This has been a week of tough things. I wish I had a better word than "things" to use here, but nothing else seems to fit. Between illness and loss in my seminary community, difficult conversations at work, scrambling to get organized for what may be overly-ambitious holiday plans, and scary medical issues in my extended family, I feel pretty lucky to still be in motion this week. The temptation to just stay in bed while the world moves around me has been hard to overcome every morning.
In the midst of these situations, though, I also find myself taking more seriously one activity I decided to undertake this Thanksgiving season. I'll just go ahead and admit: I log into Facebook everyday, multiple times a day. (Perhaps it is an element of my addiction to knowing what is going on in the world. I also listen to NPR every morning, and read 2 newspapers online daily...) One of my roommates decided to join a friend of hers in posting a "thankful" status every day that she logs in, as a reminder of the season we are in, and the many good things in our lives. I decided to hop on board.
I began with things like, "I am thankful for coffee" and "I am thankful for sunlight." Even the "Today I am thankful for Jesus" was a bit tongue-in-cheek.
But, curiously, I find myself thinking more deeply about the things for which I am truly thankful, even in the midst of tragedy and tears, unsettled lives and uncertain outcomes.
Today, I am thankful for the sacred rhythms of my faith; for a God who hears our prayers every moment of every day, and who continues to invite us to come forward in remembering the work done for us through Christ and the Church.
I'm not about to say that a Facebook status update is a sacred rhythm, or a deeply spiritual act of any sort. Just that I find it curious the many ways that God reminds us of God's presence and work in our lives and invites us to take part in the Kingdom. I pray that we all experience this in the midst of tough weeks and unexpected circumstances.
What are you thankful for this season?
Showing posts with label Thoughts on Faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts on Faith. Show all posts
Thursday, November 19
Wednesday, February 25
Penitence and Confession: No More Driving?
Today was Ash Wednesday, a day when the Church around the world gathers to consider its relationship to God, to offer repentance and confession, and to vow changes for the Lenten season.
This evening our church bulletin described this Lenten season, beginning today, as a time "particularly appropriate" for new beginnings in faith, and for returning to the Lord. We sang together the simple prayer, create in me a clean heart, O God, and read in the Scriptures about lives lived in true worship. As we were symbolically marked with ashes, we were asked to believe the Gospel, to be cleansed as we remembered our baptisms, and to remember that we are from dust, and to dust we shall return. It was a beautiful juxtaposition of our humanity and Christ's divinity. The ash cross on my forehead was a powerful reminder of the salvation offered to me in one act on the cross, and in every day of my life.
I left for church having not given a whole lot of thought to giving something up for Lent (I don't usually), or even considering what I might change for the next 40 days. I believe that Lent is not a time of deprivation for sacrifice's sake, but a time of considering what needs changing in my life to make room for God and the sacrifice God's work asks of me.
In a conversation with a good friend, musing about what this sort of deprivation/life-change/new habit might look like, it occurred to me that one way I succumb to a life of excessive luxury is very simple and often looked at as a necessity: my car. Yes, I own one in the city; yes, it can be very helpful, and occasionally necessary. But, equally YES: I drive way more than is necessary, in a city already full of cars and expensive gasoline. I have chosen this luxury of independence, last-minute decision making, and (sometimes) general laziness over the very sensible, and often more-affordable, plethora of public transportation methods available within a very short distance from my home. And so, beginning with the season of Lent, I will strive to make this luxury a thing of the past, to be more conscious of where and how I drive. I am giving up driving in the city limits for the next 40 days; public transportation for me it will be. I say this knowing there are instances where I will be in a car (such as tomorrow night when I am coming home with my roommate from a taping of Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me! downtown, and she will have her car as she is on her way home from a hospital in Joliet); I also do not see a way around driving my car this weekend when I will leave Chicago entirely to go visit my family in the central part of the state.
