Taking a Break From Civilization As We Know It

020112

2012-02-01T08:25:00.003-06:00

i have wandered, again

draw me near, and then

sing me into your presence

your essence,

your love

surrounding me all around

my enemies pushing me

to the ground

my only hope

of course

is my hope in you

on my own, impractical

yet i try, when will i learn

when will i get a clue

your goodness, a thought in the past

your mercy too often expected,

forever though, it'll last

and yet, grace

but more than this,

a face that bears love

which will follow

all the days that i may live

until then,

for now,

today, lead me to those still waters

give me the bread

in order that i may live

just for today

Homily: What Will They See?

2012-01-30T11:04:00.004-06:00

(This is a homily from a Wednesday night service this past month. The scripture lesson was Mark 1.14-20.)

“What Will They See?”

First Presbyterian Church of Jeffersonville, IN

Adam R. Quine

01/25/12

Although I have only been here four months, it has been easy to pick up on what this church is about. While I do not want to steal Don’s thunder, I thought I’d get in on the fun with this sermon series of FPC, and how I may be only a part of this school of fish but for a while, my story is being shaped by the great story that is this church. The common thread of your story and my story is this call from Jesus to follow.

Perhaps this is why the lectionary text from this past Sunday grabbed my attention. Not only does this part of Jesus’ story include fishing [my most favorite of past times] it also captures a moment in the lives of the disciples that we all can relate to. Much like Don’s text from Sunday, this text too is about the calling of the first disciples. However, this text only says, “Follow me” with nothing to see yet. Instead, we have Jesus who does not even bother to ask if they would like to follow but rather says, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” In this invitation a promise was made to these disciples, a promise so good they left everything behind.

Now, because Mark leaves little room to determine just how soon Jesus appeared to these four disciples, I like to think they were intrigued by the declaration Jesus had just made, which declared “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” Jesus, in that statement, announced something new was happening, that in the midst of all that was going on economically and politically, God’s kingdom had broken into the world. I imagine then, this bit of good news captured the curiosity of the disciples, which lead them to explore how fishing for people would be a part of this declaration. Instead of asking “Mary Did you know?” I want to ask, “Oh disciples, did you know what you were getting yourself into?” Little did they know, these disciples were called to something else and this something else would change their lives, would change the world forever.

Jesus did the same thing for my life. Jesus at one point, on many occasions, entered into my life and interrupted that which was normal, comfortable. While I wanted to pursue a career that would set me up with a nice salary, benefits, and security for the future, I fell hook-line-and sinker to Jesus’ invitation to follow him so that I could become a ‘fisher of people’. What devastating blow to my idea of vocation. This was not what I wanted. This was not what my family wanted. After bobbing around with the idea for a while I stopped resisting the call. I, much like my assumption about those four disciples, did not know what I was getting myself into yet I trusted that whatever it was would be worth my time.

So here I am. And here you are, together wading (sitting in your case) our way through this discipleship thing. All of us at one point or another have encountered Jesus in a similar way that has lead us to this place, where we gather in an upper room, having just broken bread, where we too like Jesus and those disciples pray and read scripture together. Where we too find ourselves not quite making sense of what lies before us but following anyway because we too want to fish for people because we trust and know that God in Jesus Christ is up to something much larger than us. We are faithful because we trust that with us, in us, and through us, God is establishing God’s reign here and now and this is good news worth proclaiming.

Continuing on with Mark’s gospel we see Jesus takings the promises of God from the pas to the present through the means of healing those who were sick, freeing those who were in bondage by unclean spirits, and cleansing leapers. By restoring goodness to that which society had claimed bad, Jesus reels in for us the vocation to which we are called to as disciples. To be ‘fishers’ of people means to enter into relationship with humanity in its fullest, in every aspect, and by any means necessary. While the disciples gave up much by leaving their families, they gained so much more by discovering first hand God’s desire to be in relationship with all of humanity through a relationship with Jesus. That is the good news for the disciples who left it all, this is the good news for us who too have dropped our fishing poles and followed Jesus that we too enter into the God’s love affair for the world. It is up to us to proclaim that indeed, God’s kingdom has come near, repent, and believe the good news.

The call of Jesus to these first disciples was to make them fish for people. Little did they know the risk, vulnerability, and intimacy this call to community would involve. Thanks be to God that they did leave their wet nets and stinky fish behind, for in their participation in declaring God's goodness to the world, we have what we have now: a community like none other, a community of hope and a vocation of love. That is what we have come to see in the faithful and reconciling ministry of Jesus Christ: a new community emerged, one based on love, peace, and hope that God’s up to something greater than what this world has to offer. Jesus invites all to embark on this new journey of creating a community where all are welcomed, where truth in love is proclaimed, and lives are transformed through the bonds of graceful fellowship shared between one another.

I leave you with this bit of Good News from twentieth-century Russian Georges Florovsky who wrote:

“Christianity entered history as a new social order, or rather a new social dimension. From the very beginning, Christianity was not primarily a ‘doctrine,’ but exactly a ‘community.’ There was not only a ‘Message’ to be proclaimed and delivered, and ‘Good News’ to be declared. There was precisely a New Community distinct and peculiar, in the process of growth and formation, to which members were called and recruited. Indeed, ‘fellowship’ was the basic category of Christian experience.”

Friends, thanks be to God for this faithful community, who is not afraid to declare good news to the world Thanks be to God for a people like us who are not afraid to be what God wants people to come and see: a community rooted in the love of Christ. Amen.

Jesus Discoveries

2012-01-30T09:03:00.003-06:00

There is a quote that goes something like this:

"What we say about God is less about God and more about us."

For more than 3 weeks now I have been in over my head reading, thinking, writing, studying, and contemplating about Jesus. For two hours a day, in a formal setting at least, 12 of us and a professor would sit around and talk through all that we had read. Beginning with the incarnation and ending with how Jesus shapes Religious Pluralism. If I wasn't in class fidgeting in my seat and rapidly taking notes, then I was with a group of friends trying to articulate who Jesus is. I'll admit, emotions for me ran high at times for I could not understand why people could not get past this or let go of that. I mean hell, I DID and it is about time that they did too.

Then something happened to me, in a slow and subtle way. For the first time I realized that I did not have to believe what everyone else does and they don't have to believe everything I do. While this may sound like a trivial revelation to some, especially those who are quite sure of what they believe, it was a moment of liberation for me. No longer did I need to feel threatened when someone could not grasp a concept that I did not struggle with. Also, I did not need to feel the same way when I could not connect the pieces of others theological perspectives. In a way, I learned that unity can indeed take place in a theological setting even when there are so many differences amongst people. What matters is that we learn to discuss with grace, we listen with intentional honesty, and we respond not out of frustration and anger, but out of a recognition of hopeful differences.

I was able to express myself and my colleagues responded with care, they sat with me while I fumbled for words, and said 'ah-ha' when I finally strung a few together and made sense. I learned from them about Jesus when they were Jesus to me by being patient and gentle, even in their articulations about Jesus. Funny how things work.

While I was writing my 17 page credo I had a moment I shared with some of my other colleagues that was also freeing. As mentioned before, for more than 3 weeks I had surrounded myself with books and articles by people who have devoted their entire lives to the person of Jesus. From Archbishops, to historians, feminist and womanist, gay and straight, black and white, and everything in between. These scholars, theologians, and pastors know what they think and much like what I was/am doing, they have done before. As a result, the emerged on the other side and the result being the works I was reading. Thus, they don't need me to believe what they do or what they write about. Rather, they present avenues for me to explore to help shape and solidify what it is I hold as central to my theology. The revelation was: my credo, what I believe about Jesus, need not and must not be simply a summary or a report of what everyone else believes. No, what I believe is what I believe. My voice, much like the voices of those writers we encountered in our course, matters and can only add to the theological conversation.

This was liberating for me.

Funny how all this happened while studying the figure who met people where they were in life and wanted nothing more than for them to tell their story. Jesus did not want people to compromise who God created them to be. Quite opposite, Jesus wanted them to live a life unique to their own.

Even in studying Jesus and picking a part my theological understanding of Jesus, even wrestling with the reality of how Jesus is different to so many people and coming to embrace the beauty that lies within this, I was able to experience the universal love that transcends and is included in all Christologies. In the confronting of my own Jesus I was able to see the many faces of Jesus and how they all resemble marks of my brothers and sisters. Marks that remind me that no matter what I say about Jesus, no matter how well or how poorly I may explicate my understanding, no matter how far away from my brothers and sisters I may be on a doctrinal issue, Jesus has brought hope, life, and love to those he meets.

Sinner or saint, what is said about God in the person Jesus, and no matter how much we expose about ourselves in our sayings about God, God loves us, Jesus lived this, and we now do too.

There is much to be learned about Jesus.

If only we let Jesus do what Jesus does best: teach.

Friday Sing Along

2012-01-20T16:05:00.003-06:00

It has been a goal of mine to provide some sort of music on Friday. Well, this has happened but maybe one or twice. However, since this is my writing space, I can do whatever I want!

So today you will get a new song.

I heard this song on the show "The United States of Tara" which aired on Showtime [and is available too on Netflix, which is where I watched it}. "The United States of Tara" was about a woman who suffered from 'DIDs' which is, Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder. The show is outlandish, provocative, and lovely all at the same time. I am including a tribute to the show as well to give you a taste of the comedy. [The show is rated MA for 'Mature Audiences', just to warn you {mainly it is for the language}.]

Fool's Gold by Lhasa de Sela appeared in season 3 of TUSoT. Hope you enjoy.

[The story behind the singer, Lhasa de Sela, is a sad one from what I know of. She recently died of cancer which is always sad, especially someone who is this talented and young.]

'All Are Welcome'

2012-01-19T07:24:00.003-06:00

Today for my Christology class is the day when I share a song/hymn and explain to the class why I like the Christology of the music. I have known of this song for a good few years and as soon as I heard it, I fell in love with it. Perhaps I know why now that I have engaged quite intensely with Christology: my Christology is heavily shaped/influenced/concerned with the ministry of Jesus. It is in the ministry of Jesus we learn who Jesus is [God in the world]. It was Jesus' ministry that got him killed for he confronted the powers and principalities, called into question practices that restricted God's love, and overcame the temptations of the world.

Christ lived a hospital life, one of extravagant selflessness, and dreamed that God's reign could in fact be actualized here.

This hymn helps me in remembering why I am where I am: we all are in need of the divine yes, reminding us that "yes, we are who we are because God has created us this way. Don't run from it. Embrace it and do so for others. 'Love your neighbor as your self. While you're at it, let Jesus love you too." It is my hope to one day build a house where people can come and find rest, peace, sanctuary, hope, and Christ within themselves.

(I have attached a video with the music. The lyrics are below the video.)

