Winds of the Ancient-Future

I just returned from a few unexpected days in Dallas for the Winter Conference of my denomination, the Anglican Mission in the Americas. While I had a wonderful time, I can tell it's going to take me awhile to fully digest the experience. So a few preliminary comments:


1) Ohhh, Dallas. Ohhh, Texas. Ohhh, memories of my days in the SBC... Enough said.


2) The unexpected:

(a) So much gray hair. Since the AMiA churches in which I have been involved have been largely powered by students coming out of more typical evangelical church backgrounds, I was taken aback by the number of older people involved in the convention, many of whom had been staunch members of the Episcopal church for years and years. These are the people who stood by their convictions and took action - it takes a lot of courage to leave family, friends, social ties, and beautiful buildings in search of orthodoxy.

(b) So many southern accents. Granted, you would think that the fact the conference was being held in Dallas would have tipped me off... but who knew that and Anglican denomination had so
many southern roots (apart from the Global South, that is)?

(c) Twinges of evangelical bland. Now, forgive me, but I am mightily prejudiced when it comes to worship styles - an unfortunate side-effect of co-leading worship at my own church and experiencing worship that reaches me as worship in "typical" evangelical churches rarely can. Since my own experience of worship in AMiA churches (here, I am thinking particularly, though not accurate theologically speaking, of music) has been extra-ordinary, I was not expecting the corporate worship at the conference to feel more "EFCA" than AMiA. Like I said, non-judging me is surprisingly opinionated when it comes to worship...

(d) Small fish, bigger pond. At the conference, I realized that I am not used to feeling overlooked as a Christian. In my own circles, right now I am a person that most everybody knows and respects; and it was a shock to go to conference and realize that most everybody there would probably look at me and see a young, short blond-ish girl, never expecting her to show signs of intellectual, spiritual, even emotional depth. It was good for me to swim in a bigger pond for awhile and to remember that God has given me a ministry that matters, and this is a wonderful thing!, but he has also called many, many people to bigger things than I can even imagine. Ah, that devious, creeping pride...

3) The narrow view:

(a) Good roommate times. One of my roommates was also at the conference, and we had an awesome time together of discussion, fun, and observation of awkwardness. It was one of those special times of getting to know a good friend even better and being privileged to see inner beauty and be affirmed in return. Plus, we got to, umm, imbibe (ah, the goodness of the Scotch!) with the rest of the staff at a "family establishment" called the Idle Rich. And, we got to see Juno after my bedtime.

(b) Personal clarity. In recent months, I have been wrestling with issues of calling and vocation. After being at conference, I am 99% sure that I am called to stay at Redeemer until "further notice." I long to dive into ministry, pour into people, learn to build a community; I see God working in my life and in my church, and I cannot walk away from that. PhD? Someday, perhaps, but in the meantime I believe I am ready (and called, and placed in my communities specifically) for action!

(c) Denominational clarity. I finally have a decent sense of what AMiA is, and what it means to be Anglican. If anyone is interested, I am more than happy to post Bishop John Roger's excellent synthesis of Anglicanism. After hearing him speak in a workshop, I realized that yes, I am Anglican! Good thing...

4) The far-beyond myself:

(a) Rwanda. I love, love, love the fact that we are under the authority of the bishops of Rwanda. I loved, loved, loved seeing and hearing from the bishops at the conference, especially in the final consecration ceremony when all the bishops were gathered on stage, lined up in a row as they laid hands on the new bishops, a brilliant wall of red in their vestments. I love the justice of Americans finally recognizing the value, indeed in many ways the greater spiritual maturity of Global Christianity.

(b) God at work. After being at the conference, I am absolutely convinced that AMiA is God's project. I believe that we are in the middle of something big, something exciting, something utterly of the Spirit. Now, I tend to be cautious when I feel this way, since I never want to confuse my own intuition with recognition prompted by the Spirit, but at this point I can see the vision of AMiA, the commitment of the AMiA leaders, and the unique combination of factors that is fundamental to AMiA, and it leaves me breathless with gratitude that the Lord has allowed me to be a part of His work. I can't explain it fully -- I just watch, wait, respond, and pray.

Pray for AMiA. Pray for the church in America. Pray for revival from the Spirit. Pray for faithful leaders. Watch and pray, watch and pray.

