Monday, August 31, 2009
Some Dancin' and some Singin'
This is us praising on our own before the conference began. It was nice and fun. You've got to watch all the way to the end to see L. dancing. It's fun!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
August 26th
I'm very sad this morning for 2 reasons:1)I'm SICK SICK SICK and very far away from home and 2)This is our last day here. I have a lot to think about and I have a lot to pray about. I'll never stop thanking Candler and WMEI for this opportunity as well as every person who believed that I should come here. I'll be writing a lot when I get home. I feel like I could write a book. Stay tuned. Let me know what you think. Keep Africa in your prayers. Keep us in your prayers today. My love is with you all.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
August 24th-25th
Anyone who is involved with Candler School of Theology knows that it has it's issues. It is a top 3 seminary. It houses world-reknown professors. It is completely divided racially.
It's obvious, Just walk around. People are aware of it but I still think the fact that it 'appears' how it does is completely subconscious. It you ever walk into our fellowship area you'll see it first thing. In class, when people sit together, it's obvious. People grouped together outside—it's obvious. Some of the organizations we have are intentionally divisive. It's amazing and wonderful how different some things (at least) are in Africa.
In a discussion last semester in my Systematic Theology class we set out to have a forum discussion about racism, sexism, ageism, and socio-economic divisiveness. During the class we never got past racism and only one particular race was able to speak—it greatly dominated the conversation and the professor didn't see otherwise. It was the most uncomfortable class I've ever sat in on. I had never been made to feel ashamed for the history of the people who share the color skin that I do. I'm not exactly sure what the professor was trying to achieve. I was hurt.
We are in South Africa now. We've been here about 10 days. The tensions that exist at Candler were felt and were obvious on day one or even the night before we left. It was brought up yesterday by a student at an entirely inappropriate time. We were meeting with the other delegates from our country and not all the delegates were from Candler so they were subjugated to the discussion. Our professors confirmed this student's observations. We were basically chastised blatantly for being racists. We were asked (by fellow student) how exactly we thought we were going to be pastors acting how we were. We had fingers pointed in our faces. I was appalled. I was appalled that anyone in our immediate group thought that they could justify, themselves, calling anyone else out. Especially this person. Especially this person who'd not said a word to me in 10 days.
Let me explain a few things. We naturally flock to the people we care about, the people we like, or the people we are most comfortable around. Now, that spans race for me. I've been sitting and communing with Africans, whites, blacks, Asians, Brazilians, etc. all week. I jump in the van to run from the center to our house depending upon, not who is in the van, but if the van has an open front seat so that I don't get sick.
It seems, sometimes, that the people who notice the problem the most are the ones causing the problem. I don't think, for a moment, that there is a complete divisiveness just because of race. I think we are taking personality problems and disguising them as racial issues (because it's so easy to play the race card). We're in Africa. I'm highly outnumbered here (I joke!). We are each different and sometimes we just clash. Personality issues we could sit down and address but if with disguise these issues as issues of race then there's no quick way we can fix the problem. It's a shame.
I went to church with Ashley on Sunday morning. In the afternoon we were talking about our experience there. She mentioned that we were the only white folks there. I stopped and thought for a moment. There were about 150 people there that morning and not for a moment had I realized that I was the only white person in the crowd (well, Ashley too). This explains why Ashley made a child cry. LOL. The child was afraid of her! The point is, I didn't even notice. I felt right at home. I may have felt different because I was an American but for no other reason at all.
I'm proud of my parents at times--well, almost always really. I have cool parents in comparison to some. My parents raised me to be outspoken, bold, and opinionated (which sometimes clashes with like personalities). They also raised me to be color-blind. I didn't realize the white/black tensions until I was in school learning the history. My best friend in middle-school was black. We never even thought about it. I remember that my brother's best friend for years was black too. We just didn't care. We were in most ways, the same.
Now all of the sudden we're different. Now, all of the sudden, every time we have a tiff we are racist (on both sides). I just do not get it. I don't agree that this is our problem. I do believe that at times we have to remember to be intentional about being inclusive of each other—but not because of race—because we are Christians who love each other and no one should feel as thought they are left out of that.
