tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56237481615624444072024-03-13T04:11:05.896-07:00Goin' broke . . . for the LordGod's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-30430055476956960582015-12-23T14:50:00.000-08:002015-12-23T16:02:15.152-08:00Gifts of a Changed Perspective<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>“When Jesus saw his
mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother,
“Woman, here is your son,” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.”
And from that time on, this disciple took her into his home.</em></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">” -- John 19:26-27</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I remember praying I wouldn't be asked to preach this text for a Good Friday service. Of all the seven last words of Jesus, this was a passage I feared. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Not only did it not seem sexy enough (yes, there are passages that are sexy, therefore making them easy to preach), but it didn't seem to offer kindling to get a good fire started -- or so I thought. Besides, how could I relate to this passage. I am not a mother nor a wife. I am a no children having, single, never been married preacher and in no way can I relate to the Jesus/child/parent dynamic -- or so I thought. So with hesitation, "fear and trembling" and in obedience I accepted the challenge to deliver a message, only to be surprised at what Jesus revealed. I did in fact understand the feelings that can rise up when the one you depended on being there is no longer there. I did understand the anxiety around the thought of being alone for the rest of your life. I did understand the feelings of not wanting to go on or <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">knowing whether you can go on and how to go on when your life is torn apart. As a single, never been married, no children having woman, I guess I really could understood the absence of a family and the fear of not having one.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Jesus was Mary's son, yes, and he was also her family. Jesus was John's friend, yes, and he was also his family. And in a compassionate expression of selfless love, Jesus introduced them and "gave them" to each other so that they would be each other's family. Jesus handled it, in an unexpected way. He covered their silent fears and concerns of loneliness and aloneness in one fail swoop.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> He sent the message that bloodlines don't necessarily bind us. It's the love lines we have with each other that matter. It was a point he made to the disciples: <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%2013:35&version=NRSV">"And they will know that you belong to me by your love for each other.</a> In other words, it is our act of love and acceptance and embracing of each other that speaks the language of family. J</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">esus' action is a reminder of what he does for all of us -- loves us so fiercely by adopting us into his family and connecting us to others who share his call to love beyond traditions and societal and familial boundaries. He reminds us of what it means to be our brother's and sister's keeper. He reminds us of what family looks like and what its members do -- they care for each other. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">In this holiday season I was reminded of this gift of family through this passage. I was reminded of the many times Jesus has turned me and others over to each other and sealed us as members of the same family. I was reminded, in the moments of loneliness, that I am, in fact, not alone, but a part of many families. Last year this time, I became part of one of my college sorority sister's family, who happened to live two streets over from me. And as I type this, I am with another one of my college sorority sister's and her husband and family for the holidays.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">While it is still my desire and prayer to have the gift of my own immediate family -- outside my mother and father -- I will and do appreciate and enjoy those who have been given to me, </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">from my days in college, my work in Vidalia, Ga., in Thomasville, Ga., Tallahassee, Fla., at the <em>Tallahassee Democrat</em>, in Atlanta, in seminary and at Candler School of Theology. I have become part of a family with some friends of the Florida Conference of the United Methodist Church, though my associations with other clergy sisters, my own church, Harris Chapel and through friends of friends. What a gift to be given! </span></span><br />
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What a beautiful present in this season of Hallmark commercials, movies and holiday billboards that can sometimes taint our mood, cloud our perspective and leave us feeling as Mary and John -- that love is gone and we belong to no one and no one belongs to us. What a beautiful sight, when in those times, Jesus, in his surprising, unexpected way, commands us to look around to see who is among us and who is with us and what we have been given. He invites us to change our perspective. So, we turn our head ever so slightly and see the faces of many friends who have embraced us and welcomed us as family. How glorious it is that in those faces, we see Jesus and are reminded once again, like insurance, He's got us covered!<br />
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God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-30846099356874040122014-01-07T23:46:00.000-08:002014-01-08T08:56:07.075-08:00Silence . . . a feast for champions<em>Over this next year, I and our church Harris Chapel UMC are joining in with our Bishop Ken Carter to study a chapter each week from the Gospel of Luke and Book of Acts as a part of our spiritual practices in 2014. It is our hope that we grow deeper, wider and stronger roots through our weekly study and have a better understanding of the life and ministry of Jesus and that continued life and ministry as revealed in the early church. This and upcoming blogs are in response to how I have experienced the weekly scripture. </em><br />
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<strong>LUKE 1:20b -- "But because you didn't believe, you will remain silent, unable to speak until the day when these things happen."</strong><br />
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I have a church member who reminds me quite often of a statement I shared once in a sermon: "Sometimes, talking is overrated."<br />
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Isn't that the truth. <br />
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More and more, I am beginning to take this to heart. Last month, during our church fast, I felt a call into silence and to make silence more of a discipline this year. I had just finished reading <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Lamentations+3%3A22-26%2CLamentations+3%3A31-33&version=NIV">Lamentations 3:22-26</a> and it was that last verse of Jeremiah's lament that I kept being drawn back to: <em><strong>"It is good to wait in silence for the Lord's deliverance"</strong>.</em> I hadn't really paid attention to that verse before. I hadn't taken notice of Jeremiah's message of the feasts we need to have often -- feasts and meals of silence.<br />
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Oh the things you learn in silence. The things you see. The things you hear.<br />
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Jeremiah used the language of "good" to describe a prescription for living and in this text he was particularly speaking about a way of being when you find yourself under attack and under siege. He suggests moving into a foxhole of silence until the bullets have stopped flying and the enemy has been captured and overthrown. He suggests we just let the Lord handle it -- "wait in silence". And when it's all clear, we can once again emerge. Victorious.<br />
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Not a bad warfare strategy!<br />
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But this Luke text handles this feast of silence differently. Jeremiah's silence is self-imposed, unlike Zechariah who wasn't invited to simply, "Be Quiet and Listen" or to "Stop Talking", he is just silenced! The angel of God picks up the remote control, presses the mute button and keeps it on mute the entire length of his wife's pregnancy. For nine whole months, Zechariah is not able to say one word. How he must have felt, particularly if he was a talker. The thoughts that must have been going through his mind: "What in the world has happened?" "Am I really not going to be able to say anything for nine months?" "How is this going to work?" "Really!?"<br />
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I remember my own experience with silence. It started with a silent retreat in 2008. It was a part of orientation at Candler School of Theology where I would earn my Master of Divinity degree. And truth be told, I didn't really comprehend or understand what the silent retreat would entail. Let's just say, I saw silent on the email invitation, but I wasn't thinking silence -- certainly not silence for 3 1/2 hours. I thought I would lose it. I was a talker and I knew it. To engage in silence was a challenge. It was an act of surrender that made me nervous. Vulnerable. I later wrote about it:<br />
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<em>"I'll admit that first, it felt kind of strange, as though someone had lowered a muzzle over my mouth or cut off my air passage. The fact that I was forbidden to talk made me want to talk more. And you know I finally did -- briefly, after I tired of the head nods and smiles at lunch that took the place of "thank-you's" and "hello's" and "how are you's?" I just couldn't take it. So, I leaned over to the young lady at the other end of my table and whispered, "Hey, did you get your computer configured, yet?" But not before I had heard the small still voice of God whisper in my ear "I love you and no good thing will I withhold from you." So I shut up and continued to sit in silence. And good thing too, because I would have missed what God had to say."</em> <br />
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Sometimes we have to be silenced in order for God to do work that does not need our interference. Sometimes we talk to the point where we speak up doubt that negates the workings of faith. Sometimes our constant uttering gets in the way of God getting all the glory. Clearly Zechariah was struggling in his faith. He had trouble wrapping his head around this message of he and his wife, who were up in years, as parents. He had difficulty, like many of us, digesting that his prayers had actually been answered, after all these years, after the many offerings of petitions, at an age where they likely would look more like grandparents than parents. Zechariah, like us sometimes, struggled to believe that dreams and wants and desires of years past were actually coming to pass. <strong><em>"How can I be sure of this? My wife and I are very old." </em></strong>Poor Zechariah just wanted a little assurance. Don't we all?</div>
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And interestingly enough, the imposed silence provided that for him. God had Zechariah's undivided attention. Of course it would have been easier if he would have just believed the angel that appeared from out of nowhere. Sometimes the situation requires other measures. Oftentimes, t<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">here is a larger purpose
we can’t see. One of the purposes may be how we as children of God react. News and situations will test who we are in Christ and point to where our faith lies and
what we truly believe. Zechariah needed faith strengthening. And that required him to be in a posture of simply listening, a practice we often fear because of what it will bear out. In silence, we will no doubt come face-to-face with some things, likely our self and some truths. But more often than not, we choose to turn up the world's volume than hear the still small voice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">German theologian and scholar <span style="font-size: 12pt;">Dietrich Bonhoeffer in his book "<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Witness to Christ",</span> shares that </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Right speech comes out of silence, and right silence comes out of
speech." Sometimes we need to silence ourselves so that we become self-aware.
