Lament: Proclaiming the Reign of Christ in Every Circumstance

31 03 2015

Recently, Columbia Bible College published their Spring 2015 of “Columbia Contact,” their bi-annual magazine. The focus of the issue is faith in the midst of suffering and pain. On page 7 is an article I wrote entitled “Lament: Proclaiming the Reign of Christ in Every Circumstance” in which I discuss why we need lament in our gathered worship, and how biblical lament can be implemented in a way that reflects reality while also revealing real hope and joy.Lament article

A few excerpts:

If we don’t lament in our congregations…

“we promote the idea that our gathered worship is reserved for the happy and well-fed. That those who struggle with sin or grief or poverty should just stay home. We declare them unwelcome in our midst. (This makes an interesting contrast to Jesus’ declaration that all who do not welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, and clothe the naked are, in fact, outside of his kingdom–Matt. 25:41-43.) By failing to lament in our gathered worship, we propagate a circumstantial faith–faith that is dependent on things going well–rather than faith that is dependent on the character and actions of God.”

Continuing…

“Thankfully, implementation of biblical lament is easier than it might seem. Sometimes, lament will be a simple expression of trust in the midst of an honest expression of circumstance…. Lament might be as simple as praying “I don’t know” in a circumstance that doesn’t make sense when considered alongside the goodness of God and his promises of love and mercy. Because I don’t have to have the answers, not to eh big ‘whys.’ What answer can I give my friend who recently lost a child? What answer can I give to those living with constant fear? There is, sometimes, very little to be said. What is needed, instead, is the ability to climb down into that dark corner and whisper with them, ‘I don’t know why. But I do know that God is good. I know that he loves you. And I will sit with you here in the dark until we start to see that light.'”

To read the full article, which explores the implications of lament for our world, as well as further ideas for implementation in our gathered worship–and to read other great articles in this publication–follow this link.





JESUS CALLED – HE WANTS HIS BODY BACK

2 03 2015

Stacey Gleddiesmith:

One of the wonderful things about blogging is that you sometimes cyber-meet someone who is a partner in the work God has given you. Paul Clark Jr. is the Director of Worship and Music ministries for the Tennessee Baptist Convention. He is wise, well-spoken, and well-read, and he writes one of my favourite blogs on the internet. The following post is a good reminder to us of what worship is and what it should not be twisted toward.

Originally posted on Paul Clark Jr's Blog:

Body of Christ This may sound overly blunt, and some may think does not even need to be said, but under an unction to do so, I need to posit that the church’s worship is not a proving ground for trying out a song, seeing how people react to new lighting effects, a cool video clip illustration, or a hymn arrangement. I am certainly not proposing that none of these innovations be used in worship. I am cautioning that one of the many ways Christian worship is stolen away from its sacred purpose is when it becomes utility experiment with the means rather than unadulterated focus on the ends. We are not gathered to market a worship product to consumers we dub “worshipers.” We are engaged in eternal sacred practice with the Bride of Christ to the glory of God.

The church is a body. It is not just a compilation of individual…

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Theologian Valentines

14 02 2015

Stacey Gleddiesmith:

Some special Valentines for my readers… enjoy. (I just wish I had thought of them first!)

Originally posted on The Monday Heretic:

A few years ago, I saw some hilarious Valentines based on dictators. And I thought, I should totally do that with famous theologians! (Because, you know, that’s how my brain works.) So here you go!

Also, if you don’t present the Calvin valentine with a bouquet of tulips, you are missing out on a prime pun opportunity. Just sayin’.

Theologians

Disclaimer: I have the greatest respect for all of these folks from church history and their contribution to the faith. I also think they might have found these amusing.

Any alternate caption ideas or ideas for theologians who aren’t featured?

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Joy in Lament: Faith Today

14 01 2015

Joy in LamentLast summer I gave an interview to a writer from Faith Today on the topic of lament. The resulting article is out, and well worth a read. Enjoy! Faith Today: Joy in Lament





New Year’s Reclamations – 2015

6 01 2015

Stacey Gleddiesmith:

I was going to post some resolutions for this year, but I decided I liked my friend Corrie’s resolutions so much, I would steal them for myself. Enjoy!

