Sometimes I preach: Advent, John 1:1-14 (SSUMC 12/7/14)

Before anything was, when there was only darkness and chaos, there was the Word, and through the Word, God spoke and from the Word came light. And God saw that it was good. I bring this up because I think it is important during this Advent season when we sing and celebrate the light of the world, to at least acknowledge to ourselves that at times we have chosen the darkness... When there was only darkness and chaos. There was the Word. This is where John’s story begins. And the Word was life and life was the light of all people. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. And the light came into the world, but the world did not recognize him. He came to his own, but his own did not receive him. We have a complicated relationship to light. History has shown this to be true. The Bible itself shows this to be true We know light is what we need, but light can unsettling Because the light shows you who you really are; shows the world for what it really is. Shows what you are not yet, but could be. It reminds me of the story in Exodus, where Moses comes down from speaking with the Lord and his face is glowing. It is literally radiant. And the people are so afraid that they beg him to cover his face. Sometimes, when faced with a glimmer of Light that created us, we turn away and beg for it to be hidden. We go and hide in the darkness. Men hated the light and loved the darkness, because their deeds were evil. And some days, it is can be pretty comfortable. We can wrap ourselves in the blanket of privilege and hide in the closet. And sure you might run into some stuff, no one can see your fears, and your insecurities and your misdeeds. I think it’s important to say that out loud: that sometimes we have loved the darkness more than we have loved the light. And yet, I think we know that despite the times we have turned to hide in the darkness, we know that we were not made for hiding in closets, Deep down, even if we are scared, that we were not made for darkness...

(Listen to the rest of the sermon here)

The World Drenched with Grace

“God is at work all among us. 

God is at work constantly in the world. 

Theology is not a body of  knowledge that we memorize and put in file cards. 

Theology is a way of perceiving the world as drenched with grace, as filled with the life and power of God.”

Luke Timothy Johnson

May we always have eyes to see it.

Sometimes I preach: The Reason Behind All This Time and Sand, Exodus 19:1-6,32:1-6 (SSUMC on 6/1514)

We started a new sermon series this week at SSUMC called Painting Pictures of Egypt, based on various stories from Exodus and Numbers featuring the Israelites during their time in the wilderness. I had the privilege of kicking us off last Sunday. If you are interested in the song I mention at the very beginning which the series is based on, you can hear it here

"We meet the Israelites here on the third new moon after they had gone out from Egypt. Three months had come and gone since the water of the Nile turned the blood, frogs and locusts filled the sky, since the Angel of the Lord swept through Egypt but passed over them, since they marched out Egypt with gold and silver and song. Three months since the Red Sea split in two and they walked across on dry land. Three months since they watched Pharoah’s army swept away in that same water.

Three months.

And we meet them in the wilderness.

Three months already they’ve been walking around here.

And yet today we find them camping at the base of a mountain in the wilderness.

And the glory of the God surrounds that mountain and it burns with the power of God, which they have been witness to, time and time again.

God is about to call Moses up on there on that  mountain and God’s about to hand down the covenant, the 10 commandments, the stone tablets, the whole shebang.

And as he goes, Moses leaves them with a promise from the mouth of God. “That I  who delivered you from Egypt, who brought you here on eagles’ wings, I will make you my people.”

And then Moses goes up. And the people are left

Still in the wilderness.

For forty days.

Waiting at the base of the mountain .

Still in the wilderness.

After forty days, the word goes out that Moses is late. That maybe he’s dead. That maybe its over.

That maybe this mountain in the wilderness is as far as they get..."

Listen to the rest of the sermon here

Sometimes I preach: When Jesus Says Things We Wish He Wouldn't, Matt 5:21-37 (SSUMC on 2/16/14)

Warning: I complain about the weather because let's face it. Winter is terrible, even not that bad Georgia winters. 

"The Jesus I picture in my head wears sandals all the time so obviously, he couldn't have been cold, right?

And it was strangely comforting as I thought about it. That somewhere in time, Jesus had once maybe been outside in 35 degree rain.

And it wasn't the Jesus I pictured.

But following Jesus is like sometimes. We have these  sometimes even unspoken expectations and pictures of who Jesus is in our minds, and every now then we encounter something that forces us to readjust our image."

Listen to it here

image source: http://www.kennethdowdy.com/iconography13.html

The Bible is not a love letter written directly to you

"The Bible is God's Love Letter written just for me!"

Seriously, guys. Stop saying that. Stop thinking it. Stop pinning things about it.

Because when you say stuff like that, the internet produce scary pictures like this one.

I blame you for this image. 

Traumatizing images aside, stop saying it because it makes you look like you haven't actually read the Bible.

Because if the Bible was actually was God's love letter written to me personally, I might think that somebody needs to explain to God what exactly love letters are supposed to look like...