When we are unaware, our subconscious can speak with words for the purpose of
making an impression, with a determination to put someone in their place, for
the purpose of competition, maintaining or taking control and manipulation. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.biblestudytools.com/ceb/proverbs/passage.aspx?q=proverbs+10:19-21"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Proverbs 10:19</span></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> says it best, "with lots of words comes wrongdoing, but the wise restrain their lips."</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The wise recognize silence as a gift and an incubator for spiritual maturity. And in this Luke text, it becomes an incubator for boldness. Zechariah lives into Bonhoeffer's understanding of silence as "nothing else than waiting for God's Word and coming from God's word with a blessing." Zechariah emerges from his feast of silence with a bold spirit that begins to prophecy a word of liberation and freedom. He speaks not only to himself, but the community as well. "</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong><em>Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue freed, and he began to speak, praising God. . . . Bless the Lord God of Israel because he has come to help and has delivered his people."</em></strong></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Blessed be, indeed. It really is "good to wait in silence for the Lord's deliverance."</span></span></div>
God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-30689084917257432772013-06-03T19:30:00.000-07:002013-06-03T20:02:30.606-07:00Responding to calls. . . .returning to first loves<em>This blog was supposed to have been written and posted on 12/21/11. Today, I revisit it after being asked by my UMC Bishop Ken Carter, of the Florida conference to think about my discipleship journey and take notice of how God has been working in my life. This is an account of part of that journey and the lessons that emerged from one encounter.</em><br />
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She walked down the aisle and said somewhat quietly in my ear, "I. Am. Mary."<br />
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I was shocked!<br />
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I had just finished preaching the third sermon in my series "Who ought we to be? taken from <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+Peter+3%3A8-15&version=NIV">2 Peter 3:8-15a</a>. It was Advent season and we had begun to explore lessons we could take away from John the Baptist and the Virgin Mary. On that Sunday, we were discussing Mary. Not the Mary of my Catholic school upbringing, mind you, where I was taught to pray to her, worship her, and praise her and left wondering if I could ever live up to her obedience ideal. No, the Mary, I preached that Sunday was a Mary very much like me, flawed, disoriented and groping to understand what in the world was going on. The Mary I introduced was the single-mother Mary. The Mary who had a child out-of-wedlock Mary. The Mary who was almost abandoned by her finance Mary -- oh the thoughts that must have been running through her head. The Mary I introduced was the Mary who was likely the subject of rumors by the village gossipers. The Mary who pressed on in her faith journey, despite her lack of understanding and was still called and able to be used by God. <br />
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I didn't expect the sermon would call anybody or invite anyone to respond. Largely because I wasn't sure it was even a good sermon or I could be used in that way. But yet, this woman came with her confession that Mary's story resonated with her and called out to her. Bits and pieces of Mary's story <em>was</em> <em>her</em> story. On my sixth month at Harris Chapel, my very first appointment, God moved in spite of me and my insecurities. God moved although we hadn't spent quality time. God moved although I was still grappling with the title of being pastor and didn't feel the most confident that I was off to a good start of becoming an effective pastor. God moved even though I was still uncomfortable and would even forget sometimes to offer the invitation.<br />
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I had been working and working so trying to "prove" -- at least feeling as though I needed to prove -- to my new congregation that I was worthy of being their pastor, I left little room and space for God to be with me on this new journey to lead me, guide me and teach me. I left little room for God to be God. To surprise me. Her confession refocused me on my calling and exposed how I could no longer shirk back from it and downplay it. I had to get myself together -- wrap my head around the gift of being called! I had not done that. I had not yet accepted what others seemed to celebrate -- that I had been given a personal invitation to make personal introductions to the lover of our soul. I had been assigned a mission that was mine to carry out. On that day, God made it quite clear that I was trusted to preach and speak about God. God trusted and trusts me. And I had to learn to trust God! I had to learn to follow.<br />
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That young woman's courageous walk to respond to a call that she could only hear showed me how I had had not been as attentive to the one who called me. If I were ever going to be the pastor and disciple God intended, I had to invite God to be a part of the process. I had to be just as intentional about seeking God in my ministry to do my ministry as I had been intentional about telling everybody else to <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+11%3A9&version=NRSV">ask, search and knock.</a> <br />
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That Sunday, the young woman who came down the aisle might have seen the invitation as being just for her, but I really think it was an invitation for me.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-4529973003777961052012-12-06T10:52:00.000-08:002012-12-06T10:52:00.120-08:00Say What!!!<em>"The Spirit helps us in our weakness for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." -- Romans 8:26-27</em><br />
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I've seen this scripture before. Listened to it. Read it. Shared it. But not until today did I really hear it. And all of a sudden I started rejoicing. I felt as though a weight had been lifted. (Sigh). In black and white, loud and clear, I got the message: I don't have to know it all . . . have all the answers or even know all of God's language to communicate. That there is something on the inside of me, alongside of me, something within my spirit that steps up when I become tongue-tied and feel my inadequacy and says 'I got you' is simply a RELIEF!<br />
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It's a gift, really. I'm cheezing right now at what seems to be such a simple understanding of this passage: I have my very own translator! <br />
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How refreshing, particularly when you are the Pastor and oftentimes, expected, counted on, depended on to provide the answer or have a response. When you're the one who is expected, counted on, depended upon to pray at every gathering! When you are the one who without a doubt spends countless hours with Jesus, countless hours doing little else than reading the Bible, countless hours sitting in solitude and meditating. (Yeah, right!) Under this assumption, why wouldn't you be expected to engage in lively conversation, battle on behalf of, and petition for. But alas, there are many times I am not up to the task . . .my mind is confounded. . . my thoughts are a jumble of mess . . . my mouth is as dry as a desert . . . and I have difficulty praying.<br />
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Yes, sometimes the pastor/preacher is speechless.<br />
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I confess there has been many a Sunday when I have stood before the congregation waiting to hear, turning over in my mind what I should say . . . upset that I didn't remember that great passage of Scripture I wanted to include in the prayer. . . begging the Lord for guidance. . . pleading for God to give me a hint of the concerns in the room. . .only to hear: <em>'Juana, just speak! Just talk to me! I'll tell you what to say' </em>And like a flowing fountain, the words begin to come. It's as if on cue, the Spirit steps up and takes it's position and makes clear what needs to be said, right when I have struggled and wrestled enough to exhaustion to compose something that would sound proper and profound and intelligent. And like a boxer with no more fight left, when I do finally surrender, true heart matters speak.<br />
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I learn later from my members the words that are shared are the words that many wanted to share as well . . . words of affirmation they needed to hear . . . words of healing that allows all of us to surrender unto the Spirit that had been saying all along, 'Turn it over to me. Let me translate the language of your heart to the lover of your soul.'<br />
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Why I have struggled . . . continue to struggle at times with these matters of trust and surrender, I am not quite sure. It may have something to do with my will and desire to say the right things, do the right things and be right. It may be because I have reverted to my 2-year-old self, who rejects help and assistance in an effort to "show you" I can do this on my own. I can be independent. I'm a big girl now. Ah, this is exactly why the Spirit steps in. My toddler self is not aware of all the in's and out's of the stages of maturity -- one of which is knowing when to surrender the 'will'.<br />
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Each day on this journey, I am learning to surrender the 'will'. My growing edges are becoming clearer and with each assignment I discover I've been working way to hard and too much. I have a personal translator who's always on the job and <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans%208:26&version=MSG">"knows more about me than I know about myself and my pregnant condition.</a> So, today I choose to stop fighting and allow my personal translator to do its job, cause it really does take the pressure off.<br />
#learningtostayinmyownlane<br />
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God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-30662805764446193522011-12-16T10:06:00.000-08:002011-12-30T11:55:12.883-08:00Strip me bare . . ."Lord, strip me of my desire to be a people-pleaser!"<br />
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That was the prayer I prayed earlier last week and one I asked a friend of mine to pray on my behalf. I never thought of myself as a people-pleaser. I like to think that I've always been a person bent on doing her own thing, not caring what people thought or think of my decisions or what they think of me. I like to think that I have danced to my own tune, whether it was popular or not. But since becoming a pastor, I've noticed a struggle has begun to ensue. I've noticed a wrestling within myself to be approved. There, I said it! Called it out for what it is -- a sticky web you can't break free from once you get entangled in it. I'm glad to say that for the most part, I have won the battle. I've stood my ground and moved forward despite people protests. Despite the uncomfortable feelings inside my body that remind me I'm going against the grain . . . responding counter culturally . . . and that it's OK. Standing fully in one's own self and thoughts and opinions . . . and oftentimes alone, isn't going to feel good at the onset. We live in a society that espouses uniqueness, but operates on sameness and so when change enters the picture we struggle to embrace it. Because it will separate us. Put us on the outs with some. Leave us standing in a place of critical judgement. And no one wants to be judged or be the target of its darts.<br />
