Advent is one of my favourite times of year, as it declares a truth that my heart knows: the world is full of darkness and sin. The kingdom of God is very much not yet present here, and we need the coming of Christ the King (For more about this, see my thoughts from Advent 2012: "Advent in the darkest time of the year)."
Advent this year brought with it much darkness. Shortly after Advent began, there was a mass shooting in San Bernardino. Within America, there were continued calls to prevent refugees from entering the country alongside of hatred towards Muslims. Amidst the darkness - a darkness where "across the country, Musims report that their mosques are being vandalized, that they are receiving death threats by the hour, and that women in head coverings are being harassed when they go out in public" - Rachel Held Evans spoke a prophetic word that we all need to speak up against "violent rhetoric against minorities." I found the events and rhetoric overwhelming, even as the response to Evans' words and a peace march held in Dearborn are signs of hope.
Christmas is a celebration of how, because of Christ's first coming, the kingdom of God is already here on earth. We celebrate that "Christ rules the world with truth and grace." The darkness, no matter how strong it might appear, is not winning and can not win.
As my heart resonates with Advent, it is not surprising that I find it hard at times to live into the triumphalism of Christmas. Fortunately, there are 12 days of Christmas, so my heart has some time to adjust. Hopefully spending more time with Mary's Magnificat will help, contemplating the King who "scatters the proud in the thoughts of their hearts, brings down the powerful from their thrones, lifts up the lowly, fills the hungry with good things, and sends the rich away empty."
28 December 2015
01 December 2015
So maybe I do preach?
"I don't preach" was one of the things that I made clear when I interviewed for my current position as pastor for Campus Edge. I also had no intention on getting ordained, although I did say I was willing to reconsider if it became obvious that being ordained would allow me to do my job better.
Last month, I officially started the process of seeking ordination within the Christian Reformed Church. The process involves preaching/writing two sermons (one on an assigned text), filling out quite a bit of paperwork and going through at least one interview with the candidacy committee connected to Calvin Theological Seminary. If all goes well, my desire to be ordained would be approved at Synod in June 2016 and then confirmed by my local classis (another interview, including another sermon) in October 2016. Although this might seem long, it's actually fairly quick: my MDiv degree from Calvin Seminary ensured that I have all the requirements for ordination.
Becoming a minister - and preaching, which is probably the most public part of the job - has never been something I've wanted or felt called to do (I went to Seminary because I loved studying the Bible). Back when I was at Seminary, I was an unusual voice in saying that I wasn't sure whether women ought to be ordained. Because I felt no sense of God calling me to preach, and I doubted whether I even ought to be doing so, preaching and writing sermons - the few times I had to do it for class - were a horrible experience, as it felt like I was contorting myself to be someone I was not. Hence the adamant claim that "I don't preach." I managed to complete my required 10 sermons by teaching at several InterVarsity events and by speaking several times at the Saturday night outreach gatherings of my church.
This past Thursday - (American) Thanksgiving Day - I preached in a church sanctuary for the first time ever. The previous feelings I'd had on preaching - that I was forcing myself to do something I was not called to do - were replaced with a deep sense of love for the biblical text (affirming my calling as a biblical scholar) and a desire to share the word of God with God's people (affirming the pastoral side of me that has been formed through being a pastor at Campus Edge). It was a joy to share my love for the text, and I have deeply appreciated people's reassurance that the word of God had indeed spoken to them.
Last month, I officially started the process of seeking ordination within the Christian Reformed Church. The process involves preaching/writing two sermons (one on an assigned text), filling out quite a bit of paperwork and going through at least one interview with the candidacy committee connected to Calvin Theological Seminary. If all goes well, my desire to be ordained would be approved at Synod in June 2016 and then confirmed by my local classis (another interview, including another sermon) in October 2016. Although this might seem long, it's actually fairly quick: my MDiv degree from Calvin Seminary ensured that I have all the requirements for ordination.
Becoming a minister - and preaching, which is probably the most public part of the job - has never been something I've wanted or felt called to do (I went to Seminary because I loved studying the Bible). Back when I was at Seminary, I was an unusual voice in saying that I wasn't sure whether women ought to be ordained. Because I felt no sense of God calling me to preach, and I doubted whether I even ought to be doing so, preaching and writing sermons - the few times I had to do it for class - were a horrible experience, as it felt like I was contorting myself to be someone I was not. Hence the adamant claim that "I don't preach." I managed to complete my required 10 sermons by teaching at several InterVarsity events and by speaking several times at the Saturday night outreach gatherings of my church.
