excitement galore

I’m gazing at the first gardenia blossom unfurling a petal at a time!  It’s been five years since the giant bush has produced buds, and this year it has over twenty large ones.  The bud is opening from the outside in– there’s an unexpected grace to it. 

Saturday, a friend shared an existential she’d had with a magnolia tree.  While she reveled in the glorious tree and it’s blossom, she felt the beauty of the Lord upon her (to borrow from the celtic book of daily prayer).  She stood there in awe of the perfect blossom, the fragrance, the magnitude of the tree, and she thought that humans with all our ingenuity could not design this. 

More than once I stopped to soak in the mountains, English Bay and the general beauty that’s Vancouver.  Worship effervesced in my soul during sunsets and early mornings.  The beauty and grandeur overwhelmed and humbled me in a satisfactory manner.  I was content in beholding the beauty; my petty annoyances took perspective.  It’s the same with beaches and deserts; the vastness wakes awe in me.

But, the gardenia blossom awakes a different type of awe, wonder and worship.  Noted theologian Oscar Wilde wrote, “God is in the details.” This blossom smells so sweet and clean.  It’s beauty will last a week or two, then it will shrivel up, fall, decompose and feed the soil.  There’s a decadence to this almost disposable beauty.  But, it will come next year.  This delicate, tiny and impermenant beauty declares aspects of the character and name of God that are equal to the statement declared by mountain chains.

I’d about given up on the bush as budless, but the chief stated she wanted to keep it regardless of rather or not it produced buds: it has lovely foliage and had been a Mother’s Day present.  The chief modeled good theology in her patience and appreciation. The five-year dormancy has come to an end!

adventures in spiritual direction

I met with my Benedictine monk at one pm today. I slept in late and skipped church (doesn’t bode well) because I got in late from my cos’s wedding. And after a leisurely morning of journaling and coffee, I managed to be late. I dashed up the stairs to the monastery where he sat serenely in a rocking chair.

We chatted as we travelled to the parlor; I’m not sure if monastaries have “parlors”. The monastary is huge and museum/boarding schoolish yet homey. I felt comfortable plopping down in the fancy chair.

He asked me to tell him about myself. I rambled and he asked questions in order to map out my basic history. I talked about not being able to hear God– and that it may be because I’m resisting what he’s telling me. And, I’m frustrated and discouraged because of the ongoing employment fiasco, which is ultimately a question of identity. I gushed, and he actively listened.

The brother is most pragmatic. I was waxing on all abstract and he would gently reel me in. He gave me a daily assignment and I report back next Saturday.

This afternoon as I was doing my lectio divina– words DID stick out. I read Peter’s instruction in Acts: “Change your life” to the people’s question of how to respond to hearing about Jesus. The brother’s practical, mundane, common-sensical advice fit this. He said we are called to be Christ like; this is our goal above all else.

There are two practical things I’m going to do this week. I’m going to try to ingrain these things as habit. We’ll see. It’s as he said, “Baby steps. Just baby steps.”

frame work

To question perspective is postmodern and relevant. A prof described history as an act of interpretation; he often repeated, “History is deciding the center from the margins.” Reading history, it would be easy to believe that there were centuries that women were fewer than five percent of the population. Now historians shift focus to what has been (considered) periphery for millennia– women and other races. The shift is somewhat difficult because the bias is two fold. Historians (mostly white males) have been more interested in white males; there is more evidence and material available about white men to research. I’m a fan of this shift because it provides a more accurate understanding and vivid picture of how things were in the past. This shift in focus does revise history somewhat, but doesn’t rewrite it. It provides additional information and broadens the picture, providing a panoramic view.

The act of interpretation happens in the macrocosm of history and the microcosm of my life. I constantly frame my life when people ask me questions. Two people brought this to my attention: As I chatted with M, he asked me, “What did you do fun this week?” I paused because I was prepared to answer about dreary job interviews and such, but not the parts of my week that filled me with delight. And, then we chatted about a movie and event I went to. He’d seen the movie. M’s question helped me assess how I think about my days and what I ask other people about. I find it’s easy to dwell in the miry pit of despair, but refreshing and rewarding to climb out of it.