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It's helped that I've had many around me to keep me grounded and undergirded in prayer, because I recognize there have been moments when I may have been about to break. And that has been scary. Admittedly, it doesn't help that I am a part of a denominational system whose very structure is founded upon man's approval of whether you pass the muster or not. They alone decide whether you are able to articulate your theology and whether it is aligned properly with the Methodist theology of your training. They make the decision regarding whether you are ready and fit for ministry with full credentials that give you a seat at the table. They, for the most part, decide whether God has called you into ordained ministry. The authenticity of your call by God is pitted against their own human knowledge that says you are ready. That your call was true and they stand in support of it.<br />
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This thing about people-pleasing is funny, because who does not struggle with wanting to be liked or having the praise of men. Who does not wrestle with their own uniqueness. Their being set apart and having to take the road less traveled. Or taking a risk that may pan out or not. <br />
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For the past few weeks, we have been studying Saul in Bible Study, a classic example of what happens when a people-pleasing mentality is not arrested. You become a puppet of the people. At the mercy of someone else pulling your strings. Like a drug, you begin to crave what is merely false affection and you find yourself a slave to it, as it become insatiable and difficult to break free of its tentacles. When you begin the journey down that road, it's hard to turn back.<br />
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In 1 Samuel 13, Saul's impatience regarding further instruction on how to lead his people into battle with the Philistines, leads him to engage in an unlawful sacrifice to God on behalf of the people.<br />
When asked by Samuel why he made the sacrifice, Saul responds, <em>"When I saw the people slipping away from me, and that you did not come within the days appointed, and that the Philistines were mustering at Michmash, I said, Now the Philistines will come down on me . . . "</em> <br />
Now the Bible doesn't say, but I know people and I'm sure they were no different then than they are today. Impatient, particularly when the vision isn't clear. Hormonal. Critical. Just plain crazy. I'm sure many of them were second-guessing Saul's military prowess, just as some of them did <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Samuel+10%3A27&version=NIV">when he was first ordained.</a> And because he feared losing his status with them, he responded, seeking their approval than God's directive.<br />
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Every since God called me into my pastor pumps, I've found myself having to arrest my people-pleasing mentality. I've found myself having to push aside this dark desire to be given the thumbs up and stamped with the "approved" checkmark label. I've found myself heeding the words of my wisdom tellers and sharers, who say it is imperative that I uncover and recover my wisdom voice. That it is imperative I speak truth to power. That it is imperative that I preach in and out of season, for <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+10%3A14-15&version=NIV">"how will they have faith in someone they haven't heard of? And how will they hear without a preacher? And how can they preach unless they are sent?"</a> I have found that it is imperative I put away my people-pleasing ways and fear not the ordination boards, the mother boards, and the peanut galleries and critical comments of pew warmers and sideline saddlers and believe in God's belief in me. That God has indeed called and gifted me to be a truth-teller. And that I must simply preach!<br />
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Just Preach!<br />
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<br />God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-14085736201168852272011-12-12T04:36:00.001-08:002011-12-12T09:11:20.794-08:00Journeying to a disciplined life . . .<div><div><div>Following service yesterday a church member said, "When God gets you to where God is taking you, you're going to be something else! Her comment alluded to the fact that on I'm my way somewhere. . . and God doing something with me . . . molding me, perhaps . . . whipping me into shape. . . Hmmm. Somehow in the wee hours of this morning, I didn't think of myself as going somewhere, but saw myself as stalled . . . blind even. I even started praying aloud, "God <em>where</em> am I going?" having forgotten about the earlier comment shared with me. These are probably normal thoughts as it is coming to the close of another year and reflections on the life ahead and behind often dominate my thoughts. What will next year this time look like? Where will I be? Who will I be? Who will I be with on the journey, if anyone? Where will the journey take me? All the normal questions that I have asked year after year, realizing that every year before has left its own indelible mark behind, and still many questions unanswered.<br /><br />But I recognize for the past three years, it <em>was</em> slightly different. I was in seminary and I knew for the most part what was coming next . . . another semester. There was solace in the certainty of it all, despite the challenges that I knew each semester would bring. Despite the fact that each semester I found myself crying and praying that I would make it through and gather the strength to write one more 20-plus page paper. There was still some solace there. The end goal was always in sight . . . graduation. Even though I wasn't sure I would make it, I could see an image of the finish line. I hoped. Now that I'm seven months beyond the finish line, the image of what lies ahead is not so clear anymore. The walks seem a bit longer and the road more windier. Some things are clear. Many are not. I'm in a new city . . . a strange place . . . in a new job . . . doing something I've never done before . . . wondering "Where is God taking me?" Only this time, I must think about more than just myself. I pray and ask these questions for more than just one now. I have people to look after . . . souls to care for and tend to . . . a responsibility to pay more attention to what God is saying and doing. I can't just wander off and explore on my own anytime I please . . . others can be hurt.<br /><br />I recognize what worked well for me before, isn't necessarily working in the same way it has for me in the past. I'm being required to do more . . . step up my game so-to-speak. I don't hear God in the ways I used to here God before. Some things are not unfolding so easily as they have in the past. I'm having to dig deeper, stretch my eyes a little wider and lean in to hear more clearly. </div><div> </div><div>This month started our church-wide fast and on the first day I clearly heard God say I needed to be more disciplined. I knew exactly to what God was speaking. I haven't been the most disciplined in creating intentional space to pray and meditate. . . .nor prepare adequately for my sermons. I have not made much room to really hear the voice of God. It has not always been easy as I often feel I am being pulled in so many directions. This fast has probably been the most disciplined that I have been . . . and I have another 19 more days to go. They say it takes 21 days to create a habit, so maybe this is the start I needed to have clearer vision. Maybe this the answer to my prayer . . . the key that unlocks the doors to God giving me a peek into what's ahead.</div><div> </div><div>So, yes my member is right. God is taking me somewhere . . . on a journey to become greater than my present self. And it's starting with an admonition to Be Disciplined. The hope is then I will be able to hear and gain clearer vision to see.</div></div></div>God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-85769626403076425712011-01-19T13:37:00.000-08:002011-01-23T15:55:53.856-08:00Journeying into self-discoveryIt was like a scene from Grey's Anatomy . . . medical terminology and acronyms flying everywhere and directives on how to deal with patients, families, doctors and deceased bodies. Soon I would be staring in my own episodes each week. This was my first day of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) . . . my orientation to serving as a chaplain for the next 14 weeks at Grady Hospital, where I will find myself in various situations . . . being at the side of those in distress and despair . . . helping to make decisions over life and death . . . and praying all the while that the right words will come when I need them.<br /><br />As I walked the halls to gain familiarity with what is located on each floor . . . across the street . . . . and around various corners, I was struck once again with what this experience would entail. It would require me to be transparent, particularly with my colleagues as we discuss weekly our experiences and reactions to encounters. It would require me to use the same tools I employed to produce a good story with myself. My time in CPE would require I do investigative work on me.<br /><br />This was the first day to fully coming to know more about myself . . . and frankly it was all overwhelming. There is nothing fun about doing deep introspection on one's self . . . but it is necessary. Many who have traveled this path of CPE says that it will make be a better minister . . . . more competent . . . more sensitive to the needs of others . . . and more understanding of the other. . . and more knowledgeable about myself. As I shared with my supervisor, I'm not quite sure what to quite expect from this experience outside of the tears that have already began to flow from the heaviness of the day and the weight of my responsibilities.<br /><br />I heard someone say of the experience that it is about learning to tell my story and learning to navigate what it true for me. That makes sense. Once I learn my own story then it will be easier to guide others to theirs and help them too, speak their truth.<br /><br />116 days to graduation and counting . . .God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-88013807348216699802011-01-18T19:28:00.000-08:002011-01-23T13:33:58.345-08:00On the last leg of the journey . . .117 days. That's all that's left on my life here at Candler . . . before I graduate on May 9. . . before I turn the tassel . . . walk the stage . . . and into a different life . . . as somebody's preacher/teacher and hopefully pastor. As a theological scholar. Today marks my last semester here at Candler. When I started on this journey three years ago, the end seemed a lifetime away. Now that I'm in the home stretch, it seems as though the end has come quickly. But it hasn't been without the heart- and headaches and uncomfortableness that accompanies any body in transition and metamorphosis. The growing pains have been great. The temper tantrums have been many. And God has been relentless in God's quest for me. Yes, this is what this journey has been about . . . a metamorphosis. I can clearly see I'm not the same young woman who entered Candler unsure, doubtful of my intellect in this setting . . . at this age. I'm not the same woman who came in without clarity of her identity . . . her skill . . . .her purpose. I'm not the same woman who fought against God's plan and put my hands over my ears trying to drown out the sound of the voice that continues to call me toward some new adventure I didn't seem equipped to take. . . or even wanted to take.