fiction revealing truth

I really love fiction. Partly because it draws me out of myself. It allows me to escape whatever stress or worries have taken hold of me and it moves me into a place where anything is possible.

Reading fiction also helps me process life. At first the story seems far off - distant from me - and soon it comes close to home, relating more and more to my own story. I find it easier to soak in and process whatever message I need to hear through the lens of a story.

In preaching class, this is exactly how we are taught to write and preach truth. Paint a picture, illustrate the message of truth through the lens of a story that doesn't attack someone or something directly, but eases us into it....lures us in and gives us new eyes and new ears to experience the world around us.

This last week I've been reading The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. This novel is full of truth...both big and small. Here are some of the nuggets of wisdom I've been digesting this week:

"It was the in between time, before day leaves and comes, a time I've never been partial to because of the sadness that lingers in the space between going and coming."

"There is a fullness of time for things, Lily. You have to know when to prod and when to be quiet, when to let things take their course."

"Stories have to be told or they die and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we are here."

"Life gives way to death and death gives way to life. Draping the bee hives helps us remember that."

"Given the choice, I preferred someone to understand my situation, even though she was helpless to fix it, rather than the other way around. But that's just me."

"You know, Lily, people can start out one way, and by the time life gets through with them they end up completely different."

"There is nothing perfect...there is only life."

Adjusting to City Life

Plain, Washington

San Francisco, California

I realized I had adjusted to city life when I took a trip for work recently to a ranch 2 hours outside of Seattle, Washington. Some colleagues picked me up from the airport, we made our mandatory stop for coffee, and we headed out into the mountainside. It was a beautiful drive...but I found myself getting frustrated each time I lost 3G cell service.

An hour or two into the drive we made a pit stop at a Safeway...literally in the middle of nowhere. As we got out of the car, I slung my bag over my shoulder and was baffled that the others left their valuables (purse, bags, laptops, phones) just lying in their seats. When I mentioned it they LAUGHED and said, "Dawn, look around...who is going to steal your stuff?" Still, I toughed it out and carried all my belongings inside.

The rest of the week, it was the running joke. Each time I left the room they'd sneer that I need to take everything with me in case a bear with incredible fine motor skills might come through.

It took me a day and a half to really settle into this new, rural environment and it was nice. I found myself appreciating the calm, slow pace of life and the freedom of not being concerned with my surroundings. This time away also helped me realize that I am really finding home here...in a big city. I'm learning the "rules" and I'm able to maneuver this world pretty well. It's a good thing...to realize that I'm finding home in the city life.

Identity

When I worked with youth (shout out to CPPC, North Raleigh, and SAPC), identity was always a topic of discussion. Middle and High school years are all about identity...figuring out who you are and communicating your identity to the world around you. It's also about recognizing how much of your identity you let others define for you.


In some ways, I feel like I am back in middle or high school trying to redefine who I am and how I want the world to see me. And guess what? It's still hard :/ On Sunday (5/19), I will celebrate one year of ordained ministry. One very full year as a pastor, a role which is defined by lots of different people in lots of different ways.

This role "pastor" has changed me...some. My work and my faith are more intertwined than ever before. My identities as friend, family member, and pastor are sometimes blurred and sometimes not.

What I struggle with is how much I let this role define me and how much I define the role.  I'll let you in on a secret...we're not given a list of "do's" and "don'ts" when we're ordained into this role. We're actually encouraged to step into it as freely and authentically as possible.






So, today, here is what I can say about my pastor-wife-friend-daughter-self:

- I love people.
- I love God.
- I enjoy running.
- I like not being "on."
- I love to laugh.
- I need to be reminded not to take life (and myself) too seriously.
- I like scotch (bet you didn't see that one coming...I just learned this about myself).
- I like to be adventurous and take risks, but not by myself.
- I like social media.
- I'm a church nerd (I know, big surprise).
- I like to ask "why?"
- I need community roots to feel comfortable.
- I love languages and translating.
- I admire loyalty and commitment in people.
- I like to dance and have been known to be silly :)

Knowing and owning our identity is important for living comfortably in our own skin. It also helps others know how best to relate to us. I doubt I'll ever have my whole identity ironed out, but it's nice to know that as I grow into new roles and change I don't lose past identities or morph into something completely defined by others. I am and will forever be Dawn.

Evangelism is NOT a dirty word

Evangelism tends to be a dirty word in progressive church circles. We still define evangelism as people "pushing their gospel on us." We picture people on the street (or worse, coming to our door) handing us a flyer and trying to "save our soul." We understand evangelism to be oppressive and mean spirited.

But...I LOVE EVANGELISM. Really, I do. And here's why:

"Evangelism is anything you do to help another person move closer to a relationship with God and/or into Christian community." Martha Grace Rees

Evangelism is anything we do that touches someone's life in a meaningful way and moves them closer to God or a faith community. Evangelism is welcoming people to be a part of our family of faith, it's loving on them, sharing a meal or a smile or a hug. Evangelism is telling our story of the one who loves us and why we love others...even those nobody loves.

And you know what? It's time to reclaim this "dirty word" evangelism because it is our call. It is our mission. It's biblical. Furthermore, we're already doing it. Why let someone else define it for us?

