Tag Archives: Bible

Lent and a New Planner

A few weeks ago I purchased a new planner to help me organize myself better, because I am extremely unorganized in most areas of my life, and I find that I can’t remember things like I used to be able to remember them. I find myself double-booking, forgetting events, and generally getting overwhelmed and falling behind with things I need to pay closer attention to. I ordered a beautiful yellow planner with a big sunflower on the front—I like flowers—from Passion Planner. I will admit that they are a little pricey, but so far the extra touches and emails have made it worth it. One email was a weekly insert asking me to consider the ways in which I love myself and what I can do to remind myself of those things more regularly. Worthwhile.

A couple of things I love already are the way the planner has the user reiterate their goals, their focus each day, and their events. This should help me remember what drives me. The other thing I love so far is that the planner begins by having the user identify their core values; first they rank several values, then they group them, then they decide which three are their core values that motivate them, or that move them. In the end, I settled on three (each with a sub value, so six total): altruism/community, grace/peace, and wisdom/humility. If I am honest, these six values have been part of my guiding force for most of my life, and I am excited to intentionally work toward a better understanding of them, so I can better apply them in all areas of my life.

I mention all of this, because I had a difficult time discerning how to practice my faith this Lent. I knew I wanted to leave behind social media for at least these 40-ish days, because I have been spending way too much time just aimlessly scrolling. Today, for example, had I not given up social media, I may have missed out on my walk—no, I would have missed out on my walk because I wouldn’t have moved from the couch. If I had missed out on my walk, I wouldn’t have seen the herd of deer running through the brush in the wetlands preserve, I wouldn’t have heard the frogs peeping in the marsh there, and I may not have seen all of the geese, ducks, and other birds out doing their spring things. More importantly, one of my big goals for this year is to complete the Muncie 70.3, as I wrote in my last post. And, had I been scrolling, I would have spent one more day just sitting, not moving my body. To be honest, I am completely terrified about finishing this event. I know I can swim and bike, but the run/walk has me nervous!

In addition to giving up social media, which I understand in the grand scheme of this world isn’t earth shattering or really even a sacrifice, I have decided I am going to be intentional (again) about reading my Bible and trying (still) to make it through the entire text from beginning to end, but let me just say that Chronicles is just rough. Every single time. I guess I feel led to do this and to tell you about it, because I have also moved my membership (finally) from the UMC to the Episcopal Church, which I have loved for more than a decade. And, the best part of loving the Episcopal Church is they love me back, rather than just tolerating me, so I feel invested in my faith in a new way. I have been trying to get back into a deeper relationship with God for a few years now, and I’ve been missing some things, so refocusing is helping me think deeper and to try harder to rekindle that faith.

Finally, one of the best things happened to me while Bec was here visiting. If you know us, you know church is really important to both of us, because church is the outward expression of our inward faith. Just so we’re clear, our collective faith and belief in Jesus is the important part here, not the institution of church. But, I digress. What was cool is that we were asked to present the elements for eucharist at the Ash Wednesday service. I was hesitant because of my Brian (my brain when it behaves anxiously, what if I trip? what if I drop it? what if my pants are stuck in my butt crack? what if I forget to bow to the altar (which I did)?), but Bec was eager to do it because she is a communion steward at her church and isn’t afraid of being in front of people in any capacity, which I admire about her. We did it, and it was lovely, and all of the wafers and wine made it to the front of the church successfully. Since, we rarely get to see each other, and even more rarely get to go to church together, presenting the elements was an extra special gift for the two of us. To make it even more special, we were also celebrating our 12 anniversary or our handfasting ceremony. In short, the day was lovely and meaningful.

Joy

The third Sunday of Advent is all about joy, an emotion, a feeling, a posture that I wouldn’t name as something that comes natural to me. In fact, joy is really difficult for me to even wrap my mind around, let alone figure out how to feel or articulate. I do know that joy isn’t the same as happiness, and I also know that joy is a lasting state of being, a way of existence. I know that joy sustains us, even when we aren’t happy, and especially when are filled with sadness or rage.

Joy is the condition that allowed Julian of Norwich to hear God say to her, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” And it’s the underlying knowledge that, in fact, all shall be well, regardless of our circumstances. This past Sunday’s first reading was from Zephaniah, and while I rarely read the minor prophets—not for any reason, because the prophets are lovely—I found these words to be extremely challenging and comforting:

“The LORD, your God, is in your midst,
a mighty savior;
he will rejoice over you with gladness,
and renew you in his love,
he will sing joyfully because of you,
as one sings at festivals.”