<br /><br />I admit there is some anxiety about what is in the unknown, but there is also peace these days that it will come together. I used to fret over how I would remember all the stuff that has been dumped into my head over these last three years. I used to fret over whether I would be able to adequately explain the Trinity or engage in conversations with my parishioners about why evil exists and where did it originate from. I used to beat up myself for not paying more attention in Old and New Testament and doing all the required readings and often cried over whether I would be able to adequately lead and care tenderly for the souls that will be in my care.<br /><br />But now, what I'm beginning to learn is that what I need will come back to my remembrance at the right time and all that I don't know, I can simply look it up. Candler has taught me how to research. All that I didn't read, I can finish reading. The answers to certain questions are no longer elusive to me nor are the questions themselves a frustration. While I would love for things to happen in my time and the way I want, I know that will not be case. Change has been in the air for many years now and it will continue to be whether I like it or not. But what I do know is it <em>will</em> come together. . . that even as God led me here, God will lead me from here . . . even through the darkness of the unknown.<br /><br />In an interview with Holly Robinson Pete on The Talk, Oprah Winfrey shared how she had read in a Vaniety Fair article Michael Jackson's continual quest to recreate "Thriller", a feat that he was never able to do. Oprah shared that in the moment she read that, she realized she too was afraid to move forward following her decision to end the show after 25 years. She too struggled with how she would create another Oprah Winfrey Show . . . how she could recreate these moments of her past. "Then I thought, I don't want to go the rest of my life saying Oh, I wish it was the Oprah Winfrey Show," she said, "cause it won't be. I have to let that time be. Now let's move on to this moment. Let's not try to hold onto that moment."<br /><br />When I came to seminary, I began to shed my identity of journalist. Like Oprah, I toiled over how I would be able to recreate the success I had as a writer and editor and expert in my field. And like Oprah, over these last few years, I've begun to learn that those moments will never be again. I must create new moments. I must be willing as Jay-Z said, to "climb to the next mountain." Afterall that is what re-inventing one's self is all about. It's about answering the call of God to move when God says move. It's about having the courage to become who I really am.<br /><br />For some time now, the Divine has been saying that I'm one of the chosen as God's mouthpieces. For some time now, God has been preparing me to become a greater self than the self that previously existed. And today, I choose to no longer fight it.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-40598562639034731782010-07-30T08:35:00.001-07:002010-07-30T08:35:26.651-07:00God, help me to understand . . .<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt;color:#000000;"><DIV> <P style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman','serif'; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><EM>On July 23, I woke up after a restless night where the power had been out during the night and penned this before it would go out again:</EM></SPAN></P> <P style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman','serif'; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"></SPAN> </P> <P style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman','serif'; FONT-SIZE: 12pt">This week has not been a good week as it has been filled with power outages that occur multiple times without warning during the day and night. It seems to get worse every day as the power is more often off than it is on – maybe two to five hours during the day and another four to five hours at night. These old wood houses, which are not insulated, become hot very quickly when the fans no longer blow and the air conditioning has stopped running And for someone who has only had her computer to keep her connected to the "outside world" so-to-speak, -- considering that I have no television or radio -- it has become an extremely stressful situation. The power outages have affected my broadband connection. I've had no connection. Today it doesn't help that it is a torrential downpour. This week we cancelled Tuesday Bible Study because of the power outage. "It will be difficult to find someplace to keep cool," said Mrs. Margaret, the church's organist and one of two members at Epworth Methodist who faithfully attends the study. Although the lesson I had planned for that day was still on my computer as I didn't get a chance to print it out before the power shut off at 10 a.m., I was open to pulling another lesson that I already had put together for the Wednesday Bible Study class at St. Andrews. But it wasn't needed.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></SPAN></P> <P style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman','serif'; FONT-SIZE: 12pt"><o:p> </o:p></SPAN></P> <P style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class=MsoNormal><SPAN style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman','serif'; FONT-SIZE: 12pt">I read an essay earlier this week from a pastor who described a trying and challenging situation in his life as God's way of not trying to destroy him, but bring him in closer relationship through the means of daily devotion. I have thought about this in relation to my own situation and my time spent here in Abaco this summer. I can agree that this summer – with all of its challenges – has brought me into closer relationship. Being here has forced me to be more focused, helped me to hear the voice of God more and moved me to become more disciplined in my work. But I can't help but wonder at what point does an experience cease to be a divine attempt on God's behalf to get me to a certain place in my life. At what point do power outages just become what they are: power outages? <SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN><SPAN style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </SPAN><o:p></o:p></SPAN></P></DIV></div><br> God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-80649698246660209892010-07-05T18:52:00.000-07:002010-07-09T13:13:43.817-07:00Do I, could I, have the Naaman spirit?Since I've been here, every sermon -- off of the lectionary mind you -- has miraculously dealt with some issue that I've seen arise within the week, leaving me with little worry over what I should preach or concern about what issues have taken root within these congregations. Not once have I had to do some extensive exegesis of a congregation to get a handle on what message God wanted to get across. My lectionary text, so far, has hit on them every Sunday. This past Sunday's sermon was no different . . . but yet it <em>was </em>different . . . disturbing really.<br /><br />I am well aware that I can't preach a sermon I haven't lived so I wasn't surprised by what the mirror showed me about myself through the message <em>"Misplaced Focus"</em> on judgment and condemnation. Nor was I bothered by the revelations from <em>"How Hungry Are You?",</em> a sermon on discipleship and priorities. But this recent sermon out of <strong>2 Kings 5,</strong> <em>"Can't See for Looking"</em> on the army general Naaman has had me wrestling in my skin. It's had me really taking a look at myself and posing the question: "Do I . . . could I have that Naaman spirit?<br /><br />I started examining whether I was Naaman in the story shortly after arriving last week at another settlement, Hope Town, another island within Abaco. The plan was for me to stay there in the Mission House with the youth minister and her husband over the weekend since I would be preaching two services at St. James Methodist Church there on Sunday. No sooner than we had pulled away from the Marsh Harbor dock headed to Hope Town, do I hear they are without power. As the boat pushed further into the ocean headed to the well-known tourist village, I silently prayed the power would return by the time I reached the boat dock. That would not be the case. There was no power. . . hadn't been since the day before . . .and there was no idea from anyone when it would come back on. And it was another sweltering day! Why had I decided to wear blue jeans? Thank goodness I opted for a strapless halter top.<br /><br />My first thought after hoping off the boat: "Are you serious? I didn't sign up for this. Can I go anywhere on this island where the power isn't going out every hour or so?"<br />Needless to say, I wasn't happy. (I was careful that my face didn't betray me). It was as though I had arrived on the day of a pending hurricane. People are moving about trying to figure out their own game plan. Everybody is looking for a cool place to hang . . . preferably with someone who has a generator. . . and not that many on the island have one. There is really no time to be concerned about the visiting minister-in-training who had come in. This was clearly apparent. I mean I didn't even get a phone call that the power had been out and my number was sitting right beside the phone.<br /><br />But then more bad news follows: there is no water, which means no way to cook . . .no way to flush . . .no way to bathe. As I sat with the youth minister, her husband and his mother (she had come to visit) . . .and the dog in the Mission House, praying for a cool breeze to filter through the room . . .praying the conditions would get better. . . thinking of an alternate plan of how I would depart and get back to my own more comfortable surroundings, all I could think was, "I know they really don't expect me to live like this right? . . . sleeping in a house where there is no power, no water, and a dog roaming about. Surely, one of the church committee members will suggest I come to their home or they will put me up in a place where the accommodations may be a little better . . . not as stress producing . . . a bit more peaceful . . . a bit more fitting for the minister-in-training."<br /><br />After all, I was preaching on Sunday . . . I had a sermon to write. I needed the Internet. I needed peace and quiet to meditate . . .hear from God and prepare myself for Sunday. I needed some familiar comforts. Not long after, it starts dawning on me, "I think I might be sounding a bit like Naaman in this text I'll be preaching from on Sunday." In the story, Naaman, a well-respected army general learns he can be healed of his leprosy by the prophet Elisha in Israel. He travels there with his entourage only to be met at the door by Elisha's servant who tells him to go dip in the Jordan River seven times. Naaman is enraged by what he perceives to be a lack of respect. The prophet never come to greet him and at that -- told him, a general, to dip in the dirty small Jordan River. Naaman almost doesn't do it because his pride is bruised. He almost misses his chance to be healed.<br /><br />Here I was in this community that had no power and no water, surrounded by people who attempted to show me the best hospitality they could under the circumstances and I, like Naaman, was complaining to myself about what was not being done for me . . . how I was not being treated . . .how I should be treated. It was a disturbing internal exchange. . . one I'm embarrassed by and I'm still grappling with. I've since replayed in my mind what a resident here told me on my first night in Cherokee: "Remember, you are not in America." In other words, don't expect here what you get or find there.