Originally posted on Pastor with a Purse:

In the past two weeks I’ve moved away from Hawaii, celebrated Christmas in Phoenix, bought a car and moved to California. It’s been 11 days of constant motion, packing and unpacking, traffic, goodbyes and hellos. So yesterday I took my Sabbath and went out exploring with no particular agenda. I ended up at the largest Starbucks I’ve ever seen and bought a latte. As I waited for my coffee, I noticed that every single person filling the twenty-odd tables had some kind of screen in front of them. People were sharing tables but no one was talking, making eye-contact, or smiling. It struck me as odd, for a room to be so full but so devoid of life.

I grabbed my latte and went to sit outside in the sunshine. For thirty minutes I watched the parking lot bustle with activity. Drivers zoomed in and out of parking spaces with…

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Resolving the Old Year

31 12 2014
Photo by Kevin Dooley, Flickr Creative Commons

Photo by Kevin Dooley, Flickr Creative Commons

Today is New Year’s Eve, although I prefer to think of it as Old Year’s End. Our culture glorifies the new, worshipping the latest trend, the vigor of youth, the newest products. We start forming our “resolutions” for the New Year and eagerly look ahead to what’s next… what’s new. We are urged to leave the old behind us–to forget and move on.

In the words of the Counting Crows, its been “A long December and there’s reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last.”

The word resolution has come to mean, at this time of year, “the act of determining” (thanks Webster). And I will think – tomorrow – about what I determine to add or take away from my life. Good habits I’m determined to form. Bad habits I’m determined to expunge. I think it’s a good practice, as long as we don’t treat it as a complete make-over. As long as we are realistic and care-full and kind with ourselves. (More about that – if I have time – tomorrow.)

Today, however, I want to take a moment to think about the year past. Because the word resolution is also about answering, about “solving again.” There is a cyclical reconsidering implied, and its etymology carries connotations of loosening and releasing. And there are things I need to answer for myself about this year. Things I need to loosen and release.

2014 was a good year in many ways. I am so happy with my new job at Columbia Bible College. It’s such a good fit for me and we have enjoyed reconnecting with our BC friends (and having a book budget!). But leaving Bon Accord has meant that we left a tight church community, that we no longer live in the vicinity of my family, and that my husband is currently unemployed. There is deep sadness in all of these things. Sadness that I need to take time over. There was also a release, in 2014, of our struggle with infertility. That is something I will need to reprocess, rethink, “resolve,” every year, I think, before I can dive into the next one. I need to ask again the question of how one fulfills a calling to parenthood without the gift of children. 2014 was also a year that brought joy and extreme sorrow and pain to some of our family and friends. Those joys and griefs are weighty – and as such they, too, deserve my time and reflection. I need to answer, to solve the question of how the good and the bad of this year have/will change me. Of how to loosen and release those joys and sorrow – not to forget or to “move on” – but to see them as a part of myself that I can carry forward rather than a weight that pulls backward. I need to loosen my self-concern and consider how to lift my head to care for my community. I need to pursue the question of how to continue to grieve and celebrate well – for myself and with others.

Photo by Ginny, Flickr Creative Commons

Photo by Ginny, Flickr Creative Commons

So today – as the old year fades away – maybe take a quiet moment to yourself to reflect on 2014. To pray. To resolve. To loosen and release any chokeholds. To ask the Spirit some of the burning questions the year has raised. To listen for God’s answer, however hard it is to understand.

Then raise a glass to the joy and sorrow – toast the old year, in all its spotted-glory, before you ring in the new.

 





Merry Imperfect Christmas (take 2)

4 12 2014
This morning at Columbia Bible College’s final chapel service of the semester I was given the opportunity to share a little bit, taking inspiration from a Christmas blog I wrote last year called Merry Imperfect Christmas. So this is a re-visitation of a concept that does, perhaps, need to be revisited. The permissions at the end were used as our benediction.
"Tangled Light" by Tom Cochrane, flickr creative commons

“Tangled Light” by Tom Cochrane, flickr creative commons

I hate watching TV at this time of year.