According to Zephaniah, God sings joyfully because of us, and God rejoices over us with gladness. I love those images, and I’d like to keep thinking about us singing joyfully because of each other and rejoicing over each other with gladness. I am willing to believe that this may change our world. As we wait for Jesus to become real in this world on Christmas, we can be the light in the darkness, we can bring the joy, and we can provide hope. The first two lines of the quote above say that God is already in our midst, as a mighty savior, providing a feeling of safety and security.

Joy is a way of existing. Joy will sustain us.

Peace

Today, the second Sunday of Advent, is dedicated to thoughts of peace. As you may or may not know, peace is one of my favorite concepts, a word that I say frequently, my favorite part of the liturgy, and the signature of all of my emails.

I have spent a great deal of time in spiritual and theological thought about the way the concepts of peace and justice interact. How, for example, does Christ’s death ensure both justice and peace? How can we bring that same sacrificial love into our daily interactions to ensure both justice, which requires consequences, and peace, which requires harmony and benevolence. For me, this juxtaposition is the crux of all theological thoughts. How can two seemingly opposite ideas work together to usher in the Kingdom of God in our daily lives, and, as importantly, how do those same two concepts function in the theology of the crucifixion? Martin Luther says, “Peace is more important than all justice; and peace was not made for the sake of justice, but justice for the sake of peace.” I am still trying to decipher what I think about his ideas of peace and justice, but it’s reassuring to know that someone as influential as Luther also wrestled with this.

On a more practical level, if you’ve ever had a conversation with me, when we parted ways, I probably said, “Peace,” to wish you well as you walked away. For me, saying peace to a friend is more than just a simple goodbye, because I really want to help this world become more peaceful, and somehow I think if I say it enough, we might think about it more. And, it’s a simple way to wish someone well, like saying shalom, salaam, or namaste, which I know don’t simply mean peace, but are phrases that carry beautiful meanings, such as restoration, humility, and noting the divine in each other, inside them as well. When I say peace, I mean all of these things. Speaking things into being is a concept I hold close to my heart, and I want people to know that I want to restore my relationship with them, that I want to live in a posture of humility with them, and that I see the image of God in them.

Experiencing the divine is important to me and is one of the main reasons I attend the Episcopal Church. I can feel Jesus, the very presence of God, in the euhcarist, and I think that is facilitated by the passing of the peace earlier in the liturgy. Speaking and hearing the words, “Peace of Christ be with you,” moves me and fills my heart with a strong love that enables me to really feel the divine.

Finally, because my job is at a public school, and because there is quite a lack of peace in the educational world these days, I sign all of my emails with the word, “Peace,” because I hope, beyond hope, that somehow we can return to a more peaceful world. This world is filled with chaos and anger and honestly we’ve lost our ability to speak civilly to each other in so many situations, that I hope by wishing people peace, even in a simple way like an email signature, that we’ll stop for a second and consider what it might look like to live at peace with each other. So, maybe, when we don’t agree, we can talk through our disagreements in a real way and stop quoting talking points from the extremities to which we’ve moved. We can really listen to learn then respond after thought to each other, rather than not really listening to immediately respond to each other.

I started this entry by thinking about peace and justice. And, while I love peace, I do know that justice is necessary. For example, the justice of decolonization is necessary, but I also think that justice can bring peace. Maybe not in the beginning, as decolonizing this world would cause a great deal of strife, but in the long run, the long game, the peace could be so beautiful and so much like the Kingdom of God. I have so many more thoughts about how these two theological concepts work together, but I actually have to get back to work on what pays the bills, which is also the good work of shaping young minds to bring peace, and justice, to this world.

Peace to you.

James 1: Quick to Listen, Slow to Speak, Slow to Wrath

My favorite book of the Bible is James, so it is fitting that when I am trying for the first time in nearly ten years to begin a daily habit of reading Scripture, contemplating it, and spending some time thinking and praying, that I would begin back with James. James, the doer of the word, not just the contemplator. I like doing and being active and employing what I am learning. I certainly wouldn’t classify myself as a navel gazer, only, though I do a fair bit of that as I try to figure out how to act or use what I am learning. From an article by Saint Andrew’s Abbey, about the relationship between practice and contemplation: “Practice and contemplation were understood as the two poles of our underlying, ongoing spiritual rhythm: a gentle oscillation back and forth between spiritual ‘activity’ with regard to God and ‘receptivity.'”

Today I read the first chapter of James in the Lectio Divina style of reading. In short, in Lectio Divina, the reader quiets her mind, then asks God to guide her through her reading, then reads slowly and meditatively in order to parse out what God wants to show her that day. Then the reader has a prayer dialogue with God about that verse, then finally she rests or meditates in the meaning of the Scripture.

