Religious Tolerance = Weak Christian Identity?

Last week I heard Brian McLaren speak and I'm still chewing on some of what he said. He shared the philosophy that having a common enemy builds a strong identity.

Then he described his observation that there is a strong Christian fundamentalist identity that is built on making another faith (or non faith) group (Muslim, Jews, atheist, etc) the enemy. And there is a weak tolerant Christianity that is unable to make another group the enemy and thus their identity suffers.

McLaren suggests that it doesn't have to be one way or the other. That there is a third way where we can be tolerant of other faiths and still hold onto our own. He does this by making hostility itself the enemy.

I love this way forward. Though, I'm having a hard time moving forward with how this common enemy - hostility- strengthens our common identity. Here's why:

In my generation, many of us who were raised in a tolerant ("weak") Christian identity are choosing not to go to church. We're grateful for our Christian upbringing and take from it that we are to be nice and practice hospitality to others. (McLaren mentioned this, too). But apart from our choice to be nice we're having a hard time CLAIMING Christianity over other faiths or as a faith at all.

I think our identity has to be built on something more than just our commitment to being tolerant and respectful and nice.

Being a ridiculously curious student, I asked McLaren about this and he had a fascinating answer. He said that younger generations need to reclaim rituals and traditions in order to build their new strong identity in Christ.

I've been thinking about this a lot this last week and it seems to hold true for myself and my worshipping community. We're hungry for space, for silence, for meditation, for prayer, for laying on of hands, for communion and baptism. We want to be anointed. We want to find the sacred in the mundane. We want to find God in the mystery, wonder, and awe of our everyday lives.

I wonder how we might reclaim language, too. How we can reclaim our Christian stories and live into those. I'm excited for how worship and service and fellowship space might change to accommodate the new expressions of this new, tolerant, strong Christian identity.

Be Anxious for Nothing

Anxiety is something I've always dealt with. As a young student in elementary school, I remember talking about my anxiety over tests with the teacher because she wanted to understand how I could do so well in class and then freeze on tests. As I got better about managing my stress in school, life decisions began causing anxiety. My desire to make the right choice and choose the best path became an obstacle to my ability to do anything at all. Throughout my life, I've had to continue taking deep breaths and reminding myself to CHILL OUT. To lower my expectations a little and trust that things are going to be alright.

It's a little humorous, though not too humorous, that I now find myself in a stressful role (pastor) for a stressed institution (the Presbyterian church). Our mainline churches (PCUSA included) are facing great financial stress and we're having to address deep rooted questions of how to be the best stewards of what we have left. We're having to discuss the vitality of our church and be open to the Spirit's movement away from the way things have always been done. And not only are we having these stressful conversations, but we're doing them on a timeline (one that no one really knows). We're dealing with decreasing numbers and an apathetic culture. Needless to say, our church is really anxious.

Anxiety can be a good thing. It can lead us to have important conversations and make wiser decisions. It can teach us to sit put for a second and listen more before we act. It teaches us to take each step with caution and realize the ripple effects of our actions. And anxiety can be good because it points to our deep concern for something. Just as my own anxiety at school points to my deep desire to do the best I can, Presbyterians' anxiety points to the fact that we care SO MUCH for the church. We as a church don't want to make the wrong choice or do the wrong thing. We want very much to know the will of God and to follow it.

Anxiety definitely becomes a BAD thing however when we let it take over. When we allow it to paralyze us. When we live and sleep and dream anxiety over making the right decisions and doing the right thing that we can't move forward. We're stuck in the present, longing for an idealized past, and terrified of the future. We turn inwards to ourselves and hold even higher expectations of what we can and should do to make the situation better.

Yet, scripture calls us to do something different:

"Be anxious for nothing. But in all things make your requests known to God and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your mind and heart forever in Jesus Christ." (Philippians 4:6-7)

We need to acknowledge our anxiety concerning the livelihood of the church and recognize this as a sign of our deep commitment and love of the Church. And we also need to let go of the reigns anxiety holds over us and take a huge leap of faith to TRUST God enough to try something new. To dream. To be open to new perspectives. To live into the promise of hope that we are not alone, that God is still alive and at work here.

And when we let go of our desire to control the outcome, we can live out God's promise to us - "that the peace of God will guard our minds and hearts forever in Jesus Christ."

Amen.

You're a pastor?

I'm learning a new scenario....

I meet someone in San Francisco and one of the very first questions I'm asked is what I do. "I'm a pastor," I say, "I work at a church." The second response I've added recently when I realized that "I'm a pastor" didn't answer their question enough. I needed to provide further clarification.

Now, I've seen the shocked responses to my answer from folks who are surprised that I am female and clergy. Or that I am a clergyperson and so YOUNG. But, here in San Francisco, I'm learning that the shocked response comes simply because that phrase "I'm a pastor," doesn't communicate to them. One of the next questions is "so... what do you do everyday?"

I stammer to reply with the hundreds of hats I wear... "I organize and lead worship every Sunday, I meet people in coffee shops and bars to get to know them, I visit people when they're in the hospital, I run a small organization...so I pay taxes, process payroll, bookkeeping, other admin work... I fix printers when they break.. I participate in community groups and work with the church community to do service in the community and world." I don't even go into the polity part... I participate in presbytery and moderate session meetings... that really won't communicate.