<br /><br />I've come to the realization that I'm not the kind of pastor yet who is always ready or will always be that comfortable going into any situation and be able to handle the living conditions of that place with grace. I've come to realize that I'm not going to always respond and handle situations the way that people probably think ministers should. And maybe that's alright. I don't need to have reached an "Aha" acceptance moment in each situation. I think it's just enough right now that I had an "Aha" moment and recognized who I was . . . that I saw myself with all my growing edges still in need of being shaped and trimmed . . . and admitted it openly. That alone is progress. That's growth.<br /><br />And it just may be another limb being cut away.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-28158947971494715902010-06-28T07:16:00.000-07:002010-06-29T09:16:34.101-07:00So I did hear right . . .It never fails . . . just before I'm about to preach, I get an extreme case of nervous butterflies in the pit of my stomach . . . the most painful anxiety headache that seems to pound with every drum beat played during praise and worship . . . the feel of cotton balls in my mouth even as I drink bottled water after bottled water . . . and I experience extreme doubt about what I'm supposed to say. Over and over in my mind I'm asking, "God are you sure this is it? God are you sure I heard you right?" Then once the sermon is over and I've resolved that I did as best I could . . . I may get a message from someone saying, "You know I been thinking all day about what you preached. It really got me to thinking."<br /><br />That's what happened on Sunday. After pulling an all-nighter and part of the morning trying to get the sermon written, I learn later in the day that my sermon, "How hungry are you?" was on target. I learn that the lectionary text, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%209:51-62&version=TNIV">Luke 9:51-62</a> which was planned some years ago, was just what needed to be preached on this particular Sunday. Funny how that works. It was just the text -- one that deals with the issue of discipleship -- that the people needed to hear. . . that I needed to hear. I was already pretty confident that it was a message for one of the churches, as earlier in the week, I saw signs of what John in Revelation calls a "lukewarm" congregation. I learned that if some of the dedicated few -- which are 3 or 4 could not or would not be making Bible Study, then Bible Study wouldn't happen.<br /><br />Admittedly, my spirit grieved that day as I cried over whether the people were really interested in going to the next level in their Christian walk. I was thinking here was an opportunity to up the ante. . . to get a better handle on this Christianity thing . . . and they didn't have time. Other issues were more of a priority. What I had heard them speak seemed contrary to their actions. When given the opportunity to "follow Jesus" as the text says, here they were offering excuses. I knew right then I needed to tackle the issue on Sunday. But as I shared, I had no idea if it would resonate. . . no idea of the people would think me too harsh . . . no idea of what to expect.<br /><br />Then later in the day after I had preached two services . . . after I was winding down and going over the coming week . . .I get an instant message from one of the congregants saying how moved she was by the message. . . so much so that she posted on her Facebook status: "I'm hungry for a mighty move of God . . . use me Lord any way you choose!"<br /><br />Unbeknowest to her, God had already done so. Her worldwide posting was my confirmation that I had done as God had requested . . . that the nervous butterflies in the pit of my stomach . . . the head-pounding headache . . . and feel of cotton balls mouth . . . and extreme doubts about what I had heard . . . was not for naught.<br /><br />It was just as God had ordained.<br /><br />On to next Sunday.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-5053316292593753662010-06-23T08:26:00.001-07:002010-06-23T08:34:04.571-07:00Pushing through my peculiarities . . .<div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt;"><div style="font-family:times new roman, new york, times, serif;font-size:12pt;color:#000000;"><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">I'm learning something about myself – the older I get, the more introverted I become. I've always known that I have introverted tendencies and it may be the result of being an only child where I spent most of my time with myself and never really longed to need or be with other people all the time. (I wasn't one of those children who begged my parents for more siblings or more playmates. I had plenty in cousins and that was enough.) While I have more extroverted personality traits and function well, I still find that I do not always want to hang around people every second. I actually treasure my alone time. . . look forward to my alone time. . . even become agitated if I feel as though someone is attempting to barge in on my alone time. I have a friend who says she is more energized by people and find she needs to be around them for that energy. I, on the other hand, become drained by people after a while and look forward to solace and spending time in my own space. I guess it should not be surprising really. After all I was a journalist and most tend to be slightly introverted, if not full introverts. They are slightly more comfortable with their writing, reading and sitting with their thoughts and engaging in stimulation that way. So as you can imagine this has become somewhat of a challenge as I attempt to do ministry here . . . in a community where people look forward to getting together with each other . . . and are with each other seemingly all the time . . . going between house and house . . . sitting for hours with each other's company . . . and asking questions when the pastor isn't out all the time every day. <?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">I came across an article a few days ago entitled, "Hospitality for Introverts". It was written by a pastor's wife who classifies herself as a full-on introvert and how she has manages to share the gift of hospitality in spite of her introverted personality. After reading, I felt some of the suggestions could be applied to pastoral care. The writer suggested concentrating on reaching out to one or two people. I've done that. I allot different days that I will do pastoral care visits and plan out early who I will visit on those days. Usually it is two or three people. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">The other suggestion is to set boundaries on time. I'm not so good at this. I usually find myself sitting for hours -- usually two or more -- with some in the community. I find myself feeling guilty if, after I have drank my tall glass of water, wanting to leave. This happened recently and the couple got me another glass of water, saying, "Now you can't leave until you've drank your other glass." <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">Pastoral care is essential in doing effective ministry. I did it last year, on a smaller scale. While it was one of my responsibilities as part of my pastoral internship, it wasn't a key responsibility as it is here. In a community like Cherokee Sound, where many of the 200 residents are older and the culture is one where visiting is a norm, it is a non-negotiable. Many of the residents are not able to get out as much and look forward to the visits. . . the conversations. Granted, once I'm out and about, I'm fine and enjoy them. It's just the initial getting up and going out to be with other people that sometimes challenge me. There are times my introverted self wants to take over. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">I enjoy hearing the stories and learning about the lives of the people here, just like the recent story about the visit of one's grandson. This grandfather, who had never seen his grandson, largely because he had disowned the child's father years ago, saw his 22-year-old grandchild for the first time on his 84th birthday. He said to me: "He called me up and said he wanted to come see his grandpa!" I could see the emotion and joy on the man's face as he told me the story and proceeded to tell me more about his life in Cherokee and Marsh Harbor. I'm sure he hadn't told those stories in a while and my being there was a chance to live in his memories . . . recall a life of both joy and sorrow and blessings and regrets. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">At that moment, I was glad I had pushed myself to make the visit . . . stop and even sit for a while. Apparently, so was he. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:12;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">"Thank you for talking to me," he said, after about an hour or so, and after I got up to leave and head to the next house. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p style="LINE-HEIGHT: normal; MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:12;color:#ffffff;">I have to remember that God knows all the peculiarities I have and knew them when I was called and knew there would be some things in ministry that would be more challenging to me than others. I have to believe those things make for a much richer ministry experience. The encounter was a reminder that what I do or attempt to do is so much bigger than me and that the ministry of presence is sometimes all that is needed. It was a reminder of why I have to, at times, push through my moments of introvertedness. . . cause in the end it'll be a blessing to all involved. </span></p></div></div>God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-44043635826341621642010-06-17T12:21:00.000-07:002010-06-21T19:15:01.153-07:00That cell phone was talking . . .<em>On Wednesday night I went to teach and also got taught:</em><br /><em></em><br />So I led Bible Study at St. Andrew's last night. This is the congregation in Marsh Harbor that I will also be working with, although not with as much frequency. The night before, I led the lesson at Epworth Methodist Church in Cherokee Sound, where I live and spend most of my time. The turnout there was small -- only two people and the pastor and his family. Needless to say I was slightly disappointed. A few others said they were coming, but never showed. I'm glad I listened to the Holy Spirit earlier in the day and made the decision to have it in the manse. . . it was much more personal and intimate . . . a good atmosphere to talk about prayer . . . simple prayers.<br /><br />Apparently the lesson was a hit. Pastor Joseph asked me to teach it to the members at St. Andrews. I'm glad he did. The members there loved the class . . . so much so that when the power went out, no one moved . . . no one gave an excuse of why they couldn't' stay. . . conversation didn't stop. Members simply pulled out their cell phones and illuminated the darkness and continued sharing their own experiences of prayer time . . . conversation time with God.<br /><br />I'm not so sure that would have happened in church in the states . . . maybe if we were used to blackouts as often as they have them here during the summer months, but again, that might be a stretch. I think what was so amazing for me was that the members were so engrossed in their conversations and so hungry to learn about how to deepen their relationship with the Divine that the darkness didn't even matter.<br /><br />That night my simple prayer was answered -- the lesson was relevant. And what I had been hearing was confirmed -- that I was on the right track concerning the mission God called me to carry out here this summer. The vision was clear -- I needed to turn a certain amount of focus to the spiritual needs of the adults here. Many are hungry. . . thirsty and interested in seeking an oasis from the drought.