Because this "love letter" has genocide in it. Floods. Destruction. And a whole bunch of gore, blood and death. (Don't believe me, flip open to the book of Judges...seriously, that book is crazy town)

And that's just the violent stuff. This love letter also has page after page of rules, genealogies, measurements, clothing patterns, debates about food laws, and the like.

Nothing says love like all that, right?

Even Jesus, the hero of our story, gets a bit snarky at times. Seriously, read what he actually says in there sometimes. Sometimes its all love and all inspiring, but sometimes he talks about cutting off your hands and throwing them into fire or throwing mill stones around people necks.

Oh and then there's Paul and all I'm going to say is that I'm pretty sure he would roll over in his grave if someone called him a romance author.

When you try to make the Bible become a love story written just for you, you are not getting the whole story of who God is and what the Bible can do. You end up ignoring its complexity, the multiplicity of its voices. You lose out on the stories, the tragedies, the victories.

You lose out on the anger. You lose out on the despair. Which makes the hope you find its pages lose some of its strength.

And no, I'm not saying that God's love isn't in the Bible. No, with every ounce of me I believe that Bible contains the words that lead to Life. God is love, friends and by reading its pages, I hope you begin to realize that God loves you and your neighbor and your enemy and all of creation.  And there are days when I know that the Spirit will use 3,000 year old words to speak directly to the deepest places of your heart.

But that doesn't mean the sole purpose of the Bible is to be love letter written by God directly to you.

It's a collection of stories and letters that span centuries, written for different reasons in different places. Different voices shouting through history to teach us a little bit more about who God is and about who we are and who we could be.

Barbara Brown Taylor describes the Bible like this:

[Because of the Bible] I am not an orphan. I have a community, a history, a future, a God. The Bible is my birth certificate and my family tree, but it is more: it is the living vein that connects me to my Maker, pumping me the stories I need to know about who we have been to one another from the beginning of time, and who we are now, and who we shall be when time is no more.” -   from This Preaching Life 

So call it your birth certificate. Call it your family tree. Call it your connection to the past and to the future.

Call it crazy and lovely and scary and life-giving and encouraging and difficult.

But please, stop calling it a love letter.

It is so much more.

Purity Pirates and a Jesus Feminist: Reflections on freedom, ministry and high school

When I was seven or eight, I remember my dad telling me I could be anything I wanted when I grew up to which I promptly responded: "anything except a preacher."

Because even my seven year old self knew that only boys got to grow up and be preachers.

When I was in middle school at a conservative Christian school, I listened to my female teachers (who loved us dearly) lecture us on the dangers of dressing immodestly. We were lined up against the wall and our skirts were measured one by one to prove the point. I remember our principal's wife telling us about her unbuttoned shirt and a boy who made unwanted advances.

"When I got home, my mothers slapped me and said I should have known better. And you know what, girls. I know now she was right."

My friends and I laughed it off. From then on, she was known as the Purity Pirate, but I remember thinking that I was glad my little sister wasn't there that day for girl's chapel.

Soon after, I began to joke with my best friend that we were closeted feminists. We had no idea what that meant really, but we were pretty sure it meant that we thought girls were just as good as every boy in our class.

I began to feel a call to ministry in the deep places of my heart. I was looking into Bible colleges, but getting a degree in being a pastor's wife seemed terrible. The colleges I visited felt heavy and suffocating. So I began to feel led into missions, because when you're in the mission field, you don't have to be a missionary's wife, but just a missionary.

But then I met my first "real' feminist. She came and taught us AP English my junior and senior year. She was a Democrat with a PhD who called herself a feminist. She was everything I wanted to be. She had seen the world, spoke multiple languages, had a beautiful family and loved Jesus more than anyone I ever met.

I remember telling her my fears over disobeying God by not going to a Christian college, begging her to tell me how you know something is God's will for your life.

And she must have taken pity on my frazzled awkward seventeen year old self because she asked me a question. She asked me what was God's will for my life was for that day. I remember stuttering something about being a good student and a good friend and daughter. About loving the people God placed in my life.

"Exactly. So go do that. And what's God's will for your life tomorrow?"

"The same thing?"

"Right, so just take it one day at a time. God will lead you when you get there."

And those words were freedom.

And those words were the beginning.

The story, of course, continued. I would pack up my bags the next year and move a few states away for (a decidedly not Christian) college. Soon I would have my first female pastor and the summer I would spend as her intern in a struggling church would change me. I would fall more in love with the Bible and decide this was it. This was what I wanted to do forever.

I would fall in love with a boy with kind eyes and crazy hair who loved God but not in the skinny jean, worship leader kind of way like all the other boys I knew.  I would read and study and preach and meet more Jesus-loving women (and men) who continued to teach me more and more what becoming more like Christ can look like.

But this piece of advice from my first Jesus feminist set me free to go and follow after God wherever that led me, to set aside the life script of a good Christian woman and just love Jesus.