All Are Welcomed by Marty Haugen

Let us build a house where love can dwell
and all can safely live.
A place where saints and children tell
how hearts learn to forgive.
Built of hopes and dreams and visions,
rock of faith and vault of grace;
here the love of Christ shall end divisions:
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where prophets speak,
and words are strong and true.
Where all God's children dare to seek
to dream God's reign anew.
Here the cross shall stand as witness
and as symbol of God's grace;
here as one we claim the faith of Jesus;
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where love is found
in water, wine and wheat;
a banquet hall on holy ground,
where peace and justice meet.
Here the love of God, through Jesus,
is revealed in time and space,
as we share in Christ the feast that frees us;
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where hands will reach
beyond the wood and stone,
to heal and strengthen, serve and teach,
and live the Word they've known.
Here the outcast and the stranger
bears the image of God's face;
let us bring and end to fear and danger:
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where all are named,
their songs and visions heard
and loved and treasured, taught and claimed
as words within the Word.
Built of tears and cries and laughter,
prayers of faith and songs of grace.
Let this house proclaim from floor to rafter:
all are welcome in this place.

in the wrong place...[again]

2012-01-18T20:37:00.005-06:00

i wrote this yesterday. i also deleted this yesterday. after taking a step back, like 2 or 3 hours, i recognize the emotion that was behind it. so i did not want to come across as being irrational [although i am] or some who bitches a lot [although if bitching was a spiritual gift, i'm sure it'd be my first] or someone who can't handle hardships [although my story has had plenty].

but after a while, a couple of hopeful words from friends, i decided to put it back up. what i am about is being myself, with hopes you will be yourself. yesterday was a day that was not much fun, which you will see manifested in my writing below. it is emotional, it is somewhat irrational, and it does give a peak into the fragile state i am in.

but that is where i am and to be honest, i need you to be there with me. [now this doesn't mean you let my negativity rub off onto you, but you are willing to acknowledge it.] in expressing myself, i discovered what was/is really happening within me. there is a fear; there is an uncertainty; there is a questioning; there is an arrogance [which must be condensed]; there is even a bit of me that is hopeful.

this is an attempt to live honestly and courageously with you, the 5 people who read this. if anything, let this be proof that as future 'person of the cloth' and as a 'christian' i am not always happy...even with jesus consuming my life. yet this eruption of emotion happened because of my rugged individual approach and muddling in these concerns alone. it came from assuming, an assumption that i am in fact the only one in this place at this moment. today though, i was surprised, when i listened to a colleague who is in a similar place, who too feels inadequate [in their current season of life], and who too feels the weight of all that which we are a part of [school/family/life] is slowly spinning chaotically out of control. though we feel fragmented and afraid, we know that this is but a season, the current page we are writing in the greater novel of life.

so read this. take it in. but don't be concerned. see it as an invitation to hold nothing back but[an invite] to take a step back and recognize the larger picture, what is lying under the facade and masks and the lies we hold. what you get from me will not be a glib and dishonest cheerfulness. rather, you will get me where i am, or in this case, where i was: heading towards true joy and happiness...

These thoughts were inspired by the Archbishop of Canterbury's 2011 Easter Sermon. Click here to read it.

and then there are days like today when i feel like i am in the wrong place. there is indeed a feeling of inadequacy that has made its way into my life. i'd like to blame it on the tornado warnings that we had today, but the reality is, what was hidden is now coming to light.

for the first year and a half of seminary the institution has been telling us what to believe. even in the little theological freedom we did have, it was subjective. while we may have had the opportunity to write about sin and grace, their were some specifics that were needing to be said. but now, i find myself having to articulate who i think jesus was/is/will be. this has become quite the task for me, which i did not think it would. jesus is the most fascinating person in the world to me but this fascination does not get communicated clearly when i have to articulate what i believe.

all around me my colleagues are 'wrestling' and 'grappling' with their own christology. i ask them and while many say they wrestle, there appears to be little doubt for them. they are certain of the incarnation being the extension of creation, god entering into humanity, god becoming flesh. while i think i can attest to some of those, there is still much i grapple that other seem to not worry about. for some reason this is a threat to me. why do i not take theology at face level, accept traditions that have been handed down through the centuries with a genuine acceptance, and begin living without 'seeing' the tangible.

perhaps what is being brought to light is my inability to theologically aritculate myself in many contexts. while colleagues 'get it', i don't. while they can recount theologians they have read, recall creeds they confess, and rely on those they have experienced somewhere else, i cannot. instead, my theology is underdeveloped, weak, and inconsistent. my biggest fear is coming true; what others have suggested is becoming a reality; i am in need of help and perhaps, maybe i am not cut out for this.

while i may not be able to speak to you the way karl barth may have, i will be able to tell you why i have committed myself to this work. or can i? if i don't believe or can't express myself without a few 'uhs' and 'umms', then perhaps i can't tell you. what was once a mystery is now becoming something i have to be able to articulate, expound upon, and explain with great clarity. this is overwhelming and a daunting task for me for the first time, i feel like a fish out of water. like i felt when i was but 8 or 9 playing baseball against 11-12 year olds. i did it, but i was scared to death. it is less scared now, more of a slow march into despair and doubt.

do i know who jesus is? maybe.

i think.

well, perhaps.

actually, no.

the reality of being something you aren't is quite debilitating and frustrating, heartbreaking too.

i knew one day my skepticism would catch up. my desire to know more, to probe and pry, to learn and dream would only lead me to this point: incapable of theologically explaining God's activity in the person Jesus Christ who was born to a young woman, lived a life that threaten his particular time [mine too for that matter], was killed because of his faithfulness to the love of God and God's kingdom, died on a cross, and was resurrected in the people who didn't ever really touch him, or see him. yet God through Christ offered another way, a different way, a way that still leads to life today, that threatens the world, and is leading to the restoration of all creation.

but i'm sure something has been left off and out.

here's to another conversation that makes me uncomfortable, irritable, and now, dismal.

Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

To the Mountain Top

2012-01-16T20:24:00.002-06:00

he is my inspiration.

this will always be my hope.

thanks be to God for a man such as this.

rest in peace, dr. king...

'Over Yonder'

2012-01-14T09:24:00.003-06:00

Because if we spend our time arguing over something which we have no physical proof of;

Because if we spend our time constructing this 'proof' that perhaps 'actually' happened;

Because if we spend our time systematically assembling a theology that makes it all or nothing;

Because if we spend our time solely waiting for what is to come.

Then we will find ourselves with a world stripped of its resources;

Then we will find ourselves with a people stripped of its goodness;

Then we will find ourselves with a society who lives with no regard;

Then we will find ourselves with a life lived only for our own concern.

Indeed, God is much larger than that.

Jesus, too. Jesus was the one who defeated death. Not even the evils of this world, which is what the cross stands for [a scandal & a way of life for the 1st Christians, an idol for us now], could keep God's love and promise in the valleys of death and despair. The Incarnation did not end in the yard of graves, but continues in me and you.

Perhaps Dr. King said it best:

It's all right to talk about long white robes over yonder, in all of its symbolism, but ultimately people want some suits and dresses and shoes to wear down here. [Applause] It's all right to talk about streets flowing with milk and honey, but God has commanded us to be concerned about the slums down here and His children who can't eat three square meals a day. [Applause] It's all right to talk about the new Jerusalem, but one day God's preacher must talk about the new New York, the new Atlanta, the new Philadelphia, the new Los Angeles, the new Memphis, Tennessee. [Applause] This is what we have to do.

Complacency and paralyzation, a potential result of waiting too long for what is available now.

Peace.

Hands Can Heal...or Hurt

2012-01-11T15:09:00.003-06:00

"Listen; your brothers' blood is crying out to me from the ground."

Cain and Abel is a story of violence, jealously, and conflict between siblings. There is quite a bit to unpack in this story that some scholars suggest was the actual 'fall story' for it’s telling of how Cain did not take care of his brother Abel. This is perhaps the greatest sin, when the other (especially the other in the stranger or alien which is prevalent in the story of God as we have it in Torah) is not taken care of. Violence instead of cultivating not only the land but the relationship of kin is broken. As a result, Abel dies, his blood forever tainting the soil that produces life, and Cain a wandering murder.

When Cain laments this, the recognition and realization his zealous actions brought, Cain expresses his concern to God for what has happened. His closeness, his unity to his brother, his relation to the things that are life-giving, are now gone, God puts a mark on Cain so that no one would touch him, no one would kill him. Rather, Cain is faced with the reality of his actions for the remainder of his life. What was given as a gift, friendship and love, he neglected it and stained it with pride and revenge. Instead of receiving life, instead of living the life God had given to him and Abel, Cain sabotaged his life by the killing of his brother, leaving him lonely and haunted.

How quickly things escalated for the first family. What was good is now bad. What was once a life of strong familial bonds, has now worn. In just the first 4 chapters of the Bible we encounter so much 'bad' and 'death', we are quick to forget the good that happens first. Cain forgot those memories of him and Abel playing kick the cantaloupe in the garden and how the 2 of them used to nap together after lunch growing up and Eve would usually find Abel's arm usually across Cain's chest, both asleep to the world. In growing up, in tending to his own life, Cain had forgotten the life Abel gave him when anger peeked its head in. What I think Cain eventually came to the realization of is that more then Abel died that day. A piece of him did too.

This past weekend my darling bride, Silas, and I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather. While I ran three plus miles with my golden pal, Teresa stayed back on the homestead and played in the dirt. Yea that is right, she got out the rakes, put on her gardening gloves, and began to 'till' the ground. While the weather is great, we are not naive enough to think we can begin to sow seeds and plant things outside. We re not that out of touch with reality. However, we are holding to the promises we made for this coming year, that a goal of ours is to create life this year. Now there is quite a bit to unpack there, for the purpose of this blog, we are going to stick with the vegetation.

In the sun for at least two hours T spent on her knees playing in the cool, damp earth, removing leaves from last fall and breaking up dirt that responded I'm sure, with a bit of confusion, much like a sleeping child on the first day back to school after Christmas break. While most of the work was to get this dirt move from there to here, and to set up the one cold frame we have now, it was a step to keeping a promise, to cultivating life in our own lives. With knees covered in mud and gloves stained brown, T came in with a little dirt on her forehead where she had whipped away an honest days work, and expressed to me the joy that she had experienced from the tilling of the soil. She for us, was preparing for the life to come. She, in her preparation for the arrival of spring, started to prepare for the life that will spring forth out of the very ground she disturbed. She with her stained clothes and dirty hands took a step towards bringing forth life this year for us.