It bothers me a bit to have to caveat my Lenten resolution for change, but I think the heart of the decision is sound: I don't ever need to drive to my job, I rarely go anywhere that is not within walking distance or easily accessible by a nearby bus or El line. Instead of choosing, in these instances, to be lazy and convenient, to cut myself off from my surroundings by locking myself in Stella the Avenger (yes, that is my car's name), I will choose to walk, take the bus or El, and make adjustments so this is possible. It may mean staying a little closer to home for some groceries, and will for sure mean planning time in a better way so as to not be late for everything.
I think it will be good, though. I will find myself with some time in transit that I did not before, and I will be looking for a way to make that a time for connection with my spiritual life, and the life surrounding me. I look forward to encountering many new faces and experiences, and not refilling my gas tank for a month!
This evening our church bulletin described this Lenten season, beginning today, as a time "particularly appropriate" for new beginnings in faith, and for returning to the Lord. We sang together the simple prayer, create in me a clean heart, O God, and read in the Scriptures about lives lived in true worship. As we were symbolically marked with ashes, we were asked to believe the Gospel, to be cleansed as we remembered our baptisms, and to remember that we are from dust, and to dust we shall return. It was a beautiful juxtaposition of our humanity and Christ's divinity. The ash cross on my forehead was a powerful reminder of the salvation offered to me in one act on the cross, and in every day of my life.
I left for church having not given a whole lot of thought to giving something up for Lent (I don't usually), or even considering what I might change for the next 40 days. I believe that Lent is not a time of deprivation for sacrifice's sake, but a time of considering what needs changing in my life to make room for God and the sacrifice God's work asks of me.
In a conversation with a good friend, musing about what this sort of deprivation/life-change/new habit might look like, it occurred to me that one way I succumb to a life of excessive luxury is very simple and often looked at as a necessity: my car. Yes, I own one in the city; yes, it can be very helpful, and occasionally necessary. But, equally YES: I drive way more than is necessary, in a city already full of cars and expensive gasoline. I have chosen this luxury of independence, last-minute decision making, and (sometimes) general laziness over the very sensible, and often more-affordable, plethora of public transportation methods available within a very short distance from my home. And so, beginning with the season of Lent, I will strive to make this luxury a thing of the past, to be more conscious of where and how I drive. I am giving up driving in the city limits for the next 40 days; public transportation for me it will be. I say this knowing there are instances where I will be in a car (such as tomorrow night when I am coming home with my roommate from a taping of Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me! downtown, and she will have her car as she is on her way home from a hospital in Joliet); I also do not see a way around driving my car this weekend when I will leave Chicago entirely to go visit my family in the central part of the state.
It bothers me a bit to have to caveat my Lenten resolution for change, but I think the heart of the decision is sound: I don't ever need to drive to my job, I rarely go anywhere that is not within walking distance or easily accessible by a nearby bus or El line. Instead of choosing, in these instances, to be lazy and convenient, to cut myself off from my surroundings by locking myself in Stella the Avenger (yes, that is my car's name), I will choose to walk, take the bus or El, and make adjustments so this is possible. It may mean staying a little closer to home for some groceries, and will for sure mean planning time in a better way so as to not be late for everything.
I think it will be good, though. I will find myself with some time in transit that I did not before, and I will be looking for a way to make that a time for connection with my spiritual life, and the life surrounding me. I look forward to encountering many new faces and experiences, and not refilling my gas tank for a month!
Wednesday, January 21
Abundantly More: my prayer
Holy God, Father, Friend-- keeper of mercy and grace far beyond what we can imagine. We turn to you this day, this new year in our lives. We desire more than we know how to request. We yearn for a full realization of the Day of Your Kingdom, and pray that today we are but one step closer.
What we have learned this week is that more compassion is required of us...
This week millions of Americans witnessed what many thought was not possible.
...that even more effort is required of us...
Holy God, Father, Friend-- we pray today that we envision and live this compassion, that all our efforts are focused on the Kingdom, and not simply the nation.
For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every famil*1617181921y in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever. Amen.
What we have learned this week is that more compassion is required of us...
This week millions of Americans witnessed what many thought was not possible.