The verses that called out to me as I read this first chapter this morning were verses 19 and 20: “So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath; for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” I spend a lot of time listening to other people, particularly my students, so the beginning of verse 19 that says, be swift to hear and slow to speak reminds me how I should receive people, being real and present with the person who is directly across from you at any given moment.

The goal is to be intent about your interaction with the other person, focusing on the moment and hearing what that person is saying. It’s been one of my goals for the past two years to speak less and listen more deeply and intently. Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t, and when I don’t, I find that I later regret that I wasn’t more intent on hearing the ideas, dreams, and concerns of the person with whom I was talking.

The second part, really the third point of verse 19 is to be slow to wrath. Generally speaking, for me, I find that I am more able to be slow to wrath if I have listened well and if I converse with a person to understand who they are, why they think like they do, and how I fit into their world if I do. I think being slow to wrath comes from really taking time to interact with people and to have difficult conversation and in depth sharing from ideas and thoughts, no matter diverse or distinct those ideas may be.

Further, I believe the reason that verse 20 says, “for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God,” is that when we don’t listen to others and when we don’t engage others in discussion, we tend to act rashly and with an anger that is superficial and dangerous. However, if we do take that time to listen to both our fellow humans and to God, and when we engage in that heavy conversation and that deep interaction, we don’t get angry quickly.

Instead, we save our anger for things that anger God, like systemic problems that result in disenfranchised groups being further pushed aside, or like domestic problems where people are put into dangerous situations simply because our laws are archaic, or monetary difficulties because churches and government programs are overwhelmed with people who need help.

In short, I think verse 20 is telling us not to avoid anger in every situation, like I was taught when I was younger, but it’s telling us to not waste our anger on human concerns that can be resolved by listening and talking through those concerns. The last few words of verse 20 say that our anger “does not produce the righteousness of God.” This end phrase leaves room for Christians to be angry, but not about human trivialities. We are to reserve anger for those things, which God perceives as unrighteous, unholy, then our anger can produce the righteousness of God.

It’s especially important to notice that these verses are sandwiched between a verse about being birthed in the word of truth, and two other verses about getting rid of wickedness and becoming meek in order to be doers of the word and not just hearers. Part of the appeal of the book of James for me, as I said at the beginning, is that James wants us to act. We are to use our quick listening and slow speaking in order to avoid wrath, but not in order to avoid acting; we’re just not supposed to act rashly and in human wrath.

This morning was a beautiful time of considering Scripture, which I haven’t done seriously in quite some time. Now to employ what I’ve learned and to continue this practice each day.

Fiction Friday, On Saturday

This week my students read a couple of texts that are worthy of note: “The Women Men Don’t See” by Alice Bradley Sheldon and the Old Testament book of Job. I’m not saying they are both fiction, but we’re studying the bible as literature, so we discussed how Job is part of the wisdom literature tradition. I’m not really going to say much about Job, except for that it was interesting watching church kids really read that text and try to figure out why their ministers or youth ministers had never mentioned Elihu…

“The Women Men Don’t See” is a strange story that, at first, seems to be your run-of-the-mill adventure story where some folks get plane wrecked and some of them wander away to find water or help while some of them stay at camp just in case they might be rescued. However, this story gets stranger and more awkward as it progresses, because the two people who wander away to get water find some other folks out there in the wilderness. The man, Don, hurts his knee on a weird mangrove root, and then it appears as if he also gets stabbed by one of the other folks, though the way Sheldon describes the stabbing is much similar to the way she describes his knee pain, so I wasn’t sure if it was a new injury or the same, just inflamed. At any rate, Ruth, the woman who is also questing for water, makes friends with the others, who turn out to be aliens that look like tripods. The intriguing part of this is that Ruth can understand their alien language, but Don can’t. In the end, Ruth takes her daughter Althea and leaves with the aliens, dumbfounding Captain Esteban and Don and leaving them there by the plain wreckage. See, it’s weird.

My students had an amazing discussion about the way the women in the story are described throughout the story as aliens or others, so they weren’t bothered by the fact the women could understand the alien language. In fact, my students were interested in the ways in which that then turned the tables and marked the two men in the story as other. Since through the first two thirds of the story women are described as interchangeable (Don can’t remember one of his secretaries from another), Other (as opposed to men), or mundane (they behaved by the manual). Once Ruth meets the aliens, the men then become the Other; they can’t speak the language, nor can they understand the customs. And as such, the women leave the men. I was bothered by the fact that the women only ended up having partial agency, because they were able ot then step out of their “manual” interchangeable roles, but only by the empowering force of the aliens. The students loved the idea that language can help turn the tables. Still, the text was a good one, and we’re going to discuss it some more this week.  They did an excellent job of using the de Beauvoir theory to discuss the text as well; let’s see how they do with “The Cyborg Manifesto” this coming week.