We are people who need one another. We are a part of a creation that needs fellow creatures. Without you, there is something missing. When something dies, everything is affected. Cain saw Abel as something that stood in the way. There is no particular reason that scholars know as to know why God did not accept Cain's sacrifice. God just didn't. God found favor with Abel, something we see throughout scriptures with siblings. Yet this is not the issue. The issue is how Cain used his hands not to do the life-giving work of cultivating God's soil. Rather, Cain used his hands to kill, to take away something beautiful God had created. Anger isn't bad. Anger is a natural emotion. How we respond is what is important. Sadly, Cain responded in a way that ended life instead of creating or cultivating it. Instead of harnessing that energy, redirecting it to a means that would enhance life, he used it to destroy. Life, what was good, ended in death, a bad 2nd act for such a beautiful intro.

After T had gone inside to clean up, I went outside to see the work she had done. Silas went and grabbed a ball from under the tree and brought up to me and as he did, he sort of tripped, causing me to check out what was happening in the ground. Underneath the leaves (which T did not remove because for obvious reasons which you will soon see) were Tulips (and I don't mean Calvin's tulip either). Beneath the brown and grays of decaying leaves, life, and green life was springing forth, emerging from the dormant ground.

Life is happening around us. Our hands, they can heal or they can hurt. They can create or they can destroy. Will we stain them with colors of the earth or reds too dark for words? Cultivate life with those you share life with, especially those you don't know. Take care of one another, resisting evil and selfishness by genuine faithfulness to the betterment of one another. In so doing, in the difficult work of tending and 'tilling' relationships, life will emerge.

It is a promise that God has kept.

J-Term '12

2012-01-10T07:27:00.004-06:00

I have been to the mountain top and I am now making my way slowly back down it. By no means do I mean that I have been a part of some monumental movement that would edify creation or my fellow humanity. Rather, I speak of my seminary education and being halfway done with it. After this J-Term (mini-mester) I will have officially tipped, rolled over onto the other side. When that moment happens, I will be most joyful and you can guarantee (like we have already planned this) a party will be had!

Until then, I find myself being surround by two courses that have challenged, frustrated, and inspired me tremendously: Christology and To Be Reformed. Christology is, essentially, the study of Jesus Christ, the 1st century Palestinian Jew and To Be Reformed is a brief exploration of what it means to be from the Reformed Theological tradition (something Luther is not a part of for those of you who are wondering). Soon I will articulate this in a clearer manner in another blog, but until then I'll leave you on the edge of your seats.

Who was Jesus? Who is Jesus? How have I come to know this Jesus? What does Jesus mean for the world? While practical and elementary these questions may be, they can be answered in depth by studying and engaging with the Incarnation, the Ministry of Jesus, the Cross, the Resurrection, and the Ascension and Return. In a few weeks I will get the opportunity to write a lengthy credo (statement of my beliefs) about what all these things mean to me. I will make a declaration about who Jesus is.

When I reflect on my theological formation, names from the Roman Catholic tradition seem to be those who I turn to more than Protestant theologians. If for no other reason than, I have not had much theological training with Protestant Theology. Being Presbyterian I am from the Reformed Tradition, a particular branch of theological perspective that emerged after the Reformation, its 'ancestor' being of course, John Calvin. While I may not see eye-t0-eye on everything with the most prominent voice in Presbyterian heritage, I have come to appreciate the theologian who stands more in depth than what we have done to his accomplishments with the whole TULIP idea. I am grateful though to be exposed to others such as Zwingli, Moltmann, Barth, the Niebuhr's, Edwards, Schleiermacher, and many more. This class, and the two other Presbyterian centered courses I will take this spring, are vital to my preparation for the Theology exam that one must take as a part of the Ordination Exams in the PC (USA) in order to become ordained in the church. Overwhelming as it is, it is also quite enlightening and helpful in my understanding as to why I am reformed.

January has been and will continue to be a month of reading. I will find myself knee deep in conversation about Jesus and all that this entails. As well as doctrines and theological perspectives from across the globe (perhaps mainly Europe/Germany and the United States) shedding light about what it means to be Reformed. Finally though, I feel like I am experiencing what seminary should be, learning about the parts of my faith that have always intrigued me, and sharing in conversations with colleagues that are both encouraging and challenging.

2 more weeks and then I will officially be more than half way done.

Kyrie eleison.

Go Make Life Happen

2012-01-05T21:29:00.007-06:00

Tonight as I drove over the second street bridge that connects Jeffersonville and Louisville, I was brought to a deafening silence by the sunset. The pinks and the blues, the purples and the yellows. It was perhaps the most beautiful display of colors I have seen in quite some time. Breath-taking really.

As I continued to make my way home, stopping and going with the flow of downtown traffic, I could not help but think how hopeful I am on this day. Today is the last day of Christmas. For 12 days we have celebrated Christmastide--the nativity of Jesus Christ--Emmanuel--God with us--God taking on flesh. We leave the excitement of the divine breaking into humanity and into the 'ordinary' time when plainness may be all that we see.

But this isn't the case. Tomorrow marks the day when the wise people from far lands came to pay homage to this baby. We know the songs, we have probably seen the awful plays our churches put on, and know the 'story' by heart. Tonight though in that sunset it 'dawned' on me that the joy of the Creator becoming one with humanity does not have to end today. We do not need to put Jesus away with our Christmas decor and the hopefulness does not need to disappear with the Advent wreath. No, instead this twelfth day of Christmas, much like the sunset, invites us into the beauty and the hopeful reality that awaits us in the coming days--the manifestation of the reign of God.

Tomorrow marks a new day, Epiphany. With these unseasonably warm days in January, I am hopeful of the new life that will soon come. Yet what gives me much more delight is that now is my time, our chance, to go and make life happen, to continue the incarnation that entered the world long ago. It is time to go and make new relationships, reconnect with those long forgotten, and embrace those whom we love dearly. Let our celebration of what the Christ child brought continue on as we become filled with the hope and vision Jesus brings to our lives.

Epiphany awaits us in the morning. Until then, let us continue to sit in wonder with Mary, pondering the mystery of life, and basking in the joy of the Christ Child, the embodiment of God's love for the world.

May the beauty and joy of that revelation bring peace to you this night and in the morning.

2012 Festival of Young Preachers

2012-01-04T06:50:00.005-06:00

In 2010 I preached at the first Festival of Young Preachers.

Again in 2011 I preached at the second Festival of Young Preachers.

Yesterday I preached at the third Festival of Young Preachers.

Below is my Sermon.

Enjoy.

“…And Everywhere”

Adam R. Quine

Festival of Young Preachers

Louisville, Kentucky

01/04/11

Scripture reading: Matthew 5.14-16
“14 ‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lamp stand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

For months now I have been excited to come to this festival, which has convened for the last 3 years here in Louisville, to hear sermons about the Sermon on the Mount. As I prepared, I could not help but recall three ‘mountain’ experiences in my own life.

My first experience with a mountain came when I was in the second grade and visited my aunt and uncle in Colorado. I remember standing in awe with my grimy hands and my face smashed up against the sliding back door, gazing at Pikes Peak as it emerged from behind the fog. To this day I think often of this moment and the wonder of creation.

Another mountain experience occurred while I was in college and visiting a monastery not too far from here where I had a transfiguring moment where I knew what my vocational calling would be. In this encounter I felt as if I needed to remove my shoes because I was standing on holy ground, much like someone else who had a ‘mountain top’ experience.

Finally, my third encounter with a mountain came just a few years ago and since ‘ascending up it’ my life has not been the same. It was on that mountain where I was told that the ‘meek were blessed, as well as those who mourn.’ It was on this mountain where I learned God’s favor is found among the powerless and poor. It was on this mountain where I encountered a sermon that sketches out a life in an alternative community marked by justice, transformed social relationships, practices of piety, and shared and accessible resources. Essentially I was exposed to the politics of Jesus.

You can see why now I was excited for this years Festival, since it is all about this Sermon on a Mount. Thus, it is my hope that I would come again to this festival and be inspired by the words Jesus spoke on a mountain. My greatest hope, though, is that we young preachers in our proclamation of the Good News, would be reminded of the reality and responsibility that comes with these mountainous words. After all, it was these words, this ‘sermon’ that Jesus preached, that eventually led to him ascending another mountain where he would come down not by his own accord, but by a slow procession, lead by a Paul-bearer taking him to his grave.

For you see, Jesus’ sermon on the mount addressed the powers and principalities of his day, and our day for that matter. It was on that mountain where Jesus imagined a people who turned the other cheek, walked the second mile, and volunteered undergarments as they relinquished their outer garments. Isn’t then this our call as young preachers, prophets, and poets, to do the same? That we too with these sermons are to remind and invite one another to begin again embodying God’s life-giving ways through becoming an alternative community, to remind each other that we are not simply to talk or preach about being like the city on the hill but actually be that city, all the while hold up the different realities of God’s reign to the falsities our empires offer?

Perhaps with the start of this New Year, it is time again for us to become Jesters for Jesus, to become that community Jesus preached about in the sermon that looks entirely different and completely foolish in the eyes of the world. But we are fools, aren’t we? That is why we are here, because of a Palestinian Jew some 2000 years ago who turned the world’s notion of power upside down, taking on the role of a jester and engaging in irony. To be honest, this foolishness of the kingdom of God has manifested in many ways throughout the centuries.
There was the foolishness of the early church and that day when the Spirit fell upon the apostles as God made Godself known in a way very similar to Sinai which left onlookers accusing the apostles of being drunk.

We can consider the foolishness of martyrs such as Felicitas and Perpetua who claimed allegiance to Christ and not to empire, leading to their death. Then there are the ascetics such as St. Antony and Julian of Norwich who promoted disciplines that benefited the other and served God, rather than self-regarding practices of empire.

There is the foolishness of Abolitionist visionaries such as Angelia Grimke and Frederick Douglas who wrote concerning the absurdity of slavery in a country that was founded on the idea that all 'men' were created equal and the hypocrisy of the church who proclaimed justice and jubilee while ignoring the cries of the oppressed.

In the 20th century there is the foolishness of the Social Gospel movement and Walter Rauschenbaushs’ critique of how the people of God have replaced the ‘Kingdom of God’ with the church, an institution concerned only for itself.

There is the foolishness of Dietrich Bonheoffer and Alfred Delp who both were martyred during WWII for their visions of a world ruled by the way of Christ and not that of empire.

There is the Civil Rights movement and the foolishness of people like Mary McLeod Bethune and Howard Thurman who advocated for a world of unity and peace. And of course there was the man who went to the mountaintop, who saw the Promised Land, and led a movement that has affected the world forever, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

There are the voices of Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz who longed for the Kin-Dom of God; Global-South Theologians such as Archbishop Oscar Romero in El Salvador who was assassinated for his outspoken voice on behalf of the oppressed, who “gave his life for the church and the people of his beloved country.”

