Mystery and Certainty in Theology

Vicky Beeching in Undivided expounds a bit on what she learned about mystery and certainty in theology after being tutored by Bishop Kallistos Ware. She quotes Ware as saying:

"'In the Christian context, we do not mean by a 'mystery' merely that which is baffling and an insoluble problem. A mystery is, on the contrary, something that is revealed for our understanding, but that we never understand exhaustively, because it leads into the depth or the darkness of God' (Beeching, 95).

I appreciated her further thoughts on the subject of certainty, of which the following quotes give a sense:

"The more I pondered it, the more absurd it seemed that theology could be neatly explained in a theology textbook." 

"The obsession with fixed answers felt increasingly wrong to me: if God can fit into a box, it's no longer God we are dealing with but someone made in our own image." 

"Evangelical theology seemed to paint a picture of God - a graven image of sorts- and tell everyone else it was the only likeness of him that existed." 

"Bishop Kallistos introduced me to a new perspective on what it meant to be faithful to Christian history. We weren't diminishing it by changing our minds on certain things; that was all part of the journey." Beeching, 95.

I had read Bishop Kallistos Ware's book on Eastern Orthodox Theology when I was in college. I remember still how much I appreciated what I learned then of the Orthodox Church - where the focus was less on getting the right answer and more on living for and with God. Years later, as I read his words and their influence, I am reminded again of how much I appreciate making space for less certainty in belief, space that I'd like to share with the grad students I minister to.

Discontent with Church

Shortly after writing my last post expressing my discontent with church, I read an article expressing the good of such discontent. I appreciated that, especially as I'm still not entirely sure about my own expression of discontent, as it feels too much like complaining. I have been taught that complaining makes one more part of the problem than the solution. And complaining doesn't seem to be particularly good at communicating how God is working.

In his recent Banner article, Chris Schoon lists a number of movements throughout history that were birthed out of discontent with the church: "those who launched renewal movements sought a more transformative practice, a more biblically rooted doctrine, or a more robust and personal piety than they had experienced in the church of their day and age. Their reform efforts attempted to address gaps in the church’s character and witness as they realized that the church in their particular contexts was not yet what it was intended to be."

Furthermore, Schoon argues that "In order for the church to be the church, we need a certain amount of holy dissatisfaction with the way things are, and especially with the way we are living as God’s people."

I don't always know what to do with my disappointment with my local church. I do know that it makes me long to once again be part of an intentional faith community (new monastic community), even knowing how imperfect that is. And it does make me want to be more authentic and honest in my own relationships with others, as well as striving for authenticity and honesty in the community of grad and professional students that I pastor.

Chafed by Church

I was grouchy in church yesterday. Since it was church, it seemed fairly obvious that this place and time gave me ample opportunity to sort out with God why I was grouchy.

Part of the challenge was that I was annoyed that I was grouchy. After all, despite it being full, I'd had a blessed week at work: I'd had (and overheard) encouraging conversations at our Welcome BBQ, it's been exciting to think about and plan new activities, I pondered how people of different faiths being present at pub theology are a blessing, and I was deeply thankful to have met with some staff and faculty for prayer this week.

I was also annoyed that I ended up late, especially since it felt like I'd actually left early (and not just the usual: barely on time). Yet, I'd let the little walk from the car to church, we'd stopped to check if there were any lingering students to greet, and I'd made sure the little was excited about being in nursery before I left her there. And so I ended up walking in late to the congregational meeting.

When the meeting ended and we were encouraged to talk to others, I realized that as much as I cared for many of the people around me, I was lonely there. I missed having more people like me: (female) professional, over-educated, (working) mom (of a toddler), and/or under 50. I also missed people who weren't there, especially those who've been leaving - some people have been taking a break from (this) church, others have left, and still others have moved away for jobs or school.

As I was quietly sitting in church, sorting through how I felt with God, I saw someone walk in, someone who I know who has been struggling. For a moment, there was a look of sadness on her face, and then she put a smile on. Her presence - and sadness - reminded me of others who are struggling in the community. And I bulked at putting my own 'happy face' on. I didn't want to talk about my daughter, even though I love her and delight in her. I didn't want to sing happy praise songs; I wanted to lament about the suffering around me. It felt empty singing about God's holiness when we didn't also speak of God's justice on evil, scary though it might be. And I didn't know how to bring into church all the ways I had seen God working in my job this past week. I felt chafed.

Thankfully, God is capable of working in and around my feelings. I was welcomed by old friends and unexpectedly hugged by someone who is becoming a new friend. I was challenged by the sermon. I saw an older couple who I love reach out (again) to a younger couple who have moved into their neck of the woods. God worked in the midst of (and perhaps even through my) feeling of being chafed to meet me.

Ready? Maybe

The school year is almost ready to start. And this morning I feel ready and excited for it.

Matthijs begins his comprehensive exams today (ends Friday at 1), and today I do my first 'resource/welcome fair,' meeting potential students. Campus Edge has hired a part-time staff person to help me out, the little is doing great at daycare and pretty great at home (we have no real complaints, although her sleeping and eating habits are a bit haphazard), and I've spent quite a bit of time this summer resting (by reading lots, biking, and enjoying Lydia). So we're all as ready as we'll ever be!

