My class project on evangelism had not gone the way I expected. In fact it would be more accurate to say that I really didn't feel have a project. AND I was flying to Boston for my class where I was expected to have a project. At the airport I said a small prayer to God. I asked that I be given an opportunity to talk about faith with someone along my journey.
On the final leg of my flight, I turned off my Kindle when the flight attendant announced that all electronic devices had to be put away. The man next to me said, “So... how do you like your Kindle?” For a few minutes we talked about the merits of electronic readers as opposed to the traditional paper book. Our conversation continued from there.
Back and forth we asked questions of each other and expressed our experiences with work, life and eventually faith. Although my seatmate didn't categorize himself as Christian, he was concerned that his friends who were Christians didn't seem to do anything with their faith. He talked about how he was disappointed that they didn't feel the need to do any more than sit in a pew on Sunday. As we talked, I heard how he thought believing would bring more changes in their lives. Ultimately the man wondered what good was God if a person wasn't changed by the relationship.
Taking the opening he gave me, I described how lonely and isolated I had felt before I began cultivating my relationship with God. I shared my relief in knowing that I was not alone and that God understood everything that I felt. Although the man did not suddenly embrace God and Christ, we had a conversation that was an opportunity for both of us to share our stories.
At the end of the flight, I knew that I not only had a project, but also rejuvenated faith that God answers prayers. I learned that part of sharing faith is not trying to force the issue, like trying to make a project happen. But rather it is about having conversations with individuals.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Community Center?
Sarah Monroe in her blog, "Rural Renewal?", talks about the possibility that the rural church could fill the role of the community center, rather than trying to continue services "as they have for the last hundred years." She says, "The church could again assert that God is just as concerned with the body as God is with the soul."
As I consider Monroe's opinions, I look around Lubbock, a city of over 260,000 people, and question how Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) Lubbock can address the needs of the GLBT community. In many ways the GLBT community of Lubbock is like the rural communities in Monroe's blog. Many GLBT individuals feel isolated and as though the rest of Lubbock is not a place for them. In Lubbock, there are two regular places where GLBT people can meet each other, the bars or the MCC Lubbock.
They fear church as it was often the first place that said they did not belong and can't or won't find community at the bars.
Should MCC Lubbock's role become as Monroe suggests for rural churches? Can MCC Lubbock and MCCs throughout the world become places where others can find community and by doing so possibly find spiritual growth? Before we can begin helping people become disciples, we have to get them in the door.
As I consider Monroe's opinions, I look around Lubbock, a city of over 260,000 people, and question how Metropolitan Community Church (MCC) Lubbock can address the needs of the GLBT community. In many ways the GLBT community of Lubbock is like the rural communities in Monroe's blog. Many GLBT individuals feel isolated and as though the rest of Lubbock is not a place for them. In Lubbock, there are two regular places where GLBT people can meet each other, the bars or the MCC Lubbock.
They fear church as it was often the first place that said they did not belong and can't or won't find community at the bars.
Should MCC Lubbock's role become as Monroe suggests for rural churches? Can MCC Lubbock and MCCs throughout the world become places where others can find community and by doing so possibly find spiritual growth? Before we can begin helping people become disciples, we have to get them in the door.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Are you in the service industry?
What does it mean to be a follower of Christ? The answer seems to be presenting itself to me around every corner.
As I sit in the airport, I watch people who are in the service industry who are harried as they try to rearrange seats, clean up after spills, and pacify the angry traveler who arrived at the gate as the plane is taking off. If the airport personnel handle disagreements with patience and kindness, the patrons around them often come away with a better view of the airlines and the airport.
As I am writing these words a man splashed his coffee on me. He felt horrible, apologizing over and over. My response to this little accident makes the difference in how I present myself as a Christian. Do I react with anger and live up to the too-often seen Christian in word, but not in walk? Or do I come across as a true follower of Christ and say, "Don't worry about it. You didn't do it on purpose."
