A Season of Sanctification

On August 30th, 2015, I will be ordained as an Elder of Community of Christ (CofC).  The sacrament of ordination will take place at Kirkwood Community of Christ, my home congregation, in which I've been called to the priesthood.  Those who know me will understand that this is a life-changing event for me.  You'll understand why, when I sat at the kitchen table in their home and our pastors told me that I had been called as an Elder, my first response was to cry tears of joyful relief.  At that moment, I felt a release from my fears that, after all the years and determined effort I'd put into earning the education and undergoing the training to be a professional minister, it might not be God's calling for me.

I never had a "burning bush" kind of call story to share in seminary; I had the memory of a progression of decisions.  First, as a sophomore at CofC's Graceland University, I decided I loved religion enough to make it my major and to ultimately structure my professional life around it.  This was a gut-level conviction that happened without input from logical concerns, like what I would ever do for money.   Every step after that - becoming more and more involved in campus ministries, consulting the career advisory department about my options for making money being religious, taking career assessments, learning about chaplaincy, going to seminary in order to become a chaplain - simply seemed to make sense.  There were no prophetic dreams, only a simple, calm conviction that this is a right thing for me to do.

For awhile, I worried that I'd simply called myself to ministry.  That would maybe be a positive example of self-empowerment from the humanist perspective, and I've been pretty darn humanist all along.  But from my perspective now as a baptized and confirmed member of Community of Christ, it's felt wrong.  We're a church that proclaims God's continuing revelation, the belief that God continues to communicate to us, as individuals and as a church, what it is God wants us to be doing.  We believe that all are called, and while all people are empowered to offer ministry in their daily lives, a prophetic call to ordination is what gives a person the authority to be a minister within the religious functions of the church.  We have a lay priesthood structure, meaning that many adult members of any given congregation have been ordained to various offices of the priesthood and serve avocationally, making their money in other careers.  The fact that I've gone to seminary, earned a Master of Divinity, and become a paid minister without the authority of ordination is very unorthodox.  I've worried that I might be wrong to assert myself this way, without the explicit approval of God and the church. 

When I received my calling to the priesthood, I began to know that I am good enough for God, and that God has called me to ministry.  The tears I cried when I was called were cleansing in that way.  Of course, my mind is prone to doubt, and it's not done yet.  But I've come to believe that my best chance at having a peaceful and righteous heart when I receive the sacrament of ordination is to center myself in that "simple, calm conviction" again.

So, beginning today on August 3rd, I'm entering into my very own:

SEASON OF SANCTIFICATION

A Time of Intentional Preparation
for the Sacrament of Ordination

August 3^rd – 30^th, 2015

1.       PRAYER: Pray every day, at 6 AM, 12 PM and 6 PM.[1]

2.       SCRIPTURES: Read the Books of Psalms, Luke & Revelation.

3.       COVENANT: Recommit to keeping the 10 Commandments.[2]

4.    DIET & EXERCISE: Resist sugar; give up soda; walk 30 minutes & drink 100 oz. of water every day.

---

[1] Pray memorized Merton prayer, and an extemporaneous prayer for sustaining strength
and guidance.

[2] Most challenging bits: No lying, envying, taking God’s name in vain (no cursing in general); practice the Sabbath; be careful not to worship anything but God.

To be sanctified is to be made holy, and to be set apart for God's purposes.  In creating a "Season of Sanctification", I wanted to challenge myself to practice new disciplines that would prepare me, both physically and spiritually, to enter into ordained ministry fully focused on God.  Compiling this ambitious list of goals required that I be honest with myself about my sins, and over the next four weeks, I'll be undergoing a prayerful effort to get right with God.

I'll be blogging often in an effort to reflect on and integrate what I learn from the experience.  I welcome your prayers of support.