This week I have been back in school learning about a new scorecard for evangelism. Instead of counting the number of bums in pews, we're measuring our influence.... on the web, through social media, to the entire world!! That's really our mission right? Share the gospel...take it to the ends of the world. That's what any media (newspaper, radio, TV, telephone, text, tweet, like, share, etc) is doing. It is allowing us to share and spread our story in a new, evolving, exciting way.

We measure how well we evangelize (refer again to the definition as I know you've already forgotten) by measuring our influence. It's both high touch and high tech. High touch because we want the story we tell to be powerful, to be moving, to be worthy of the Jesus we love. High touch is getting the casserole to the family in need, it's providing a shoulder for someone to cry on, it's being fully present with others in a real and loving way. High tech is making the best use of the tools we've been given. It's embracing the new technologies that better connect us. This week we've played with all sorts of new social media (path, prayer engine, basecamp, etc) in churches all over the U.S. and Canada to extend our reach...to further our impact...to evangelize.

Evangelism. It's not dirty at all. It's beautiful. It's powerful. And it's our call.

Hope

"We are to hope...that's what we do as Christians. We hope."

These words were spoken to me during a time when I feared for the safety of a friend. They're a good reminder to me still that this is what I am to do as a Christian. I hope.

In times of chaos and violence and great despair... I hope for a better tomorrow.

As I reflect on the violence experienced this year alone - the bombing in Boston on Monday, the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary, the threats of North Korea, not to mention the local violence on the daily news - it seems hard to hope that we are progressing as a people to a more peaceful day. It seems more evident that we are growing more violent toward each other instead.

Yet, I am to hope.

Why? Not because that is the only thing to do. In fact, I think it is easier to be cynical and despair.

I hope because of who I am. My identity as a child of God - a believer in God - means that I trust (some days more than others) that God is more powerful than hate and violence. I hope because I know and trust that someday violence won't have the last word.

That's really what the Easter story is about... Death doesn't have the final word. Murder, lynchings, flogging, bullying...none of those violent actions won out. God did. Resurrection did. New life does, today.

It's not easy to be hopeful, especially when each new day brings a reason (or five) to despair. But, it is what we are called to do. It is who we are to be. People of faith. People of hope.

I wonder - engage me if you will - what church communities can do to foster better communication, peaceful ways of living together, more love. How can we speak out against violence? How do we preach (in word and action) love instead of hate?

Please post your thoughts...

Easter can't come too soon!

My experience of Holy Week this year has been very different from years past.

The obvious difference is that I'm a pastor now and responsible for leading services through the liturgy of death and resurrection. This may be the reason I can't wait for Easter...but I think there is more.

In years past, I've approached Holy Week with a real eagerness for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Living a privileged life full of first world problems, I yearned to remember (and to have those around me reminded) of the suffering and pain Christ experienced in order to give us new life and hope in the resurrection. I was critical of the Easter bunnies and chocolates and the commercialism of this "secular holiday" advertised weeks in advance. I deeply yearned for the rest of the story - the suffering and pain - to be told. 

This year, I yearn for Easter. I'm ready for the new life springing up around us. I'm excited to dance out of worship on my tiptoes full of joy and hope and love. 

And I yearn for this because of the reality of brokenness and pain and despair all around me. Now, living in an urban place, I feel more exposed to the in flesh pain and suffering Christ experienced. I see the long journeys of depression and loneliness and despair...and I'm ready to be reminded (and to remind those around me) of the hope that is true and real and good. 

I guess the age old quote about ministry "afflicting the comforted and comforting the afflicted" rings true. We need both. Joy is not empty when experienced apart from suffering, but Easter joy sure is fuller and deeper when the suffering is real. 

I wish for you a hopeful, joyful, laughter-filled Easter. I sure am ready for mine.

Embodied Prayer

In memory of John Dowling, a beloved member of MBCC who died in December,
we as a worshipping community embodied prayer as we made a communal
mosaic cross. John was a fabulous artist and so this embodied prayer seemed
only appropriate as we remember him and are grateful for his life.

I'm an active person, so I have a hard time sitting still to pray.

Obeying God's command to "be still and know God," I do sit still occasionally and can sometimes successfully quiet myself enough to pray. Most of the time though, I prefer to pray in action - through movement.

I discovered what I call "embodied prayer" sometime last year while swimming. I started praying for someone as I swam a lap and then when I started a new lap I would pray for someone else. The rhythmic pace helped me move through my prayer. I find that as I give my body some methodical task (like free stroke), my mind is free to be still, to connect to God, to lift those I love in prayer.

Swimming has been the best prayer practice I've found, though I've also used running or walking as a means of embodied prayer before. Any type of individual exercise allows me to pray.

Another way I pray is by writing my prayers on large white boards and then erasing them. This seemingly simple practice reminds me to "let go and let God." As I write down names, details, worries, anxieties, fears... I acknowledge their presence in my mind and heart and then as I erase them, I physically give them over to God.

Connecting with God in prayer isn't always easy. We have to experiment to see which types of prayers work for us. Some people connect to God through music...playing an instrument or listening to music. Others use creative expressions of art...using a creative medium to express their thoughts and prayers.