This past Thursday - (American) Thanksgiving Day - I preached in a church sanctuary for the first time ever. The previous feelings I'd had on preaching - that I was forcing myself to do something I was not called to do - were replaced with a deep sense of love for the biblical text (affirming my calling as a biblical scholar) and a desire to share the word of God with God's people (affirming the pastoral side of me that has been formed through being a pastor at Campus Edge). It was a joy to share my love for the text, and I have deeply appreciated people's reassurance that the word of God had indeed spoken to them.
29 November 2015
Singleness as good and bad
I've thought a lot about singleness over the years, and so I appreciate good articles about singleness. Dayna Vreeken at YALT recently wrote a good article honestly acknowledging both the good and bad of singleness. I especially appreciate how she stresses how being single is mixed: some things are hard but there is also much joy and good that also should be acknowledged.
The following are some of the great points that she elaborates on:
It is time we acknowledge being single can, at times, be hard. This is not unique to being single, being married too contains annoyances and pain. But, it is often only acknowledged over coffee, beer, or ‘hallmark’ holidays in back corners of rooms. There is almost no room to truly mourn the pain or difficulty of singleness. So, let’s acknowledge it. . . . Singleness can be painful because often, people who are single expected their lives to go a bit differently. . . . many people pity those who are single rather than extending empathy, hospitality, and trying to truly understand what being single is like for each person. . . . Depending where you live, it is easier to fit in culturally and socially if you are married and/or have kids. . . . There is a notion in society that there is a relational, aka maturity, ladder. . .Even if you're not single, I encourage you to read the article. It's a good reminder for those of us (especially in the church) who tend to think of marriage as the norm.
It needs to be acknowledged wholeheartedly that being single can also be a beautiful, good, life-giving calling we have received from God.. . . Being not married is a gift because life is always a gift—just like any other station in life, there is beauty in being a single person. . . One example of beauty is that being single breeds a necessary interdependence. Since I do not have one constant, ever-with-me partner in my life, I do not have the luxury/temptation of accidentally becoming immersed in one person and so, the older I get, the broader and deeper my community gets. . .
28 November 2015
Us, them and the extensiveness of grace
After years of studying linguistics and the Old Testament prophets, I have learned to love grammar. There are layers in the text that we don't always see, and grammar is one of the ways that helps us look closely at the text to discover what it means.
I spent the last few weeks studying Ephesians 1. It's a wonderful text, full of praise to God and praise for what Christ has done to save us. There's only one difficulty, and it's significant - the difficulty in understanding and appreciating predestination and election. Many people - both inside and outside of the church - are bothered when they hear the idea that God has elected some (some being Christians, of course). It sounds like Christians think we are better and actually deserve more (even though the text and the Bible do not say that - and most Christians do know and believe that). It's just so easy to get into us vs. them thinking. We are special, they are not.
Looking at the text of Ephesians 1, there's also an us vs. them going on, or more specifically we vs you. In verses 11-14, the text goes from talking about us – we were chosen in verse 11 - to you in verse 13 – and you also were included in Christ. In the prophets, this switching between them and you is a way for the writer to make sure that the people hearing the text also realize they are included in the message. The switch from them to you can be rather startling, kind of like a teacher calling your name in the middle of a class and asking you to repeat what they just said when you were obviously falling asleep.
Perhaps some of this is going on – that the people hearing or reading this text – are being reminded that you, too, should be praising. At the same time, I would expect us automatically to include ourselves when the text talks about us, especially when it's good news (cf gospel in v. 13)!
So what else might be going on with this switch in pronouns? The you in the text here – the ones to whom the book was being written were Gentiles. The inclusion of the Gentiles in the gospel did not happen smoothly, as can be seen in the book of Acts, especially chapter 15.
As Christians we often focus on election begin about how good I am. Yet, the people hearing the text would have heard again and again that they had NOT been chosen. The Jews were the ones chosen, and not Gentiles. The switch here from we to you thus says not only that they have been included, but also us. When it comes to election that switching of us and them makes all the difference, it's the idea that even I got chosen. I did not deserve it, in any way shape or form, but yet even though I thought I should be excluded I got to be included. It's like getting into med school after being rejected by three other schools, not just this year but also last year.