...that even more effort is required of us...
Holy God, Father, Friend-- we pray today that we envision and live this compassion, that all our efforts are focused on the Kingdom, and not simply the nation.
For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every famil*1617181921y in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever. Amen.
Sunday, November 30
Prepare the Way
Today began one of my two favorite seasons of the year: Advent. (My other favorite is Easter.)
Advent is a time of waiting with great hope and joy; it is a time of celebrating the Christ-child who came, the Christ-man who lived, and the Christ who will come again to this world. It is a time of reflection and remembering; prayer and awe; chorus and community. Advent is a season of family, of food, of friends, of gifts given and gifts received; Advent is, too often, the time of the year when we truly remember who it is we are as members of the body of Christ, and why it is we are members of that same body.
Some of my favorite songs sung in our congregation center on this simple phrase, "Prepare the Way." This simple phrase with a deep theological and overtly practical meaning. Prepare the Way. What does that mean in our churches, in our world, in our country, in our lives? What does it mean this particular season of Advent?
This year my church is traveling a journey of praying through Advent together. We have put together a small book to guide us, including words of Scripture, words of our Church Fathers and Mothers, and words of our community. I am excited for this journey together, and for what it may ignite in our community for the rest of our seasons together.
But as this season of Advent begins, I am also a bit trepidatious (if that word can even be used in this context). The past few months have not been easy ones, with the mountain of school work, the intensity of my job-work, and what is apparently a larger battle with being healthy than I thought. Tonight, this is cause for reflection on what it means for me, Megan, to prepare the way for the coming Christ in my own life. It seems to me that there are things that will need changing...
Advent is a time of waiting with great hope and joy; it is a time of celebrating the Christ-child who came, the Christ-man who lived, and the Christ who will come again to this world. It is a time of reflection and remembering; prayer and awe; chorus and community. Advent is a season of family, of food, of friends, of gifts given and gifts received; Advent is, too often, the time of the year when we truly remember who it is we are as members of the body of Christ, and why it is we are members of that same body.
Some of my favorite songs sung in our congregation center on this simple phrase, "Prepare the Way." This simple phrase with a deep theological and overtly practical meaning. Prepare the Way. What does that mean in our churches, in our world, in our country, in our lives? What does it mean this particular season of Advent?
This year my church is traveling a journey of praying through Advent together. We have put together a small book to guide us, including words of Scripture, words of our Church Fathers and Mothers, and words of our community. I am excited for this journey together, and for what it may ignite in our community for the rest of our seasons together.
But as this season of Advent begins, I am also a bit trepidatious (if that word can even be used in this context). The past few months have not been easy ones, with the mountain of school work, the intensity of my job-work, and what is apparently a larger battle with being healthy than I thought. Tonight, this is cause for reflection on what it means for me, Megan, to prepare the way for the coming Christ in my own life. It seems to me that there are things that will need changing...Friday, October 31
Pondering Silence, Fear, and Political Leanings
Last night I had the privilege of pondering faith and politics with a dear friend. As I walked home through the unseasonably warm evening, a phrase - perhaps the title of a future article? - kept running through my mind:
This comes out of a recognition that I am tired of specific issues being tied so closely to specific political parties. There are positions I take on issues, tied to my fundamental beliefs as a young, Evangelical Christian, that would not jive with the rest of the world which identifies itself as "liberal." But there are many attitudes, positions, and ideals tied to the "conservative" and "Christian right" that I don't ascribe to. Where is the middle ground where we are allowed to speak without feeling like we are violating either our faith or our public responsibilities?
So I ask you, my friends, what are you afraid to say, for fear of being cast out of your chosen allegiances? What issues do you find it difficult to choose a side on, because neither side fully reflects what you actually believe?
