desert blossom

I was speaking with a friend of mine about ministering to homeless individuals. A church crowd appeared to have some great intentions of feeding people on the side of the road. Why not bring a van load of sandwiches to hungry people living on the streets?

As I thought about these ideas and remarks, I noticed that some of our ministry ideas benefit ourselves more than they benefit those we are attempting to help. For example, when you are standing by a van filled with sandwiches, you have already set yourself apart from the community you are trying to reach. Though feeding those in need is an admirable task and may prove to be beneficial for a meal or two, it does not get at the heart of the need. My husband recounted a story he read about some men passing a woman on the side of the road. Like others before them, the well intentioned men offered her a sandwich to eat. Looking at her bare feet, she mentioned that she had no shoes to wear. She then asked what made them think that the sandwich would help her feet? They neglected to find out the woman’s most pressing need. In a spirit of humility the man removed his shoes and put them on the woman’s feet. Neither my husband or I know what the outcome of the story was (I hope that I retold it correctly), but the point was clear. Even when we are well intentioned ministers, we need to ask questions to find out more about those whom we are trying to serve.

So, I asked myself how we could get to know homeless individuals better. How could we find out their most pressing needs and meet them? I am not a fan of “fast food” ministry. This is the type of ministry where a person commits to passing out water bottles or meals, neglecting to spend any real quality time with individuals. I am not saying that we should not pass out food and water; rather, I am saying that it needs to be more than that. There needs to be more of a commitment than a once a month mass food distribution, where we receive the warm fuzzy feeling that we did our part.

It is easy for us to eat our meal, then drive out to a park and feed others. When someone comes to the van reeking of sweat, dirt, and filth from shower-less months and flashes a distorted smile of decaying teeth, it is much easier to pass him a meal and wish him well, than it is to sit down to a meal with him. (I do not pretend to suggest that this is the normal condition or image of homeless individuals.) Imagine sitting at a table with someone like this. If you invite a person to dinner, he is your guest. When you are seated at the table, it does not matter who bought the food or who prepared it… you all come to the table as equals. At least this is how it should be. When you level the playing field by becoming equals, it begins to create a candid environment where people can learn more about one another and form a community. Sure, you may be uncomfortable, but imagine how the individual on the other end feels. This level of discomfort on each side may contribute to securing community. As you begin to learn more about one another, a bond will form. How great could that be? Now you can learn about that specific individual’s needs and meet them, then you can find that individual again later and see how he is doing.

If everyone took the time to simply commit to minister to one other person, how great would that be? Yes, we should send money to ministries to help in time of devastation, and we should spend time ministering to the masses. Even so, it is far easier to minister to many on a disengaged level than it is to minister to an individual on a personal level that may push you outside your comfort zone. I do not pretend to think that this is something that I am able to do yet. I think that my pride stands in the way too often. I need to learn to humble myself the way Jesus did and wash the feet of others.

I don’t think that everyone is called to the same kind of ministry or to minister to everyone. If this were the case, others would be neglected or we would do a lot of things at a mediocre level at best. But if everyone really had a heart to minister in a particular area, why not set aside the “fast food” version of ministry and dive into a three course meal?

I am reading Brian McLaren’s A New Kind of Christian. I am thoroughly enjoying this book and the fact that it was on the recommended reading list for one of my summer classes. Even so, I cannot help but feel frustrated with my current situation.

Last Sunday I was in a church service. Usually we prayer prior to the beginning of our gathering, which is followed by some additional fellowship as people begin to settle in and make themselves comfortable. I enjoy speaking with people during this time; although, I must admit that I am a bit shy and reserved about meeting new people. Eventually I warm up to the idea and muster the courage to introduce myself. Soon service begins, and we study Scripture as we explore what God would want us to glean from the message. Usually these thoughts are illustrated by the speaker and later elaborated on by the group. Following the message and a closing prayer, the floor is opened for questions and comments from the group. As this time fizzles, we return to our socializing and eventually make our way to the parking lot, usually choosing to meet for dinner in order to continue our conversations. I love this kind of community. I find myself very candid, feeling free to be myself without the concern of condemnation. What is not to love?

So, I was surprised when I became frustrated during the group discussion time. My frustration came to a peak as we gathered to close in an unusual type of group prayer. I fidgeted throughout these times and found myself wanting to run for the door in the middle of the prayer. I just wanted everyone to shut up so that I could feel free to leave. I wanted to run outside and literally scream at the top of my lungs. My head was pounding and I could not stand still. After service I talked with my husband. I told him how I was feeling and that I was sick of struggling with this emotional turmoil. This has been going on for a few months, but I had not yet felt this angry about the whole thing. What was bothering me?

As I began reading A New Kind of Christian, I immediately felt a connection to Dan, the pastor questioning his theology and call into ministry. I understood his struggle and associated with his questioning and at one point his outburst; yet, as much as I felt like him, it was not because I was struggling with the same questions. That is when I began to associate with Neo, the PhD graduate working as a high school teacher. I very much (so far) found myself agreeing with his logic about theology.