The text here in Ephesians is pointing to grace being much bigger than we expected. Paul is saying that people who we expect to be excluded – like me, because I know I don't deserve it are actually included. We have been chosen, even though we have done nothing to deserve it. If we let this good news settle in, how can this not turn us towards God in praise and thanksgiving and a desire to follow Him?
Much of this text was excerpted from a sermon on Ephesians 1 preached Thanksgiving Day 2015 at River Terrace Church.
I spent the last few weeks studying Ephesians 1. It's a wonderful text, full of praise to God and praise for what Christ has done to save us. There's only one difficulty, and it's significant - the difficulty in understanding and appreciating predestination and election. Many people - both inside and outside of the church - are bothered when they hear the idea that God has elected some (some being Christians, of course). It sounds like Christians think we are better and actually deserve more (even though the text and the Bible do not say that - and most Christians do know and believe that). It's just so easy to get into us vs. them thinking. We are special, they are not.
Looking at the text of Ephesians 1, there's also an us vs. them going on, or more specifically we vs you. In verses 11-14, the text goes from talking about us – we were chosen in verse 11 - to you in verse 13 – and you also were included in Christ. In the prophets, this switching between them and you is a way for the writer to make sure that the people hearing the text also realize they are included in the message. The switch from them to you can be rather startling, kind of like a teacher calling your name in the middle of a class and asking you to repeat what they just said when you were obviously falling asleep.
Perhaps some of this is going on – that the people hearing or reading this text – are being reminded that you, too, should be praising. At the same time, I would expect us automatically to include ourselves when the text talks about us, especially when it's good news (cf gospel in v. 13)!
So what else might be going on with this switch in pronouns? The you in the text here – the ones to whom the book was being written were Gentiles. The inclusion of the Gentiles in the gospel did not happen smoothly, as can be seen in the book of Acts, especially chapter 15.
As Christians we often focus on election begin about how good I am. Yet, the people hearing the text would have heard again and again that they had NOT been chosen. The Jews were the ones chosen, and not Gentiles. The switch here from we to you thus says not only that they have been included, but also us. When it comes to election that switching of us and them makes all the difference, it's the idea that even I got chosen. I did not deserve it, in any way shape or form, but yet even though I thought I should be excluded I got to be included. It's like getting into med school after being rejected by three other schools, not just this year but also last year.
The text here in Ephesians is pointing to grace being much bigger than we expected. Paul is saying that people who we expect to be excluded – like me, because I know I don't deserve it are actually included. We have been chosen, even though we have done nothing to deserve it. If we let this good news settle in, how can this not turn us towards God in praise and thanksgiving and a desire to follow Him?
Much of this text was excerpted from a sermon on Ephesians 1 preached Thanksgiving Day 2015 at River Terrace Church.
04 November 2015
Abstinence in a culture obsessed with sex
A friend recently passed on an article about what happens when men pledge abstinence until marriage. What intrigued her about the article was that the study about the effects of abstinence was done by those outside of Christian circles and passed on to her by someone who had no association with evangelicals. This seems to indicate that how Christians approach sex is thus of interest to people outside of Christian circles, albeit most likely less because of an interest in Christianity and more because of a fascination with sex.
The article confirms and highlights how our culture is overly focused on sex. What might surprise some people is that the same is true in evangelical circles. Only the focus is not about the sex that these unmarried men were getting but the sex that they were not getting. Abstinence is seen to bring with it many challenges and a strong need for accountability. The problem, though, is that it's only men that seem to be struggling so much with sexual desire, reinforcing a damaging untruth far too common in evangelical circles: women are nonsexual and men are highly sexualized beings.
The second half of the article, which talks about what happened after these single men get married, points to an area where Christians could improve: being more realistic about how complicated sex is in the midst its goodness. When the Bible talks about sex, it does so in a highly practical way, focusing especially on appropriate boundaries and how not to hurt others through the use of sex. This realistic view of sex, instead of detracting from the goodness, actually contributes to sex being more good. How else can we learn to build healthy and good relationships if we're not willing to talk about how countercultural sex within Christianity really is? Sex and sexuality is not primarily something to obsess about (either through abstinence or within marriage) but instead is messy, complicated and even ordinary (for more about this, see Real Sex by Lauren Winner).