There are the foolish voices of Desmond Tutu and other South African’s that cried ‘heresy’ against apartheid and by the means of non-violence and continued perseverance, helped the people of South Africa through the struggle for the ideals of the reign of God, which came through the theology of forgiveness.

There is the foolishness of Beverly Wildung Harrison, Elizabeth Johnson, and other Theologians who advocate for an ethic that engages the world through an activity of love and not by domination and control so often associated with patriarchal societies.

While at times it can be a disservice to us to compare ourselves to such people, I also think it would be a 'good' service for us if we pondered that perhaps the only thing that separates these 'saints' from us is their belief in Jesus and his vision for an inclusive community manifesting itself here and now.

These names are but the tip of an iceberg, or a mountain, and I mention these names not merely to give you a history lesson. Rather these are names these of people who have embodied the alternative community; a life-style that Jesus sets forth for the people who call themselves disciples. These people have been to the mountain and instead of trying to build a tent and keep Jesus there, they descended into the plains of injustices, the valleys of oppression, and the deserted places of despair, much like Jesus did when he came off the mountain and into his ministry of healing and miracles. They were for the world, salt and light. They were messengers of hope, engaging in the messy relationships of the world, and in so doing have paved a way for us as young preachers to go and tell it not only on mountains but everywhere, much like “Amos and Isaiah, Hosea and Jeremiah, who all used arresting speech, risked political persecution, and turned traditional family [and societal] values upside down in order to proclaim what they believed God wanted, what the Torah teaches, and the people of God must do.” The Sermon on the Mount has put before us not an impossible ideal, but a vision of what God’s people can be when they choose by God’s grace to live in God’s kingdom.

Fellow Young Preachers and the Wise Preachers who sit in our midst, to those of you who have come to listen and who are more prophetic then I ever could be: it is my hope that we may embrace the light-headed feelings of joy and delight we get when going to the top of the mountain. However, let us descend from the top like Moses and Jesus and others who have gone before us, with the urgency of becoming the people of God, cultivating alternative communities where our realities takes on a “grammar of honesty and love; truth telling and repentance; forgiveness and reconciliation.” May we who are here at this mountain of a festival be not afraid to become what one man called the beloved community , take on the lifestyle of an ordinary radical , and begin to use again and again and again, a prophetic imagination that looks for another way and leads to another world being possible, the manifestation of God’s kingdom here and now. May it be so. Amen.

Sing Your Song

2012-01-01T15:28:00.003-06:00

“Sing Your Song”

Adam R. Quine

Bethel Presbyterian Church

01/01/12

Under the night sky I stand. All that is around me is a sky black as the coffee I drank while the sun was rising during the early hours of the day before. Although they are millions of miles away, the stars shine like a child’s eye on Christmas morning. I can feel the unusually cool December air on my neck. I close my eyes and fold my arms, placing my reddening hands in a place where they would be warm.

After a deep sigh I open my eyes, tilt my head back and return to those stars and the moon that is in the shape of a thumbnail. Even with the stars and the slither of a moon, it is dark.

In the darkness, it is quiet. In the quiet, it is loud for as I stand in the stillness of the night I hear the trees, the owl that hoots in the distance, and the blades of grass dancing in the breeze. In the midst of it all, I stand in awe knowing that in this silence, life is stirring and in just a few hours when the sun rises in the east, black birds and blue birds, orange cats and golden dogs, young children and wiser people, will greet the morning, the new day, with a song unique to their own.

Until then, I continue to stand under that speckled sky, contemplating the vastness of the universe, the multiplicity of nature, and the virtuosity of the One who created it all. In so doing, by me ‘just standing there’, my life, my song, unites with the song of creation. In those moments, I become a voice amidst the cacophony of voices of all creation-singing praises to our God.

Praise be to God!

Praise is the duty and delight, the ultimate vocation of the human community; indeed, of all creation. In that field, which is something I do every time I come back and visit my parents, I learn again and again what it means to praise God. In that field I am reminded of how I am but a piece of creation, that I am neither above nor below the deer that frolicked in the field 2 hours before me or the squirrel that keeps my dad entertained as it eats the bird seed on the feeders. Rather, we are together created: them first and then me and you, humanity last. Together all of creation sings praises to God and our praise articulates and embodies a capacity to yield, submit, and abandon ourselves in trust and gratitude to the One whose we are. Because all of us, we all belong to God and for this, we offer up praise!

Our psalm reminds us of the first story we find in our bible, the one where God breathes and speaks life into creation. This hymn from which we read from today directs us back to the goodness of God and how this goodness extends to all of creation. We are reminded that our story, our lives, are not ‘bad’ stories but rather, they are ‘good’ ones. God created all things beautifully in both the heavens and the earth. The heavenly choir, which consists of angels and host, sun and moon and stars, and even the highest heavens and cosmic waters above them sing their praise to their Creator. Even the earthly choir, which includes the sea monsters and the deeps they inhabit, mountains and trees and animals, rulers and nations, all sexes and ages, they too praise God their creator, the one who created all things whole. Praise be to God for God’s goodness and grace.

In this world, much like me in the field, we are not alone. We are surrounded by God’s creation and this psalm intends to recruit the entire realm to recognize God’s kingdom here and to give praise for it now. Indeed, how appropriate it is for us to sing of these praises on this day and everyday the words of St. Francis of Assisi which were inspired by this psalm, “All creatures of our God and King, Lift up your voice and with us sing, Alleluia!” Francis leaves us with a legacy of praise. If we claim it as our heritage, we must use it as Francis did--in every circumstance of life without reservation.

It is a tradition of the church universal to begin their morning prayer liturgy with, “O Lord open my lips and my mouth shall proclaim your praise.” Monks before their feet even hit the floor utter these words offering up to God their lives, their days belonging entirely to God and for this, they give praises to God. They, like us here today, rose from our slumber with the gift of life. How fitting it is then for the lectionary readings for the first day of the year to include this hymn of praise? Perhaps then we can offer up to God again on this day, the day that God has created, our lives for the year ahead. T.S. Eliot said it beautifully when describing the first day of the year when he said, “For last year's words belong to last year's language; And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.”

As we stand at the crossroads of life recognizing and celebrating the passing of a year, we were greeted this morning with the rising of not only a new day, but a new year. What lies before us is full of hopes and promises, much like that which God created. All around us in our lives, both the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’, God is present with us. Therefore, no matter what season of life we are in, no matter how long the light shines or how long the darkness lingers, God has made a promise to God’s creation, to you and to me, that God is forever with us. Because of this, we sing our praises to God and when we can’t, when we cannot find the strength to sing because we feel like Job or like Jonah, I encourage you to take comfort knowing that all of creation sings on your behalf. God created the universe and all that is in it, so praise God’s name for it was God who has commanded all things into being and has made them and us endure forever. God’s song began with a beautiful creation and ends with a similar song. This hymn of praise reminds us that God creates all of life with goodness and beauty.

Thomas Merton once said this about God’s created order:
“One of the most important—and most neglected—elements in the beginnings of the [contemplative life] is the ability to respond to reality, to see that value and the beauty in ordinary things, to come alive to the splendor that is all around us in the creatures of God…All God’s creatures invite us to forget our vain cares and enter into our own hearts, which god has made to be Gods paradise and our own. If we have God dwelling with us, making our beings God’s paradise, then the world around us can also become for us what it meant to be for [the world in the beginning]—paradise.”

Standing in that field, and even standing at the corner of a busy intersection in Louisville, Kentucky; sitting at the red light on your way to work and even watching your children jump around at Monkey Joe’s; this year take time to bask in God’s goodness. Take time to look around, to stop and stare and just be, and in so doing you will see that creation is meant to make us think of the One who created us. Praise be to God for opportunities to see glimpses of God and encounter the holy not only in heaven but here on earth as well. Indeed, “Let [us] praise the name of the Holy One, for God’s name alone is exalted; God’s glory is above earth and heaven.”

May this year be a year we sing a song of praise both in the beginning and in the end. May we learn from our psalm that our voices join the voices of all creation, sea creatures and trees, the birds of the air and the deer of fields, mountains and valleys, in singing praises to God. May we not forget that Psalm 148 is a song of praise, reminding us that all of creation praises God. All of creation is in tune with what God is doing to bring forth new life in this world, and that we, last of creation, are joining in the great chorus and celebration.

Praise be to God for this day, this place, and for you. Praise be to God for your song! Praise be to God for the song of all creation! Go forth, and sing your song to the One who has given you a voice to sing! Amen.

The Eve of the New Year

2011-12-31T07:06:00.003-06:00

Tonight I am running in a race.

In the morning I preach.

The day after that I drive home.

Happy New Year!

Oh, what are you doing for New Years Eve?

Sunrise on Christmas Morning

2011-12-25T08:54:00.002-06:00

The audio isn't great and the music was loud. Nonetheless, Merry Christmas to you.

To Be a Preacher Like Him

2011-12-24T07:42:00.003-06:00

I needed this. Please, read the entire sermon by clicking here. It will be worth your while. This is a sermon Dr. King delivered on Christmas in 1967.

"It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. We are made to live together because of the interrelated structure of reality. Did you ever stop to think that you can't leave for your job in the morning without being dependent on most of the world? You get up in the morning and go to the bathroom and reach over for the sponge, and that's handed to you by a Pacific islander. You reach for a bar of soap, and that's given to you at the hands of a Frenchman. And then you go into the kitchen to drink your coffee for the morning, and that's poured into your cup by a South American. And maybe you want tea: that's poured into your cup by a Chinese. Or maybe you're desirous of having cocoa for breakfast, and that's poured into your cup by a West African. And then you reach over for your toast, and that's given to you at the hands of an English-speaking farmer, not to mention the baker. And before you finish eating breakfast in the morning, you've depended on more than half of the world. This is the way our universe is structured, this is its interrelated quality. We aren't going to have peace on earth until we recognize this basic fact of the interrelated structure of all reality." ~ Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Longest Night Meditation

2011-12-22T13:48:00.002-06:00

Another Christmas is upon us. It is time for the family to gather, to break bread, open presents, and make [it is our hope any way] memories that will last a lifetime.

Unfortunately, the reality is that these holiday weeks may not provide a warm and fuzzy feeling for all. While some of us look forward to seeing mom and dad at their designated spots at the table, some will face for the first time an open seat where mom used to sit. Or there may be an open seat next to you where your brother should have sat but it sits empty because of a falling out that happened over the summer when ‘so and so’ didn’t bother to go and visit ‘so and so’ when they were in town. There are some who will eat in a silence so uncomfortable you can cut it with a butter knife for what is occupying the minds of everyone seated is the absence of a loved one who has fallen victim to an addiction of some sort. Christmas can be anything but merry for so many.

