Because romping around in song à la Julie Andrews might be all it takes to embrace the beginning of a new school year like taking hold of an ice cream cone (and distract us momentarily from the barrage of natural disasters already heralding the season).
Crisp spines on textbooks and fine marginalia
Matriculation and profs in regalia
History lectures on prophets and kings
These are a few of my favorite things!
Reading and writing and researching papers
Footnotes and endnotes and hoarding the staplers
Bibliographic citations that sing
These are a few of my favorite things!
Worship in chapel with good-humored preachers
Old bathroom sinks with nice new non-splash features
Ready to take on intensives in spring
These are a few of my favorite things!
When the cold bites, when the grade stings,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad!
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Mercies in Disguise
It is with great sadness that I write that our seminary community has lost a wonderful student, classmate, and friend, Esquire. She extended a warm welcome to me during my first campus visit and helped me figure out that Drew was, in fact, to be my new home. She had a beautiful smile and a strong spirit, which energized and inspired the community. Her absence will be all too noticeable as we return in the fall.
The last time that I saw Esquire was a chance meeting at Seminary Hall; I was taking an intensive course over the break. As we talked, I told her how good it was to see her and how much we missed having her there. That conversation is even more unforgettably poignant to me now; it remains a reminder to me not to leave these simple and yet important things unsaid.
This Sunday, I'll be singing the song "Blessings" in church. It's a wonderful piece that first found me at just the right time (while I was driving along the Interstate, as it were) and spoke to me loud and clear just when so much seemed confusing and unsure.
And so, at this time of mourning, I would like to offer a prayer of gratitude and hope. I believe that sometimes it is the most difficult experiences during which we are most healed, guided, and strengthened, perhaps in ways we do not even understand. And I also believe that we may, for a period, perceive distance from God or question God's will and character before we can (re-)embrace the fullness of the Spirit within us.
My prayer comes in the form of these lyrics written by Laura Story. I will share this piece now and on Sunday in memory of Esquire and in honor of all who still struggle with loss, uncertainty, and the trials of an earthly life. May we be ever more open to God's grace and healing.
(Photos above by Sungchun Ahn, posted to the Drew Worship album, Fall 2010.)
We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering
All the while You hear each spoken need
Yet love is way too much to give us lesser things
'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?
What if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?
We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough
And all the while You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe
'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?
And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?
When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home
'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can't satisfy?
And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?
Lyrics and music by Laura Story
© New Spring Publishing
Friday, August 5, 2011
Give Up Everything You Have
This comic by David "Naked Pastor" Hayward, "graffiti artist on the walls of religion," explores the idea that we may need to be willing to relinquish more than our physical means in order to be at peace with God.
"Trash Your Theology"
Of course, Hayward and some of his readers discovered a rather meta loop, unable to avoid theologizing about the possibility of relinquishing one's theology. But the significant point remains: that if we go so far as to ascertain that our own understandings each somehow fall short of Ultimate Truth, it seems inevitable that there will need to be some sort of adjustment involved before either we embrace Truth or Truth embraces us... whatever the case may be.
The most common interpretations of Jesus' command for someone to give up everything and follow him are to leave behind one's former work or personal life (the first disciples, for instance) or to sell one's possessions (the wealthy man who received exactly that word of guidance).
Certainly, material and monetary accumulation and major shifts in one's path are all worthwhile topics for discussion and self-reflection. These matters are more profound than self-denial or suffering. Loss of this nature opens up the possibility for an incredible gain. Consumer culture tends to teach us that the only good "loss" is weight loss. What little else are we readily willing to give up?
But simply put, as Lois A. Lindbloom writes, when we say "no" to one thing, we simultaneously say "yes" to something else, and vice versa (Cultivating Discernment As a Way of Life). I would extend that: when we say "no more" to one option - in habit or lifestyle, relationship or career, location or mindset - we simultaneously embrace something new, even if we aren't quite sure yet what it is.
So I find the idea of dying to self as an ideological liberation to be inspiring and perhaps less thoroughly explored terrain. The first time I noticed the concept articulated well was in the book Three Simple Rules: A Wesleyan Way of Living.
Author Rueben P. Job writes: "Are we ready to give up our most cherished possession - the certainty that we are right and others wrong?"
Questions for Discussion and Reflection:
What do you think you may need to shed before you can move on? Consider the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual facets of your life.