<br /><br />They even asked if I was on the schedule next week.<br /><br />There is something about being hungry and committed . . . nothing gets in the way. Even when you can't see your way clear . . . you continue on . . . press in . . . knowing that eventually light will shine through . . . even if it's from a cell phone.<br /><br />My simple prayer: God make me just that hungry.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-73969271302785835672010-06-13T17:39:00.001-07:002010-06-17T10:34:48.051-07:00One in the bag . . .<em>Sunday reflections . . . a little late. . . oh well.</em><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w3C_haxi8rY/TBpb_-fZWmI/AAAAAAAAAJs/cQ0U2RBjegQ/s1600/Bahamas+birthday+baby+005.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483796650941569634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_w3C_haxi8rY/TBpb_-fZWmI/AAAAAAAAAJs/cQ0U2RBjegQ/s400/Bahamas+birthday+baby+005.JPG" /></a><br />I pulled off my first church service today . . . the first service where I helped organize the order of worship for the morning and evening service . . .the first service where I preached. And I must say, I think I'm getting the knack of being a minister. That's what this experience is all about . . . more intensive training in the ways and means of handling congregations and leading God's people. It's an opportunity to begin to walk out who God says I will be . . .who I am.<br /><br />The congregation said I'm off to a good start. That was encouraging considering I wasn't sure about the message. You never know what to expect when you tell a group of people they are hypocrites, especially on the first day you stand in the pulpit.<br /><br />But hey, I blame it on the text. . . on Jesus really. That was the message he was getting across in Luke 7 in regards to Simon's view of the <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%207:36-50&version=NIV">"sinner woman"</a> . And that was the text I was called to preach and the message God delivered in the midst of my exegeting. I included myself in it of course, but a message about judgement and condemnation is not exactly the one I thought I would have been preaching on my first day . . . it's definitely not one you'll hear people shout about . . . or one that elicits "Amen's" and "That's Right!"<br /><br />And if they do, as a friend says, it's more than likely because they think you're talking about someone else other than themselves.<br /><br />Nonetheless, the word went forth. But it's my experience in the midst of the proclamation and the entire service, really that I reflect on. Something happened. . . something that I notice happening more and more as I take my place behind the pulpit. . . in front of congregations. I seem to stand a little more taller. . . with more confidence . . . and speak a little more authoritatively. More and more, I notice God taking over in those moments and I hear my voice saying things I didn't even think I knew or remembered and I hear it in a tone that sounds unlike my own. (That's exactly what happened during the alter call for congregational prayer.) And I feel a sense of urgency to say what I need to say . . . and I have a strong desire to do -- absent of fear and doubt.<br /><br />A change is definitely taking place. And I may have -- in part -- my favorite Public Storage manager to thank. She prayed with me before coming here. While I can't remember all she said, I do remember her praying for God to build my confidence. And I remember her looking me straight in my eye saying that I would return changed . . . better . . . more self-assured.<br /><br />Funny, she didn't even know that I struggle with my confidence. Nor was she aware that during that same week another friend had been praying the same thing concerning me. And I had been praying myself.<br /><br />I can't speak for the days ahead, but I can say that on today, that boldness manifested. I surrendered . . . got on the passenger side of the car and allowed God to slide into the driver's seat. And what unfolded was a beautiful exchange between me and the people God called me to serve that day. What began to be unveiled was the "minister self".<br /><br />And if I must say, it wasn't a bad look.<br /><br />Is this another branch broken? Not quite. . . but there is at least a crack in the wood.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-11497046256328673492010-06-12T01:00:00.000-07:002010-06-14T09:34:09.477-07:00God provides . . .Remember I said an adventure usually includes details for the making for a good story?<br />Well, here is one: Just as I'm walking up the steps, returning from dinner with one of the families . . . determined to finish this sermon (After all, they are expecting me to preach in the morning.) . . . the power goes out. Not a glimmer of light in sight. The house is completely dark . . . that dark like you can't see your hand in front of your face dark. So of course there is no way I can read books and type . . . no way I can even think . . . or hear God speak. I have only one flashlight that I stumble into the bedroom, groping to find . . .hoping to find on my nightstand.<br /><br />Then God speaks. . . just before full panic sets in regarding how I will ever get this sermon done . . . tells me to call the only family that has a generator. Just as I call, Eleanor says she was about to call me and tell me to pack a bag and come over. She knows I have to finish my sermon.<br /><br />So, there I go . . . venturing into the black of night with black bag in tow and flashlight illuminating the way toward my God-sent blessing . . . feeling more of God's love . . . recognizing God in the faces and actions of this family . . . knowing that I am not alone . . . but that God is directing every step of this journey . . . taking me from the darkness and into the light.<br /><br />God does provide.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-66609072436961696542010-06-11T04:33:00.001-07:002010-06-11T09:39:45.366-07:00Food for the journey . . .So today makes a week that I have been here on the island. And my, has it been a week. A trying one. A contemplative one. Power has gone out almost every day as I come to learn that the power system can only take so many generators and air conditioners running each day. And it has been extremely hot here . . . hotter than I'm used to in Florida/South Georgia and Atlanta . . . hotter than it's supposed to be this time of year . . . hot like as soon as you step out of the shower and dry off, you need to dry off again hot cause the sweat just keeps on popping up. I've been battling bugs . . . attacked by mosquitoes . . . and just struggled overall to get adjusted to doing ministry here in the Bahamas. . . in a small rural older community where there is not much to do and expectations are high.<br /><br />Admittedly, I've been distracted by these minor inconveniences.<br /><br />But I have survived thus far. Truth be told, what has aided me on the journey has been the hospitality of the families here. Just when I was having a "wits end" moment, a rainbow would emerge in the form of what I call this radical form of hospitality. And maybe it's not really radical at all, just a form of neighborliness that I am not used to.<br /><br />Earlier this week, as the clouds started to gather and lightening flashed across the water, I prepared myself for what I knew would be a heavy downpour. I didn't expect the power to go out and continue to be out as night fell. I attempted to sit on the back porch and read a bit, but the mosquitoes were just to much for me to take. Inside it was just unbearable, but I had resigned myself to just lying down, thinking that if I breathed slowly and remained still, I wouldn't feel the heat as much. But just as I was trying to figure out how I would endure the heat that already had sweat rolling down my back and across my brow, I get a phone call from a couple from the church to pack a overnight bag and come to their house. They had a generator and air was in plenty supply. They even had leftovers I could enjoy, since loss of power left me with no way to cook or warm leftovers I had in the refrigerator.<br /><br />As I strolled down the street, pulling my little overnight bag behind me, I saw neighbors gathering at each other's home talking to one another and enduring the blackout and heat together. And I was reminded of the communal tradition that many of us have long left behind as we have come to value our privacy and live individual lives.<br /><br />But not here. Here in Abaco in the Cherokee Sound community, every family -- whether related by blood or not -- is connected to each other. They rely on each other and look after each other.<br />Two days ago, a neighbor dropped by to bring me lunch. She had no idea I had awoke to meet ants in my cereal and was having another "wits end" moment. That night I was invited to dinner at her nieces house. And her niece had no idea that I had simply planned to eat some leafy greens and tomatoes or something because it was just too hot for me to cook.<br /><br />These are the moments I have had here. These are the moments God has created to show God's self in the midst of the frustration. On Wednesday, a friend reminded me that God manifests in every situation and we have to open our eyes to see how God is revealed -- even in the most trying times. She asked how I could see God in the situation of the "ants invading my cereal". At the time, I couldn't see God anywhere.<br /><br />But now that I look at the picture in its entirety and at these collection of days, I see God's attempt to show me love through the many acts of kindness of God's people here. I see God calling me back to simpler times . . . to times of reflection and introspection . . . to remembering what God said to the people of Zion in Isaiah:<br /><div align="center"><em>"and provide for those who grieve in Zion -- to bestow on them a crown of beauty for their ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for a display of their splendor." --Isaiah 61:3</em></div><br />So even on my worst day, I see the promises of God and am given a glimmer of hope of the best that lies ahead. I see that I matter and God always has me in mind, particularly when I find myself captive by a myriad of experiences and trials I rather not endure, but are necessary.<br /><br />In these moments -- like now -- when my mind and spirit is quiet enough to hear . . .I hear another dead limb being cut away.<br />The pruning continues . . .God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-23974566877508816622010-06-07T23:02:00.000-07:002010-06-08T23:44:34.129-07:00Watch what you pray for . . .I have no doubt now that God is trying to get my attention, while at the same time answering my prayer to hear more clearly . . . pray more deeply . . . and help me to focus. Not only do I not have television and am unable to connect to programming online, but I just learned I can't access music on pandora.com or rhapsody.com. This pops up: <em>"We're sorry. We have detected that you are outside of the United States. This service is only available to residents within the United States."</em><br /><br />Hence my posting on Facebook: "Okay God, I know what I prayed . . . but really?"<br /><br />It's not that I don't have enough to do: three churches to contend with, sermons to write and prepare for, youth ministry activities to plan, Bible studies to lead, sick and shut-ins to visit, classwork to complete for this internship and papers to write for my commissioning packet to become ordained that's due in two months.<br /><br />There's just something about having access -- or not.