Each of us who consider ourselves to be followers of Christ are in fact in the service industry. We meet travelers when they are angry, lost, confused, and often seeking. Our job is to show others about God's grace and as we do this we become better servants for God. Are you ready to serve?
As I sit in the airport, I watch people who are in the service industry who are harried as they try to rearrange seats, clean up after spills, and pacify the angry traveler who arrived at the gate as the plane is taking off. If the airport personnel handle disagreements with patience and kindness, the patrons around them often come away with a better view of the airlines and the airport.
As I am writing these words a man splashed his coffee on me. He felt horrible, apologizing over and over. My response to this little accident makes the difference in how I present myself as a Christian. Do I react with anger and live up to the too-often seen Christian in word, but not in walk? Or do I come across as a true follower of Christ and say, "Don't worry about it. You didn't do it on purpose."
Each of us who consider ourselves to be followers of Christ are in fact in the service industry. We meet travelers when they are angry, lost, confused, and often seeking. Our job is to show others about God's grace and as we do this we become better servants for God. Are you ready to serve?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Stranger at the Table
Last Sunday the guest preacher was concluding his sermon as a woman walked into church and moved to sit on the front pew. Our congregation shifted uncomfortably with knowledge that the woman was a stranger, extremely late, and dressed in old, torn clothes. A few whispers were heard as church members struggled with the idea that a stranger would walk past several empty pews to sit on the front row. Concern that she would disrupt our service was what several of us thought.
After the sermon hymn, I moved to the front so that I could consecrate the elements for Communion. I stood behind God's Table and as is the tradition at most MCCs I welcomed all who came seeking God. After distributing the elements to the other servers, I took my place as a server. The woman sat on that front row looking at me with sad eyes and I beckoned to her. She whispered, "Are you sure? I can come? I didn't know if it would be okay." This woman, Glenda, was a stranger at God's Table not because the church members didn't know her and not because God had thrown her away, but because she believed that we, as a church, and God, as divine judge, viewed her as unworthy of receiving grace.
As I began writing about the blessing I received from Glenda's presence, I realized that God was using her to speak to me. Glenda has been a recurring indicator of where God is leading my ministry and today as I write, I finally am listening to what God has to say. Glenda doesn't realized or remember that she and I have met on several previous occasions. Twice she has come to MCC Lubbock, once for a service and another time for our garage sale. Another time I ran into her at my local phone store when I was paying my bill. Each instance I clearly remember our interactions and her ever-present need for acceptance and understanding.
This week as we read and study about ministering off the beaten paths I acknowledge that Glenda is a "big fish" for me. A close friend dubbed each incident of God trying to direct me as a "big fish" and often reminds me that ignoring God's call might land me in the same predicament as Jonah faced. Over the past couple of years I have been trying my hardest to ignore that God is calling me to work outside of a mainstream church. Although I have acknowledged that I will probably be ministering to those who feel rejected by society, I have celebrated the idea that God wants me to serve those who are on the fringes of society and who may feel excluded from conventional churches.
Last Sunday as I held Glenda while she sobbed, I recognized that I not only embraced a hurting woman, but also the idea that I was made to minister to others who feel removed from God. This one opportunity wasn't terrifying or taxing. In fact I felt joy from comforting Glenda and showing her the love that God has put in each of our hearts. God has created me to welcome the stranger to the table and then sit with him or her while we eat.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monster Outside the Closet Door
Many of my childhood nightmares remain fresh and clear in my mind. A significant one for this time of year deals with tornadoes. I run through my house being chased by a great monster. I hide in the back of my mother's closet, trying to control my gasping breath. The monster in the form of a tornado searches for me. I am by myself. No one is available. I am alone. Although I am hidden behind Mom's closet door, I am able in my dream state to see what is going on outside of the closet. I am hyperventilating as it heads toward their bathroom and thus toward their closets. The monster is going to find me....
Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the F5 tornado that almost destroyed Lubbock and the beginning of this nightmare of mine. Every year the media inundates Lubbockites with memories of these events from 1970. The town seems to be unable to let these memories go. As much as I groan and roll my eyes during this time, I also hang onto this 40-year-old event.
In May of 1970, I was two-years-old. My family's farms were 40 miles northeast of Lubbock and we had more time to get to safety than most of the Lubbock citizens had. I remember sitting on the blue-striped mattress in my great-grandmother's dark cellar. Lantern light barely touched the surrounding area and didn't quite reach the corners. My brother, David, and I clung to each other on the cot as the adults clustered together discussing the frightening event. Granny, my great-grandmother, wanted to see what was going and kept running up the narrow staircase. Grandpa, her son, would chase after her trying to get her to come back downstairs. Finally Daddy would usher them both back downstairs. A few minutes later the whole scenario would happen again.
As was common for me in times of anxiety, I sat in silence observing all the commotion around me. Except for David, I felt like I was floating alone in the ocean. A great distance of water separated us from the safety of family and grown ups. The tornado in my young mind was a monster that was strong enough to frighten adults and therefore could crush me with its mighty fist. How could I not be terrified?
Until I reached late adolescence, I had many nightmares in addition to the tornado monster and in most of them I was alone and separated from my parents. At some point in my life, I began believing that I couldn't count on anyone other than myself. My rational self realizes that this statement is very unfair to my parents and brothers. I developed this understanding separate from them through my misconceptions. This monster outside my closet door was not solely the tornado, but was in fact my feelings of isolation and abandonment. Like so many monsters, it intimidated me into silence. "Don't tell. THEY will use your fears against you. Don't give anyone power over you. No one can help you."
Sadly these anxieties have recently bubbled to the surface. I hide from the loneliness monster by putting on a brave face. As I consider the road ahead of me, I know that I cannot continue to exist behind this closet door. I struggle with the fear that I will not have the intimacy of a life partner because I remain closed off.
So today I face my fears of being alone. I face the monster that has lived outside my closet door for 40 years and I am still afraid.
Yesterday was the 40th anniversary of the F5 tornado that almost destroyed Lubbock and the beginning of this nightmare of mine. Every year the media inundates Lubbockites with memories of these events from 1970. The town seems to be unable to let these memories go. As much as I groan and roll my eyes during this time, I also hang onto this 40-year-old event.In May of 1970, I was two-years-old. My family's farms were 40 miles northeast of Lubbock and we had more time to get to safety than most of the Lubbock citizens had. I remember sitting on the blue-striped mattress in my great-grandmother's dark cellar. Lantern light barely touched the surrounding area and didn't quite reach the corners. My brother, David, and I clung to each other on the cot as the adults clustered together discussing the frightening event. Granny, my great-grandmother, wanted to see what was going and kept running up the narrow staircase. Grandpa, her son, would chase after her trying to get her to come back downstairs. Finally Daddy would usher them both back downstairs. A few minutes later the whole scenario would happen again.
As was common for me in times of anxiety, I sat in silence observing all the commotion around me. Except for David, I felt like I was floating alone in the ocean. A great distance of water separated us from the safety of family and grown ups. The tornado in my young mind was a monster that was strong enough to frighten adults and therefore could crush me with its mighty fist. How could I not be terrified?
Until I reached late adolescence, I had many nightmares in addition to the tornado monster and in most of them I was alone and separated from my parents. At some point in my life, I began believing that I couldn't count on anyone other than myself. My rational self realizes that this statement is very unfair to my parents and brothers. I developed this understanding separate from them through my misconceptions. This monster outside my closet door was not solely the tornado, but was in fact my feelings of isolation and abandonment. Like so many monsters, it intimidated me into silence. "Don't tell. THEY will use your fears against you. Don't give anyone power over you. No one can help you."