The other night, at the center, we had a cultural night where each culture had an opportunity to present something from their culture. It was kinda like a South African talent show. I was filming the show for the Institute so I didn't get to participate. When the American group got up to 'perform' they were introduced by one in the group with a disclaimer that they were going to worship like the Black Church in America did. Well, this obviously struck a chord. I watched some of the white folks look around confused. This was supposed to be showing the Africans the American Culture—not the Black Church culture from America. Intentional—Intentional Inclusivity.
I feel like we're about to tear each other a part. I feel like those pointing fingers aren't 'self-aware.' I feel like I've lost my voice again.
The Africans are amazing. We're American—they understand that we're far away from home and go out of their way to help us acclimate. If there is anything I stand out for, it is not because I'm white, it is because I'm a woman. There's not many of them here at the conference. At the same time, no one cares that I am. Or, possibly, I stand out because I'm young. I'm kinda used to that. I remember being the youngest person in our conference to ever be certified as a lay speaker.
I am young. I am a woman. I am white. First, though, I am God's. We all are. It keeps us together. It bind us. Everything else pulls us apart. I wish that we could first hold onto the ties that bind us. They bind us to each other in Africa. They bind us together at school or in class. They bind us with Africa, Brazil, Korea, Mexico, Britain, all of us.
Let us be colorblind.
It's obvious, Just walk around. People are aware of it but I still think the fact that it 'appears' how it does is completely subconscious. It you ever walk into our fellowship area you'll see it first thing. In class, when people sit together, it's obvious. People grouped together outside—it's obvious. Some of the organizations we have are intentionally divisive. It's amazing and wonderful how different some things (at least) are in Africa.
In a discussion last semester in my Systematic Theology class we set out to have a forum discussion about racism, sexism, ageism, and socio-economic divisiveness. During the class we never got past racism and only one particular race was able to speak—it greatly dominated the conversation and the professor didn't see otherwise. It was the most uncomfortable class I've ever sat in on. I had never been made to feel ashamed for the history of the people who share the color skin that I do. I'm not exactly sure what the professor was trying to achieve. I was hurt.
We are in South Africa now. We've been here about 10 days. The tensions that exist at Candler were felt and were obvious on day one or even the night before we left. It was brought up yesterday by a student at an entirely inappropriate time. We were meeting with the other delegates from our country and not all the delegates were from Candler so they were subjugated to the discussion. Our professors confirmed this student's observations. We were basically chastised blatantly for being racists. We were asked (by fellow student) how exactly we thought we were going to be pastors acting how we were. We had fingers pointed in our faces. I was appalled. I was appalled that anyone in our immediate group thought that they could justify, themselves, calling anyone else out. Especially this person. Especially this person who'd not said a word to me in 10 days.
Let me explain a few things. We naturally flock to the people we care about, the people we like, or the people we are most comfortable around. Now, that spans race for me. I've been sitting and communing with Africans, whites, blacks, Asians, Brazilians, etc. all week. I jump in the van to run from the center to our house depending upon, not who is in the van, but if the van has an open front seat so that I don't get sick.
It seems, sometimes, that the people who notice the problem the most are the ones causing the problem. I don't think, for a moment, that there is a complete divisiveness just because of race. I think we are taking personality problems and disguising them as racial issues (because it's so easy to play the race card). We're in Africa. I'm highly outnumbered here (I joke!). We are each different and sometimes we just clash. Personality issues we could sit down and address but if with disguise these issues as issues of race then there's no quick way we can fix the problem. It's a shame.
I went to church with Ashley on Sunday morning. In the afternoon we were talking about our experience there. She mentioned that we were the only white folks there. I stopped and thought for a moment. There were about 150 people there that morning and not for a moment had I realized that I was the only white person in the crowd (well, Ashley too). This explains why Ashley made a child cry. LOL. The child was afraid of her! The point is, I didn't even notice. I felt right at home. I may have felt different because I was an American but for no other reason at all.