Now, it is easy to frame my life in a list of failures and inadequacies. When people ask me what I do, I rarely say: read, write, run, laugh, sew, cook, encourage, play scrabulous. Instead I say I tutor and am looking for full-time employment. When asked about my relationship status, I say single instead of chatting chirpily about all my fabulous friends. However, I have one friend who looks at this segment of my life as if it were a field rife with possibility and space and time to dream and redirect. My natural response to all the rejection is despair, but she prods me to reframe the situation. The economy and government of God is grace and bounty not scarcity. Hope seems to be a flagrant denial of the visible evidence, but it is the framework of faith. I grip an identity so tightly my knuckles are white. I don’t know how to pray or plan in this phase of my life. Dr. Laura says the antidote to despair is purpose; so, I need purpose. Today, there’s a large part of me that thinks my problems would be solved if I were to land a job that I loved and would meet my financial responsibilities. The sane part of me acknowledges this crazy rationale and realizes it is unrealistic and simplistic. God must know that I need a job, money and dignity. I need to learn how to frame my life like the psalmists do. They acknowledge the rawness, brokeness and incompleteness of their life, but always end (sans 88 ) in the ultimate reality of God and his character.

Framing is a life-long process that I’m becoming aware of.

steel sharpens steel

How does one find a job after graduating from a seminary with no job placement services? Especially, when one was considering a PhD, but has found it a financial impossibility and is undecided in her field. One feels overwhelmed and discouraged and laments to friends, and on occasion her friends have useful ideas. If you’re in a similar situation or know somebody who is, here are some websites for positions in ministry (I was not aware of them until today):

www.churchstaffing.com
www.ministrylist.com
www.pastorfind.com

He also said a lot of para church organizations use careerbuilder.com.

When I told him I throw in the towel every other day then go back to retrieve it, he told me that we are like battleships that are impossible to stear when still. We have to be in motion for the Holy Spirit to guide us. (He also told me about two interviews that saying “Holy Spirit” cost him the job.) It’s time like these, that I wish I’d gotten my MBA or JD. Of course, I could always go back and get one. Wouldn’t it be lovely to enjoy and be good at something lucrative.

Maybe this info will help someone.

The Pope’s Earth Day

In lieu of planting pines on Earth Day I went to a discussion about international I don’t know what. The conversation made me realize how much I miss the world-wide communion of the Anglican church. I was in awe of the people sitting around me but not connected. (I need a church that I belong to… maybe that would help.) My church home in Vancouver just voted to go under the African diocese– that’s international with profound implication. And, the Pope’s presence in the US makes me think that my view of church, faith and God is too puny and apolitical. The Pope demonstrated concern for the immigrants in the US– that didn’t get mentioned once at our lil tete-a-tete. In praying this prayer, I’m connecting with the communion of saints. Here’s a link to Pope Benedict XVI’s homily at Yankee’s Stadium; it’s moving and worth a read. Here’s an excerpt of him discussing the “Lord’s Prayer”:

“Each day, throughout this land, you and so many of your neighbors pray to the Father in the Lord’s own words: “Thy Kingdom come”. This prayer needs to shape the mind and heart of every Christian in this nation. It needs to bear fruit in the way you lead your lives and in the way you build up your families and your communities. It needs to create new “settings of hope” (cf. Spe Salvi, 32ff.) where God’s Kingdom becomes present in all its saving power.

“Praying fervently for the coming of the Kingdom also means being constantly alert for the signs of its presence, and working for its growth in every sector of society. It means facing the challenges of present and future with confidence in Christ’s victory and a commitment to extending his reign. It means not losing heart in the face of resistance, adversity and scandal. It means overcoming every separation between faith and life, and countering false gospels of freedom and happiness. It also means rejecting a false dichotomy between faith and political life, since, as the Second Vatican Council put it, “there is no human activity – even in secular affairs – which can be withdrawn from God’s dominion” (Lumen Gentium, 36). It means working to enrich American society and culture with the beauty and truth of the Gospel, and never losing sight of that great hope which gives meaning and value to all the other hopes which inspire our lives.”