Sadly these anxieties have recently bubbled to the surface. I hide from the loneliness monster by putting on a brave face. As I consider the road ahead of me, I know that I cannot continue to exist behind this closet door. I struggle with the fear that I will not have the intimacy of a life partner because I remain closed off.
So today I face my fears of being alone. I face the monster that has lived outside my closet door for 40 years and I am still afraid.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Flying Away
Sometimes the responsibilities get to be too much. How can I balance what I feel called to do spiritually when I am so tired AND busy? Recently I have divested myself of some of my responsibilities at church.
I have been struggling with this feeling of too much for quite a while. I was very engrossed in taking care of everyone else and stopped taking care of myself. Finally the realization that I was feeling angry and bitter about my "duties" helped me understand that I wasn't doing anyone any good by keeping these assignments on my plate. In fact I was probably hurting a great many people because I resented my obligations.
My friend, Theresa, put it all into perspective when she was talking about what she and her spouse, Charla, were doing for their church. She said that although they had a lot of pressure on them, they knew that what they were doing was what they were called to do. They were working on their ministry. As she told me this, I realized that what I was so desperately trying to hold onto was not in fact my calling or ministry. I was no longer fed by being Worship Ministry Leader or Coordinator. When I stopped being fed, I was no longer able to feed others.
Part of this awareness is necessary because as I grow in my calling from God, I also grow from my home church. As my school advisor and friend, Julie, explained to me, I am preparing to move away from this home to make a place elsewhere. I am an adolescent preparing to fly out of the nest and I am struggling with my independence and fears of leaving the security of my home.
Some part of me does not want to leave this place that has become my shelter and comfort. MCC Lubbock became my rock when I was floating in the abyss of depression and loneliness. I want to throw myself down on the ground, kicking and screaming as a two-year-old. "NO! NO! NO! I won't leave! I won't! You can't make me!" But another part of me is craving MORE and knows that this "MORE" is found elsewhere. I have to continue preparing myself for the eventual leave-taking that must occur. With the help of my loved ones, my family, I will continue to grow until my wings are strong enough to take me somewhere else. For what has been, for what is, and for what will be, thanks be to God!
I have been struggling with this feeling of too much for quite a while. I was very engrossed in taking care of everyone else and stopped taking care of myself. Finally the realization that I was feeling angry and bitter about my "duties" helped me understand that I wasn't doing anyone any good by keeping these assignments on my plate. In fact I was probably hurting a great many people because I resented my obligations.
My friend, Theresa, put it all into perspective when she was talking about what she and her spouse, Charla, were doing for their church. She said that although they had a lot of pressure on them, they knew that what they were doing was what they were called to do. They were working on their ministry. As she told me this, I realized that what I was so desperately trying to hold onto was not in fact my calling or ministry. I was no longer fed by being Worship Ministry Leader or Coordinator. When I stopped being fed, I was no longer able to feed others.
Part of this awareness is necessary because as I grow in my calling from God, I also grow from my home church. As my school advisor and friend, Julie, explained to me, I am preparing to move away from this home to make a place elsewhere. I am an adolescent preparing to fly out of the nest and I am struggling with my independence and fears of leaving the security of my home.
Some part of me does not want to leave this place that has become my shelter and comfort. MCC Lubbock became my rock when I was floating in the abyss of depression and loneliness. I want to throw myself down on the ground, kicking and screaming as a two-year-old. "NO! NO! NO! I won't leave! I won't! You can't make me!" But another part of me is craving MORE and knows that this "MORE" is found elsewhere. I have to continue preparing myself for the eventual leave-taking that must occur. With the help of my loved ones, my family, I will continue to grow until my wings are strong enough to take me somewhere else. For what has been, for what is, and for what will be, thanks be to God!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Holy Week
Holy Week is such a busy time at MCC Lubbock as it is at many churches. Set up for Maundy Thursday. Set up foot washing stations. Have the service for Maundy Thursday. Clean up from Maundy Thursday. Set up for Good Friday. Have the service for Good Friday. Clean up from Good Friday. Stuff Easter eggs. Prepare Easter breakfast. Get up at 6 am. Have the sunrise service. Clean up from Easter Breakfast. Set up for Easter 11 am service. Have Easter service. Have Easter egg hunt.