Too many perfect families (mom, dad, 2 kids, a dog) gathered around a perfect table… or in front of a perfect tree… finding each other the perfect gifts… lighting up with the prefect reactions….

And if anything does go wrong it goes adorably wrong. So the dog knocks over the Christmas tree, and everyone laughs and laughs (while looking at each other creepily)—and no one actually has to go over and clean up the mess. No one throws the dog outside and slams the door unnecessarily loudly or swears when they step on a broken ornament.

So we turn off the commercials and we head out to find that perfect gift, we buy all the perfect decorations, we try to perfect-up our families a little…

But it never really works, does it. We never get that “Christmas card” Christmas. Even if we do enjoy Christmas (and I do!), the warm fuzzies never quite live up to expectation.

Instead, we’re faced with reality: exams; papers to mark; families that are broken, falling apart, or simply not very perfect; wallets that aren’t quite as thick as they need to be to buy those perfect gifts; trips home that somehow never achieve that peace and rest we crave; Christmas pageants that involve bowling balls thundering across the stage of the church (sorry… inside Columbia Bible College joke).

But here’s the thing. We present these pageants—kids in bathrobes with tea towels on their heads, pillow-stuffed Marys, adorably grumpy inn-keepers—and, much as I love those pageants, we’re glossing over reality just like Christmas commercials do. We’re striving for our own version of perfection.

I guarantee you that no one sang the gentle strains of Silent Night as Mary sweated and strained in childbirth. And she did not receive into her arms a clean, contented, sleeping child. What baby sleeps through the birth canal? From what I’ve heard, they ALL come out crying.

And the stable—most likely a cave—would not have been as warmly and cozily straw-lined as we imagine. And there would have been poop. A LOT of poop.

And Mary was young. And her pregnancy made people stare and whisper and shun her.

This. THIS is how a king—no THE KING enters the world. Not in the perfection of a palace, with servants to wait on him and perfumed water to wash the indignity of birth-goo from his skin.

Not our God.

With noise and mess and stink—he entered our world. Screaming his little heart out. He entered our world.

And still he enters our mess and our noise. He enters our exams and the stacks of papers we have to mark. He enters our screwed-up families and our empty wallets.

Every year, quietly, without fanfare, without twinkle lights, tinsel, or gift wrap—he enters our imperfect Christmas.

He enters our imperfection and makes it his own. Takes it upon himself. And gives us instead his deeper, wider, higher vision of perfection.

“From our fears and sins release us. Let us find our rest in Thee…..”

 

So… let me give you permission for a few things:

This Christmas, you have permission to be tired sometimes, and not up for visiting with every relative and friend on the face of the planet.

You have permission to NOT buy the “perfect” gift for every family member and friend. Give coupon books of hugs. Make people use them.

You have permission to NOT look at Pinterest—not once. Not even a tiny peak to see what type of Christmas scent should be bubbling away on your stove. Nobody wants to smell your orange peels, cranberry, and vanilla anyway. In fact, forget about Facebook and Instagram too. No one is having the type of Christmas they say they are on social media. Not even you. Put it away.

You have permission to spend time with people rather than spend time getting things right. Go for walks. Let people help, rather than feeling like you have to pull everything together yourself. Some of my best memories involve visiting over a sink full of dirty dishes.

You have permission to hide away when you need to. Re-read a favourite book. Take a bath. Dig out some old music and re-enjoy it. Lock your door for an hour or two.

This Christmas, you have permission to NOT exude “Christmas Spirit.” What on earth IS that, anyway? Instead, pay attention to the Spirit. Notice the moments in which the kingdom of God breaks in—they will be small—and they will not look like our version of perfect.

This Christmas, you have permission to not be perfect. Or to have a perfect Christmas. Find a quiet space. Light a candle. And take time to read again the story of the God-baby. Who came to earth in dirt, and pain, and noise. Close your eyes and give Christ permission to enter the imperfection—to enter your mess and teach you a new way of being fully human.

Have yourself a merry, imperfect Christmas!








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