It has been interesting time and time again to articulate what I do. It reminds me how much of what I do has become "insider language" and that I need to find ways to communicate what I as pastor and we as church do in the community.

If this new acquaintance is still talking to me at this point...this is the question that usually follows: "Why did you become a pastor?" Ah, yes, because God called me. Hmmm...does that translate in the vernacular? Lemme try this: "I'm interested in public service. I thought about social work, public health,  and immigrant law in college. When I did a short internship in Guatemala in social work, I realized that I have a tendency to try to be "superwoman" and got frustrated at the end of the day when I couldn't do enough. People still went to bed with empty stomachs. I needed to work through the church because then at the end of the day I can rest fully in the hope that I don't have to be enough. God is enough. God is working through others and through this community for good. In the church, I get to share that message of hope all the time.

These recent conversations have been meaningful for me because they have brought to my attention the need for us rethink our "insider" language to be able to communicate with the rest of the world who is full of people that have never stepped foot in a church, much less a PC(USA) church. These conversations have reminded me to focus on the most basic, important questions of call: What do you do and why? I strongly believe that if we (church and pastors) do a better job of communicating who we are and what we do to the world around us, we might actually meet some of the spiritual hunger in this world. People are here, asking the same questions, "What do you do? What does that mean? Why in the world did you choose that?"

I'm doing my very best to see these new conversations as a gift to share God's glory, hope, and love with the hungry and broken world around me instead of this bizarre barrier that sets me apart from those around me. Feeling more and more like the Early Church in Acts that has to continually explain themselves to the world around them than the institutionalized power "the church" that was known by all.

Take time to let God love you

During my installation service (or "my festival" as some members of Mission Bay Community Church call it), Rev. Abby King-Kaiser charged me to take time to love God and for God to love me. She reminded me (as all pastors need reminders) that our jobs, our roles in this community, are not to be confused with the time it takes for us to connect with God. To love God and to be loved by God.

There is a tendency for those of us in ministry to confuse our "pastor work" of shepherding God's people with our own "disciple work" of daily connecting with God, worshipping God, diving into a deeper relationship with God. We think they're one in the same, when really cultivating our own relationship with God is work set apart. I'm finding this to be true for me even after two and a half months of full time ministry. I catch myself not leaving enough time in the day to spend with God, just me - all of me. I'm too focused on other's need for God to see my own.

E Peterson said, "Contemporary pastors have become a quivering mass of availability to everyone but God." ...This feels about right. And backwards. And lonely.

With this reality in mind, I set off this weekend to spend time with God. Tim and I went backpacking on a trail in Los Padres National Park. We turned our cell phones off and turned our attention to the path, to the sounds and the views, to each other, and to God. It was only when I was fully away from the demands of the world around me that I could focus inward on my own thirsty demands for God.
I kept reminding myself I didn't need to feel guilty for getting away. Jesus spent time alone on the mountain to pray.

I didn't have to talk much. I just had to keep walking and I felt heard, understood, comforted. A friend of mine, Kate Buckley, mentioned in her sermon this week what Mother Theresa has said about prayer and it felt just right. In an interview, Mother Theresa was asked what she says when she prays to God. She replied, "I don't talk, I simply listen." The reporter, thinking he understood her asked, "And what does God say to you?" Mother Theresa replied, "God doesn't talk either, God simply listens, too."

I'm realizing that what I need most is time set apart for me to be quiet, for me to listen. And it's during this time that I am convinced more than ever that God is listening to me, too. Hearing my inner struggle, my demand for attention, my unique and thirsty need for God's love.

The Art of Writing

Sermon writing/preparation is hard work!

I love the first few steps of diving deep into scripture and opening up all of the questions. I love collaborating with other people and hearing diverse opinions and interpretations of scripture. I even love the initial stage of getting thoughts on paper. Writing and writing... not caring if one paragraph goes with the next.

It's the editing that gets me. The point at which I need to take all of the brilliant (ok, I think it's brilliant) work and trash 78% in order to make it a clear, cohesive, communicable piece of work. Some weeks I'm so rebellious, I barely do editing at all. I claim that the Holy Spirit will move and bring it together. Unfortunately, sometimes the Spirit does move and feeds my rebellious spirit. But, most weeks I know when I've cut editing too short and have done a disservice by not fulfilling my responsibility to proclaim the good word.

It's a fine balance between holding myself accountable to the hard work of proclaiming the gospel and receiving the amazing grace that it will be o.k. no matter how flawed of a vessel I am.

These lessons for me, though certainly foreshadowed in seminary and internships, take on new meaning in these first few months of preaching regularly.  I hope that with time and experience comes great growth. If I'm honest, I'm praying that somewhere along this journey God will just intervene and make it easy. Yet, at the same time I hope that never happens because it is in the hard and long process of editing that I discover the golden nugget (the word that both the community and I need to hear most) and I remember how rewarding this whole process can be.