The Things Young "Liberals" Are Afraid to Say
This comes out of a recognition that I am tired of specific issues being tied so closely to specific political parties. There are positions I take on issues, tied to my fundamental beliefs as a young, Evangelical Christian, that would not jive with the rest of the world which identifies itself as "liberal." But there are many attitudes, positions, and ideals tied to the "conservative" and "Christian right" that I don't ascribe to. Where is the middle ground where we are allowed to speak without feeling like we are violating either our faith or our public responsibilities?
So I ask you, my friends, what are you afraid to say, for fear of being cast out of your chosen allegiances? What issues do you find it difficult to choose a side on, because neither side fully reflects what you actually believe?
Thursday, April 17
To those for which and for whom spring was made:
To the dogs and birds, the squirrels, the butterflies and earthworms;
to the people who can no longer sit indoors;
to the rays of the sun that have finally reached through the clouds --
together, we shall shout a resounding 'amen!'
to the people who can no longer sit indoors;
to the rays of the sun that have finally reached through the clouds --
together, we shall shout a resounding 'amen!'
So maybe that is a bit melodramatic. But in all seriousness, the new appearance of a spring that might just be around to stay is just what the doctor ordered to fight my winter-time melancholy.
And it strikes me profoundly in its hindsight relationship to something a dear friend said last week. In a conversation about the continued need for spiritual growth, both personally and in our relationships, she commented, "...you know, it just has to be there. It doesn't have to be loud or frantic..."
This spring has approached not abruptly, but quietly, calmly, hesitantly even. The air has been growing warmer, not necessarily obviously, but steadily. Spring did not pounce frantically on our city, but teased its way into our lives.
How often I expect the loud, frenetic pace of life, though! I am seldom content to sit, watch, and absorb the slow progress of the changing of seasons or the work of God in my life and those that surround me. I want it to slap me upside the face, so I am sure not to miss it. I am not good with time as determined by others.
But perhaps all of these things are more glorious in the quiet, steady, slow realization. The Hebrews writer begins his all-stars list of the great faithful with the statement that "faith is being sure of things hoped for, and certain of things not seen." It is not precedented with "These people are pillars of faith because they went after what they saw and wanted, took no time for patience, and wouldn't take no for an answer." Nothing says quiet and steady like "hoped for" and "not seen."
John's gospel, as well, alludes to a need for continued rest and times of waiting: "Abide in me, and I in you. ... Abide in my love." Abiding, in my limited understanding, is a state of being; it is not inactivity, but it demands a grounding in peace, I think.
So today I welcome the need for things to not be "loud or frantic"; I rejoice in the calm awakening of spring. I simply lift my eyes to the glorious sun, through which the Son is blessing the earth, though it be quiet, steady, and slow.
And it strikes me profoundly in its hindsight relationship to something a dear friend said last week. In a conversation about the continued need for spiritual growth, both personally and in our relationships, she commented, "...you know, it just has to be there. It doesn't have to be loud or frantic..."
This spring has approached not abruptly, but quietly, calmly, hesitantly even. The air has been growing warmer, not necessarily obviously, but steadily. Spring did not pounce frantically on our city, but teased its way into our lives.
How often I expect the loud, frenetic pace of life, though! I am seldom content to sit, watch, and absorb the slow progress of the changing of seasons or the work of God in my life and those that surround me. I want it to slap me upside the face, so I am sure not to miss it. I am not good with time as determined by others.
But perhaps all of these things are more glorious in the quiet, steady, slow realization. The Hebrews writer begins his all-stars list of the great faithful with the statement that "faith is being sure of things hoped for, and certain of things not seen." It is not precedented with "These people are pillars of faith because they went after what they saw and wanted, took no time for patience, and wouldn't take no for an answer." Nothing says quiet and steady like "hoped for" and "not seen."
John's gospel, as well, alludes to a need for continued rest and times of waiting: "Abide in me, and I in you. ... Abide in my love." Abiding, in my limited understanding, is a state of being; it is not inactivity, but it demands a grounding in peace, I think.
So today I welcome the need for things to not be "loud or frantic"; I rejoice in the calm awakening of spring. I simply lift my eyes to the glorious sun, through which the Son is blessing the earth, though it be quiet, steady, and slow.