After another sleepless night, I think I am beginning to understand what happened to me last Sunday. I am a theology graduate student. So far, my theology and view of ministry looks fairly different. I graduated with my bachelors from an Assembly of God school (which is how I was raised). I had been raised to believe the entire Bible, unable to question it in any way. I was simply indoctrinated my whole life; so, it was no surprise that I fit in my undergraduate program so well. Truth be told, I was allowed and encouraged to ask questions at this time, yet the safety net of my theological up-bringing remained intact. My professors were knowledgeable, caring, and spiritually mature mentors. My husband and I still have contact with several of them. Even so, my theology has never been challenged like it is being challenged now. I agree with and like a lot of the liberal arguments. I equally disagree with said arguments. I find myself questioning why I believe what I believe and struggling with the difference between what I was indoctrinated to believe and what I actually think. It is frustrating, but if I want my PhD in order to teach, it is only fair to my future students that I struggle with these things now by exposing myself to “the other side.”

I consider myself theologically moderate and socially liberal. I am a huge advocate for social justice and believe that the Bible was not fully written to be taken literally. Through my struggle for theological identity, I find myself less patient with others and more frustrated with myself. Finally, it all came to a head on Sunday, and I felt like I could not take anymore. I was sick of listening to people who appear to like to hear themselves talk. I could sum up their points in a few minutes instead of half an hour. I asked myself why I was so irked by people trying to be candid, even if they were long winded? (As you can see, I fit into this category.) I found myself not contributing to the group discussion simply because I did not feel that my thoughts needed a twenty minute commentary, which simply stated that the other individual agreed with me. I know that I work with children, which means that I have to be very straight forward and to the point. I also attend graduate school, which is also very concise; so, it would make sense that circulating through the same thought process for half an hour without coming to a new conclusion would bother me. Even so, I was not sure that this was truly the issue (maybe it was just a piece).

So, what is wrong with me? I think part of it is that I am postmodern. I make no apologies for that. My mother did not accept it until this past week, when we actually talked out her issues about what being postmodern meant according to my faith. I also consider myself emergent. I enjoy this way of thinking and the various emergent intellectuals that speak to the culture. Then there is the part of me that associates with the alternative subcultures. My husband is goth, and I consider myself a metalhead. So, how does all of this fit into graduate school? I think that is my struggle. Even when my school embraces the postmodern, there are so many students who don’t. There are even some that I would consider hostile against this newer way of thinking. I sit in some classes under brilliant professors in which I learn a tremendous amount of information that has helped my own spiritual formation. Then there are my pet-peeve classes. They are the ones that train future pastors, condoning remaining in a Christian bubble. For example, during a student led class presentation, a group grossly misrepresented the punk culture. I was offended and disgusted by the praised remarks that were given out of ignorance. The group suggested that a young cutter should be mentored by a Christian, who could remove her from the punk culture, and “win her” for Christ (as if being punk was a bad thing). I was appalled. I could not stay silent. I had to interject my two cents, and I did. I told them that it was unnecessary to remove this girl from her interest in the punk culture. There are several great Christian ministries that focus on punks and other alternative subcultures because their interests are not welcomed by some mainstream churches. I was surprised to see that my MDiv program focuses so much on training pastors to have contacts for counseling the abused, addicts, etc., but they neglect contacts for those who are not a part of the mainstream culture.

So, I realized that my frustration is that I am being educated to step back in my thinking, forsaking who I am in order to “fit in” at school. Then I go to an alternative church, where I am encouraged to be candid. The tug of war in my theology mixed in with this is more than I feel I can handle at the moment. So, my sleepless nights remain. My body does not respond to the sleeping pills I have been prescribed, and I continue to feel dejected by the way people like me don’t “fit in.” I just pray that God will continue to help me grow spiritually throughout this process without forsaking who I am, and I pray that I can forgive those who have rejected me and teach those who want to learn more.

So, I have been thinking about how we live under grace since Jesus sacrificed himself on the cross. How amazing is that? God loves us just that much.

I envision the Bible as a love story between a creator and his creation. God made us to be in perfect communion with him, yet we screwed it up. Sin entered the world and now everyone is born with this inevitable desire to sin. The Old Testament highlights a lot of ways that humanity has struggled with making a mess of our purpose. Then the New Testament introduces a redeemer so powerful that he alone can conquer sin and its punishment of death. This redeemer paid the ultimate price for sin when he chose to die. Now, creation is able to commune with God again the way it was intended (although this will not come to fruition until the kingdom of God is established).

So, I have been thinking about how we live by grace instead of under “the law.” Okay… what I am hearing is that all those rules that will get me into heaven or keep me out of hell are not necessarily necessary. For example, as a child, I was led to believe that if I did not read my Bible (a minimum of one chapter) and pray daily… and I died, I would go to hell. Grace teaches that it is not about the rituals; rather, it is about the relationship. I should desire this relationship with God, instead of trying to force it.

