God > What we Know.

In seminary, the class that often sounded the scariest was systematic theology.  I found this to be the most fascinating class, because it offered me glimpses into how different people throughout history made sense of what God has accomplished and is accomplishing. From the beginning of time humans have tried to make sense of how we came to be, and early church debates and councils tried to determine the ins and outs of all things theological and scriptural.  

We can certainly understand that our Scriptures themselves are comprised of layers of interpretation, and that as we read and seek to understand we too are interpreting through the lenses of our own traditions, reason, and experience (shout out to the Wesleyan Quadrilateral).  For me, understanding Scripture in this way only adds to the mystery and power of it, as we are still being inspired by the Holy Spirit to see it with fresh eyes and perspectives.  

I remember after reading volumes of Karl Barth's systematic theology that he came to the conclusion that this was his best attempt at making sense of it all, but that there was room for error.  By that point, I sort of wanted it all tied up in certainty...and yet he and all theologians realize that there is still much to be discovered about God and God's revelation in creation.  

Many Christians value certainty over mystery.  This insistence on certainty is something I  find myself struggling to figure out.  I don't want a God that I can fully know, I don't want a faith that leads me to a system of rule following with a great prize at the end.  I love the conversations we have during Bible studies where people can wrestle with the process of discernment, pondering and being challenged to listen to God for tough answers.  I love the opportunity to learn from one another's experiences before we define God in a certain way, or to be confronted that my understanding of God may be too much a reflection of me.
  
I think it was in that same systematic theology class where I was taught to ask the  most valuable question:  What if you're wrong?  I think about that often when people ask me what a certain Scripture passage means, or how I interpret what God's doing (or not doing) in a certain situation.  It has also led me to keep another question in mind which is:  Is what I am going to say going to cause harm to someone?  

The Gospel is definitely meant to challenge us, mold us, and define how we live out our faith in Christ.  It is not meant to be used as a weapon, or a tool to shame or scare.  For far too long Christians have scared people into believing in Jesus, leaving them with an understanding that God is this cosmic angry parent looking to discipline at every turn.  When I look through the lens of what Jesus said and did, I recognize that he never brought shame upon anyone.  He held people accountable and compassionately led them to a change in perspective, which in turn taught people a new way of understanding God's presence and activity in the world.   

Isaiah offers a prophetic invitation from God in chapter 55 for all to come, and seek and listen to God and then he says in verses 8-11: 

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.
 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it."

 Can we be ok with the fact that we don't know all there is to know? Can we celebrate that we have a God whose thoughts are not our thoughts, and whose ways are not our ways?  I wonder what things you are feeling uncertain about when it comes to faith these days?  I wonder why it is hard for us to have conversations about such things without getting angry or trying to prove we are right at the expense of others.   

I believe that in God there is space for all of us to be figuring it out, and part of knowing God is actually in the listening and caring for people whose understandings and life experiences are much different than our own.  

That's my prayer, friends, that when we look at each other, we catch a glimpse of God.
Pastor Devon 
12 

Too Slow

Today on OnBeing's Instagram a poem was read by Fr. James Martin called The Slow work of God. It was written by a Jesuit Priest named Pierre Teilhard de Chardin who was also a paleontologist and geologist.  His life work really challenged religious thinkers to view their ideas through the lens of evolution, while also calling scientists to dig into the ethical and spiritual implications of their work.  He took part in the discovery of the Peking Man, and devoted his life to studying the intersection of faith and science. 

I believe this poem is actually a part of a letter that he wrote, but honestly don't know much about it.  However, it really spoke to me today when I listened to it being read.  

The Slow Work of God

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.

I have been struggling with impatience a bit these days.  It is as though something new is coming at us, but we can't yet see what it looks like.  Have you felt this sense of urgency, for something to give or change, or move forward? As a pastor right now we have entered into those "what's next" conversations.  When can we gather, how many people can be there, what does being safe actually mean, and how do we continue being the church in the meantime?  The questions surround me, but the path forward is unclear.  We must wait.  I also find that this feels a bit like a freight train coming right at me, and my brain is still trying to figure out the next right step for this day, and the next, and the next.  

