines as life continues to change. 

Praise for the fortune had, and the fortune yet to come. 
Mourn with those mourn, and relish the experience as the lessons learned. 
Laugh and share lessons learned.

Feel the water and jump into its power, surrendering to the flow. 
Leap from the top and fly on air. 

Carrying a prayer.