Sunday, March 2
Hermeneutically, I'm a 75
Scot McKnight, noted theologian and author (and my former professor at North Park), developed a little quiz to help us get at our hermeneutics. The way we read and interpret scripture has great bearing on how we live out and interact with our faith and communities on a daily basis. So, for a Sunday evening activity, I thought I'd take a little stab.
My score of 75 puts me well into the "progressive" category. McKnight's explanation of that category is this:
A 75 (out of 100) puts me into the middle range of this category, which McKnight admits is a broad-reaching span of nearly-moderate to pretty radical. I can't say I'm terribly surprised; I am of the Willow Creek/Emerging Church/Social Justice Gospel generation. But I hope I remain somewhere in the middle of the progressives; I pray I don't get so caught up in contextualizing for accessibility that I miss the point of the Gospel.
Take the quiz here, and then read about your results here.
My score of 75 puts me well into the "progressive" category. McKnight's explanation of that category is this:
...the progressive tends to see the Bible as historically shaped and culturally conditioned, and yet most still consider it the Word of God for today. Following a progressive hermeneutic, for the Word to speak in our day, one must interpret what the Bible said in its day and discern its pattern for revelation in order to apply it to our world. The strength ... is the challenge to examine what the Bible said in its day, and this means the progressives tend to be historians. But the problems for the progressives are predictable: Will the Bible's so-called "plain meaning" be given its due and authoritative force to challenge our world? Or will the Bible be swallowed by a quest to find modern analogies that sometimes minimize what the text clearly says?
A 75 (out of 100) puts me into the middle range of this category, which McKnight admits is a broad-reaching span of nearly-moderate to pretty radical. I can't say I'm terribly surprised; I am of the Willow Creek/Emerging Church/Social Justice Gospel generation. But I hope I remain somewhere in the middle of the progressives; I pray I don't get so caught up in contextualizing for accessibility that I miss the point of the Gospel.
Take the quiz here, and then read about your results here.
Wednesday, February 20
yes, i am personally bringing sexy back
OK, so the title of this post is a bit misleading. In fact, completely misleading. But it got your attention, didn't it? Ha.
Today I apparently feel like I have much to say, in the middle (I believe) of a season where I am to listen more than I am to speak; where I am to absorb and explore and hash it all out. I also believe that at the end of this season I might have some more answers than I do right now. But the journey there is proving interesting.
One reason for this is that I am sitting at my desk at home with Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz open next to me, to a passage I was reading last night as I was heading to bed. On top of this passage, holding the book open, is a post-it note pad that my roommate gave me for Valentine's Day, bearing the phrase that is the title of this post (now you get it...): Yes, I am personally bringing sexy back. This is a bit of an inside joke for us, and perhaps the BEST post-it note pad I have ever seen. But it strikes me funny, or odd, or maybe just completely inconsequential (can't decide which) because of the passage that I turned to as I pondered what I had read last night. In Donald Miller's words:
I was discussing this book with a friend who is not unlike Donald Miller himself, or what I imagine Donald Miller is like, anyway. But we were discussing how difficult it can be to read a book like this; how difficult I am finding it right now. Not because of the words, or even the ideas, but because of the straight-up conviction it holds. Miller writes, "I am learning to believe better things. I am learning to believe that other people exist, that fashion is not truth..." His learning to believe these things demands that he is also learning to live these things, and all the "un-coolness" they hold.
So I have to ask: where am I on this spectrum of belief and life? In a world where Justin Timberlake dictates what is cool, can I ignore the coolness for truth, and not confuse the two? Can I be content in doing the opposite of "personally bringing sexy back" -- because it means living in a way that is believing a much deeper and more profound truth than MTV, Macy's, Visa, or Verizon can ever sell?
Today I apparently feel like I have much to say, in the middle (I believe) of a season where I am to listen more than I am to speak; where I am to absorb and explore and hash it all out. I also believe that at the end of this season I might have some more answers than I do right now. But the journey there is proving interesting.