It is fitting then for the darkest and longest night of the year to take place at a time when words such as joy, hope, and love are so often used. It is a type of paradox, one I am sure some of us have experienced in some way or another.

As people declare ‘war’ on making sure we do not forget ‘the reason for the season’ [which often translates into over emphasizing the ‘CHRIST’ in Christmas and spending hundreds of dollars on toys their two year old will get bored with after the first ten minutes or so] it is my hope that we contemplate the scandal of the birth of Jesus, God becoming flesh, and the humanity that is wrapped up in the cloth that warms the infant Christ.

Part of this contemplation may in fact lead to a confrontation of emotions we may feel guilty for having: grief, fears, struggles, and pains. These feelings, these emotions are as valid as the peace, joy, love, and hope others around us [even at times us] are experiencing. It can do us well to take time during this season in which we find ourselves waiting for the return of light and begin again to contemplate how we all long and are in need of the presence of God. Perhaps we will begin to see that this time of expectant waiting is more complex and conflicted than we imagine; that the cry “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” is sometimes filled with anguish and grief for those who are desperately in need of God’s presence.

Being a people of God, we know that God is never far from us, for God always travels along side us. In all that we experience during these ‘holy days’, we must never forget that none of our emotions are ‘too big’ or ‘too wrong’ for God. After all, God in Jesus Christ was human, something we as Christians often disregard.

Jesus once said, “Peace I leave you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” Darkness may come in the evening, and last for a long time; there is no denying this. However it is just as true that in the morning, Light always breaks through. In your darkest hour remember the Light that is the life of all people shines, here and now, among us even now.

in the distance

2011-12-22T07:44:00.003-06:00

Off in the distance I see it.
The orange and the yellow,
colliding with the grey and blues.
Light arising from the darkness
and scattering it away.
The warmth from the golds,
now warms the dreary day.
The Dawn is upon us.
New light, much like yesterday,
is soon to come forth.
O Radiant Light, O Sun Divine,
come quickly...

"Like the sun in the morning sky, the savior will come. Like rain on the meadow, the Savior will descend."

It Hits Me Every Time

2011-12-20T20:25:00.000-06:00

It gets me every time. Coming home to a house that is dark like the coffee that sits cold in the coffee pot on the kitchen counter. What makes it even more heartbreaking is knowing you’re in there pup. I figured I’d be back in time or your mom will. Regardless, whenever it happens, too often I confess, it hits me harder and harder.

Yet, whether the lights are on or if they are off, you greet us at the door. Usually you come tail wagging followed by a good stretch. Some days, depending on when we come home, we can tell we have just disturbed a good nap. As sneaky as you may think you are, I can tell by the warm spot on the couch that you have found a new place to lie. But that is okay. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you.

To be honest my Golden Pal, it is hitting me that another year has come and gone. Your once pure-gold face is turning a little white around your muzzle. The bridge above those brown eyes that will always melt my heart are like peaks at the start of the winter months, slowly turning white as the months fall off the years. Your age is showing, but only in your face for your golden coat, the one that travels with me everywhere I go, still glistens in the sun like it did when you were just an awkward pup. At heart, you haven’t aged at all.

It gets me every time especially these days pup. We’ve got plenty of time and this is why your mom laughs. But lets be honest, 4 ½ years have come and gone, it is time to do something about it.

I’ll begin by making sure a light is always left on.

Life Purpose

2011-12-20T08:24:00.002-06:00

"The purpose of our life is God's glory.
However lowly a life is,
that is what makes it great."
Oscar Romero

Advent Rambling

2011-12-17T17:43:00.003-06:00

i can feel the darkness
getting heavier
i can feel the cold
settling thicker

what i long for
is your return
what i long for
is your promise

i have grown tired
in my waiting
i have grown tired
in my dreaming

o come, o come
and rescue me
o come, o come
and love me

i have not sat
and listened
i have not sat
and adored

the world is spinning
ever quickly
the world is spinning
ever awaiting

my heart is restless
heavy and burdened
my heart is cliched
forged and drab

what i need
is a song
what i need
is a prayer

come quickly
drape me in your mercy
come quickly
hold me in your love

Thursday Finals

2011-12-15T06:25:00.005-06:00

My last final that I will have to take in class for this semester.

3 hours and I will probably use all 3 hours.

I have crammed my head with info about Paul, God's Rest, and Revelation.

Paul is a good past0r--addresses issues in community by way of leadership, demagogue style. The strong need to get off their high horse that is their knowledge and begin to edify their Body, which needs the weak members too. Knowledge isn't the most important thing, rather, giving up that which makes you 'puffed up' will only lead to the edification of your neighbor. Just sayin'. Want to know how to do this? Just look to Paul who becomes enslaved to Christ and lowers himself to become all things to all people with hopes he will gain them salvation.

Paul is justified by faith--Works? Faith of Abraham actually. Trust as a Gentile, Jesus opens up to Gentiles. Can't forget promises: God's to Abraham, the Hebrew people keeping it, and then Jesus universalizing it. Oh, God is impartial: both Jew and Gentile have sinned, thus they need means to salvation. Again, luckily Abraham trusted God before he was circumcised.

Entering into God's rest--is important, but I still don't know what it means. Hebrews 4 will help you sort through how the people got to the promise land but didn't really get to the promised land. Although it is supersessionism, Jesus is the rest we can enter to, God's rest that is. But don't be fooled, the term is never really defined.

Revelation is less about this and more about that--Revelation 13 has 2 beast: 1 rising from the sea and the other is one who deceives us to worship the sea beast. Too many have mistake the literary genre of Revelation is about something it really isn't. (Umm, er...it isn't a timetable...) It is allegory, the first beast being the rise of the Roman Empire and the second is one who prevents us from entering into the rest of the Lamb. This is why John writes, only Christ is Lord and only the Lamb is to be venerated, not emperors of the past. This leads to idolatry. Much like the way we venerate consumerism.

Oh goodness. May God have mercy on me and my colleagues.

Here's to being half way done....

Sermon 12.11.11 Audio

2011-12-13T06:44:00.002-06:00

If you'd like to take a listen to my most recent sermon, click on this mug!

Hope y'all enjoy!

Advent Quote

2011-12-12T21:20:00.003-06:00

I am none of these. Except if I was, it'd be the first group.

I have never gone days without food. Rather, I go hours and when those hours go more than 5 or 6, I complain.

I've never had to struggle to make ends meet. Sure being on 1 income is tough, but my refrigerator is full of processed food and my shelves are full of fats and the like.

But I have struggled. Yet the struggles I have had, would they be welcomed? Would the poverty I experience be truly heard or would I be seen as the 'white-male' who has had a bad week or two?

I don't know what it is like to be violated, to be abused in any way. Can I still pray that I too may be liberated?

My story is my story. But I've never been able to tell it fully. Thus, even in my privileged position, I still experience a type of poverty.

Perhaps I need to re-examine what Jesus meant by "blessed are those who are poor in spirit".

My prayer remains....

"No one can celebrate a genuine Christmas without being truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud, those who, because they have everything, look down on others, those who have no need even of God--for them there will be no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, those who need someone to come on their behalf will have that someone. That someone is God. Emmanuel. God-with-us. Without poverty of spirit there can be no abundance of God."

Oscar Romero

Prayer for Today: 12/12/11

2011-12-12T09:17:00.004-06:00

This week I have finals. When this week is over, I will have completed 3 of the 6 semesters of my seminary career. Still hasn't sunk in yet.

As I was reading this morning, the psalm for the day (I've been reading through them) was Psalm 141. I found it fitting, comforting, and becoming my own prayer for the day.

May you find peace this season in the God who welcomes us as God's own. May you find refuge in the presence of God the Liberator.

Psalm 141

1 I call upon you, O Holy One; come quickly to me;

give ear to my voice when I call to you.

2 Let my prayer be counted as incense before you,

and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice.

3 Set a guard over my mouth, O Holy One;

keep watch over the door of my lips.

4 Do not turn my heart to any evil,

to busy myself with wicked deeds

in company with those who work iniquity;

do not let me eat of their delicacies.

5 Let the righteous strike me;

let the faithful correct me.

Never let the oil of the wicked anoint my head,

for my prayer is continually against their wicked deeds.

6 When they are given over to those who shall condemn them,

then they shall learn that my words were pleasant.

7 Like a rock that one breaks apart and shatters on the land,

so shall their bones be strewn at the mouth of Sheol.

8 But my eyes are turned towards you, O God, my Lord;

in you I seek refuge; do not leave me defenceless.

9 Keep me from the trap that they have laid for me,

and from the snares of evildoers.

10 Let the wicked fall into their own nets,

while I alone escape.

Advent Sunday 3

2011-12-11T20:48:00.002-06:00

“Christ Is Near: Can You Feel It?”

John 1.6-8, 19-24

First Presbyterian Church

12/10/11

Adam R. Quine

If there is a season that captures my heart the most it is Advent. Of all the seasons we travel through during our year, Advent is the one that I become most alive in. There is so much to Advent for me not to like it. In fact, if you were my friend on facebook you would notice that many of my status updates are those of Advent thoughts, quotes, and prayers. Perhaps this quote best describes my affection towards the season of Advent: “You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us. And the world will live as one.” After all, Advent is the season we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus,” and we dream that this year, this is the year Christ returns much like Christ did in years past.

Advent is known as being the season of waiting. For more than two weeks we have been doing just that. We have started to prepare for the arrival of the Christ child to come in our midst. Inside here, in this place, you can hear Advent in our hymns, you can see Advent in the colors and in the candles, and I’m willing to guess, you can even feel it.

But lets be honest, Advent is a season that can easily get lost in the hustle and bustle of the culture around us. Starting back in August Christmas had already began to emerge in our stores. By Halloween we were hearing of great deals in those same stores, door busters deals even, and in less than a month some of us would be out at midnight waiting in lines as long as a mile hoping to snag the perfect gift. Then before you know it, you find yourself going from this Christmas party to that recital, then back to Starbucks to grab your soy-latte in that famous red holiday cup, only to arrive home to find out your darling loved one forgot to tell you that they are supposed to bring cookies for tomorrow’s Christmas party. Our slower paced waiting turns into a chaotic season full of rushing and non-stop-going. Slowing down, resting, and dreaming, well, there is no time for that. Waiting, in this time of the year, no matter what age you are, isn’t always the most inviting activity for us to do.

Yet, this isn’t new, this waiting for something, as evidence by the stories we encounter in our sacred text. Think about those who have waited before us: there is Simeon and Anna, Zechariah and Elizabeth, and of course, Joseph and Mary. We know their stories, we know what they felt. Perhaps not what it feels like to be with child, or even a first hand run in with an angel, but we do resonate with the words, “do not be afraid” and perhaps the feeling of disbelief that something extraordinary was or will soon happen to us. Regardless of the waiting we are doing, we are feeling and expecting something and we like them wait with a sense of promise. That is what we are doing now, we are waiting for the Light to return, while at the same time, being warmed by it now.