* * * * *

THE THEO-LOGIC:

Historically, our church, as a part of the Mormon movement, has emphasized sanctification through works.  We've believed that we can get ourselves right with God through hard work towards God's good, both in terms of how we live well in our own bodies and how we promote wellness (health, wisdom, justice, wholeness) throughout God's creation.  There's a lot of strength and conviction in that perspective, and I find it incredibly empowering.  But if we believe that we must successfully  fulfill duties and follow rules in order to be saved by God, then any failure, perceived or actual, could be devastating. This is why grace is such an important counterbalance.  Community of Christ today emphasizes God's grace as a gift given freely to all people, which means that God loves and accepts us even when we "miss the mark".  But sometimes I feel that we've gone a little far in the opposite direction, and are too hesitant to make it clear that we need to make intentional and difficult changes in our behavior, because it's not good enough to keep making mistakes.  God deserves better, and we deserve better.  To be better, we need both works and grace.  We need to try hard to be righteous, and we're reassured that we'll be forgiven if we don't succeed - but then we have to try again.

There Are Ashes on My Face

I'm almost surprised to see that I haven't posted in over a year.  ALMOST surprised, but then I remember that I have very little discipline and not a lot of patience for translating the mental chaos into useful words.  But today seems like a good day to start again! 

It's also a good day to participate in a religious ritual steeped in centuries' worth of meaning and identity.  My denomination (Community of Christ/RLDS/progressive Mormon) doesn't practice this ritual, but that's one of the many beautiful things about being a hospital chaplain - slipping into the chapel for new religious experiences.  

Ash Wednesday.

Or: I have a smudge on my face, and I'm still not sure what it means.

As an avidly pro-death-awareness kinda gal, I dug right into the, "From dust you come, and to dust you will return."  I learned from context clues that's not so exciting a prospect for a lot of the other folks getting smudged (if the ashes were sage rather than palm, we'd have some intriguing interfaith potential here).

All snark aside, the significance of bearing this mark so far, for me, is that I genuinely felt something when the priest, a colleague whom I like very much, made the sign of the cross on my brow.  And when I, as a non-Catholic, brought up the rear for the communion line and received a blessing instead - something like, "May God bless you and protect you" - I felt that, too.  In my own religious context, these experiences are absolutely sacramental.  The fact that I feel a connection with the clergyperson enacting the sacramental encounter, and believe that he meant what he said, adds another layer of oomph.

Additionally, bearing the mark of the ashes today will be significant because, a year and a half after my baptism and confirmation, I still don't claim the Christian identity very easily or very often.  That's largely because I serve a diverse community and need to be pastorally accessible.  But I figure, since I found myself moved to say, "Merry Christmas" to more strangers in this one last holiday season in this hospital than in all the years previous, I want to be intentional about wearing ashes today.

Finally, I've decided to be very intentional about trying to do Lent for realsies this year.  Today, I'm giving up comfort snacking.  I'm sure you can appreciate that hospital chaplains are as likely as nurses or social workers to get emotionally exhausted midday and head to the gift shop for cheap candy (seriously, why is it across the hall from my office and why are Lemonheads $0.20?!), or to the cafeteria for fried food (seriously, WHY do they serve chicken strips and onion rings every single day at a hospital with a dedicated diabetes department?).  So, for 40 days I'm going to resist soda, candy, fried things, and everything else that makes me feel like I have cotton candy-brain.

That starts tomorrow, right?

P.S. Here's an ash selfie I'm too ashamed to post on Facebook after reading Patheos' thoughtful #AshTag article - which really got me thinking about participating this year.

The Holy Spirit Is a Rubber Duckie

When I was younger, I took showers that lasted forever.  I ran up my folks' water bill by sitting in the tub and enjoying the warm running water.  I would take the time to sing, or play out conversations, or just pray.  It annoyed the hell out of my mom, of course, but it was practically a spiritual discipline for me.  Something told me that God was in the water, all the little droplets, and I soaked it all up.

In the last few years, I've taken shorter showers, focused on the goal of cleanliness and dreading having to dry my thick hair.  I don't often take the time to luxuriate in the sacred waters.  I don't go swimming, though I used to love it.  Maybe I'm just resisting the vulnerability of being a raindrop away from God.