I'm proud of my parents at times--well, almost always really. I have cool parents in comparison to some. My parents raised me to be outspoken, bold, and opinionated (which sometimes clashes with like personalities). They also raised me to be color-blind. I didn't realize the white/black tensions until I was in school learning the history. My best friend in middle-school was black. We never even thought about it. I remember that my brother's best friend for years was black too. We just didn't care. We were in most ways, the same.
Now all of the sudden we're different. Now, all of the sudden, every time we have a tiff we are racist (on both sides). I just do not get it. I don't agree that this is our problem. I do believe that at times we have to remember to be intentional about being inclusive of each other—but not because of race—because we are Christians who love each other and no one should feel as thought they are left out of that.
The other night, at the center, we had a cultural night where each culture had an opportunity to present something from their culture. It was kinda like a South African talent show. I was filming the show for the Institute so I didn't get to participate. When the American group got up to 'perform' they were introduced by one in the group with a disclaimer that they were going to worship like the Black Church in America did. Well, this obviously struck a chord. I watched some of the white folks look around confused. This was supposed to be showing the Africans the American Culture—not the Black Church culture from America. Intentional—Intentional Inclusivity.
I feel like we're about to tear each other a part. I feel like those pointing fingers aren't 'self-aware.' I feel like I've lost my voice again.
The Africans are amazing. We're American—they understand that we're far away from home and go out of their way to help us acclimate. If there is anything I stand out for, it is not because I'm white, it is because I'm a woman. There's not many of them here at the conference. At the same time, no one cares that I am. Or, possibly, I stand out because I'm young. I'm kinda used to that. I remember being the youngest person in our conference to ever be certified as a lay speaker.
I am young. I am a woman. I am white. First, though, I am God's. We all are. It keeps us together. It bind us. Everything else pulls us apart. I wish that we could first hold onto the ties that bind us. They bind us to each other in Africa. They bind us together at school or in class. They bind us with Africa, Brazil, Korea, Mexico, Britain, all of us.
Let us be colorblind.
August 24th
As Methodists we are so methodical at times that we always want things to be the same.
I can remember where my grandparents sat in church: 3rd pew on the right side facing the pulpit at the isle end—every Sunday. Heaven forbid anyone be in that seat, or the seat behind them where the so-and-so's sat, or the seat next to them where Mr. and Mrs. you-know-who sat. Methodical. Traditional. The same. Nothing ever changed for them and so it was ok (comfortable).
Winston is lecturing right now. He spent the first bit of his lecture talking about being invitational. Invitational doens't mean standing by the door on Sunday morning saying 'hi' to those who come in—that's greeting. Being invitational is for the entire congregation—not just the greeters with their various name-tags. I can't remember Jesus being a greeter. Being invitational isn't approaching a person with the intentions of telling them about all the programs the church has to offer. There's a problem with invitation disguised as advertising—we're not trying to 'win' folks. Winston asked us when was the last time we got up from our pews and sat next to a visitor. When was the last time we helped a new person navigate our bulletin or a hymnal—the only place in the world we gather to sing and use a book to do it is church—if someone has never been to church, they may honestly not know how to navigate a hymnal. When have we taken the time to walk someone new around the building—not as a tour guide—but in hopes they'd open up to us so that they'll know it's safe and so that we will honestly know who they are? When was the last time the pastor did it? When was the last time I did it? You? We cannot wonder why the church is dying and at the same time we cannot care as much about losing the institution. Our work as pastors is not about committees, seats on pews, or advertising programs—it is about souls. It is not about what our Bishop instructs us to do, making sure all of our paper-work is turned in to our District Superintendents (Lord, don't strike me down)--it is about furthering the Kingdom. When was the last time we dropped all the other nets and evaluated our Kingdom building?
Statistically, if a person makes a genuine relationship, first thing, their very first day, with 7 others in church, they will be back. And in that we've not 'won' a member—we've not boosted our roster--we don't simply have another apportionment payer (pastors...). We have opened the door for another person in this life to come to know Christ—we have strived to fulfill our call in the Great Commission. Wow. The beautiful thing is, that it's not that hard and in the end, you have a new friend who will change your life and who's life you will change as well.