Just last weekend we gathered in this place to re-tell the story of God risking everything and entering into humanity as a poor child, and what a wonderful telling it was. But I must be honest, whenever I see a nativity scene or when I attend plays, I always kind of hope that right in the middle of Mary’s monologue some kid with crazy hair wearing a diaper made out of burlap would come stomping through the sanctuary, while screaming from the top of their lungs, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, Make straight the way of God.” (Perhaps it was a good thing I didn’t sit in on any of the Hanging of the Green planning sessions.)

The story we read from the Gospel of John regarding John the Baptist is perfect for this third Sunday of Advent, especially while we wait for the Light to return. There are some things that are out of place this Sunday. For starters we light a pink candle instead of a purple one; instead of hearing about traditional characters we hear about John; and if you know anything about John 1 you know that today’s scripture lesson interrupts what is perhaps the most poetic and beautiful hymn-like celebration in the New Testament. John the Baptist interrupts our Advent season much like he did some 2000 years ago.

There is significance to the placement of John’s introduction in the text. For you see, the introduction of John underscores that the story has moved from the eternal and pre-existent to a specific time and place (the Word (Logos) has become flesh). The Gospel of John does not include stories of shepherds or wise men, or even the poor carpenter and the young woman who finds herself pregnant, like Matthew and Luke do. Instead, the Gospel of John, much like the Gospel of Mark, begins with “a man sent from God who came to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him.” John’s treatment of John the Baptist and his role is quite unlike that of the way Matthew, Mark, and Luke, where John is identified by people as the prophet Elijah and/or the expected messianic prophet. Instead, “He makes John a witness, the first to bear testimony to Jesus the Light, and not to himself.” John’s sole vocation is through his witnessing the world will come to know the presence of God in Jesus.

John’s witnessing, though, gets him into some trouble as official leaders were concerned for what this man in the wilderness was testifying to. Why were people leaving the city, the hustle and bustle, and going out to see this man? What was it he was saying that captivated his audience? John was simply testifying to what he had encountered. “John had seen the truth about Jesus and tells about what he has seen,” the Word that became flesh. God’s presence manifested in human Jesus.

This leads to John being grilled by the folks who came out to confront him and his witnessing. These official representatives want to know who John is. So on three different occasions they question his identity and asking him essentially, “Who are you?” In his denial of being neither the messiah nor Elijah, John demonstrates an attitude of selfless humility. John the Baptist is not a forerunner to Jesus or one who claims to be a prophet himself, but is the one who bears witness to the Light that enlightens everyone. John’s entire ministry of baptizing and preaching has the sole function of pointing to Jesus. “He is greater than I am,” declared John, “and I am not even worthy to undo the strap of his sandals.”

John shows us what we are to do be doing while we wait. John when asked if he was of importance, he denied it and instead, pointed towards the one who was greater than he. He did not try to be something he wasn’t, he didn’t get caught up in the big crows and didn’t get ‘lost in the moment. But instead he was exactly who he needed to be: a witness to what he had experienced, testifying to the light that has come into the world, a light that no darkness can ever overcome, a fulfillment of the promise of God. Or to simply put it the way St. Augustine did, “John came to teach the proud humility, to proclaim the way of repentance.”

Today we lit the ‘gaudete’ candle, which in Latin means rejoice. But what are we rejoicing for? While there are many answers to this, when people ask why Advent gets my blood pumping, I answer, rather, I testify by sharing how Advent is a time to dream daringly, to dream of another world being possible. It is a time blessed with God’s promises, witch constitute the hidden happiness of this time. And these promises, they kindle the inner light in our hearts.

Advent is the time when we too become like John, witnessing to God’s love, testifying of our encounter with the Light of the World. It is a time when we share how God has, is, and will continue to bring good news to the oppressed; how God has, is and will continue to bind up the broken-hearted; it is a time to tell how God has, is, and will continue proclaiming liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners. It is a time when we can rejoice in God and allow our whole being to exult our God, sharing how God, through Jesus Christ, has clothed us with the garments of salvation, how God through the Word become Flesh, has covered us with the robe of righteousness. It is a time when wait for the Scandal of the Incarnation while being the Continued Incarnation, telling not only with the words of our mouths but with our lives that we have seen the Light of God, that our waiting, our hopeful, and sometimes painful waiting, has not, is not, and will not ever be done in vain.

Jesuit Priest Karl Rahner said this about Advent:
“Slowly a light is beginning to dawn. I’ve begun to understand something I have known for a long time: God is still in the process of God’s coming. It is said that God will come again, and this is true. But the word again is misleading. It won’t really be ‘another’ coming, because God has never really gone away. In the human existence that God made God’s own for all eternity, God has never left us.”

A light has come and it is growing brighter. Look for it in the unexpected places. Listen for it in the most obscure sounds. It is all around, especially in our waiting. Indeed friends, Christ is near….can you feel it?

JL

2011-12-08T08:06:00.006-06:00

Sometimes all we may have are our dreams.

Even these, our own dreams, may tried to be taken away from us.

Some will say, "Never."

Others will say, "That can't happen..."

This has been all too familiar for me.

But I will continue to dream. I will continue to hope. I will continue to ponder the mysteries of God's love and the reality of God's presence in the world.

Hope and our dreams may be all that we have.

But I think that these are more than enough to get us through.

Here's to one who knew what it meant to dream...

"The Advent of the people and the nations..."

2011-12-05T22:43:00.005-06:00

What is the role of the church? I mean, really. What is the role of the church? Is it to take care of the rich and the poor? Is it to provide opportunities to cultivate the spiritual formation of its members? Is it to remain recluse in itself, attending only to the needs of its own? Is it to cradle its crying child, while turning a deaf ear to the child of evil children that are created by humanity? Should the church have anything to do with politics? How should the church function in the world?

All of this is what I continue to wrestle with. Many are quick to say the church must remain separate from the going-ons of politics and government. While I do not suggest the nation becomes 'Christian' or that it should claim one true religion, in many ways it has already done that. Church is all over in our politics. We are quick to bring 'God' into the conversation about life, but not about death; we are quick to turn to the prophet when we want a certain top 'ten' present in our schools and public buildings (often buildings associated with politics); and lets not forget prayer. It seems fine for the church to get involved with these issues, or so say some political folks. People of this country or that country need more Jesus in their lives.

But when representatives from the church call on the government and those same political folks to provide justice, basic human rights, and care for the weakest among us, certain parties cry for a separation or result to name-calling. After all, the church needs to take care of the poor, the sick, the lame, not the government. But the government needs to make sure we keep "In God we Trust" on our coins and there needs to be more done to "put prayer back in school". I must be honest, I went through school and no one ever told me I couldn't pray.

I digress. The church needs to be a voice of hope for people and needs not be afraid to call out the 'heresies' of the politics of our days. The church has influenced and changed governing systems before, why can't it do the same now?

I leave you this quote from Alfred Delp. Condemned as a traitor for his opposition of Hitler, Father Alred Delp, a Jesuit priest, wrote this piece in a Nazi prison shortly before he was executed in 1945.

"If we want to transform life again, if Advent is truly to come again - the Advent of home and of hearts, the Advent of the people and the nations, a coming of the Lord in all this - then the great Advent question for us is whether we come out of these convulsions with this determination: yes, arise! It is time to awaken from sleep. It is time for a waking up to begin somewhere. It is time to put things back where God the Lord put them. It is time for each of us to go to work, with the same unshakable sureness that the Lord will come, to set our life in God's order wherever we can. Where God's word is heard, he will not cheat our life of the message; where our life rebels before our own eyes he will reprimand it."

"Let us ask for clear eyes that are able to see God's messengers of annunciation; for awakened hearts with the wisdom to hear the words of promise. Let us ask for faith in the motherly consecration of life as shown in the figure of the blessed woman of Nazareth. Let us be patient and wait, wait with Advent readiness for the moment when it pleases God to appear in our night too, as the fruit and mystery of this time. And let us ask for the openness and willingness to hear God's warning messengers and to conquer life's wilderness through repentant hearts. We must not shrink from or suppress the earnest words of these crying voices, so that those who today are our executioners will not tomorrow become accusers because we have remained silent.

Let us then live in today's Advent, for it is the time of promise. To eyes that do not see, it still seems that the final dice are being cast down in these valleys, on these battlefields, in those camps and prisons and bomb shelters. Those who are awake sense the working of the other powers and can await the coming of their hour.

Space is still filled with the noise of destruction and annihilation, the shouts of self-assurance and arrogance, the weeping of despair and helplessness. But just beyond the horizon the eternal realities stand silent in their age-old longing. There shines on us the first mild light of the radiant fulfillment to come. From afar sound the first notes as of pipes and singing boys, not yet discernible as a song or melody. It is all far off still, and only just announced and foretold. But it is happening. This is today. And tomorrow the angels will tell what has happened with loud rejoicing voices, and we shall know it and be glad, if we have believed and trusted in Advent."

To read the whole sermon click here.

Morning Song

2011-12-04T22:01:00.005-06:00

I rose early this morning putting on my sweatshirt and went to the back door to let Silas out. When I opened the door I expected to be greeted by a chilling breeze but much to my surprise, there wasn't a breeze and there was no chill. Rather, it was calm with an enlivening quiet. The birds were silent, the trees restrained from waving, and the city was still asleep. The only movement I saw were the clouds in the sky.

Behind the gray clouds were streaks of orange and hint of purple. The light was emerging, streaming through the darkened sky. Perhaps this is why creation appeared to be sleeping, it was waiting for the light to return.

With the dog by my side I sat on our porch with shorts and a sweatshirt on, waiting with the sparrow who sat on a branch above me. Together the 3 of us sat with our heads turned to the heavens waiting for the cue to sing our morning praise.

My feet grew chilly, as well as my nose. While I waited, I began to shiver. Five minutes went by. Then ten and then fifteen. Quickly my lack of warm clothing made me want to go back inside but I promised myself to wait, to sit and watch until the light finally made its way through the morning clouds. It would happen.

After all, the day before, it happened.

And even the one before that.

The light of the morning sun, the one that would warm my chilling body and that has stirred creation in other parts of the world, would soon make its way into the day, our day. Then the friendly shadows would begin to dance. The coat of my faithful friend would glisten. The sparrow would have its cue to sing. The light and the warmth we would welcome, much like the world has for thousands of years before today.

I could not take it any longer. Although it wasn't cold, it was chilly and my shivering had intensified. So I stood to my feet, patted the dog on his head, and made my way to the door. My waiting had ended and it was time for me to go and be productive.