And yet I do, almost always, spend a minute in the shower trying to find that sweet spot in the shower spray.  Do you do this too, or am I just weird? Tilting your head back and swaying back and forth until you find the one angle at which the water hits your head perfectly to flow unbroken over your ears, so that all you can hear is the water and your own heartbeat.  I love that, and don't want to move or breathe in case I hear the break in the flow.

God is in the water.  Many of us are taught that God is omnipresent, always present and in everything.  And there's that one scene in V for Vendetta when the female lead stands in the storm and proclaims that "God is in the rain"; good stuff.*  

When I close my eyes and imagine my happy place, it always seems to be an inner tableau of a dark pool of water, in a forest rippling with moonlight.  Lots of lush greens and deep grays.  Silence.  

And when my husband and I get punch drunk envisioning all the things we'd want in a dream house, I always dwell on the idea of a big, deep bathtub, with a wide frame with room for flickering candles and a stereo to play watery music - probably Enya.  I would LIVE in that tub.  I'd lock the door, turn off the lights and float away.  I would spend every moment I could feeling warm and clean and safe and quenched.

Praise be to God.

* Except that, when you Google for an interpretation, folks conclude the words mean distressing things about the nature of God and suffering.  But that's a different, impending blog post.

Mix CDs as Spiritual Discipline

A few weeks ago, I got a card in the mail from one of my favorite young women.  This college freshman was one of my favorite youth group members in the UU church at which I served as student minister, and I am tickled pink that we're corresponding, mostly via random cards and lots of rambly stories about life.  The P.S. in this last card said, "'I Love You and Buddha Too' - check it out. It's stuck in my head. <3"

Now, if there is anyone reading this blog who has not heard this song, this either means that I have not been doing my job as your friend or family member, or that strangers are reading my blog (which seems like it'd be an achievement!).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DTiJHnF8tY

Check it out - it'll get stuck in your head!

This is one of my favorite songs in the whole damn world, so I generally try to share it with everyone I know who could possibly appreciate it.  The fact that my friend would spontaneously offer this particular song seemed like kismet.  I immediately began planning a mix CD in my head to offer right back to her, with all the songs that were so precious and formative for me when I was in college.  There are just too many of them, so I started imagining an epic 5-disc mix CD EXPERIENCE, with each disc having a different theme and follow a distinct plotline - needless to say, I get a little intense about it.  I felt eager to share this sacredness with someone I value, and to contribute something tangible to her life.  It's like some kind of weird, intuitive ministry I've been practicing for years.

There are very few people with whom I feel close that I haven't tried to foist a mix CD or two onto over the course of our relationship.  It's an act of love, tied closely to my gift-giving "love language", Gary Chapman-style.  As I've reflected on this habit of mine - and my gratitude that so many friends have humored me - I've realized that making a mix CD of songs I have carefully chosen for their poignant messages and tempos that fit whatever a friend is experiencing is a hugely meaningful practice for me.  If the recipient listens closely, I feel like I can share this emotional experience with him, and help him feel understood and encouraged exactly where he is in life at that moment.  And best yet, it's a physical token of my affection which can sit on a shelf, ready to share and be experienced whenever he wants to, at his leisure.  And it'll still be there tomorrow.

That's where the spiritual discipline ties in.  One of the aspects of God's nature which is most important to me is the fact that God is always.  I can trust that God will be right here with me today and tomorrow, and while God is changed by human experience, God's lasting and essential goodness can be relied on.  There are artifacts in our home which I let clutter up our shelves simply because their existence, in reminding me of loved ones and evoking special memories, resonates in me with the constant conviction of God's -ness.  So when I make you a CD, I give myself the lofty and impossible goal of creating an artifact which can be relied on to resonate with you on a deeply human level, echoing sacredness.

Or, admittedly, maybe I'm in a mood that day to just give you awesome jams I think you'll dig.  

Either way, it means I love you.  