This post is a part of Sarah Bessey's synchroblog celebrating the release of her book, Jesus Feminist. Be sure to check it out! 

Why Do You Show Up

Why do you come to church? 

No, seriously. When was the last time you thought about it. Why do you get out of bed, get dressed up and go to church? Why don’t you just sleep in and then go have a nice brunch somewhere? 

What is it that makes you keep showing up? 

Is it the people? Is it the people you’ve known for years and you look forward to their fellowship? The handshakes, the smiles, the warm greetings? The fact people will miss you if you’re not there? 

Is it the worship? Is it the chance to hear the organ play or the choir sing? Does it keep you coming back? 

What about the ministries? Why do you show up and serve? There are other ways to serve the community. There are other ways you could spend your time. 

And why in the world do you come to church meetings? I know there are family meals that you are skipping to spend your evenings with us church people as we discuss finances and ministry programs...

Read more at the SSUMC ministry blog

There are days when I feel like worst youth pastor in the world

The other day while on a mission trip with my youth, the volunteer coordinator commented on how blessed my kids were to have me since I had a seminary degree.

"You must feel so much more prepared!" she said. 

And as this woman was just about to start to seminary herself, I did not have the heart to tell her that most days, I still have no idea what I'm doing.

Youth Ministry = carrying around sheep?

Because I'm nothing like any youth pastor I've ever had. I'm not very loud or outgoing. I can't be ridiculous on command. I'm not good at "stupid" humor and I can't play the guitar. 

And I let my teenagers wear two-piece bathing suits on our mission trip.

They laughed me the other day because I referenced this other youth pastor I know. "You would like him," I said, "he's a really great youth pastor."

"You make it sound like you're not a great youth pastor!"

I take the the compliment, but inwardly, I know its just because they've never had the loud, extroverted, guitar-playing youth pastor.

At least, I remind myself, they don't know what they're missing.

Because this was not my calling. I could barely handle being around teenagers when I was a teenager. I'm awkward, bookish and don't really like loud things.

But goodness, these youth of mine. They have stolen my little awkward heart.

And so now I spend days planning, thinking of crazy youth games, writing lesson plans, praying and worrying.

Oh goodness, how I worry. 

Because I know that being teenager can be so hard and scary and unfair. And I know the chances are good that 50% of my youth group will walk away from the church when they leave home and not look back.

And so I keep working.

Because I want them to know that that this Christianity thing, it isn't about whether or not you wear a two piece to the beach. That God has called them by name and made them beautiful, all of them and that they should never be ashamed of who they are. I want them to know that Christianity, it's not about a list of rules, but rather living into the truth that they are children of God. I want them to know that Jesus will always go with them, no matter where they go and they don't need to be afraid.

I want them to know that Christianity is not about never having questions. I want them to know the questions are okay, that God is big enough to handle them.  And that while I certainly do not have all the answers, that I will help them wrestle with those questions for as long as they need me.

I want them to know that sometimes being a part of the Church is hard work. That church people sometimes really (really) suck. But that there is something unmistakably beautiful in the Body of Christ and that it needs them, my loud, hilarious, loving youth. Because there is work to be done for the Kingdom. 

I want them to know that God loves them. That the Church loves them, even when its awkward and doesn't know quite how to show it.

And that I love them, even though I'm awkward.

And that despite the fear that I have no clue what I'm doing, I promise I'll keep trying to figure it out.

Hospitable Souls

"Here's to becoming more hospitable souls." 

I read that quote the other day on this blog and it’s stayed with me over the past few days as I've unpacked the boxes in our new house.

Hospitable soul? 

What does that even mean? To be hospitable all the way down to your soul, to the core of who you are. 

I know the Bible places particular emphasis on this quality: hospitality, because again and again, we are called to welcome the stranger into our midst, to prepare a place at the table for any and all who might come. 

Sounds simple enough, until I remember that in reality, this is actually really hard to do.

Read the rest of this post over at Sandy Springs UMC's staff blog

Teenagers, two-pieces and me.

I don't know if anyone else on the internet noticed this, but there was a lot written concerning modesty, purity and swim suits this summer. Or maybe its like this every summer and I just never paid attention before.

But this summer, I read them all. Every blog post. I read this one which argues the phrase Modest is Hottest is harmful. I read this one which compares women's bodies to chocolate cake. I watched Jessica Rey talk about the evolution of the swim suit in this video and there were many many more.

And in the abstract, they all made sense. But none of them told me what to do when your youth ask you if they can wear two pieces on the youth mission trip (which included a trip to a beach). It's one thing for me to be okay with rocking my two piece and for all my Christ-loving friends to do the same. It's another thing for me to tell my teenage girls at the beach they can do it too, right?