I have never been good at "accepting the anxiety of feeling myself in suspense and incomplete."  These are hard spaces in which to reside, and yet it is in these spaces, in these times, that we are shaped and forced to trust the movement of God.  As you know if you've been reading these posts, I have also questioned what is next for my life.  How will this unique time offer gifts that change my future?  What are the lasting effects of this on your future?  Will we see the world differently, will we see each other differently?  Will we take better care of creation and our neighbors?  What is it that God is bringing to life in you?  

Listening to this poem today, the phrase that got me over and over was, "Don't try to force them on, as though you could be today what time will make of you tomorrow."  When we want all the answers, when we want things to get back to normal, when we yearn for things to make more sense, or to have a clear path forward....perhaps we are just unable to see the wisdom of tomorrow.  I think God's work is slow because we are often tough to mold.  It is a beautiful sacred connection that our God has with each of us, knowing us intimately, recognizing the hardest parts and the yearnings of our spirits, seeing what could be in our future, and allowing us to sit with the present as it molds and shapes us.  

If we can engage our lives with this perspective we might not be in such a hurry for those next steps, we might just find ourselves enjoying every moment of the slow work of God.  

Thankful to be on this journey with you,
Pastor Devon 

Uncomfortable

On Friday Ahmaud Arbery would have turned 26 years old.  On that day hundreds of thousands of people took to the streets to run 2.23 miles in his honor.  You see, on February 23rd, Ahmaud, a young black man was murdered by two white men while he was out jogging in Brunswick, GA.  Last Tuesday when the video of his murder showed up online, our nation finally noticed that another black man had been murdered for no reason, and with no justice.  People took to the telephones and social media demanding Justice for Ahmaud and finally the GBI got involved and the two men were arrested.  For months, the local DA and law enforcement actually covered up this incident.  

I thought about this all day yesterday as we celebrated Mother's Day.  I thought about what Ahmaud's mother must have gone through losing her son in such a senseless act of racist brutality.  I thought about what it must have been like for her to not only find out that he was gone, but then to have no legal recourse or representation in a corrupt justice system.  I imagine that was like screaming into a black hole, nobody listening, while drowning in the pain of losing your child.  I thought about the moms I know that are raising black children right now, and the fear that must overtake them when they read of yet another incident like this, another innocent young person of color losing his life for no reason.  I grieve that while raising children these days is no easy feat for anyone, for parents with children of color there is this extra layer of teaching that must happen - how to deal with law enforcement, where not to go, how to be aware of your surroundings at all times...and I'm sure the list goes on and on.  

I thought about the sacred moments of ministry I have experienced being present with parents whose child is dying.  The times when I have been present as a young mom is told her baby is not viable, or the hours spent holding someone's hand as they painstakingly await the news of their children's cancer diagnosis.  I thought about the joy in a new mom's eyes as she sees her beautiful baby for the first time, and the elation of grandparents in hospital waiting rooms as they get the good news.  

I thought about the love I have for some of my former Wesley House students.  I hear the pain in their voices as they, African Americans, wonder if they can still jog safely, or if their younger siblings will be the next name on the list of persons killed because of hatred.  

And I realize again, that not saying anything....is actually speaking loudly.  As a white woman I have a privilege that I did not have to earn, it came with my birth in the right family of the right color in the right nation.  As a pastor in a predominantly caucasian community I could really say nothing and get away with it, because pointing out the fact that white privilege and racism are real things that destroy humanity makes everyone pretty uncomfortable.  

Our nation has become a place where hatred is acceptable, even defended in such a way that oppressing certain groups of people goes unnoticed.  Often the Christian community fails to even recognize it and sometimes, with some really horrible scriptural interpretation, Christians actually perpetuate or enhance the divide.  I am so weary of being represented by this voice, and it is often the loudest one in the political and social landscape.  

This pandemic has put a spotlight on the truth that greed and selfishness are the lenses through which many people and systems operate. This spirit of self-gain at the expense of others is really contrary to the Gospel.  

Jesus was pretty clear about this, in Matthew 25:34-46 

 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?  And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.  For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink,  I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’  Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 

Paul is also clear that prejudice and racist motives have no place in Christ in his letter to the Galatians:

As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.(3:27-29)

Friends, it is easy to gloss over these things that make us uncomfortable. It is easy to turn our eyes elsewhere or just focus on what we need in this moment.  But getting uncomfortable leads to change, it leads to recognition that as Christians our voices should be the loudest for equality and justice.  God is a God of liberation, he always heard the cry of the oppressed (think enslaved Israelites in Exodus) and he leads them out, offering freedom.  Our voices and motives matter too. It is important that we recognize the inherent privilege we have and that we use it to be a voice for the voiceless. After all, saying nothing....really is saying something.   