Benedict’s homily in St. Patrick’s Cathedral on the 19th was inspiring as well. This section is what moved me the most, self-centeredness chokes out grace:

“In this morning’s second reading, Saint Paul reminds us that spiritual unity – the unity which reconciles and enriches diversity – has its origin and supreme model in the life of the triune God. As a communion of pure love and infinite freedom, the Blessed Trinity constantly brings forth new life in the work of creation and redemption. The Church, as “a people made one by the unity of the Father, the Son and the Spirit” (cf. Lumen Gentium, 4), is called to proclaim the gift of life, to serve life, and to promote a culture of life. Here in this cathedral, our thoughts turn naturally to the heroic witness to the Gospel of life borne by the late Cardinals Cooke and O’Connor. The proclamation of life, life in abundance, must be the heart of the new evangelization. For true life – our salvation – can only be found in the reconciliation, freedom and love which are God’s gracious gift.

“This is the message of hope we are called to proclaim and embody in a world where self-centeredness, greed, violence, and cynicism so often seem to choke the fragile growth of grace in people’s hearts. Saint Irenaeus, with great insight, understood that the command which Moses enjoined upon the people of Israel: “Choose life!” (Dt 30:19) was the ultimate reason for our obedience to all God’s commandments (cf. Adv. Haer. IV, 16, 2-5). Perhaps we have lost sight of this: in a society where the Church seems legalistic and “institutional” to many people, our most urgent challenge is to communicate the joy born of faith and the experience of God’s love.”

All this makes me feel so small: I rarely choose obedience and life. The only true response is “Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.”

[Lord, King and Father unbegotten, True Essence of the Godhead, have mercy on us.
Lord, Fount of light and Creator of all things, have mercy on us.
Lord, Thou who hast signed us with the seal of Thine image, have mercy on us.
Christ, True God and True Man, have mercy on us.
Christ, Rising Sun, through whom are all things, have mercy on us.
Christ, Perfection of Wisdom, have mercy on us.
Lord, vivifying Spirit and power of life, have mercy on us.
Lord, Breath of the Father and the Son, in Whom are all things, have mercy on us.
Lord, Purger of sin and Almoner of grace, we beseech Thee abandon us not because of our Sins, O Consoler of the sorrowing soul, have mercy on us.]

poetry slam

I yawned during my run today. I actually yawned while running; this is unprecedented. As the yawn indicates, the run lacked inspiration. It was just one of the runs that makes me appreciate the magical ones.

I made nanaimo bars and key lime bars. The nanaimo bars are dynamite; I took them to a friend’s apartment so I wouldn’t be tempted. The key lime bars are okay but they have a wonky after taste– they’re from a boxed mix.

I had a great time with a friend tonight at a Poetry Slam. Some of the poetry was amazing. “We all break too easily.” My friend described the poetry as intense: the subjects were incest, rape, racism, abuse, classism, prejudice, sex, love. The intensity is in the details. I was in awe of art: what other venue does this facet of reality get addressed. The survivors get the final say. The poets described and diagnosed the evil and brokeness so well, but their solutions of self- esteem and smiling left me wanting more. Yet, it seems as the church we steer away from the train wrecks that these men and women swan dived into. I found the experience life affirming in that all the intense things were affronts to our innate beauty. That evil doesn’t have the last word. Art is good.

la ti da

Today was a bummer with some highlights. It’s official: I didn’t get the job I really wanted. I had lunch with a retired rector, who was interesting, entertaining and encouraging. Of course, nothing concrete came of the lunch, but I got a name of a Regent grad in Charleston. And, it was nice to chat someone who knew Classics (he’d taught Latin), knew all three of my schools and could chat church home issues with. I submitted a script to NPR; I’ll find out the outcome within a week. We’ve almost wrapped up A Wrinkle in Time with my one girl. Small group was interesting and we had a good discussion; I AM the bread of life– you in me and I in you stuff resonated. As did the love and obedience strain; Jesus fully obedient and he’s truly, fully human. I’m wrapping my head around how intertwined trust and obedience are. I have an interview tomorrow that should go well; I’m pretty sure I don’t want the job and the other person has cancelled on her. It’ll be good experience negotiating since I can walk away.