We get lost in the method, in the tradition, in the high church meetings where we listen to the choir and the preacher. We socialize with each other but our faith-voices are not heard. Things are so systematic. No one thinks about the problem with saying that we need to “advertise” that program. When did being invitational become advertising or information sharing? We cannot wonder what the problem is—it's staring us in the face!
When was the last time we focussed on helping our congregation to face outward? As a pastor we spend a lot of time taking care of the folks that are already there in hopes that we don't step on toes and they won't leave. There is an entire community outside the walls. When was the last time we invited a congregant to report on what's going on in the community? When was the last time we invited a congregant to share what God has done for them or someone else they know this week—and not just in the life of some program in the church? When was the last time we actually shared? Is this not a way of witnessing to what God has done? Is this not a way of getting away from what the CHURCH has done? It is not, not, not, not, not, not, not about the institution. It cannot be—not if we're going to fulfill our call to be missional, apostolic, people of God.
We're afraid to take risks. Jesus said, “drop your nets,” did he not? We don't take risks if it means losing someone who pays the apportionments. We don't take risks if that one, highly-influential member won't like it. We don't take risks if it involves challenging our members to be more than a social club or more than an academic establishment. We're not asking anything of Christians. When we commit our lives to Christ, though, we take up a cross. With that cross comes a responsibility. As pastors we take up a cross that involves challenging others to remain faithful. If we do none of this, as a Christian and as a pastor then we are simply being irresponsible concerning our commitment.
Are we culturally relevant? We've spent a lot of time asking that but not acting on that. This cultural relevance isn't JUST for the youth. Without cultural relevance how do we expect congregants to leave and for anything we've said to be applicable? Youth are SCREAMING for it today. We can't just feed them in their youth meetings. We want to effect them in “Big Church.” A HUGE focus of our ministry needs to be about reaching them because when we lose them, we lose the church and we lose the Kingdom.
Winston amazes me. He's passionate beyond belief and for him excuses aren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what it would be like in our churches if excuses weren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what church would be like if we had faith that God makes God's plans work, therefore we need not dispute every suggestion because lack of funds (volunteers, space, etc.). What would really happen if we honestly let go in our ministry trusting that it being ordained by God in it's creation will indeed happen and will indeed be beautiful. Let go. Really. Just—Let—Go.
I can remember where my grandparents sat in church: 3rd pew on the right side facing the pulpit at the isle end—every Sunday. Heaven forbid anyone be in that seat, or the seat behind them where the so-and-so's sat, or the seat next to them where Mr. and Mrs. you-know-who sat. Methodical. Traditional. The same. Nothing ever changed for them and so it was ok (comfortable).
Winston is lecturing right now. He spent the first bit of his lecture talking about being invitational. Invitational doens't mean standing by the door on Sunday morning saying 'hi' to those who come in—that's greeting. Being invitational is for the entire congregation—not just the greeters with their various name-tags. I can't remember Jesus being a greeter. Being invitational isn't approaching a person with the intentions of telling them about all the programs the church has to offer. There's a problem with invitation disguised as advertising—we're not trying to 'win' folks. Winston asked us when was the last time we got up from our pews and sat next to a visitor. When was the last time we helped a new person navigate our bulletin or a hymnal—the only place in the world we gather to sing and use a book to do it is church—if someone has never been to church, they may honestly not know how to navigate a hymnal. When have we taken the time to walk someone new around the building—not as a tour guide—but in hopes they'd open up to us so that they'll know it's safe and so that we will honestly know who they are? When was the last time the pastor did it? When was the last time I did it? You? We cannot wonder why the church is dying and at the same time we cannot care as much about losing the institution. Our work as pastors is not about committees, seats on pews, or advertising programs—it is about souls. It is not about what our Bishop instructs us to do, making sure all of our paper-work is turned in to our District Superintendents (Lord, don't strike me down)--it is about furthering the Kingdom. When was the last time we dropped all the other nets and evaluated our Kingdom building?