Pastor Devon

Holding Hands.

One of the hardest parts of this time seems to be our loss of control.  We have been asked to stay home, many have been told not to go to work, and it feels limiting and frustrating.  I suppose this is why we see some humans behaving the way they are, with anger declaring their "rights" and claiming privilege that is not universal right now.  It is a classic human move when things are uncertain, to grab onto as much control as possible. 

Why do we do that?  Life is easier when we know the rules, when we know the consequences of our actions, and when we get to determine the next steps. We want to be in charge because we know what we want, and usually how to get it.  Sometimes it shows up when we are working with other people and we let them know that they aren't doing it "the right" way, or our way.  Have you ever heard yourself say, "If I want this done right, I will just do it myself!" 

Today I found myself bombarded by messages containing videos and information claiming that all of this has been some manipulative scheme to control people.  I hope you didn't waste valuable minutes getting all worked up about all of that today.  What I recognize at the core of that message is a deep thread of fear and a desire to regain control.  Being afraid can make us do all sorts of things, but it usually wants us to grasp onto any truth that we can find, and control not only our thoughts, but the thoughts and actions of others.  This turns upside down our ability to rationalize, to live compassionately, and to see outside ourselves.

I can get overwhelmed when I feel a loss of control, and it helps me to write down the things that I can control and to take an inventory of that over which I have influence. Generally, that helps me realize that I cannot control what anyone else says, does, or believes.  What we can always control are our responses to situations, actions, and people.  We can control how we engage conflict and fear.  We can control the impact other people have on us, and we do not have to allow in that which is detrimental to our being.  

Isaiah 41:13 says:

For I am the Lord your God

    who takes hold of your right hand

and says to you, Do not fear;

    I will help you.

When the things of life get a little chaotic, and we aren't sure what shape the next steps will take, it might be hard to reach out for the strong promise of God's faithfulness. Yet it is exactly in this reaching out that we are reminded that we stand on solid ground.  Reaching out with a truly discerning spirit removes the desire to control, and asks for God's wisdom to step in and guide and direct us.  Practically living our faith calls us into the recognition that more important than getting my needs met is taking the path that meets the needs of the whole Body of Christ.  This is the definition of beloved community, and this is the call of the church.  

So tonight if you are feeling like you need more control, like you want something you just can't have yet and are learning patience the hard way, or you just aren't sure which way to turn with all of this news & social media - reach out your hand, slip it into the faithful hand of God, and you will not be disappointed.  God's hands are strong, capable, and big enough for all of us.  It is here where we find rest.  

Holding you in the Light, friends.

Pastor Devon

Enjoy.

We have been using Adam Hamilton's book, Unafraid, for our weekly zoom Bible study.  In the text for this week he mentions this question from the Westminster Catechism.  This is a 17th century document that was written by the Westminster Assembly to be used to teach new Christians. It helped clarify the connection between the Church of England and the Church of Scotland. The above quote is probably its most well known question, and it is still a large part of the reformed tradition.  

I'm not sure why exactly, but as I prepared for the study tonight this really stuck in my head all day.  I did some digging and realized that this response is connected to these Scriptures: 

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."

1 Corinthians 10:31 

"For from God and through God and for God are all things. To God be the glory forever! Amen."

Romans 11:36 

"You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.  Whom have I in heaven but you?  And earth has nothing I desire besides you.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."  

Psalm 73: 24-26 

"I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one."

John 17:22

To glorify God means to fully recognize, honor, praise, and worship God.  I think it is a matter of reverence and recognition that God is bigger than we can fully comprehend, yet we are invited into this dance with our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.  Through Christ we have been grafted in to this power and righteousness and when we grasp on to that how can we not be filled with overwhelming joy?

It's really the second half of that sentence that grabbed my attention today.  Not only can we glorify god, but we can enjoy God.  How do you enjoy God?  

These days it might feel like we are losing our footing and routine with God.  I know for me that not gathering for worship has really felt so foreign and almost as though a piece of my spirit is not fully functioning.  And yet, I have had to be more intentional about connecting with God, and taking notice of those moments of gratitude in the midst of rather long days.  The more diligent I am, the more I recognize and enjoy the movement of God - which truly can be found all over the place. 