As I reached for the door my proposition for the day, the ones that had made their way into my thoughts in only five or six steps, was interrupted with good news which came as a song sung by the sparrow: the sun made it, it has overcome the density of the clouds, and shined forth onto us. My waiting, our waiting, was not done in vain. It never is.

Because as we've seen before, the light has come, and will come with its coming again.

Today a voice cried out in the wilderness, "Make way for good news has come again..."

New Music

2011-12-02T15:42:00.003-06:00

My music selection has gone stale. Luckily, I've stumbled across this duo after seeing numerous facebook statuses (statusai?) about them. So far I dig.

Here's to good music on a lovely December Friday afternoon.

Sermon 11.20.11 Audio

2011-11-30T16:03:00.003-06:00

Here is the link to MY sermon. A bit of a confusion with getting my last sermon up, but nonetheless, it is up!

Click here to listen.

Peace.

Reflection: No Life Forgotten

2011-11-28T09:00:00.008-06:00

Reflections on: No Life Forgotten Prayer Vigil

“God of peace, there are many places and many people who do not experience your peace. Right now there are many, many women and children who live under the dark weight of the fear of violence right in their own homes. We pray for your protection, and for wisdom for friends and officials to help bring that right protection to them. We pray for the many men who themselves feel powerless and confused about their relationships. We ask that you would help them find healthy ways to work out their frustrations and to find hope without resorting to destructive impulses. God, work in our country to stem this epidemic. We ask for your perfect peace…”

The rain started to come down harder as we stood underneath the large tree that had already lost all its leaves. It was a cold rain, the rain slicing through the breath that could be seen in the crisp air. Mud covered our shoes and the earth groaned a sloppy groan when we walked on the soggy soil. The conditions, which were not the most desired, were fitting for the reason why we gathered: a solemn prayer vigil for a woman who was murdered by actions of domestic violence.

This prayer service began as a response to a murder in Jeffersonville and local pastors wanted to bring awareness and hope to a community affected by a senseless death. Since the first death roughly five years ago, there has been a total of five murders, more than half being by domestic violence. Clergy members from Presbyterian, Episcopal, Roman Catholic and United Church of Christ parishes gather to hold in prayer the victims, the perpetrators, and the community, praying for peace. In addition to the clergy, members from their own parishes along with members from the community, and family members of the victims, are invited to join in the vigil.

I had never been a part of a vigil like this. Although I have been a part of Sunday worship services that were set-aside for Domestic Violence Awareness and I hear about murders by means of the media, this was the first time I was encountering the reality of murder in a community as a ‘pastor’. As I prepared for it I wondered who would show up? What does one pray for at the location of a murder? What is justice in this situation? How do I shape my prayers for the perpetrator if the family is among us? Questions were racing through my head but I did not try to answer them. Instead I decided that I would I simply show up and be a presence to those who would be there.

As mentioned before, it was only clergy who had showed and we prayed the liturgy one of the pastors had created for these vigils, all of us taking a different part. There we stood under our umbrellas praying for this tragedy and praying for peace. I was a pastor for a grieving community.

Standing in the mud while my feet were getting soaked and my body temperature was decreasing, I thought to myself, “This is what Advent is about.” Although it is not a practice that we as clergy or anybody want to practice (having a prayer vigil for someone who has been murdered), what we were praying echoed what Advent is about: preparing and actively participating in the waiting of the reign of God. There we stood as a people praying for the day when death will be no more, when mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the day when peace will triumph over violence.

Our vigil was not a passive gathering. By us being there, at the location of a murder, and praying for the end of violence, we were participating in bringing peace to the community. The showing up is a statement that we are committing ourselves to the way of God, to the Prince of Peace, and are praying for the day when violence will be no more. Perhaps we can say our action, our vigil, is a prophetic and priestly voice, crying out for humanity to turn from anger, malice, wrath, and violence and turning towards peace, kindness, hope, and patience.

While we prayed, I realized how unaware I am of the need for peace in my own community. Often my prayers for peace are for the world, nations to live peacefully with other nations, and for wars to end. While these prayers are needed, I recognized how in my prayers for peace, I often leave out those who suffer from violence in my own communities. This vigil made me mindful of how there is a need to pray specifically for those who suffer form violence in our neighborhoods and within our parishes.

It was a humbling experience, a heartbreaking one as well. To think there are people in our own lives, in our own churches, who know not what it means to live in peace. This prayer vigil has shaped my prayers around the house where screaming occurs throughout the night, for the woman who welcomes the winter months because now she does not have to come up with an excuse as to why she wears long-sleeved, turtle neck shirts, and for the young boy who no longer wants to go home after school for his home is no longer a home. No longer will my prayers be only for the end of wars, but they will include those who live in fear and danger of violence in my own community.

One part of ministry that has enthralled my interest is how to facilitate a church to become a community where people can find sanctuary. This experience challenged me to think of ways of how a church becomes a refuge for people who have been victims of violence, especially domestic violence. But then this question came to mind, what if these people are a part of your own parish, what if they are husband and wife who serve or have served on session? To be a community of rest and safety is what the church is called to do, the process to get there is a difficult one, but one that needs to be worked through.

My hands were red from being exposed to the elements, my face was cold, and my feet were colder. Yet when we said our final “Amen” on that first Sunday of Advent, my heart was made warmed for the hopeful prayers that were offered up, praying and trusting that God was, is, and will make this well. We grieved and still are, but we trust that God is teaching us a new song to sing.

“Now go out into the world in peace,
and be of courage.
Hold on to what is good,
And return no one evil for evil;
But strengthen the fainthearted,
Support the weak,
Help the suffering,
Honor all people
And love and serve the Lord your God,
Rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.”

It is Advent, let us live into the hope that has come already in Jesus and begin embodying the alternate reality Jesus made possible, one where peace triumphs and no one lives in fear of violence. Come thou long expected Jesus, come Prince of Peace.

Quiet Now

2011-11-26T20:18:00.003-06:00

The house sits quiet now. Our guests are gone, the toys are put up, and even the golden is asleep on his ottoman. Outside the darkness has settled bringing with it tomorrows cooler air. The furnace is silent, enjoying a break before it is called on again. The house has settled.

Over head in the distance you can hear a one or two engine plane descending from the heavens towards the airport across the way. You can see the lights directing it reflecting off the neighbors windows. The streets are quiet. No one walking by or even driving by at this moment.

There is a peacefulness out there and in here.

Despite the uncertainty that comes with darkness, there is a promise that is absorbed within it: no matter how dark it gets, light always returns in the morning.

Tasks should have been crossed off in completion, at least worked towards tonight. Instead, the stillness that has come from what was a busy two days has invited me to sit, to be still, to begin practicing what we are about this time a year: becoming a people of possibility.

It is Advent. There is an enticing mystery to these coming days. Let us dream now, dream of something else.

Tomorrow is a new day, the first day.

11.25

2011-11-25T21:47:00.003-06:00

eyes are heavy, stomachs full, laughter resonating throughout our 'home', dog is out, dreaming of course, little ones in the room, one sleeping, the other playing, heat on, house warm, hours away from saying goodbye, this time only for a month, what a day, what a night, thanks be, thanks be

Irrational

2011-11-23T21:52:00.002-06:00

This is the irrational season
when love blooms bright and wild
had Mary been full of reason
there’d have been no room for the child.
~Madeline L’Engle

Prayer for Today: 11/22/11

2011-11-22T17:02:00.002-06:00

The little Gate to God

Walter Rauschenbusch

In the castle of my soul is a postern gate. Whereat, when I enter, I am In the presence of God.

In a moment, in the turning of a thought, I am where God is, This is a fact.

When I enter into God, All life has a meaning, Without asking I know; My desires are even now fulfilled, My fever is gone.

In the great quiet of God. My troubles are but pebbles on the road, My joys are like the everlasting hills. So it is when My soul steps through the postern gate Into the presence of God.

Big things become small and small things become great. The near becomes far, and the future is near.

The lowly and despised is hot through with glory - God is the substance of all revolutions; When I am in Him, I am in the Kingdom of God and in the Home (Fatherland) of my Soul.

Amen.

1121

2011-11-21T22:09:00.002-06:00

Maybe, maybe it is unrealistic.

A 'pipe-dream' as they say.

My ideology is irrational.

Theology tramples it,

Doctrines disproves it,

Humanity is proof of it.

But then, why?

For an hour, on one day?

Hope is something I have,

The strongest of my faith.

But is it hope?

Or is it misguided faith?

Is this it? All we have?

Dare I continue to dream?

Or hope for another world?

My heart is only reacting.

Think first, then act.

It is our supreme purpose.

Not worth loving for.

We'd rather postpone.

We'd rather remain paralyzed.

Redemptive action,

Not now.

Thanks

2011-11-21T14:40:00.000-06:00

Although the leaves and the beauty they hold are all but gone and what was once full of life looks dull, exposed, and lifeless, I am thankful for the hope that is soon to come.

While the sun does not shine like it once did, the crisp cold air that has ushered in the ending of yet another year has made its way back into our lives, I am thankful for how when the seasons grow cold the light of the moon shines brightly in the darkness, providing a warmth of joy for the light that is soon to enter into the world.

Though the stores are packed with people hustling and bustling from one department to another, creating a season of consumer chaos, I am thankful for the season that will lead us into a slower pace as we wait for the one who brings peace.

Countless things am I thankful for: the good world, things great and small, beautiful and magnificent, for seen and unseen splendors, for growing up and growing old, for wisdom deepened by experience, for rest in leisure, for time made precious by its passing, for help in times of trouble and seasons of sadness, for healing hearts and prophetic words.

Although the gifts abound, I am most thankful for love and its transforming and arousing power, its promise to be there even when we doubt it, its manifestation in people and places we least expect it, and the hope, joy, peace it offers for the days that lie ahead.

For this and so, so much, I give thanks to God our creator and the lover of humanity!

...be a better world

2011-11-21T07:24:00.005-06:00

There are times when I become frustrated with myself because I think I lack the abilityto articulate myself well. Often this 'inability' comes from me psyching myself out, believing and focusing too much on how I can't articulate myself rather than saying what it is I want to say. Something I am working on.

One of the fascinating aspects of my faith is the human condition. All my life I have been taught and convinced with how humanity is bad, incapable of being what God wants for God's creation to do. And in order to able to be what God wants us to be, we must wait until some moment when we will be made whole, indicating that we as God's creation have been created with a flaw, thus making God an inadequate creator.

I find little comfort to think of God, the one to whom we ascribe words such as "Almighty", "All-loving", "All-powerful", and the list goes on, as a god who does not create things 'good'. What then is the poem in Genesis 1 about? Our 'badness', if I am correct, does not enter into our story into Genesis 3, right? Our story begins then not as being 'bad' but as being created 'good' and in the image of God, an image I assume is good, yes?