<br /><br />All I know is that when God is serious about getting alone time, nothing gets in the way. However the pruning needs to happen, will happen.<br /><br />So, I just gotta suck it up and count it as part of the adventure.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-17258545507516880352010-06-05T12:48:00.001-07:002010-06-08T22:58:35.414-07:00Bahamas blues . . . .<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w3C_haxi8rY/TA8kZ-jH_DI/AAAAAAAAAJc/CA4d6Z_u70Y/s1600/Bahamas+return+007.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480639300238834738" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w3C_haxi8rY/TA8kZ-jH_DI/AAAAAAAAAJc/CA4d6Z_u70Y/s320/Bahamas+return+007.JPG" /></a> I'm back where it all began . . . in the Bahamas . . . on one of the family islands where I believe some of the intensive shaping and molding into a minister began . . . particularly one who will be living the life of an itinerant minister. One's who's life will be on the move . . . one who will enter into a congregation and at some point depart . . . one who will come to understand what it <em>really</em> means to be called to go! And what it means to answer.<br /><br />How apropos that I would be reflecting on what it means "to go" as I believe I was called to come here -- to the Cherokee Sound settlement on the island of Abaco, where residents number about 200 and sleep with their doors unlocked. This is a community where modern conveniences such as electricity didn't come to the island until the early 90s. Up until 1987, I'm told all residents went to the community operator to make phone calls. I don't know if I can quite explain it, but I believe the preparation to come here -- to be isolated so-to-speak -- began when I made my first trip to the Bahamas in January 2009 as part of the World Methodist Evangelism Institute's Conference in Nassau. I say that because on that trip, I was also isolated. Soon after my arrival, I found myself whisked away to preach on a smaller island from the rest of my traveling companions.<br /><br />I know that I must accept that in saying "yes" to this call . . . in saying "yes" to coming here at this time to hone my skills as a minister, I was saying "yes" to the adventure. And like any good adventure there will be much on the journey for the making of a good story. There will be unexpected twists and turns for the creation of a good plot. Already this story is shaping up to be life-changing and unforgettable.<br /><br />Just as I believed then that God needed to pull me away to do some heart, soul and mind surgery, I believe the same rings true this time around. But it still doesn't stop me from feeling the "God why here like this blues".<br /><br />And honestly, the only answer that comes is, "Why not here!"God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-52584982130090363942010-06-03T06:33:00.000-07:002010-06-05T11:17:37.857-07:00Yes, pastors are human too . . . fun and sexy even!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w3C_haxi8rY/TApnbKqH84I/AAAAAAAAAJM/8gQifUUl0MY/s1600/Wednesday+night+romp+006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479305613064795010" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_w3C_haxi8rY/TApnbKqH84I/AAAAAAAAAJM/8gQifUUl0MY/s400/Wednesday+night+romp+006.JPG" /></a> So I'm coming to recognize that I am not a traditional pastor . . . you know the one that people have in their mind of what a pastor is supposed to look like, supposed to sound like, supposed to act like. Well, I'm not that pastor. I wear funky, stylish outfits . . . sexy even. I tell funny jokes . . . use slang sometimes even. I bowl, dance, go to the movies (even the R-rated ones), listen to R&B, read books other than those centered on theological topics or talk about Jesus . . . play pool even.<br /><br />So, you might say I'm slightly off center of those visions -- at least trying to be. For the most part, I'd like to think I live outside of some of these wild, crazy notions and expectations that we have about ministers -- like the one I heard from a fellow preaching sister who said that someone was shocked that she actually went to the movies.<br /><br />Really? God forbid we see our preachers or pastors going to the movies! Some would have proclaimed us Hell-bound a long time ago . . . oops! I said the word, "Hell".<br /><br />So of course it probably isn't appropriate that I like to shoot a game of pool every now and then or sing karaoke or listen to Rick James and Teena Marie sing "Fire and Desire" (which I just heard minutes ago). I started thinking about these notions we have our of spiritual leaders after wresting with myself over whether I should have even posted this picture of me in all of my beauty with a pool stick in hand. I started thinking about what people would say and how they would wonder, "Is she really a minister?" or mumble "She isn't like any preacher, I know!"<br />I got even more nervous when someone referred to the pose as "Hot"! (By the way, can a minister be "Hot"?Of course not, especially if she's a female. What was I thinking?).<br /><br />Actually, the question is "Where did this thinking come from? Since when did I cease to be less holy, less spiritual and less than capable of carrying out my duties as a minister? Since when did I cease to become less than human? None of these aspects of who I am are lessened by the fact that I hold a pool stick in my hand, sing karaoke and simply have fun. A friend of mine quoted that she and I and some other women she knows in ministry, "walk by the beat of their own drum".<br /><br />And that's what I'm doing . . . strutting in my peeptoe pumps and high heel slingback sandels with my funky, eyecatching toe pedicure design in only the way that I can . . . in a way that I believe is not offensive to Jesus . . . in a way that I believe liberates me and others from this bondage we have been held in and hold other people in . . . in a way that I believes helps me proudly proclaim that a decision to follow Jesus is a decision to live in freedom from the world's social constructs. There are still many things or aspects of my personality in my BC (Before Jesus) days that I can hold onto now that I'm a member of Team Jesus!<br /><br />It's crazy how we fall into these realms of thought . . . most due to years and years of being programmed to think this way. It happens almost unconsciously and only when we begin to speak some of the thoughts aloud or find ourselves in conversation with others do we ask, "Where did that rule come from?" or "Who said that?" do we begin to realize how asinine some of these streams of consciousness really are. Clearly I've been a victim too. I started believing the criticisms and living in a way that prohibited my authentic self from shining through, but quickly realized just because I'm pastoral, doesn't mean that I'm not sexy, pretty or as a friend said, "hot". God made all of me and I encompass those qualities. This is who I am and I must embrace it. We have to begin to redefine how we come to think about ministers, remembering that they are human too. This, however, does not give us a free pass to live recklessly and "on our own terms" in a way that "causes our brothers to stumble" or turn away from God.<br /><br />The truth is that while I am a preacher, proclaimer of the Word of God or however you want to define it, I am not perfect. I will fail. . . I will make mistakes . . . and like my friends and family and future congregants, will find myself struggling and wresting, while working and striving to become better each day!<br /><br />And as I journey into each of these coming days, I will take all of what makes me ME, with me . . . my beauty, my fashion sense, playful nature and all!<br /><br />With that said, I think I'm ready for a game of Spades now!God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-71899184274397921572010-03-25T09:05:00.000-07:002010-03-25T17:05:45.692-07:00The going is tough . . . but necessaryA Candler colleague of mine said something today that struck me: "One thing I've learned about ministry is that it teaches you to go!" I think he's right. "Going" is one of the premises of ministry. Hence the language about "Go ye therefore and make disciples, yadda, yadda yadda."<br />I think you get the point.<br /><br />But I must admit I'm not always ready to go. . . not always ready to take the leap . . . take that step . . . go where I'm called. Basically because it means that I'm leaving something behind . . . leaving people behind . . . leaving a life that was started behind . . . leaving even a part of myself behind. The reality is, this is the life that I am called to now -- a vocation where my greatest joys and purpose meets the world's greatest need. At least that's how theologian Frederick Buechner describes this vocation of ministry. It is one that requires service to the "other", where ever they may be. This is where the tension lies: You have this life of new promise before you, but a wrestling in the spirit over the journey that must be taken.<br /><br />It's interesting that I find myself thinking about this now . . . during this season of Lent . . . on the eve of Holy Week . . . approaching the days when we will reflect on the journey Christ took to the cross. It leaves me wondering whether Jesus ever wrestled with the going. Did some of those questions come to mind as he embarked on his ministry? It's possible, even though he knew he should "be about his father's business." That's knowledge I too, have, but it doesn't stop me from being apprehensive or giving "the going" a second thought. I have to believe that in Jesus' humanity, the questions came to mind too . . . as the end was drawing near . . . as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane for the cup to pass . . . as he hung on the cross, seeing the face of his mother Mary and "John the Beloved" in despair. In Jesus' humanity, I have to believe that "the going" was tough.<br /><br />But in the end it is necessary.<br /><br />As I approach the end of my second year in seminary and face the reality of having to go again, I'm already becoming nostalgic. I am admittedly apprehensive, but yet I understand why I have to go. . . be willing to go. It is necessary. I came across a quote by Gwendolyn Brooks that I think makes it even more clear why my "going" is essential . . . why it matters. According to Brooks, "We are each other's harvest, we are each other's business, we are each other's magnitude and bond."<br /><br />Now if that ain't a good description of what ministry is, I don't know what is.<br />So, in that vain, I go . . . am willing to go . . . will be ready to go.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-29179552003475442472009-12-30T14:41:00.001-08:002009-12-30T15:49:27.532-08:00Second year blues . . .A friend of mine from seminary called me today -- just to say hi! She said she had been praying for me. She had been praying for God to mend my brokenness. At first I thought, "I'm not broken." But then just as quickly as that thought occurred, I heard, "Yes, you are!"<br />And I am. And not just broken, but shattered. That's just how bad this semester has been. That's just how trying this semester has been. That's just how exhaustive this semester has been.<br /><br />I shouldn't be surprised. I was warned my second year would be this way. I was warned this would be the year of my Crucifixion -- the year I would die. I feel like I've died. It's taken everything within me to just make it through these past four months. And it's taking everything within me to gather up the strength to press forward toward the next.<br /><br />At least twice today, I had someone tell me what I good decision I made to pursue a life of ministry. And both times I responded that it wasn't my decision. No, this bright idea to become a minister, wasn't mine. It was God's all along, even when I didn't see the signs. There are times, I still question, "What was God thinking?" These are the days when I find it would be so much easier for me to just get a job at Home Depot, Lowe's or a book store. These are the days, when I feel death the most -- when I don't want to be so extraordinary.