For some Christians, God is a figure to be feared, the great being in the sky that is always watching with an eye to discipline. This is not the God I know, the one who calls me friend, the one I encounter in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.   My God, I Am, offers humanity a reason to celebrate - to enjoy this daily adventure of life with the humble recognition that the one who created the heavens, also has a loving eye on each of us. This is the kind of God I know, one who helps navigate the big things, yet who is deeply invested in the smallest things too.  

When is the last time you stopped to enjoy God?  When is the last time you laughed with God, sang to God, cried to God?  When our world feels chaotic, and we are distanced from the ones we love, we must take note of the little ways God is at work and alive around us.  

Take some time to look at the intricate details inside of a flower, read Psalm 139, find something that brings you joy and engage in it with gusto.  Turn up the worship music and sing loud in the shower.  

When things get heavy, remember that God delights in you - you can delight in God, too!

Love You,

Pastor Devon

Fire.

This quote from St. Augustine of Hippo is found in Book VIII, Chapter IV of The Confessions.  I first read this in one of my undergrad religion classes and have read it many times since then, though it is not an easy read.  I guess what draws me to it is his willingness and deep desire to continue searching until he finally finds rest in God. Augustine yearned to know the truth of faith, longed to have a conversion like other men he knew, but he struggled mightily in resigning his more worldly desires to it.  He does eventually take the leap, and it in doing so becomes one of the most influential figures in both Catholicism and the Protestant Reformation.  

There is something so deep about the movement of God in us, when we allow ourselves to trust in it.  I think Prophet Jeremiah touches on that when after facing persecution he turns to God and rather boldly lets God know that what he has been asked to do is really pretty awful and utterly difficult.  It's a bit of a double-edged sword for Jeremiah:

 If I say, “I will not mention him,    or speak any more in his name,”then within me there is something like a burning fire    shut up in my bones;I am weary with holding it in,    and I cannot.  (Jeremiah 20:9)

Can you think of the last time when you felt like you had fire in your bones about something?  When you just knew you had something important to do, or to say? Maybe you've crossed paths with someone and instantly knew that you were going to befriend them because your souls just connected? 

Whatever you want to call it:  passion, vocation, that still small voice...the movement of the Divine in us is real and can be overwhelmingly beautiful, it can also feel very elusive when yearned after. For Augustine this connection really haunted him until he finally was able to say yes to God.  For Jeremiah, saying yes led him to proclaim God's truth to deaf ears, and yet he could not step away from that fire in his bones.  

In many ways this strange time in our lives has forced us into a different dialogue with our Creator.  Everything coming to a halt created space for searching and listening to the movement of God, which can be so easily overlooked when we are busy rushing from one thing to the next, checking things off the never-ending to-do lists of our lives.  

Again today I heard someone speak of fire in their bones, a call to ministry of sorts - an excitement about trying something new, and a voice quivering with fearful exuberance at the movement of God.  This has been a joyful thread running through my life as a pastor these days.  There is nothing more exciting than when someone shares about the fire in their bones, when passion meets purpose and it all comes together in some new and amazing way.  

So tell me friends, what sets your bones ablaze these days?  What is the voice of God in your heart?  Are you making space for God to whisper the truth of your belovedness in your ear?  


Be our fire, O God.  Let us love.  Let us run.  
Pastor Devon

 

Unafraid.

The world got ahold of me today.  
I started to wonder if I might get swallowed up.
In the anger and frustration of protestors with guns.
In the confusion in my spirit about what it means to be a pastor these days.
In the righteous anger I feel when I see these amazing little girls with heart and sass, 
and then read another tweet from our President calling a woman a "third rate lap dog." 
Swallowed up in the immense opportunity we face 
to be a people rooted in love rather than greed, 
in the possibility of changing the polarization into bonded community
that looks out for the least and lost, 
no matter the color of their skin, or the details of their identity.

I've also been swallowed up lately by people whose kindness overwhelms me,
with May Day bouquets, and parades, and treats, lawn parties, 
and listening ears that never tell me I've lost it.

I realized today that this quarantine has truly changed my life.  So I hope you will bear with me as I share some of my thoughts...remember you don't have to read them or agree with them, as long as you know that my real hope and intention is to live by the rule of doing no harm.  