I don't know what this year will bring. I do hope for the following:
- Matthijs will enjoy more freedom in his program (after the comps get finished),
- Campus Edge will reach more people, especially those struggling with faith,
- I will continue to love and delight in my job, but also be able to work on (and finish up a good draft of) my dissertation,
- Lydia will continue to be healthy, cheerful, and independent, and that we will all enjoy her growing ability to communicate.

Most of all, I pray that we will be able to welcome the challenges and adventures of this coming year with joy and courage.

Finally! Biking with the little

This weekend I finally got to go out with the little on my own bike. It's hard to describe how happy this made me. I really like biking, especially as a way to add exercise to my day, and Lydia loves being outside and seeing things, so getting a bike seat on my bike has been a goal and desire of mine for awhile. While biking with children is standard in the Netherlands (and something we did together at Christmas when I borrowed my mother-in-law's bike), it's not quite so normal here, so it took quite a lot of research and effort to make it happen here (without spending an enormous amount of money).

The first challenge was that my old Dutch bike was not in very good shape - as much as I love how it's built, it's become a one-speed (in low gear). I figured I'd soon tire of biking the 5km (with 2 hills) to and from day care with an extra 25 pounds on the back. So first I had to get a new bike, and I wanted one where I could sit up straight, wear a skirt with, and have the gear chain mostly covered. All of these things are standard on most Dutch women's bikes, but it took me quite awhile to find an American bike which made me happy. 

And then we needed to find a bike seat that fit my bike. I ended up buying two different kinds, and Matthijs put together and attempted mounting both of them (one of them also on his bike), without much success. Last Friday, Matthijs tried once more to make it happen - it finally worked after replacing the rack on my bike with an older and wider one we found in the garage. 

Yesterday, I finally had the joy of going on a family ride. It did not disappoint, as I loved it as much as I'd hoped I would, and the little seemed to enjoy it pretty well, too (despite being forced into wearing a helmet). 

Grappling with faith and doubt

A recent article highlights what we as campus ministers do. I appreciate the focus on pastoral care and justice that the article brings forward, as well as the honest acknowledgement that as pastors we struggle with knowing how to respond well to questions related to sexuality (especially connected to LGBT+) and with doubt.

A few quotes:

Verhoef: “We used to live with a strong sense of transcendence . . . [but] faith is under pressure. And living out our faith with doubt is so common today on university campuses (and elsewhere of course). How can we as chaplains make space for doubts, support faith, welcome questions, and be hospitable to those to whom the doubts have turned towards unbelief?” . . .

Every CRC campus pastor is “trying to figure out how to get good at campus ministry in this day and age .... [and that means] addressing the needs of persons who are LGBT is front and center and very much in the life and work of campus ministry,” said Mark Wallace. 

Campus pastors always keep in mind that they are bringing the entirety of the gospel, its full message of loving your neighbor, to every aspect of the campuses they serve, said Wallace. 

Verhoef said that making a place for persons who identify as LGBT is important, but it can present challenges: “How do we stand as pastors in the CRC with one foot in the CRC moral theology and also one foot on a university campus that has a dynamically different perspective?” . . . 

“I have a lot of conversations about what to do when they do begin to question — even to the point where they're not sure what or if they believe. I see this as a movement forward, but it's hard to figure out how to describe as positive to churches such an apparent movement away from [certain] faith,” said Kronemeijer-Heyink.

In the end, said Verhoef, a core value of CRC campus ministry is to create communities in which students of many faiths or of none at all feel comfortable and have a sense of belonging. In this kind of community, students can let down their guard, get know one another — and hopefully — find God, he said.

The only thing I miss in the article is that I wish the author had emphasized more how we as campus ministers need to recognize how much the Holy Spirit is part of our conversations as people struggle: we have seen how questioning leads people to know and love God more fully.

Reflecting

I feel like my reflections these days are not all that profound. My deepest thoughts are those of thankfulness. Thankful for God’s gracious protection over my family and myself; thankful that Lydia is continuing to grow into a cheerful, curious, and independent individual; thankful for Matthijs’s presence in my life; thankful for my job and that I get to walk alongside people in their faith journeys.

It's not that I don't have questions and things I wonder about. In fact, I have lots of questions: 

• How do we encourage Lydia’s growing independence while providing appropriate boundaries
• How do I make space for her independence when so much of my happiness has been linked to hers this past year (a good result of hormones at the beginning, but it’s not healthy for either of us if our happiness stays too closely linked)? 
• How do I nurture my relationship with Matthijs, especially when both of our lives are quite full and Lydia (rightfully so) takes a lot of our time and energy? 
• What do rest and recuperation look like, especially when vacations (and Sundays) now involve a very active small child?
• How do I love and care for those in my life, not just Matthijs and Lydia, but especially the people who I have come into contact because of my work? 

I’m still working through the answers to these questions (and a bunch more related to work and developing my academic and professional self). I feel like some days I’m doing a great job striving to know how to live well: faithfully honoring God. And some days I just feel a bit overwhelmed by everything. But I am thankful to have the sense of God’s presence, especially through the people around me who are helping me out and providing encouragement.