Life in San Francisco

Many of you have inquired about life in San Francisco. Particularly, how Tim and I have transitioned from life in the Southeast. It is certainly different and while I still have fresh "outsider" eyes, I'd like to share with you what I love and what I'm learning I don't :) The lists aren't equal in number... which reflects how Tim and I feel. The positives of living here definitely outweigh the negatives.

Things I LOVE!

1. Not driving. Whew! Seriously a relief. Especially after living in HOT-lanta for three years where traffic was a real downer. Riding the bus here is not only convenient, but entertaining. Pretty much everything is within walking distance of where we live (bank, grocery, pharmacy, restaurants, movies, cafes, etc).

2. The Farmer's Market. The fresh produce here is out of this world delicious. Tim and I have never eaten so many fruits and vegetables before in our life! Our weekly tradition has been to get up on Saturday mornings and go produce shopping at the Alemany Farmer's Market. We sip our coffee and spend most of the morning people watching and tasting new fruits (ever heard of a pluot?! It's a plum/apricot). 

3. The spirit of openness. I'll admit, I wasn't thrilled to learn that nudity is legal here :) However, there is a free spirit here that allows people to be exactly who they were meant to be. I find deep beauty in that openness and I'm enjoying the process of breaking down my own stereotypes for what is "normal" in order to recognize God's beauty in everyone.

4. The FOOD! San Francisco is known for it's delicious cuisine and it does not disappoint! Come visit and you'll see that our "tour" of San Francisco is basically eating your way through the city. From amazing coffee and chocolate and dynamo donuts to cuisine from all over world - my tastebuds have certainly enjoyed our time here.

5. The vistas. There have been several moments during our two months here when my breath has literally been taken away by the views. From the ocean to the bay, I've really enjoyed living close to water and reminding myself how small I am in God's BIG and BEAUTIFUL creation. I can't wait to explore more of the terrain - camping and wine country and the shoreline. 

6. The cultural diversity. I LOVE sitting in a cafe or tacqueria in the Excelsior or Mission and forgetting that I'm in the United States. It happens to me on a weekly basis. Hearing Spanish (and really any other language) is music to my ears. 

What I DON'T love:

1. Not having a washer machine :( We walk across the street and do our laundry at a local laundry mat. It's really not all that bad. I do enjoy getting three loads done in one hour! However, it's something to get used to and I'm realizing how much I took for granted having a nice washer and dryer in our apartment.

2. It's expensive. Living here has definitely opened our eyes to the large price tag on living in a big city.  Tim and I have been very blessed to be employed and cared for, but it has opened my eyes to how hard life is for folks when they don't have a paycheck coming in. For friends who are in school or trying to make ends meet. For those who live in the city in deep poverty.

3. The crowds and noise. It's hard to find peace and quiet in the city. I've been told that I'll get used to it...and I think I already am. Still, I'll need to find my escapes (my urge to go camping starts here...)

4. The violence and cultural/racial discrimination. I know, this happens everywhere. It is certainly not particular to San Francisco. However, I'm realizing (like I did when I lived in Quito, Ecuador) that living in a new place raises my sensitivities to it. Surely being around lots of different people also accounts for the higher number of class and racial clashes I see. It's hard though, to see hatred and violence between people and to feel utterly helpless.

Overall, Tim and I are really REALLY happy here. We definitely feel like we are living out God's call on our life and ultimately that is what matters the most.

Admittedly, it's nice that our call was to such a cool city :)

My heart is heavy

Last Sunday was HARD. Our nation watched as the news reported on a shooting in Oak Creek, Wisconsin. A white supremacist opened fire on the Sikh temple and several worshippers died. 

It's hard because people died. It's hard because it is violent and full of hate. It is hard because it reminds me how much I take for granted my ability as a white, privileged woman preacher to worship God in peace. I read in scripture how Christians were persecuted for their faith, for their ethnicity, for their race. Yet today, I do not experience that persecution. I watch as friends do. 

I got to know a few Sikhs in Atlanta through an interfaith group. We got together once a month (Sikhs, Christians, Buddhists, Jews, and Muslims) and sat in silence because words got in the way. We took turns telling the story of our faith and our tradition, meeting one another in those stories and growing  a deep bond. It only took some time spent together, getting to know one another, walking into the sacred space of silence and prayer together, and that experience allowed us to pay attention to the ways that God can move over and between the barriers we create to connect people and allow them to grow relationships of mutual respect. 

I yearn for the day when all people will be respected and valued. When hatred and violence will not have the last word. When we can quiet our own opinions, judgments, and hate long enough to see our brother and sister as an equal. As one worthy of peace and justice. Love and respect. 

My heart is heavy this week for my Sikh brothers and sisters. Praying for them as they experience this hatred and grief. Praying for justice. Praying for healing. Praying for peace.

If you're in San Francisco, I invite you to join me this Sunday at 9:00 PM in Union Square for a Community Vigil for the families of those that were killed worshipping in the Sikh Temple. The vigil is sponsored by the California Council of Churches. And if you're reading this from afar...please be in prayer with us. Lord, in your mercy. Hear our prayer.