As a woman pastor I have been told things and been expected to respond to criticism in ways that my male counterparts never would.  After preaching my very first Sunday service, on my 25th birthday, I got a call the next day that my skirt was too short.  It actually covered my knees.  So, I immediately called and apologized, because I had obviously been in the wrong.  There have been other tough moments, but all pastors have them, especially women pastors.  Every church I have served has started with at least a few conversations about how "I never wanted a woman pastor, but I'll give you a chance."  My deep love of people nearly always helps me see what lies underneath statements like that, so it is easy for me to care for people until they learn to trust me as a pastor.  Before I started my current charge I encountered righteous anger, directed at me like never before.  Persons certain that I was theologically way off base about full inclusion of LGBTQ+ persons in the life of the church, afraid I would use the pulpit to manipulate rather than preach the Good News of Christ, told me clearly that I would have to "get some ethics and morals someday."  

When things like this happen my wiring has always taught me that these voices are right, that I must be doing something or saying something wrong.  Which has led me to live much of my ministry super safely - to prevent people from getting mad and leaving.  I love and work really hard, and the Holy Spirit never lets me down.  That usually leads to a strong community of faith that is open and willing to try new things and have fun together.  Ministry has absorbed my life since I recognized God's call my sophomore year of college.  I have often chosen my church over my family and myself.  This has led to tons of professional affirmation, which has only perpetuated my desire to work harder and do more.    

This time of social distancing and the reality of the loss of life from Covid-19 has offered up the perfect storm in my life.  It has given me time to read books that are calling me out on what it means to be authentic, time to listen to podcasts that empower and embolden, time to process the overwhelming waves of grief that came with the loss of my Dad, my dog, and my Aunt.  All of this alongside figuring out what it means to be in ministry via computer screens and telephones has made for some crazy emotional weeks, and lots of soul searching.  

I've been watching how people are responding to our state and national leaders.  In Michigan, Governor Whitmer has taken her share of overly personal criticism.  And I wonder how that whole landscape would be different if she were male, or if those protestors weren't mostly white people. I watch as our President strays away from the matter at hand to personally attack reporter after reporter, which really accomplishes nothing more than fueling the nasty chasmic divides that already exists.  I listen as Christian folks make claims of oppression when buildings have been closed to keep people safe.  And I look in the mirror and wonder what my role might be in all of this as time moves forward.  

When I was in college I wrote daily devotionals to my sorority sisters for an entire year.  The other night I read through some of them and realized how certain I was back then, that I had all things faith and Christian figured out.  Time has passed and experience has taught me that certainty was only a gateway to deep spiritual transformation that leaves me with a lot fewer answers.  Unfortunately for some Christians, fewer answers means less faith.  My experience has been the opposite, the more I ask the hard questions of both God and myself, the more aware I am of God's faithful presence and call in my life.  

One of the voices in the Christian landscape that has had a profound impact on me is that of Rachel Held Evans.  I resonate deeply with her experience and prophetic voice that calls the Christian community to see things differently than it has for years.  In her book, Searching for Sunday, she wrote:

"This is what God's kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes.  And there's always room for more."

One year ago today Rachel died tragically after an illness. She was only in her thirties and had such an impact on the lives of people who weren't sure they wanted to be Christian, because they just didn't fit into the Christian faith as modeled by many churches in the USA and beyond.  She pressed the boundaries with the desire to make space for all people to come to the table.  We need her voice right now, and she is missed by so many.  

I write all this tonight mostly to get it out of my head.  But also to confess that in some significant ways I have not been the voice for Christ to which I have been called.  Fear of failure, fear of not being liked, fear of people leaving the church....all of these fears have taken up way too much space in my life.  

2 Timothy 1:6-7 says:

For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.

This is Paul reminding Timothy who he has been called to be.  I have been reminded in these last fifty some days a bit about who I am called to be too.  Exactly ten years after I was confirmed as a member in the small church I grew up in, I knelt on a stage while the Bishop placed his hands on my shoulders ordaining me for ministry and encouraged me to "Take thou authority."  Today I have been deeply reminded of that call.  There is no room for fear in that.  

Fear is running rampant in all sorts of places and in all sorts of people right now.  But for me, this might be the most unafraid I've been in a long time.  

Pastor Devon