Today, what might God be calling you to let go? ...to embrace?
Meditate or journal on your views about loss.
What do you think it would look like to attain a balance of trusting in what you believe to be true and giving up the certainty that you are right?
Of course, Hayward and some of his readers discovered a rather meta loop, unable to avoid theologizing about the possibility of relinquishing one's theology. But the significant point remains: that if we go so far as to ascertain that our own understandings each somehow fall short of Ultimate Truth, it seems inevitable that there will need to be some sort of adjustment involved before either we embrace Truth or Truth embraces us... whatever the case may be.
The most common interpretations of Jesus' command for someone to give up everything and follow him are to leave behind one's former work or personal life (the first disciples, for instance) or to sell one's possessions (the wealthy man who received exactly that word of guidance).
Certainly, material and monetary accumulation and major shifts in one's path are all worthwhile topics for discussion and self-reflection. These matters are more profound than self-denial or suffering. Loss of this nature opens up the possibility for an incredible gain. Consumer culture tends to teach us that the only good "loss" is weight loss. What little else are we readily willing to give up?
But simply put, as Lois A. Lindbloom writes, when we say "no" to one thing, we simultaneously say "yes" to something else, and vice versa (Cultivating Discernment As a Way of Life). I would extend that: when we say "no more" to one option - in habit or lifestyle, relationship or career, location or mindset - we simultaneously embrace something new, even if we aren't quite sure yet what it is.
So I find the idea of dying to self as an ideological liberation to be inspiring and perhaps less thoroughly explored terrain. The first time I noticed the concept articulated well was in the book Three Simple Rules: A Wesleyan Way of Living.
Author Rueben P. Job writes: "Are we ready to give up our most cherished possession - the certainty that we are right and others wrong?"
Questions for Discussion and Reflection:
What do you think you may need to shed before you can move on? Consider the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual facets of your life.
Today, what might God be calling you to let go? ...to embrace?
Meditate or journal on your views about loss.
What do you think it would look like to attain a balance of trusting in what you believe to be true and giving up the certainty that you are right?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Respect the Differences
While preparing my materials for the coming year of youth ministry, I did some internet searches for discussion topics and stumbled across a list of suggested writing topics for teen penpals over at YouthOnline.ca.
Click to enlarge image.
The AmenAbility Lady in me just has to ask. Why is "spirituality" the only thing on here for which the compiler(s) thought it necessary to add a friendly reminder that penpals "respect the differences" between them?
I understand that spirituality is an intensely personal thing, but color me amused that there seems to be no general guidance offered at the get-go for people to be, say, generally respectful of one another.
Other suggested topics range from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Reality TV" to "Government change" and "War." Are they implying that they don't anticipate any political friction, no differences in opinion about Giles or the United Nations or Wherever's-Got-Talent?
Let's keep it real here, OK?
Now that's more like it.
On a related note... Hit it, Aretha!
I think if everyone belted this out upon waking each morning, the world just might be a better place...
The AmenAbility Lady in me just has to ask. Why is "spirituality" the only thing on here for which the compiler(s) thought it necessary to add a friendly reminder that penpals "respect the differences" between them?
I understand that spirituality is an intensely personal thing, but color me amused that there seems to be no general guidance offered at the get-go for people to be, say, generally respectful of one another.
Other suggested topics range from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Reality TV" to "Government change" and "War." Are they implying that they don't anticipate any political friction, no differences in opinion about Giles or the United Nations or Wherever's-Got-Talent?
Let's keep it real here, OK?
On a related note... Hit it, Aretha!
I think if everyone belted this out upon waking each morning, the world just might be a better place...
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
An Open Letter to God
Hi God,
Driving along the Interstate one day, doing nothing particularly blessed or interesting or special at the time, I embraced a promise that I have been struggling to receive. This has been a difficult season in my life, sometimes for reasons even I do not understand, yet I know your love is strong, your intentions are good, and your joy and mercy will prevail.
You know in the last several years I have experienced strange variations of the so-called dark night of the soul, each time so unique in the way that I was aware of your absence and aware or unaware of your presence. I know that dark nights are not all that rare, and I'd figured each person's experiences are unique to them, but I never dreamt that one person could have such varied experiences under a common category. This year, the theme has been a sense of your absence and in the most bizarre way to me yet; with it came a deep sense, somewhere in me that I can't identify, in which I - thought, believed, heard, understood? - 'This' is important. This is not eternal; you will feel differently again. It is part, and only part, of the journey. Continue on it.
