Goodnight, 9/11
As this 10th anniversary draws to a close, I say goodnight with this hymn…one of my favorites.
How Can I Keep From Singing?
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation
I hear the sweet though far off hymn
That hails a new creation:
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul—
How can I keep from singing?
What though my joys and comforts die?
The Lord my Savior liveth;
What though the darkness gather round!
Songs in the night He giveth:
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging;
Since Christ is Lord of Heav’n and earth,
How can I keep from singing?
I lift mine eyes; the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway smoothes
Since first I learned to love it:
The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing:
All things are mine since I am His—
How can I keep from singing?
Makin’ Babies…
10 years ago next week I returned to seminary…driving across the George Washington Bridge from a smoke-draped NYC into NJ, where my second year of seminary education awaited me. Just weeks later, our seminary town would be caught up in an anthrax scare. (Right now my friends from seminary are laughing because they witnessed my own anthrax scare–which resulted in three major people at the seminary wearing masks in my room–mostly because… well…I am a hypochondriac…and I’d never actually watched the fibers of a letter float into the air as the envelope is torn.)
While seminary was a wonderful place to process such events–I suddenly felt frustrated sitting in class. I wanted to be out doing ministry. (That year my goals would shift from PhD to parish.) I don’t remember much of how the seminary community responded…but I do remember one particular theology class. A professor told us that while we might not be able to make sense of it all, perhaps the best thing people could do was “make babies.” It was a bit awkward, but also spoke to the important idea that when faced with terror and death we must choose life. I recalled his advice in preparation for a recent sermon on the first two chapters of Exodus. In these chapters, the Israelites are suddenly faced with a pharaoh who does not know of Joseph (or of the peaceful relationship between the Hebrews and Egyptians). Threatened by the presence and growth of the Hebrew community, Pharaoh institutes varying forms of oppression. He makes every attempt to prevent the population from growing. But the Israelites respond by making babies and preserving the lives of the children. In this sense, our professor’s recommendation was quite biblically grounded. Choosing life was the first step toward liberation.
All of this has me wondering–in what ways have I chosen life over the last 10 years?
In what ways have you?
Life Flashing Before My Eyes
Yesterday, as I felt the earth shake below me and held part of my pastoral care meeting under a table, I had one last parting thought–I haven’t blogged since winter! I have been meaning to blog, really I have…I guess it just takes one of those life-changing events to put things into perspective. 
But seriously–when the shaking started, it was unnerving. I have been thinking a lot about the folks from the Pentagon who thought they were under attack (again). Those of us who live in relatively earthquake-free zones had no idea what we were experiencing, when it would end, or if it would get worse. Thankfully, it turned out to be no big deal…though some from the West Coast accused us of making it into a big deal. (I am desperately trying to ignite some sort of nerdy, meteorological East Coast/West Coast rivalry.)
We who live relatively cushy first-world lives should probably take these moments of earth-shaking as a big deal…a reminder of our humanity and of the precious gift of each day.
EAST COAST!
It’s good to be here.
Casey
Risky Business
I am deeply saddened by the news of the sexual abuse scandal at Vienna Presbyterian Church. The Washington Post’s front-page article this past Sunday shed light on a church in pain over the grave sins committed by a youth director 6 years ago, and over the sins of omission committed by the church, which, at the time did not see (did not want to see?) the depth and breadth of his sexual misconduct.
I have had many, many conversations about Vienna in the last week–some formally at the church with regard to our own policies and procedures, and many more informally with congregants and clergy colleagues in the area. One person wondered if Vienna was opening itself up to potential lawsuits by so openly confessing its failure to protect the young women of the church (among other failures). This thought hadn’t even occurred to me. My immediate response was this: if the church puts its own life ahead of the lives of its members, it has no business being the church. This is a premise built into our Presbyterian constitution.
“The Church is called to undertake this mission even at the risk of losing its life, trusting in God alone as the author and giver of life, sharing the gospel, and doing those deeds in the world that point beyond themselves to the new reality in Christ.” G-3.0400, PC(USA) Book of Order
Of course, this high calling is not an easy calling.
My prayer for Vienna (among other prayers), and for ALL churches, is that we would take see and take the risks that are necessary to be Christ’s church in the world…living for God and each other in a way that is not self-protective, but self-giving.
—–
What risks has your church taken? Are there risks you should be taking?
Where in your own life would taking a risk lead to greater authenticity, greater participation in the work of God in the world?
How Fragile We Are
About half way through the day yesterday, someone told me that I looked tired–never a good thing to hear halfway through the day. We hadn’t seen each other in years, so we spent a few minutes catching up. I explained that I have two young children and a full-time pastoral position. The person then asked, “What else are you doing?” Seeing as I WAS tired, I defensively responded, “What else am I doing?!?! I just mentioned that I’m a full time pastor and mother…I’m not sure I could possibly be doing anything else!” I said it with a smile, but I doubt that covered my defensiveness and annoyance. Of course, the question was innocent and well-intended…but I am particularly sensitive these days about what I am, and what I am not, doing.
