Sunday heart talk . . .

It wasn't more apparent than later this week, following the news of Michael Jackson's death that I began to really understand what it means to have the courage to listen. It requires a selflessness attitude and pushing aside our own voice and yearnings to follow the call to our spirit. This was the message I knew would be preached today, but didn't really understand it until now. So often we are consumed by the world's voice that we fail or even miss that of creation . . . the voices of those who need our help. . . the voices of those whose words have been muted . . . the voice of the one who calls us back to himself . . . thus missing the voice of our liberation and insight into who we really are. Somewhere along the way we as a people have missed the voice of the Michael Jackson's of the world. We have missed opportunities to pull them out of their exile. We have missed the voice that frees us from our own exile. From that, my heart murmurings, crafted this as our prayers of the people today:

PRAYERS OF THE PEOPLE

God you talk to us throughout the day,
But somehow we don’t hear.
We find it hard to listen
To that still small voice
That may come as one rustling as the wind through the trees,
Or as the clouds opening up and the sun hitting our face
Accompanied by a gentle breeze.
Or as the cardinal outside our window singing your praises
Or in the gentle face of our children, laughing, playing.
Or the touch of someone’s hand that says “I understand” or “I am here for you!”

Perhaps our minds are too focused on the world that is in despair
A world that reflects the messiness of our lives,
A world that that does not seem to offer hope or promise of a better future
A world that our hands have distorted to look far from the one you created.
A world that does not love you freely.
Or heed your commands.
A world that does not even recognize your existence
Or acknowledge the miracles of your healing hands.
A world that is so busy, it doesn’t have time – to listen.

Forgive us today, God for turning a deaf hear towards you,
For making all else a priority, save for you.
For living not as we ought, with a concern or ear bent toward
the hurts of our neighbors, our family members, our spouses
our friends.
For assuming we have another day, another 24-hours to get it right.

Lord, we admit that we have lost our moral compass
And struggle to find our way back to you.
Guide us, O, Lord, back to you.
For we long to hear your secrets
We long to hear your voice
We desire to see your glory manifested in our lives.
We desire to be more than just “good people.”
We desire to your obedient children whose Word
is etched upon our hearts.
And becomes a part of our daily lives.
Here we are, O God!
We’re ready to hear you!
We’re ready to listen.
Speak to us today!

AMEN.

Grace and mercy following me

There is something to be said about grace and mercy. I truly give it credit for helping me through my first semester. Cause it really wasn't me! I'm glad to say I ended it -- a week ago -- with two A's and a B- (you know this had to be Old Testament! There was that time I went on that reading strike, remember? Never really did quite recover. When you lose ground here, it's almost impossible to regain your footing. You just pick up from where you are.)

Just four short months ago, I was wondering if I would even make it through. My head was dizzy from trying to remember the two accounts of the creation and flood stories and how they relate to the Ancient Near Eastern accounts, the make up of the Holiness Code, the Sinai and Davidic covenants and which Biblical scholar said what about Joshua and the battle of Jericho and whether the walls of the city really did come tumbling down. The teachings of Martin Luther King, Jr., Ghandi, Walter Wink and his perspective on the Powers and their place within the Domination System fought for space in my brain as I struggled with doubt, battled insecurities about my intellect, my writing ability (if you can believe it) and waivered in my faith.

I sat in classes not knowing what the hell people were saying, barely slept at night and produced papers, almost consistently, at the 11th hour. And even now, I wonder if anything really stuck. Some say it'll make sense by my third year. Let's hope so!