Now here is my dilemma. Maybe I am not strong enough in my relationship with God, but I have found myself rejecting those things that I was “required” to do in order to have a relationship with God. I find myself struggling to pray and read my Bible. I sometimes feel that I learn more from reading a book about someone else’s struggle with spirituality. I find myself more likely to connect with God through conversations with others, blogging, journaling, music, or movies. I feel like I have been able to give all the “right answers” for so long that I have forgotten the question. So my question is… how do I apply grace to my life without taking this relationship with God for granted? How do I overcome what has jaded me for so many years?

“A still small voice”… this is what I am told. Wait for it. Maybe your life is too cluttered to hear it. Maybe you need to rest. Am I the only one who doesn’t hear it? Why do I feel like prayer is not the answer I need?

It is so hard to be in a relationship with someone you cannot see. I am learning this more and more each day. As I pursue grad school, I am told of the countless ways to pray, express my theology, and care for others. I am challenged to bring my own experience and spiritual growth to the table. Spiritual growth? What growth? I feel like I haven’t been growing for some time. If we want to talk about anger and bitterness, I would be willing to show you growth. I feel like that is the only growth I have been involved in lately.

They say that admitting you have a problem is the first step, yet they don’t tell you what the next one is. I have learned that I have an issue with codependency. I have felt the pressure of family, career, school, and ministry overburden me. I gave other people power over my life and my decisions. I clung to those in need and felt it was my duty to fix it (whatever it was). I finally found myself trapped in a downward spiral… one filled with pain, anger, and a bitterness I never knew.

Pain… pain… that seems to be a dominant theme in my life, but I am only now realizing that some of that pain is self inflicted. I gave some people the authority to create and recreate pain in my life. I became the victim, but not always at the hand of others. I could have walked away from the pain. Instead I stayed in a state of comfortable discomfort. I wanted out, but I was scared of what “out” would look like. I have been told to seek God, but how?

Prayer… it is literally everywhere in my life, and I can’t escape it. I am taking a class in it at school. I am teaching it in the children’s ministry. Now it is being taught to me at the church. So, why am I not learning anything? I mean to say that I have learned so much but have not applied it to my life. I find myself confused by this relationship to a God I cannot see. How can we interact? It is not a relationship or conversation if I do all the talking. So, how can I hear God? Does he hear my pain?

I feel that God has asked me to enter into a season of prayer. To tell you the truth, I am uncomfortable with the thought. Maybe that is because I don’t know where to start. I have a new appreciation for prayer, but I cannot seem to focus. It is not easy for me; although, I know several people who do not feel the same way. I feel like I am in the desert. I have a lot to do before I can find my way out, but I am ostracized at the same time. It is in these moments that God can speak to me, but I am so stubborn that I do not want to listen. So, I continue to clutter my mind with my own agenda, hoping this season will end before I have to participate in it. I don’t allow God to speak in “a still small voice.” If he wants my attention, he needs to grip my heart and pull me in a direction or surround me through every facet of my life. Since prayer seems to be the theme, I think it is time to shut up and listen. I only hope I haven’t missed anything God was trying to say.

Where do you go, when the world around you is collapsing? Where do you go, when all you know no longer exists, and you are all alone? Who can you trust, when all faith has been broken and replaced with bitterness?

I am beginning a new chapter of my life. I am returning to Candler School of Theology at Emory University. I plan to complete my MDiv. As I reflect on this time, I notice that there is so much that I must leave behind. I am not who I was, which is both good and bad.
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I have often dreamed of a far off place where a great warm welcome will be waiting. Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face, and a voice keeps saying this is where I’m meant to be. I will find my way. I can go the distance. I’ll be there someday if I can be strong. I know every mile will be worth my while. I would go most anywhere to feel like I belong.

I am on my way. I can go the distance. I don’t care how far. Somehow I’ll be strong. I know every mile will be worth my while. I would go most anywhere to find where I belong.
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The road gets lonely as I make my way down the somber path. I sense that I have lost my direction, but my compass guides my every footstep. Why did this path have to be so twisted and burdensome? I feel my feet run out from under me, then lag behind vainly trying to muster up another step. One minute the world looks calm, and the stars twinkle brightly, lighting my dusty path. The next minute blackness surrounds me, and I am engulfed in an endless abyss unable to escape.
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Have you ever felt like no one would notice if you were missing? This is how I felt today. Lost in a sea of faces… some filled with confusion, others bold as a bright light piercing the darkness. I spent the day at Emory University trying to get all my ducks in a row as the week progresses toward orientation. I was overwhelmed by the size of the place. It is like a small city of its own. I felt blond and lost as I wandered back and forth asking every third person for directions. I felt like I was searching for a needle in a haystack as passers-by kicked the needle out from under my reach just as I uncovered it. (Southeastern University could not have prepared me for this. It is David in comparison to that Philistine, Goliath.)
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Nothing very profound happened today, but I accomplished a lot. I wanted to note how good God has been to me throughout this transition into a new place and ministry.
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I have never blogged, but I have told myself that I need to start. Please be patient with me as I share some ideas that have unsettled my mind or penetrated my heart.
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