BTW: the photos above are from an online article about the conference, by David W. Virtue. Check it out at http://www.virtueonline.org/portal/modules/news/article.php?storyid=7561

Forgiveness--
Trusting God with God's justice.
Saving truth

Return to the Word

The other night, I picked up my Bible because I wanted to read it. Now, on first glance, that may not seem like an extraordinary event, but let me put it this way: the other night, I picked up my Bible because I wanted to read it. I WANTED to read it. I was not in a desperate emotional state, I was not seeking the answer to a trivia question, I was not reading as part of a class requirement; no, I just wanted to read Scripture.

For some, this event would not be seen as an occasion for rejoicing. However, it has been a really long time since I have been able to come to Scripture without the imperious Should ringing in my ears, a word which often brings resentment rather than rejoicing.

Recently, a friend asked me whether I believe that people go through "phases." My first answer was a Yes, though qualified, as my answers often are. I do believe that each of us has seasons in which we are naturally inclined toward certain practices and not others; for example, I go through phases of desiring a lot of people-time and phases of desiring a lot of alone time. I go through "phases" where it is easy to turn my heart and mind upward, and through times when I collapse into bed at the end of the day and suddenly (and sadly) realize, "oh yeah, God... I forgot about him." Now I do not believe that "phases" are excuses for sin; but at the same time, I wonder if the common evangelical Christian understanding of the spiritual walk overemphasizes a mechanistic, one-size-all "progression" in faith that actually can work against what God desires to do in our lives. We cannot sustain ourselves by willpower alone; I cannot sustain discipline merely because of a Should. Love is a life-giving motivator; Should bestows guilt and calls it duty. Should has its own season, its role to play in the life of faith, but Should is never equal to Spirit.

I have been in a phase, a season, during which I could not read Scripture, during which I had no room in my heart and mind for meditation and stillness. I feel myself returning, I hope, I pray, to the Word, to a season in which Scripture means something to me, in which I devour the words rather than force them down and read out of my love for God and sincere gratitude for his gracious gift to us in Scripture.

Love for God Himself--precious indeed.

Oh life!

Oh, life! Why you gotta be so complicated?

I have found myself saying these words numerous times lately, whether out of exasperation, humor, despair, or simply a sober recognition of the way it just is. Perhaps this feeling is merely a symptom of growing up, of beginning to focus more on people than on tasks, of learning what it means to love in the midst of the hard times, what it means to minister to those around us while in the midst of your own pain, what it means to be human, autonomous yet bound by cords only partly of our own making. Perhaps this is just "real life" in all of its bittersweet glory.

Why do we human beings so often just... miss each other by inches or leaps, lacking the depth perception to make two hands meet? Why do two good friends fall for the same guy? Why is it that romantic interests play Dominos, each piece chasing after a piece chasing after some other piece, and not Tetris, where each piece can fit cosily with its neighbors? Why is it that the ones least interested in Marriage are the ones wedded first? Why this disconnect?

So often these days, I can't help but to think of the Howie Day song, "Collide."

I'm open, you're closed /
Where I follow, you'll go /
I worry I won't see your face /
Light up again /

Even the best fall down sometimes /
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme /
Out of the doubt that fills my mind /
I somehow find /
You and I collide

As we walk through life, searching for connection, searching for a (the?) person with whom we can sit in radiant silence, are we left with nothing but collision? Or Providence, accurate as a scalpel, dependable as the sunrise?

I have begun this blog because I could not keep silent in this exploration of life and relationships, in my calling to follow Christ through the shifting shadows and my conviction that underneath the turbulence, life is more than mere collision.

Oh, life! Why you gotta be so bittersweet? Why you gotta be so complicated?

Unconditional Confusion

Veiled rivers
separating
swiftly flowing
murky, lurking,
churning boulders
of emotion
of mistrust and
deep suspicion.
Flood-tide rising,
rising, rising,
boiling, burning,
overturning
Raft is shattered,
oars are broken,
You and I are
separated,
overwhelmed by
hidden currents,
Neither speaking,
Both are drinking
deeply from these
poison waters,
blood-red waters
greyed by fogs of
good intentions,
misperceptions,
silences and
lies.
Seek the light,
seek the light of
new beginnings,
former blessings,
firm handholds and
solid ground.
Somewhere there is
granite bedrock,
underneath the
slimy clay,
underneath the
masking fog,
somewhere on
the other shore—
lives truth,
dies lies,
holds hands,
spans lands,
somewhere on the other shore
reigns Hope.