I had never been aware of your "distant presence" before. In the past, we have wrestled. I would try to pin you down and before I knew it you'd wriggle free, amorphous and magnificent as ever. You never seemed to want to pin me. You took more joy in the movement, the tumbling, the energy. Even when I was stubborn and doubtful and angry, you loved me; loved that I brought my questions and frustrations to you.
Later on, we wrestled again, but instead of actively participating, I broke away, wandered off. I didn't want to fight anymore. Unfortunately, it wasn't just that I didn't want to fight you, but also that I didn't want to fight for you. And while at the time I occasionally recreated the scene in my mind to show you as the one who walked out, it became clearer to me that, even in my longing for you and recent growth in you, it had been me who had to get away. It was soon after something of a spiritual transformation, simple and yet significant, and perhaps I was scared, or resistant, or even unsure that what I had discovered was real. And even when I thought I had dug myself into a pit, you reached in and swept me up into your arms. All I had to do was look up. There you were.
But this time, it has felt like you have withdrawn from me, even without truly abandoning me, and I still don't really know why.
Have you left this time? Or am I recreating the scene in my mind that way to spare myself the truth that I have strayed again? I have so many questions, and I find it difficult to bring them to you when I can't seem to tell where you are. I don't know how you will come back to me, or how I will come back to you, or why I'm in the midst of a dark night even as I keep finding myself to be where I ought to be.
And while I knew when this experience began that this is indeed part of the journey, part of what I must learn, whether so that I can do the work you would have me do or simply so that I can be the soul you intend for me to be - I think I "know" it now. Thank you.
Looking forward to this being more of a dialogue again. Wrestling match would suffice as well.
With love,
Kimmery
Driving along the Interstate one day, doing nothing particularly blessed or interesting or special at the time, I embraced a promise that I have been struggling to receive. This has been a difficult season in my life, sometimes for reasons even I do not understand, yet I know your love is strong, your intentions are good, and your joy and mercy will prevail.
You know in the last several years I have experienced strange variations of the so-called dark night of the soul, each time so unique in the way that I was aware of your absence and aware or unaware of your presence. I know that dark nights are not all that rare, and I'd figured each person's experiences are unique to them, but I never dreamt that one person could have such varied experiences under a common category. This year, the theme has been a sense of your absence and in the most bizarre way to me yet; with it came a deep sense, somewhere in me that I can't identify, in which I - thought, believed, heard, understood? - 'This' is important. This is not eternal; you will feel differently again. It is part, and only part, of the journey. Continue on it.
I had never been aware of your "distant presence" before. In the past, we have wrestled. I would try to pin you down and before I knew it you'd wriggle free, amorphous and magnificent as ever. You never seemed to want to pin me. You took more joy in the movement, the tumbling, the energy. Even when I was stubborn and doubtful and angry, you loved me; loved that I brought my questions and frustrations to you.
Later on, we wrestled again, but instead of actively participating, I broke away, wandered off. I didn't want to fight anymore. Unfortunately, it wasn't just that I didn't want to fight you, but also that I didn't want to fight for you. And while at the time I occasionally recreated the scene in my mind to show you as the one who walked out, it became clearer to me that, even in my longing for you and recent growth in you, it had been me who had to get away. It was soon after something of a spiritual transformation, simple and yet significant, and perhaps I was scared, or resistant, or even unsure that what I had discovered was real. And even when I thought I had dug myself into a pit, you reached in and swept me up into your arms. All I had to do was look up. There you were.
But this time, it has felt like you have withdrawn from me, even without truly abandoning me, and I still don't really know why.Have you left this time? Or am I recreating the scene in my mind that way to spare myself the truth that I have strayed again? I have so many questions, and I find it difficult to bring them to you when I can't seem to tell where you are. I don't know how you will come back to me, or how I will come back to you, or why I'm in the midst of a dark night even as I keep finding myself to be where I ought to be.
And while I knew when this experience began that this is indeed part of the journey, part of what I must learn, whether so that I can do the work you would have me do or simply so that I can be the soul you intend for me to be - I think I "know" it now. Thank you.
Looking forward to this being more of a dialogue again. Wrestling match would suffice as well.
With love,
Kimmery
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