In the midst of all of that, I've attempted to make sense of where my new found ministry -- the homeless and destitute -- will lead me. I question how my experience there will manifest itself in my overall ministry. I wonder if I should already be designing some sort of ministry. And I battle with feelings of angst and disappointment at the current systems which seems to perpetuate what I see rather than offer solid solutions. The encounters prompt me to want to act. Maybe because I've come to realize they could be me. Maybe because I realize they -- at some point in their life -- was someone like me. They just fell on hard times. In seminary we recognize these calls to action as an epiphany of recruitment -- the point at which you feel compelled to respond to a need of humanity. And lately, my sensitivity meter has been so keen that it's had me nearly crying in Publix at the site of deli workers tossing hours old Rotisserie chicken in the trash.

Now that I think about it, maybe that's what part of me being here is all about -- learning how to recognize the voice of the world calling for help and me being prepared to respond. Maybe it's not really all about which stories in the Bible are fables, sages or short stories, a narrative or whether the event happened in the postexilic or exilic period. Maybe all of this is really about the overall ministry experience, a preparation for what is to come. I used to think I knew where God was leading me, now I'm not so sure. But after what I witnessed this semester, I know at least grace and mercy will be on the heels of my tennis shoes.

I'm counting on it to be there when I stand in that pulpit on January 4 in the Bahamas. Cause at this point, only God knows what I'm going to say.

Just another day in midterm hell . . .

It's October. It's mid-term season. I've had even less sleep than I was getting -- so you know I'm worn down and a little cranky. I woke up at 3:30 a.m. this morning to write a 5-8 page paper for my Unlearning Violence, Learning Non-Violence Class. I had to critique a movie that had elements of violence and write a lesson plan from the movie that I could use with youth. I chose Save the Last Dance. Although I have seen it probably more than 20 times, watching it for critque is different. I found myself falling asleep on it last night, hence the decision to get a few hours of sleep and wake up at 3:30 to get the work done.

And that's what I did. Turned in the paper, via email by 9 a.m. It was due at 9:30 a.m. I didn't make the class, but probably wouldn't have stayed awake through it anyway. I did drive all the way to the campus to hand over the hard copy only to realize it didn't save to my thumb drive.
Thanks to the inventors of email!

My mid-term Old Testament test is behind me and I'm still wondering what were all of those questions and essays were on that exam! Let's just say, I've been praying seriously for God's grace and mercy. Not sure if my explaination of the Holiness Code will hold up. (Hey Lord, it's me down here, don't forget to look out for a sister!)

Now, it's on to paper #2, the 8-10 page literature critical essay. Still got to finish the second book for that one. But that won't be happening tonight. I'm going to sleep.

Such is the life of a seminary student.
Thank goodness mid-terms are almost over.

What was I called into?

I struggled earlier this week not so much about whether I was called, but wrestled with what I was called into. And on Monday, I wasn't so sure I could endure this pursuit of my Master's of Divinity degree. Yes, the work, the theological concepts thrown at you and just the transition into this particular graduate program is just that heavy. Or at least it can be, particularly because it is on a much higher level of any graduate program. Here, you're trying to make intellectual sense of one who can not be fully explained within the contexts of the human mind.

I mean, he calls himself, "I am." How do you wrap your brain around that?
You don't!

Of course the thought crossed my mind to maybe leave the program -- but only for a split second. I mean where was I going to go? It's not like I could go back to my old life, lest I lead one of unfulfillment. At the time, I just felt that I had to get the hell up out of here. But like the child running away from home with his little sack thrown behind his back, who only travels as far as the curb in front of his house, I too had no other place to run, save to the curb and stairwells of Candler.

So here I sit, pondering and praying without ceasing for the Lord to bring me through. I'm only about a month in and got three years to do.

But I was reminded last night and today of what it really means to accept this call. First and foremost, it means releasing my will for my life to do a greater work that only God knows I will do. It means availing myself to the journey and what it will reveal. And it is a calling I must submit to daily as I'm subject to waiver back and forth on whether I am willing to go the distance.

Today I am, but there are other days, I'm not so sure. And that's because the burden is so heavy and the responsibility so great. I'm caught in that space as one theologian describes, the confusing nowhere of in-between.

But around Candler they say this is normal.