In case you were interested, here’s a bit of what I’m doing (and how I’m doing it):
This morning I walked out of the kitchen to find my 11 month old daughter standing up against a wall. In her right hand she held a plastic bag and with her left hand she was attempting to pry loose the electric socket plugs. (At least I had plugs in the sockets?) A portrait of awesome parenting. You can breathe a sigh of relief–instead of going with my first instinct (to grab a camera and post on Facebook), I actually took the bag and moved her away from the socket. It was just one of those mornings when everyone was tired, grumpy, and not functioning very well. I did manage to have everyone wearing something green though…heaven help us if I didn’t honor the school’s St. Patrick’s Day request. When walked into school, there were leprechaun footprints everywhere and all the rooms had been torn apart. (As you may know, leprechauns are quite mischievous.) I don’t think it really phased my kids though, because, well…that’s what my house looks like 99% of the time. TOTAL CHAOS. I laughed at myself, but inside I also heard that voice saying, “Why can’t you get your life together?” (If anyone is looking for leprechauns year round, they are apparently living in my house…and my office.)
I walked out of the school, got in my car, turned the radio on, and heard the current death toll in Japan–over 4,000 dead–with thousands more unaccounted for. AHHHH…perspective.
The pressure I put on myself to be the “best” parent, to be the “best” pastor I can be–is partially wrapped up in the sin of believing that I could ever be perfect (or, that it’s important to be). It is the denial of my own humanity. Our society is so wrapped up in preventing aging, finding ways to have the perfect body, to be the perfect spouse, the perfect parent, the perfect ____________…as if any of these things could be attained. We are flawed and fragile, and that is how we were made. And somehow, we have to figure out how to live with ourselves and each other.
The tragedy in Japan sheds light on our own vulnerability, on the true lack of control we have, on how very fragile we are. One cannot hear about the death toll, and not be faced with the reality of our mortality.
In the season of Lent, Christians do something very counter-cultural (in America, at least). We acknowledge our own frailty, our own humanity. We spread ashes on our heads, and remember that from dust we came, and to dust we will return. We consider how Jesus was tempted and tormented, how he walked “the lonesome valley,” how he suffered, and died. While Jesus lived out the most difficult parts of being human, he also healed, he taught, he listened, he prayed. He loved. Today, as I consider how fragile we are–as I consider my own humanity–I am grateful for the God of love who knows so intimately what it means to be human.
Between our times of dust, may we embrace our humanity. We cannot be perfect, and we do not know when death will come, but we have been taught this…in the meantime, love.
Love self, love neighbor.
Prayers ascending for the people of Japan, for the people of the world.
Spiritual Composting
I believe strongly that our bodies betray our real feelings (and am now searching to understand more fully connections between body and worship). Today, my body is telling me that I need a break. There is a sermon on the transfiguration shooting pains in my upper back. My lower back is not so gently reminding me that I am having a hard time figuring out how to be fully present to my kids. My head is aching with all that has to be done over the next week. So, you can imagine how pleased I was to find a section in my “praying in color” journal called “Compost Prayers.” Sybil Macbeth instructs, “Write all of the negative things you can think of on your prayer drawing. Don’t hold back. God can take our garbage and turn it into compost.” Today, there is A LOT of composting to do. Admittedly, and thankfully, my problems are good ones to have–they are problems that only someone who is privileged could even consider worrying about. Still, my body says they’re real. So, today I will compost and breathe. I will stretch and loosen.
What’s going into your compost?
PS- It has been quite a while since my last post. I have been busy sermon-writing, Lent-preparing, and caring for sick children (among other things). I have had a hard time allowing myself to be vulnerable enough to put words to the digital page and press “publish”. This blog-writing practice has been daunting to me. Every time I post I realize that what I’ve written is really just a snap-shot of what I believe, what I am coming to know. That being said, I am glad to be setting words down again.
From Totally Drool to Totally Cool
A brief preface.
In the pre-marital counseling couples workbook I use, there is an exercise for conflict resolution. The worksheet requires the couple to list ten possible solutions to the conflict. Coming up with 10 possible solutions for a problem is often tough–so, I encourage the couple to be a little silly if necessary.
What follows might be counted among my sillier ideas for how to grow the young adult population in our churches.
____
I am in my fifth year of young adults ministry at my church in Alexandria. In 2006, I was brought on to begin the young adults programming (a newly created position). At WPC, young adults are members in their 20s-30s without children. (Apparently, when you have kids, you are no longer young. Based on 3 years of parenting experience, it certainly feels that way!) Our assets going in were as follows: 1) a group of about 12 active young adults; 2) a lively congregation invested in bringing young adults in and willing to let newer members serve on boards; 3) a weekly staff meeting which included going over lists of visitors/prospects and young adults to be contacted; 4) a solid worship staff (I was not on clergy staff at the time, so I believe I can say that fairly objectively!); and, 5) some money. (There were other assets, I know…but these are the ones that stand out most to me as I’m writing.) The group grew quickly, which seemed unusual for a Presbyterian Church. (We’ve heard a great deal in recent days about the decline of the PC(USA).) I know at other churches in the DC area, more young adults have started to come as well. It was a good time to start up a young adults ministry.