Whew! Somewhere in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of this time of year, congregants are expected to find a way to undergo a tiny bit of what Jesus experienced. Sometimes we get lost in all the duties and expectations and don't take the time to feel what all the services are supposed to allow us to feel.
The Seder Meal that we celebrate every other year at MCC Lubbock is of particular significance to me. We break the matzah, the unleavened bread of bondage. Just as the Israelites were in servitude to the Pharaoh, we continued to be bound by ignorance, oppression, and fear. The bitter herbs or maror are eaten to symbolize the bitterness of slavery. We must acknowledge that as long as we prosper off of those who cannot escape poverty we are chained to our society just as the Israelites were chained to Egypt. We eat baitzah, a hard-cooked egg, that represents the cycle of birth and death. For me as a Christian the baitzah reminds me that due to Christ's death and resurrection, I have been given the gift of rebirth. The haroseth, which is made of chopped apples, nuts, and wine, signifies the mortar used with the bricks the Israelites made while enslaved by Pharaoh. The sweetness of the haroseth suggests the taste of freedom that comes to me through God's grace. Karpas, parsley or other greens, are eaten as a reminder of new growth that comes each spring. Finally four cups of wine are drunk at various parts of the meal.
Long ago, Jesus shared a similar meal in a borrowed room with his twelve disciples. He ate this symbolic meal as he prepared to be crucified. He was the lamb that was given as a sacrifice for the sins of all people. He went willingly knowing that his pain was necessary to demonstrate the grace that God offered and continues to offer. AND he knew that these events were not going to be an ending, but a beginning.
This year, will you take the time to remember the sacrifices that God made over two centuries ago? Will you stop in the craziness of eggs and chocolate and special dinners to commemorate the joy that this season represents? Like Mary Magdalene at the tomb, will you cry out to the world, "I have seen the Lord"?
Whew! Somewhere in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of this time of year, congregants are expected to find a way to undergo a tiny bit of what Jesus experienced. Sometimes we get lost in all the duties and expectations and don't take the time to feel what all the services are supposed to allow us to feel.
The Seder Meal that we celebrate every other year at MCC Lubbock is of particular significance to me. We break the matzah, the unleavened bread of bondage. Just as the Israelites were in servitude to the Pharaoh, we continued to be bound by ignorance, oppression, and fear. The bitter herbs or maror are eaten to symbolize the bitterness of slavery. We must acknowledge that as long as we prosper off of those who cannot escape poverty we are chained to our society just as the Israelites were chained to Egypt. We eat baitzah, a hard-cooked egg, that represents the cycle of birth and death. For me as a Christian the baitzah reminds me that due to Christ's death and resurrection, I have been given the gift of rebirth. The haroseth, which is made of chopped apples, nuts, and wine, signifies the mortar used with the bricks the Israelites made while enslaved by Pharaoh. The sweetness of the haroseth suggests the taste of freedom that comes to me through God's grace. Karpas, parsley or other greens, are eaten as a reminder of new growth that comes each spring. Finally four cups of wine are drunk at various parts of the meal.
Long ago, Jesus shared a similar meal in a borrowed room with his twelve disciples. He ate this symbolic meal as he prepared to be crucified. He was the lamb that was given as a sacrifice for the sins of all people. He went willingly knowing that his pain was necessary to demonstrate the grace that God offered and continues to offer. AND he knew that these events were not going to be an ending, but a beginning.
This year, will you take the time to remember the sacrifices that God made over two centuries ago? Will you stop in the craziness of eggs and chocolate and special dinners to commemorate the joy that this season represents? Like Mary Magdalene at the tomb, will you cry out to the world, "I have seen the Lord"?
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