<br /><br />But yet, here I am -- halfway through seminary. Halfway through earning my Master of Divinity degree and so many miles away from the young woman who thought, ate, drank and slept newspapers and bylines and front page stories. I'm not that woman anymore. I'm fast becoming the woman who reads and studies the style of preachers and who takes notes on how to establish various ministries and who cries at injustice and the plight of those less fortunate. I'm the woman who now instead of picking up the latest newspapers, picks up the latest theological textbooks and study Bibles wondering how they will better inform my sermons. I'm becoming this "preacher person".<br /><br />Some days I like the journey. Some days I don't.<br />Today is one of those days, where I'm not sure how I feel.<br />I'm just glad I don't have a class to attend.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-46070741198943988182009-10-16T08:47:00.000-07:002009-10-16T09:31:30.917-07:00I journey on . . .I had to be reminded today that life is about journeying . . . waiting . . . living a number of experiences that build upon themselves to provide lessons -- if we grasp them -- that allows us to move with more wisdom into the next phase of our lives. I'm just coming off some hellish weeks of mid-terms with a sad disposition because I'm not doing well right now. The last exam, I struggled through it this week (It was a take-home exam that should have been completed with 20 pages of answers. I only turned in 12 or something like that after staying up all night trying to finish.)<br /><br />So, right now, the grades are not good. I'm behind and in trouble in the bulk of my classes and I'm wondering once again, "What is the lesson? God where is this going? Am I really equipped for this? Who in the hell thought they should let me through the doors of this place?"<br />And I've yet to really hear all the answers.<br /><br />I would love to run away, but sadly I cannot, because I recognize that there is nowhere else for me to go. Candler is where I'm supposed to be . . . even on the days when I'm frustrated about being here. . . even on the days when I have more questions than answers about my life's direction and capabilities.<br /><br />So, I'm attempting to regroup and establish a plan for how to move forward -- one of which is to hone my synthesizing skills to better understand the information -- and I'm trying to live in the many questions I have right now. I'm preparing for a girl's night featuring a movie documentary showing and discussion with members of Sistah Circle, a ministry group for women of the African diaspora that I head up at Candler. And as I have been preparing, I was reminded of a reading from Rainer Maria Rilke's fourth letter he wrote in the <em>Letters to a Young Poet</em> I want to share with them about being in the midst of life while grappling with the questions about an uncertain future. I think all of us find ourselves in that place from time to time. But Rainer Maria Rilke has wisdom to share:<br /><br /><div align="center"><em>"be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."</em></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left">So, with that sage wisdom I journey on . . . trusting and believing that I will live into the answers at the right and appropriate time. In God's time. I journey on, carrying with me the words God spoke to Jeremiah, when he too was not certain about the mission he was called to take up: <em>For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope."</em> <em>29:11</em></div>God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-3713689903104651592009-09-06T18:04:00.000-07:002009-09-07T09:59:30.086-07:00Liberation bound . . .I started at Spelman today . . . attended my first worship service in Sisters Chapel . . . four days after Spelman sophomore Jasmine Lynn was shot and killed as a result of an altercation between two men that sent bullets flying in the direction she was walking on Clark Atlanta's campus. The service was about her. . . the life she lived . . . and the memories and impact she left behind on those who knew her. What a way to start my ministry there. When I heard the news on Thursday morning, I knew my experience at Spelman, coming in as an assistant chaplain this year would be marked by much more than I expected. So, I'm praying God will prepare me for ministry within this context -- one where a university complex exists within the urban core of a community struggling to survive. A community that is riddled with this type of crime. A community where some of the countries brightest, shining black students -- some who are part of a legacy of Spelman women come to come into their own. I question how my experiences here impact where I go next? How they will shape my ministry?<br /><br />The preacher for the day reminded us all of what <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ephesians%202:10&version=NIV">Ephesians 2:10</a> says about us: that we are masterpieces of art God created to do good works and those works were created well in advance for us to carry out to perform.<br /><br />Jasmine Lynn, say her friends, performed those good works, even though her time seemed short. She lived life freely and showed love to those who did not always show kindness to her. She encouraged those whose path she crossed to live their life purposefully. And she challenged all of us to consider: "What gifts will I leave behind?"<br /><br />Ephesians 2, as the preacher pointed out, reminds us that we were all created to change and transform the world. And so I pray over this next year to discover why God called me to Spelman and what gifts I'm to leave behind in its halls that will hopefully change and transform a small part of the world of the girls I come to meet. And I pray that within the process, I come to understand the changes God needs to bring about in me.God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-82470939996679697492009-08-04T09:49:00.000-07:002009-08-05T14:04:21.907-07:00Ten on Tuesday1. I realized this morning, I'll be heading back to Atlanta a week from today, finished with my three-month internship at Harvest UMC in Sarasota/Bradenton. . . with a clearer perspective on where this journey in ministry is taking me and feeling a bit more comfortable about the trip. I learned this summer, I'm meant to be a pastor . . . I'm meant to preach and teach, inspire and empower and set the captives free. Wow! That's so far from where I was when I started seminary.<br />2. A week from this Friday, I'll be flying on a non-stop flight to Johannesburg, S. Africa. I wrote this on my list of 100 things I'll like to do before I die about 1 1/2 years ago and the dream is coming true. I think there is something to be said about the "bucket list".<br />3. I started my research and prep work on the sermon I hope to give in S. Africa on the 16th. Still got a lot of work to do, though, but excited I may be sharing the word some 7,000 miles or 16 hours by plane away from home.<br />4. In less than a month, the new semester starts and I'm not sure if I'm ready. The thought of it tires me out, but I'm also excited about working at Spelman as an assistant chaplain.<br />5. Speaking of, I already know that I'm preaching there on Feb. 14.<br />6. A Web site I'll be writing for <a href="http://theolio.org/">TheOlio.org</a> has launched. I know my bio is already there, so check it out!<br />7. I'm looking forward to moving into my own apartment this fall, just not the act of moving right after my S. Africa jaunt. Can we say jet lag. God help me!<br />8.I've seen this place here called <a href="http://www.myheavenlycupcakes.com/">heavenlycupcakes</a> but have missed them by 20 or 30 minutes after they've closed. The plan was to go there last Saturday, (after I missed them on Friday) as a treat to myself following a day of shopping and store browsing, but alas, they closed as 4 p.m. just as I was leaving this boutique with a new sweater and pair of Nine West wedge heels. So, I'm making a point to head there again. . . this Friday. Right now, my flavors are between Love Ya Dolly (lemon cupcake with buttercreme icing), Red Velvet Delight, the Double Stuff (a cookies and creme, Oreo lovers cupcake) or the Rudy (a carrot cake with cream cheese icing). Or maybe I'll get one of each! Heck I think I deserve it!<br />9. It would be just as I'm leaving Sarasota, I find the rib and fried fish man on the corner.<br />10. I'll probably hit that corner too this weekend before I leave. Got ribs last week. I think fried fish is calling me this weekend.<br /><br /><p></p>God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5623748161562444407.post-69554298518141666402009-08-03T08:14:00.000-07:002009-08-03T08:42:23.903-07:00So what is prayer . . .<div align="left">I preached on prayer last Sunday. It was the second part of the Prayer series that we kicked off here at Harvest. The week before, I opened with "The Goal of Prayer" answering the question of why do we pray by examining why Jesus prayed. Last week, we discussed the "Spirit of Prayer" by taking a look at how we define prayer. This is a snippet of what the Lord had me to say about prayer:<br /><br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A word that we hear frequently. Some of us have heard it since the time of our birth, since the time we were children:<br /></div><div align="center">Now I lay me down to sleep.<br />I pray the Lord my soul to keep<br />If I should die before I wake,<br />I pray the Lord my soul to take. </div><div align="left"><br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> An act that we carry out every Sunday – at least five times during each service: at the beginning, during the prayers of the people, before the message, after the message, during Holy Communion.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> The thing we feel we can’t do until our lives are “just right.”<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A six letter word that the Harper Collins Bible Dictionary describes as “an act of petitioning, praising, giving thanks, or confessing to God.”<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> Something we assume we should master like a difficult math problem or playing the piano.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A word that manifest butterflies in our stomach and slight sweat on the brow at the moment we have been asked to do it – publicly.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> An experience that we participate in daily, but often fail to recognize.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A word that baffles us, but yet amazes us with the power it generates.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A word that attracts us, but yet repels us.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A word that calls to us, but leaves us speechless – at times.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A love relationship we have with our creator.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> The key to God’s heart.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> The solution to our sorrow.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> Sometimes a moan.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> Sometimes a groan.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> A mind reliever.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> An invitation.<br /><strong>Prayer.</strong> Simply, a conversation with God. </div>God's girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13011653178263583604noreply@blogger.com0