Statistically, if a person makes a genuine relationship, first thing, their very first day, with 7 others in church, they will be back. And in that we've not 'won' a member—we've not boosted our roster--we don't simply have another apportionment payer (pastors...). We have opened the door for another person in this life to come to know Christ—we have strived to fulfill our call in the Great Commission. Wow. The beautiful thing is, that it's not that hard and in the end, you have a new friend who will change your life and who's life you will change as well.
We get lost in the method, in the tradition, in the high church meetings where we listen to the choir and the preacher. We socialize with each other but our faith-voices are not heard. Things are so systematic. No one thinks about the problem with saying that we need to “advertise” that program. When did being invitational become advertising or information sharing? We cannot wonder what the problem is—it's staring us in the face!
When was the last time we focussed on helping our congregation to face outward? As a pastor we spend a lot of time taking care of the folks that are already there in hopes that we don't step on toes and they won't leave. There is an entire community outside the walls. When was the last time we invited a congregant to report on what's going on in the community? When was the last time we invited a congregant to share what God has done for them or someone else they know this week—and not just in the life of some program in the church? When was the last time we actually shared? Is this not a way of witnessing to what God has done? Is this not a way of getting away from what the CHURCH has done? It is not, not, not, not, not, not, not about the institution. It cannot be—not if we're going to fulfill our call to be missional, apostolic, people of God.
We're afraid to take risks. Jesus said, “drop your nets,” did he not? We don't take risks if it means losing someone who pays the apportionments. We don't take risks if that one, highly-influential member won't like it. We don't take risks if it involves challenging our members to be more than a social club or more than an academic establishment. We're not asking anything of Christians. When we commit our lives to Christ, though, we take up a cross. With that cross comes a responsibility. As pastors we take up a cross that involves challenging others to remain faithful. If we do none of this, as a Christian and as a pastor then we are simply being irresponsible concerning our commitment.
Are we culturally relevant? We've spent a lot of time asking that but not acting on that. This cultural relevance isn't JUST for the youth. Without cultural relevance how do we expect congregants to leave and for anything we've said to be applicable? Youth are SCREAMING for it today. We can't just feed them in their youth meetings. We want to effect them in “Big Church.” A HUGE focus of our ministry needs to be about reaching them because when we lose them, we lose the church and we lose the Kingdom.
Winston amazes me. He's passionate beyond belief and for him excuses aren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what it would be like in our churches if excuses weren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what church would be like if we had faith that God makes God's plans work, therefore we need not dispute every suggestion because lack of funds (volunteers, space, etc.). What would really happen if we honestly let go in our ministry trusting that it being ordained by God in it's creation will indeed happen and will indeed be beautiful. Let go. Really. Just—Let—Go.
Life-Changing?
I have so much on my mind tonight. I don't know if I'll ever be able to sleep. AM and AF have been asleep since before I got back tonight. I had some long discussions today. I cried today. Then, I cried again. I'm still not 100% sure where it came from but it came and as much as I want to ignore it, I can't.
J. is new on the scene. I met him a few days ago. He's a missionary of sorts. He has a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children and amazing stories. J. has been everywhere—he's met so many people—he has so many beautiful and perfect stories. They empower me. They stick dangerous ideas in my head.
It's no secret that I'm not even a pastor yet and I battle so much with my convictions and my call. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to proclaim open-minded, all-inclusive, Christ-love in the midst of an institution that so often doesn't see that it's doing harm. Church is such a dangerous idea sometimes. Why, if I feel this way, was I called to it?
J. wanted to start churches and was very good at it. He wanted to plant churches in multi-ethnic parts of his conference that didn't have any. His conference wouldn't back him up. It was more a part of their plan to simply grow the churches they already had (never giving those areas without a church the chance to be reached). So, J. left. He's a Free Methodist now. He explained to me tonight exactly what that was. I knew the history of the FM's but wasn't sure about their polity.