What if I say they can and that makes me the worst youth pastor in the world? What if they all wear string bikinis and spend the whole time making out with the boys? What if I affirm the world's teachings that they need to dress scantily in order to be accepted?

What if I say they can't and then I'm a big ol' hypocrite? What if I add to a shame culture found within the Church that tells them their bodies are something to be hidden?

I was seriously stressing. And I was praying. And I was reading (because apparently reading is how I try to solve all my problems) .

But God must have taken pity on me, because then I stumbled upon this from Rachel Held Evans:

"So my advice for women looking for bathing suits this season is this: Don’t dress  for men; dress for yourself. It's not your responsibility to please men with either your sex appeal or your modesty; each man is different, so it would be a fool's errand anyway. Instead, prioritize strength, dignity and good deeds, and then dress accordingly. 

Find something that makes you comfortable. Find something that is ethically made. Find something that gives you the freedom to run with abandon into those incoming waves—hot sand tickling your feet, warm sun tingling your skin—and revel in this body and this world God gave you to enjoy." 

And that was it. That was what I wanted for my youth.

I want them to be comfortable in their skin and in their swim suits. I wanted them to not worry about what they were wearing. I wanted them to be able to run and jump and laugh and do wheelbarrow races down the beach. I wanted them to not feel self-conscious about how they look. I wanted them to love the body God gave them and the world God created.

So we talked about it and I said they could wear two pieces and I told them I wanted them to be comfortable and I wanted them to be able to move around freely.

And that was that.

We went on the trip. We went to the beach. And there were a whole host of different bathing suits represented (one pieces, tankinis, those two pieces with short bottoms, bikinis, etc).

And you know what, it wasn't a big deal.

And I'll have you know that as I watched my girls practice their handstands on the beach, nap under the tent, splash each other in the ocean and even (at one strange moment) race horse shoe crabs down the beach, it really did seem like I was witnessing a little tiny piece of the Kingdom of God.

Amen.

This is my anthem, this is my song. (Or Sara Groves songs that make me tear up, part 1)

"He's Always Been Faithful" by Sara Groves

Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me

Morning by morning I wake up to find
The power and comfort of God's hand in mine
Season by season I watch Him, amazed
In awe of the mystery of His perfect ways
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me

I can't remember a trial or a pain
He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can't remember one single regret
In serving God only, and trusting His hand
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me

This is my anthem, this is my song
The theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again
His loving compassion, it knows no end
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful, He's always been faithful
He's always been faithful to me

On Coming to the Table

"We are coming, Lord, to the table.

We are coming, Lord to the table

With the gift of bread, we are coming, Lord

With the gift of wine, we are coming, Lord.

Oh, sing it over.

Oh, we are coming, Lord" 

(communion song from Sierra Leone) 

When I was 18, I went on a prayer trip to Tunisia. Mind you, this was before the Arab Spring, before anyone in the Western world had even heard about about this small North African country. The purpose of the trip was simple: the Tunisian Christians had asked that we would pray, and so for 10 days, my college group walked and prayed through the country.  We were welcomed into people's homes, drank coffee (well, I didn't...I drank tea) with Tunisian college students, heard their stories and danced with them on their roofs. It was my first trip abroad and even now, having explored and loved many countries since then, that beautiful country still holds a large piece of my heart. 

One night as the trip came to a close, we found ourselves huddled into a small dark humid hotel room. All twenty of us crammed into the room to sing and pray together before bed. Our campus minister, Mark (one of the most godly men I have ever met), began an informal communion service right there in the room. With everyone passing the bread and wine to each other, each offered words of encouragement and love to another as we passed around the elements. 

And as I took the bread, I realized that if love had a taste, this is what it was. This Tunisian bread and wine mixed together. This was the love of God made known in some mysterious and unknowable way. 

This was grace. 

This was Christ. 

This was Communion.

Since that day, I have participated in many beautiful and life-sustaining communion experiences: my wedding day, the first time at serving at my seminary, a Christmas Eve service, but on that warm Tunisian evening, my heart was strangely warmed in a way that still makes my eyes blur a little when I think about it over seven years later. 

And now with several more years of theological education in my head, I could debate with the best of them over the nuances of open and closed tables, transubstantiation vs consubstantiation, symbol vs substance. 

And if you were really interested, I could draw you some charts pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of each view and we could go over the timelines tracking how the theologies developed over time. You would probably laugh at me, because I can get a little absurd when I talk about the Great Schism and the debate over the shape of the bread which happened in the 11th century

But in the end, all those words would just be an inadequate attempt of trying to understand how God shows up in cramped hotel rooms and large cathedrals...

an inadequate attempt to define the love of God. 

Amen. 

 For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.”  For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. (I Corinthians 11:23-26)



"Kairouan 1" by August Macke
 source: http://www.art-prints-on-demand.com/a/august-macke/kairouan-i.html