All the assets listed were important, but I believe that one of the greatest assets we had was the fact that there were ALREADY a dozen or so young and active members. When young visitors would come, they would often comment that it was really comforting to see other young adults in worship.
So…here’s an idea from my list of 10 ways to resolve this issue (or, at least, begin resolving this issue).
What if we did a young adult loaner program? What if we sent out 6-12 active young adults to each of our generationally-challenged congregations? A year-long mission experiment, if you will.
I know, it sounds a bit like the premise of the 1980s movie Can’t Buy Me Love, in which nerd Ronald Miller hires cool-girl Cindy to pretend she likes him. In the process, he goes from “totally drool, to totally cool”–from “totally geek, to totally chic.” Of course, this only lasts for a time–when the truth of their arrangement is revealed, he returns quickly from chic to geek. Lessons are learned all around–and, in the end, he still gets the girl.
Lucky for us, we have the benefit of having witnessed Ronnie’s fall. Having learned so much from this film (yes, this is sarcastic), I am not suggesting that the young adults just pretend to like the church. The young adults would have to covenant to be full participants in the worship and mission of the church. The churches would have to covenant to include the young adults fully, as well.
Any takers?
What crazy ideas would your list of ten include?
Channeling Al Green–A Love Letter to the PC(USA)
If you’re a Presbyterian nerd like me, or just a Presbyterian, or just a nerd, or maybe just someone who is interested in issues of unity…please, read (and listen) on.
Dear PC(USA),
If you were a radio-listening entity, I’d ask you to tune into Delilah…you’d then hear a smooth-talking DJ acknowledge a special request: “This next song goes out to a very special someone–the Presbyterian Church (USA)–from one of its pastors.” (You can hit play now and read on.)
As of late there have been calls on the part of certain pastors and congregations to sever/alter ties that have defined us as a connectional church. All I’m saying is, please, let’s stay together. Yes, we have disagreements–some of them seemingly insurmountable. Yes, I would prefer it if you’d see it my way. But no, I don’t think I’ll be better if you leave. Let’s be honest…the main issue seems to be over ordination standards. Perhaps we’ll never agree over this. Still, I want you around. I want to be connected to people with whom I disagree, people who challenge me to articulate my beliefs more fully, people who offer alternative visions for how God is working in the world. I want to do this for you, as well. You see, I’m afraid that I won’t grow as much if there’s no one to argue with, to have turmoil with, to learn how to dialogue with. I’m worried that if our solution to divisive issues is to just go ahead and divide, that we never get to experience the fullness of what it means to be a community of God. As Presbyterians, we proclaim that God alone is the Lord of the conscience–it seems only natural that many disagreements and conflicts would be the result of such a belief!
So, let’s stay together. Let’s live with the pains of what it means to be connected. It’s not easy, and often not fun…but it just might be part of the fullness of Christian living to which God calls us.
With love on this Valentine’s Day,
Casey
A Doodled Prayer
my church in pain
divided over whether or not
who we love should affect our ability to serve
the last time i checked
it was precisely our ability to love
that made us able to serve
i wonder where your anger is
what has you weeping
what makes your heart ache
how you dream of our redemption
i can only imagine that
the more we resist your teaching
the more creative you become
in the midst
of my own frustration
disappointment
longing
i hope still
in the power of your creative spirit
which forgives more
redeems more
loves more
heals more
than i could ever fathom
CREATE
REDEEM
SUSTAIN
please
I do doodle
In seminary, I served as a student representative on the theology department committee. I would like to say that I remember many a profound conversation from that time (I’m sure there were some), but my only really vivid memory was of watching one of my professors doodling during the discussion. A seventy-something year old man who was the toughest, most intimidating teacher I’d ever experienced sat there making sketches like a distracted kid in class. Like, well, me.
About 6 years later a study came out proclaiming the benefits of doodling for concentration. The good doctor (of theology) and I were vindicated at last.
In recent small group studies, I have encouraged folks to draw or doodle their prayers. I have been inspired by the book Praying in Color. For those of you who have been searching for a more tangible way to pray, this is a fantastic practice. (It is also a fantastic way of praying with kids.) Yesterday, I doodled my week. (If you’re on my schedule this week, consider yourself prayer-doodled.) I love working with colors, writing and remembering, taking the time to explore–not distracted by my markers, but quite literally drawn in by them. I found myself going back to old doodled prayers and just running my fingers over the colors and words, bringing the prayers to life again.
For God’s sake…doodle away!