One reason for this is that I am sitting at my desk at home with Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz open next to me, to a passage I was reading last night as I was heading to bed. On top of this passage, holding the book open, is a post-it note pad that my roommate gave me for Valentine's Day, bearing the phrase that is the title of this post (now you get it...): Yes, I am personally bringing sexy back. This is a bit of an inside joke for us, and perhaps the BEST post-it note pad I have ever seen. But it strikes me funny, or odd, or maybe just completely inconsequential (can't decide which) because of the passage that I turned to as I pondered what I had read last night. In Donald Miller's words:
Here is the trick, and here is my point. Satan, who I believe exists as much as I believe Jesus exists, wants us to believe meaningless things for meaningless reasons. Can you imagine if Christians actually believed that God was trying to rescue us from the pit of our own self-addiction? Can you imagine? Can you imagine what Americans would do if they understood over half the world was living in poverty? Do you think they would change the way they live, the products they purchase, and the politicians they elect? If we believed the right things, the true things, there wouldn't be very many problems on earth.Miller goes on to discuss the "un-coolness" of real, deep-seated, action-inducing Christian belief, and this idea he once had to write a story with that would make Christianity cool. And then to ponder what it is our lives really say about what we believe. Can we confront the challenge to live what we believe, or even see how what we live is more truly what we believe than what we say we believe?
But the trouble with deep belief is that it costs something. And there is something inside me, some selfish beast of a subtle thing that doesn't like the truth at all because it carries responsibility, and if I actually believe these things I have to do something about them. ... Even our beliefs have become trend statements. We don't even believe things because we believe them anymore. We only believe things because they are cool things to believe.
I was discussing this book with a friend who is not unlike Donald Miller himself, or what I imagine Donald Miller is like, anyway. But we were discussing how difficult it can be to read a book like this; how difficult I am finding it right now. Not because of the words, or even the ideas, but because of the straight-up conviction it holds. Miller writes, "I am learning to believe better things. I am learning to believe that other people exist, that fashion is not truth..." His learning to believe these things demands that he is also learning to live these things, and all the "un-coolness" they hold.
So I have to ask: where am I on this spectrum of belief and life? In a world where Justin Timberlake dictates what is cool, can I ignore the coolness for truth, and not confuse the two? Can I be content in doing the opposite of "personally bringing sexy back" -- because it means living in a way that is believing a much deeper and more profound truth than MTV, Macy's, Visa, or Verizon can ever sell?
Wednesday, January 30
Grace astounds
"I will love God because he first loved me. I will obey God because I love God. But if I cannot accept God's love, I cannot love Him in return, and I cannot obey Him. Self-discipline will never make us feel righteous or clean; accepting God's love will. The ability to accept God's unconditional grace and ferocious love is all the fuel we need to obey him in return." (Donald Miller; Blue Like Jazz)I have recently started reading Miller's Blue Like Jazz, well after it is fashionable to do so. I missed the boat on this fad in Christianity (like I often do). I picked it up after noticing it on some friends' bookshelves, and asking them what they thought. Both friends told me that they never got through it because it is too self-involved. From what they said, I fully expected the pages to ooze self-indulged pop faith philosophy.
Thus far, though, I have been surprised. Perhaps I am too self-involved, but I am being challenged by much of what Miller is writing, whether it be because it is quite different from how I approach my own faith, or because I resonate quite closely with his self-revelations.
The above quotation is one of the latter instances. Grace astounds me. If I allow myself the existential indulgence, I can be crippled by the awareness that nothing I can ever do will overcome my unworthiness to receive and be saved by the grace of God. I am stunned to inactivity, and beat down by the many failings that become so apparent.
But how great that grace is that brings me Miller's words, reminding me of what I already know: that it is not about me, but all about God's love.
I don't know if this book will continue to challenge me, or what I will find in the next 150 pages, but I go to bed tonight encouraged that I am not the only person that has ever been confronted by her own humanity, and wondered how to fight the good fight in its wake.
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