The article confirms and highlights how our culture is overly focused on sex. What might surprise some people is that the same is true in evangelical circles. Only the focus is not about the sex that these unmarried men were getting but the sex that they were not getting. Abstinence is seen to bring with it many challenges and a strong need for accountability. The problem, though, is that it's only men that seem to be struggling so much with sexual desire, reinforcing a damaging untruth far too common in evangelical circles: women are nonsexual and men are highly sexualized beings.
14 October 2015
Remaining in church: Thoughts from a gay Catholic
I find the rhetoric of Christians around sexuality to be problematic. This is not because I disagree with the positions of my church (although I would like to re-word the statement related to homosexuality), but because I think many have been hurt, both within the church and outside of it, by how many Christians talk about homosexuality and treat those with same-sex attractions. I think it's hard for those who face same-sex attraction to remain within the church, and I am thankful for voices that address this.
I have appreciated the voices of Wesley Hill and Eve Tushnet. I expect that some find Hill's call to celibacy to be too much of a sacrifice but Hill also provides a very strong voice for the necessity of good friendships to help those who have been pushed into celibacy.
Eve Tushnet is a slightly different voice, and perhaps a slightly more controversial one (at least from what I have read of her blog). Nonetheless, I want to share her words from a recent blog post, as I think her words recognize the church as the body of Christ and the way that we are formed to be more like Christ. One ought not to dismiss her easily. At the same time, the Church is made up of broken, sinful people, and it is not always certain, even with God's protection and care of the church, whether everything taught and practiced within the church is good.
The following are Tushnet's words:
I have appreciated the voices of Wesley Hill and Eve Tushnet. I expect that some find Hill's call to celibacy to be too much of a sacrifice but Hill also provides a very strong voice for the necessity of good friendships to help those who have been pushed into celibacy.
Eve Tushnet is a slightly different voice, and perhaps a slightly more controversial one (at least from what I have read of her blog). Nonetheless, I want to share her words from a recent blog post, as I think her words recognize the church as the body of Christ and the way that we are formed to be more like Christ. One ought not to dismiss her easily. At the same time, the Church is made up of broken, sinful people, and it is not always certain, even with God's protection and care of the church, whether everything taught and practiced within the church is good.
The following are Tushnet's words:
We need to revive the role of the “Bad Catholic.” Being a bad Catholic can be very, very good for you; it’s a sign that you accept the Church as something (someone, our Mother) outside you and bigger than you, who gives your life its structure even when you can’t/won’t live entirely within that structure. (How many tears are shed because it’s so hard to tell can’t from won’t….) Being a bad Catholic means being assessed by the Church–accepting Her view of you, even if you accept it wincingly or ironically or in confused exhaustion, “Master, to whom shall we go?“–instead of judging Her. Her judgments of you will be more merciful than yours of Her, anyway.
You only get the spiritual benefits of being a bad Catholic if you take the “bad” part seriously. If you minimize the gravity of sin you lose the reminder it brings of our dependence on God; the more trivial the sin the less humility is provoked.
There’s obviously a danger of provoking self-hatred instead of humility by talking this way, but the literary figure of the “bad Catholic” calls up compassion and identification rather than judgment in readers. Maybe you should show the same compassion to him when he’s you.To read more of her writing, visit her blog: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/evetushnet
07 October 2015
Thank you, Lord, September is over.
I think that has been my prayer this past week: "Thank-you, Lord, that September is over." I suspect that is the prayer of all campus ministers everywhere. We are busy with starting up the season, meeting new people, hoping and praying that new people will join, following up after them, alongside of following up with folks who've participated longer in the ministry.
I am thankful that things in my life are starting slowly to return to normal, at least as normal as possible. We have mostly settled in our new house, and the season of campus ministry has developed more of a rhythm. New folk are becoming regulars, and I'm delighting in what they bring to the ministry. And I'm finding enough time and space again to remember how much I delight in getting to be a campus pastor.
I am thankful that things in my life are starting slowly to return to normal, at least as normal as possible. We have mostly settled in our new house, and the season of campus ministry has developed more of a rhythm. New folk are becoming regulars, and I'm delighting in what they bring to the ministry. And I'm finding enough time and space again to remember how much I delight in getting to be a campus pastor.
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