I Am Pro-Abortion

When I was in high school, our social studies class did an activity in which small groups created an ideal presidential candidate. I'll admit that I had a considerable amount of influence over how incredibly liberal our guy (yes, guy - if only I had been more of a feminist those days) was. But the presenter for our group happened to be a young conservative person, and when reporting the characteristics we'd given our candidate, he either unconsciously or snarkily read "pro-choice" as "pro-abortion". At the time I scoffed and thought, NO ONE identifies as "pro-abortion". It's too controversial and cringe-worthy, and no one actually promotes abortions themselves - the focus is on the freedom of choice.

Since I've started working at an abortion clinic, I've been morbidly fascinated by and seeking out pro-life propaganda, presumably because I like feeling righteously indignant. They, too, say "pro-abortion" when the fairer and more accurate term is "pro-choice". All my progressive friends are "pro-choice", as well as most of the liberal pastors I know, and edgy young adults I know from college when we spent so much time sitting around envisioning the utopic future we'd help realize. We're all "pro-choice", and pro-individual freedoms in general. 

I was curious to know whether anyone DOES have the balls to claim for themselves the descriptor "pro-abortion". I read this article - "Yes, I'm Pro-Abortion", by Lauren Rankin. I don't know this writer, and I'm not familiar with the PolicyMic site, but I was persuaded by these lines: 

The statement that “I’m not pro-abortion, I’m pro-choice” is inherently defensive. Rather than embracing abortion as a viable and respected choice, it sidelines abortion; it delegitimizes that valid choice. By rhetorically sidelining abortion, we are distancing ourselves from that choice. If a woman wishes to have an abortion, then I support abortion.

This argument is compelling, as far as I'm concerned. I think I have always been vaguely aware of that element of the “not pro-abortion but pro-choice” stance – it makes it seem like no one is willing to stand in the controversial, unpopular place where abortions happen and are inherently good things.

So I will go ahead and be an advocate for abortion, if in my own quiet way. Professionally, I don’t argue one way or another – the focus is still on the choice, made by every woman, for her own individual life. But I am willing to start sorting out what this new claim can mean for me, what I can do with it without seeming either heretical or heartless.

One concern is that, both as an employee of an abortion clinic and as a woman called to ministry, who belongs to a particular denomination, I don’t want to speak for anyone else. I’m new enough both in my job and in my church to be unsure what official stances may be. But speaking only for myself and from a place where these thoughts and beliefs are just beginning to become clearer, I think I can honestly suggest a few ideas.

I believe that a fetus in the first trimester of gestation is not a person. There’s an exciting variety of religious approaches to the question of personhood in relation to the preborn (yeah, definitely still looking for a less hokey term). You’ve got theologians focusing on the idea of “quickening”, which I understand to be the argument that at the point when the pregnant woman begins to feel the fetus moving in her womb, the fetus begins to be a person in her own right. There are arguments about the point of “ensoulment”, the exact time in which an eternal soul joins with the physical potential of a fetus. My own favorite is the emphasis on Genesis 2:7: “Then the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being” – seems like this means that it’s the first breath rather than the heartbeat which signifies the beginning of life. This correlates to the stance that a fetus has independent human rights once she is viable, able to survive on her own without dependence on her mother. All of these arguments seem to agree that a fetus in the first trimester is not yet a person in her own right, and I have found that insight compelling.

Beyond that, of COURSE there’s the argument that the life and livelihood of the person that already lives as an independence person trumps the potential life and livelihood of a fetus. I don’t just mean in cases of problematic pregnancies which involve fetal anomalies, threaten the mother’s life, or are the result of trauma. I mean also the more awkward or seemingly selfish situation in which a healthy fetus seems on track to develop into a healthy child, but the pregnant woman does not want to have a child in this time, place, or relationship. The born are more important that the unborn, and I am VERY confident of that.

Most of the ideas are works in progress as I find solid ground to stand on in my identity as a church member and clinic employee. But even as the boundaries of the phrase seem hazy and I’m fighting the instinct to cringe away from what feels like a callous statement – I am pro-abortion.

Home Prayers -- for my husband

The day can be crazy.
Besides the fact that the commute 
and a few of the coworkers do drive you crazy,
there's also the work.