“something beautiful has begun”

Peggy Noonan’s op ed in the WSJ is thought-provoking and hopeful. She says that Pope John Paul was the perfect fit for the image age of his time and that Benedict is the perfect fit for the internet age. John Paul made a person weep; Benedict makes a person think. I demonstrate my papist tendencies.

my ecclesiology

My Miss List:

1. Call me crazy, but I miss Anglican liturgy. Especially the prayer of confession:

ALMIGHTY and most merciful Father; We have erred, and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep. We have followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy holy laws. We have left undone those things which we ought to have done; And we have done those things which we ought not to have done; And there is no health in us. But thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, miserable offenders. Spare thou them, O God, who confess their faults. Restore thou them that are penitent; According to thy promises declared unto mankind in Christ Jesu our Lord. And grant, O most merciful Father, for his sake; That we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sober life, To the glory of thy holy Name. Amen.

I miss feeling the words in my mouth while listening to everybody around me confess the same. I was awed by the mystery of grace, and the humility and hope that confession brings. I miss the ritual. I miss the physicality of kneeling.

2. I long for expository preaching– coming in contact with God’s Word and not some guys thoughts (as interesting as they are). God’s word unsettle me.

3. I miss sanctuary and sacredness. I miss an organ and piano. I miss sitting in a pew, which somehow wakes up a certain part of me, a memory of a large reality far beyond what I see.

4. I miss old people, weathered bodies and gentle wisdom, that one slows down for and chats with. From dust you came and to dust you shall return.

5. I miss reciting the Lord’s Prayer and the Nicene or Apostle’s Creed every week. I need these words every week to combat all the words and belief contrary that is everywhere.

6. I miss the space of the Bach prelude– the simple beauty that opens.

Most of what I miss are speaking words in unison, words that remind me that my faith is not mine and far bigger and richer than my own words. These words tell me that I am not alone. Last week, a girl did her version of the Lord’s Prayer. She substituted “I” and “me” for the original “we” and “us”. At one level, I understood what she was doing, but, nonetheless, I was horrified. Faith is not private or internal; orthodoxy cannot be divorced from orthopraxy. The “we” is central to both right belief and right action, and “we” includes the “I”. So her prayer narrowed the faith considerably.

My friend contends that churches have collective personalities, talents, gifts on the macro level that mirror individuals’ personalities, talents and gifts. So, the church we went to in Vancouver was a teaching church, which I loved. A lot of my friends went to a social justice church. There are praying churches too.The church I go to now is a hybrid: artsy and communal. It offers some really good teaching, but it feels kind of on the margin compared to art and small, intentional community. My writing group and friends are cool, but I think I need expository preaching and intentional spiritual formation. Maybe I should look into a spiritual director and go to an expository and liturgical church one sunday a month. There’s got to be a way to balance. And, following my friend’s analogy, one church cannot serve all your needs, but maybe it’s how I can serve. How novel a concept for me! The Church is actually the local church, the small communities that can be so concrete and irritating.

fundamentally odious

A theologian wrote that grace is fundamentally odious. It’s insulting not to be held accountable for actions. The God-man power construct humbles. Today the Abbot discussed how overwhelming and devastating God’s love for us is. He didn’t talk about Jesus’ agony on the cross, but His absolute love for us that is greater than his agony and our brokeness and rebellion. I found the Catholic service far more effective than the more artsy one at my church.

In a friend’s apartment, I sit relaxed, hopeful, content. I am in awe of my friendships and all the unaccounted grace in them: cheering emails, great chats, outrageous generosity. Ergo, if this is true of my lil, ole friends, I should fall prostrate, as the Abbot did, before Jesus. What is the proper response to grace? It exceeds the bounds of etiquette; it’s beyond account. Maybe, it’s in the shape of the Psalter, and JI Packer saying that the end of theology is doxology.

Excuse me, but this is holy week. Even I get carried away.