So, J. started churches. He did work all over the world. He married his wife in China. He teaches others about evangelism. He also teaches some seminary classes (including homiletics). There's been this part of me for two days now that has thought, “I could do that. I even want to do that. I even feel empowered to do that!”
So, in my last year of seminary, marriage on the horizon, Craig still has 2 years of school left, and a conference that (I hope) will be anxiously awaiting to appoint me next year, what exactly does that mean for me? For 10 years now I've been preparing for this, praying for this, battling this, studying for this, asking for guidance of others.....and here I am—wanting to traipse all over the place to reach the 2 billion that still haven't even heard his name.
I took a walk tonight before a few of us went out to dinner. I walked over by the lake that is behind the conference center as the sun was setting behind the lake. I sat on a bench—the first time I'd really been alone for days. I sang to myself, “Down to the River to Pray.” I just started crying. So many here have these amazing stories of their call experience and their conversion experience. They saw God so clearly of heard God's voice so definitively. I did at one point—but not like they did. I had no miraculous experience. I prayed to God tonight asking why I couldn't have that—why didn't I get to have a miraculous experience. I said, “Why can't you show me Jesus walking on that lake in front of me!?” Then, 2 native birds, that I'd been watching for days, flew down and landed on the lake. It was beautiful.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this. My heart is actually hurting. I don't think I can spend my life wrapped up in one committee meeting or conference after another—but I don't know. There are times I love that too. I want to be missional as Dr. Worrell has said. I want so badly to be the church in and of myself—the one that reaches people and changes lives—the one fulfilling the Great Commission. What on earth do I do?
J. is new on the scene. I met him a few days ago. He's a missionary of sorts. He has a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children and amazing stories. J. has been everywhere—he's met so many people—he has so many beautiful and perfect stories. They empower me. They stick dangerous ideas in my head.
It's no secret that I'm not even a pastor yet and I battle so much with my convictions and my call. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to proclaim open-minded, all-inclusive, Christ-love in the midst of an institution that so often doesn't see that it's doing harm. Church is such a dangerous idea sometimes. Why, if I feel this way, was I called to it?
J. wanted to start churches and was very good at it. He wanted to plant churches in multi-ethnic parts of his conference that didn't have any. His conference wouldn't back him up. It was more a part of their plan to simply grow the churches they already had (never giving those areas without a church the chance to be reached). So, J. left. He's a Free Methodist now. He explained to me tonight exactly what that was. I knew the history of the FM's but wasn't sure about their polity.
So, J. started churches. He did work all over the world. He married his wife in China. He teaches others about evangelism. He also teaches some seminary classes (including homiletics). There's been this part of me for two days now that has thought, “I could do that. I even want to do that. I even feel empowered to do that!”
So, in my last year of seminary, marriage on the horizon, Craig still has 2 years of school left, and a conference that (I hope) will be anxiously awaiting to appoint me next year, what exactly does that mean for me? For 10 years now I've been preparing for this, praying for this, battling this, studying for this, asking for guidance of others.....and here I am—wanting to traipse all over the place to reach the 2 billion that still haven't even heard his name.
I took a walk tonight before a few of us went out to dinner. I walked over by the lake that is behind the conference center as the sun was setting behind the lake. I sat on a bench—the first time I'd really been alone for days. I sang to myself, “Down to the River to Pray.” I just started crying. So many here have these amazing stories of their call experience and their conversion experience. They saw God so clearly of heard God's voice so definitively. I did at one point—but not like they did. I had no miraculous experience. I prayed to God tonight asking why I couldn't have that—why didn't I get to have a miraculous experience. I said, “Why can't you show me Jesus walking on that lake in front of me!?” Then, 2 native birds, that I'd been watching for days, flew down and landed on the lake. It was beautiful.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this. My heart is actually hurting. I don't think I can spend my life wrapped up in one committee meeting or conference after another—but I don't know. There are times I love that too. I want to be missional as Dr. Worrell has said. I want so badly to be the church in and of myself—the one that reaches people and changes lives—the one fulfilling the Great Commission. What on earth do I do?
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