The paycheck I contribute
is earned in the best possible way, I think --
by caring for those in crisis,
helping them navigate their choices
as they find a clearer vision for their own
tomorrows.
It can be hard, of course,
letting their stories into my life,
a collection of anecdotes based on the
rawest moments I've witnessed.
I feel rooted in a long history of human experience.
I love the work, and its heaviness.

And you, you're almost exactly where you want to be,
helping to build a future made of systems and clouds,
and so many things I'll never remember the names of.
You are so deeply passionate about the prospect
of pushing beyond the boundaries of human experience,
exploring possibilities, boldly going where no one has gone before.
You love the work, and its fast pace.

But I know you also worry a great deal.
Your mind races imagining our future
as it is shaped by every new day and bill and paycheck and dream.
Your own future, too, just you
and the man you want to be, who I already love.
My mind often feels slapdash and exhausting, and worse
are the dark knotted places I go when left to my own devices.
I worry too -- mostly about the past, things said years ago or done yesterday.

Then we come home,
and we are present.
And I realize that in this house,
in this room, in this bed,
we have built a sanctuary,
made of pillows and blankets and some good love.
It's where we talk through everyday events,
and the ends of every fight.
It's where we each try to imagine what the other experiences in a given day,
and we again give up trying to see clearly
and try instead to listen.

Where the cat purrs as if in prayer,
and the dog howls a hallelujah,
as we quietly worship the peace we have found.

Grace vs. the Economy (& Me)

I got a job today!   I am so excited, and feel so blessed, to be chosen as a new counselor for Hope Clinic for Women.  Even before the second interview, I knew that I badly wanted this job – that, of all the jobs for which I’d applied this summer, this was the one about which I felt most passionate and fired up.  Of course, in my mind, that meant I was most unlikely to actually GET the job.

Talking it over with my friend, I found myself saying, “It’s not so much that I don’t have a God of abundance, but that I have issues with ‘deserving’ grace, and we live in a culture of scarcity.”  Each part of that is true – but mostly the middle bit.

I had a hard time feeling hopeful this summer.  Panicky, desperate, despondent all made a few appearances, but hope was a challenge.  Unemployment has had a chokehold on some of the people I love for a very long time, and on some level I believed I didn’t deserve to get a job until they did.  It wouldn’t be fair – and I am determined, perhaps in vain, for my theology to be “fair”.

God IS abundance, of course – God’s inherently inclined to want and do the best for everyone.  But we get in God’s way.  Our economy and cultural worldview seems to prevent many business people from taking a chance on hiring folks, investing in them, embracing the opportunity to take care of neighbors by providing health care.  But even that is not fair; every business leader has a responsibility to their families, their employees, and their shareholders to protect livelihoods, and that may mean erring on the side of caution in many ways.  Or, you know, some folks are greedy – but not everyone.  The moral of the story is that there seems to be a low-grade panic throughout the economy, lessening only slightly over the last year or so, which makes job security very much scarce.

And now I have a job.  Someone has taken a chance on me and is willing to invest training in me so that I can serve people who need help.  I can hardly believe my good luck, and am irrationally worried that I imagined the whole hiring phone call.  But the fact is that I am hired, and that is so validating.

Coming up to my baptism next week, this morning’s news has reminded me that I need to reconcile my idea of an abundant God with my skepticism of grace.   On the one hand, believing that good and bad things just happen as a matter of luck means that God’s not involved in bad things happening to good people, which (kind of) takes care of the suffering & meaning issue.  On the other, this perspective gives almost ALL the power to the people, and contradicts my own felt need for the peace and humility of learning how to “let go and let God”. 

When my dad ordered a cake for the potluck after next week’s baptism service, he asked the bakery to write, “Welcome to Life More Abundant”.  That's going to stick with me, even beyond however long it takes for me to fully understand it.  In all this confusion of gratitude and doubt and guilt and joy, I want to focus on faith.  I want to be willing to live a “Life More Abundant.”