Forgive my faulty logic there.

I admit there is evil, quite a bit in the world. At times if you read only the newspaper or watch the floating heads on TV, you would be lead to believe that nothing good is happening in the world. If God is good, and being a part of the Reformed tradition we believe that God through Christ is reconciling the world to Godself, then to say this world is bad and that we are bad with no hope except for something to happen at some time and location we know not of, then we aren't we saying that God is kind of good? It is all confusing, about as confusing as that last sentence.

I leave you with this to ponder on this Monday:

God has sown goodness.

No child is born evil.

We are called to holiness.

The values that God has sown in the human heart

and that present-day people esteem so highly

are not rare gems;

they are things that appear continually.

Why then is there so much evil?

Because the evil inclinations of the human heart

have corrupted people, and they need purification.

The original, pristine human vocation is goodness.

We have all been born for goodness:

no one is born with inclinations to kidnap,

no one is born with inclinations to be a criminal,

no one is born to be a torturer,

no one is born to be a murderer.

We have all been born to be good,

to love one another,

to understand one another.

Why then, Lord, have so many weeds

grown up in your field?

The enemy has done it, says Christ.

People have let weeds grow in their hearts:

evil company,

evil propensities,

evil habits.

Beloved young people,

about to choose your life's vocation,

ponder how we are all called to goodness

and how the older generation--

my own, I regret--

is leaving you a heritage of so much selfishness,

of so much evil.

Renew,

new wheat, newly sown crops,

fields still fresh from God's hand,

children, youths:

be a better world.

(from The Violence of Love, by Oscar Romero)

"The Hospitable Shepherd"

2011-11-20T12:49:00.003-06:00

Grammatical Caveat: Because sermons are meant to be preached and are therefore prepared with the emphasis on verbal presentation (i.e., are written for the ear), the written accounts occasionally deviate from proper and generally accepted principles of grammar and punctuation. Most often, these deviations are not mistakes per se, but are indicative of an attempt to aid the listener in the delivery of the sermon.

“The Hospitable Shepherd”

Jeffersonville, Indiana

November 19 & 20, 2011

Adam R. Quine

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there was a woman, who stood no more than five feet tall and wobbled a bit when she walked. Her skin was wrinkly, indicating the wisdom she possessed and her stature was frail. By no mean was she a wealthy person, but she was full of life. Those who knew her would even call her a saint.

One time this aged women found herself in the middle of a booming metropolis, away from home. The people she represented, the folks who sent her to this place, put her up in a ritzy boarding house, full of on call stewards who at a request would bring her anything she wanted.

Her first night there, she put in a request around suppertime for a full course meal. Because it was one of those establishments the steward responded promptly with this meal on a beautiful platter. A bountiful feast this tiny woman was soon to consume. About an hour later the steward received another request from the same room that wanted the same meal. Puzzled and confused as to how this one woman could have consumed all that food, the steward brought her more food. Having done their job, the steward returned back to work only to receive yet again, another request to the same room from same woman wanting the same amount of food. This would happen two or three more times and every time the steward wandered, “How is this woman eating all of this food all by herself?”

Finally it was time for the steward to clock out and head home. As they made their way down the street they noticed a large group of people, homeless people, gathering around a fire eating off plates that looked like dining ware they’d find in the boarding house. Fearing for their job, the steward inquired and as they approached they saw a familiar face, the little old lady from the boarding house.

As the steward took a step back and watch, it dawned on them, the food the woman requested was not for her. Rather, she was requesting the food and taking it to the streets. Using the resources of the people who sent her, out of selflessness and with a compassionate heart, the tiring woman went to those who had no place stay and provided for them a meal and so much more.

If I told you that this story was real, that it happened sometime in the early 1990’s and the land far, far away was really the city across the river, Louisville, would you be able to guess who this story is about? If you guessed Mother Teresa, you are correct.

Today is the last day of our liturgical year. For 365 days we have gathered on 52 Sundays, journeying with Christ and with one another, to this day, the day we acknowledge as the Reign of Christ Sunday. Today is the day that we acknowledge not only with our mouths and but with our lives, that Christ alone is our King, that Christ alone is the ruler of our hearts. Its purpose is to celebrate the coming reign of Christ as King of the Earth and his completion of the renewed creation that marks the fullness of the Kingdom of God. After all the kingdom of God is here, Mother Teresa knew it.

It is intriguing how on the day attributed to celebrating Christ as Ruler, the readings are dominated by images and references about shepherding. I find this intriguing because when I think of Rulers, and Kings and Queens, the last image to come to mind is a shepherd. But sheep and goats are what take center stage today. Our Old Testament text takes us back to our good friend Ezekiel, who uses the metaphor of shepherding to communicate God’s hope for the people of Israel and the coming of a new reign of kings, leaders who will do what rulers are supposed to do.

The people of Israel find themselves again in exile. This time instead of pharaoh, Ezekiel addresses Israel’s own leadership and how it bears the responsibility the current state of affairs the are a part of: the powerful rulers, the shepherds of Israel, were getting more powerful and the sheep, the people of Israel, were exploited and becoming more and more powerless. The shepherd’s of Israel did not responsibly tend to the sheep and the sheep became sick and weak, making the shepherds guilty of negligence. The words used to describe the situation depict for us the readers a sense of exhaustion, suggesting that the sheep were over driven and denied the needed rest.

Since their own shepherding, or lack there of, caused Israel’s latest exile, what were the people of Israel to do? Perhaps this is when we can direct our attention to the window that hangs front and center in our church and gaze upon the good shepherd. For the antithesis of the shepherd’s neglect that Ezekiel cries out against is the Good Shepherd’s tender and perfect care. It is God the Good Shepherd that will reverse this exile and will enable these refugees to recover from their trauma. It is God, the True Shepherd, who will do what God can to find the scattered sheep and bring them back to the fold; it is God the Hospitable shepherd who will feed God’s starved sheep with abundant food and water, and those exhausted sheep will finally be able to lie down next to still waters. (Makes you think about another shepherd text we are all familiar with, huh?) God promises the flock that God will bring forth for them a shepherd who will bring peace and security throughout the whole land. God will not disappoint.

It goes without saying why the Gospel lesson is paired up with this Ezekiel text for it too is full with sheep language. Images of Jesus as well echoes throughout the Ezekiel text for we know Christ as the Good Shepherd, the shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one who is lost. Much like the people of Israel, the crowds that followed Jesus were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Unlike the neglectful shepherds Ezekiel prophesied against, Jesus offers his sheep abundant life. Christ does not abandon them and will even give his life for them. The image of God and Jesus as the good shepherd contrasts with human leaders who capitalize on positions of power and privilege for personal gain. The Good Shepherd has the sheep’s interest at heart.

Yet even Jesus speaks to those around him about what is to happen to those who fall back into neglecting and exploiting the sheep of God. Jesus, who upset the status quo with his generous hospitality and outlandish table manners, tells a judgment story about how the Son of Man will put sheep on his right side and goats on the left. To those on the right he will say, “Come you who are blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you, for when I was hungry you gave me food, when I was thirsty you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” To those on the left, the news is not as good for when they were faced with the same opportunities; they did not welcome the hidden stranger.

If we are not careful, we may fall into having heard this parable affirm our good work of feeding the hungry, clothing those who are cold, and providing care for those who have needed it and remain there. But hospitality, what this text is calling for, is risky and difficult work and this parable reminds us of how we as disciples of Jesus Christ are to live lives of service committing ourselves to the ways of Christ, to the Kingdom of God and not to the kingdoms of this world. We as followers of Christ are to be Christ to those we meet by making space for others and inviting them to tell their stories.

Throughout his ministry Jesus declared with urgency how the Kingdom of the Good Shepherd was at hand. Jesus demonstrates for us how we as people of God, as sheep in the fold of God, are to live in this world. Jesus tells us, instead of looking to the sky waiting for something to happen, that we are to be present with those in our midst now. Because as much as Jesus was hungry for bread, he was hungrier for the understanding love of being loved, of being known, of being someone to someone. Much like a sheep being treated well by their shepherd who takes them to green pastures and lets them lie down near still waters. God’s kingdom, the one Jesus spoke of, the one Mother Teresa lived into, is vastly different than the kingdoms of our days.

Christ as King puts God’s kingdom before our own, opening up countless opportunities to practice the hospitality of the shepherd God speaks of in Ezekiel. To confess Christ is King, ruler of our lives, is to say we are making a commitment to playing our part as ambassadors to Christ in the kingdom of God and ushering it in here and now. We will throw open the doors of our church and our lives and give ourselves over fully to taking care of the hungry, thirsty, naked, and poor. Christ as King means more than simply uttering it with our mouths. It is a way of life, an allegiance to the God of heaven and earth, who through Christ made room for us, and so now we will do all that we can to make space and room for those who need it. The work of God is risky and as frightened or paranoid as Jesus’ parable may make us, we need to take comfort it in. For God through Christ and with the Holy Spirit in us, is already ruling the world. It is a matter of where our loyalty falls.

Mother Teresa once uttered these prophetic words:
“The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty -- it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There's a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God.”

Friends, Christ is King. God’s kingdom is here it is now. Let us be hospitable in it because lets be honest, you never know where Christ might show up.

11.16 Homily

2011-11-16T19:49:00.002-06:00

“Remembering Me: A Practice”
Luke 22.14-23
November 16th, 2011
FPC Jeffersonville, Indiana
Adam R. Quine

Practice, no matter how monotonous it gets, is a good thing. It prepares us for whatever it is we are practicing for. It is our hope that by our practicing we will be ready for what is to come, that we will be ready. But what happens if we do not practice? We know what happens if say a musician does not practice her music for the recital. But for our setting, what about we church going folk? What about our practices? I have heard this said about a faith communities practice that “A practice of the church is meant to connect us with what is deeply alive, to stir in us the same kind of aliveness that the disciples of Jesus must have felt when they were with him.” I cannot think of a more perfect practice that does this than what we have gathered here to do tonight. And the ironic thing is, this practice, is no different than one of my, and perhaps your, favorite childhood activities.

One practice I reflect on often that had a significant impact on me was the importance my parents placed on supper. I can still here my mom’s whistle echoing throughout the neighborhood, letting me know it was time to come home, for supper was ready. I’d run home, wash my hands (only if my parents made me, luckily I’ve graduated to washing my hands before meals), and I would take my place at the table. There we would all gather my mom and dad, and my three brothers.

As the final dish would be placed on the table, my dad would say, “Let’s pray,” or as we got older, once that dish was placed, we knew it was time to pray and without invitation, we would bow our heads and my one of us would offer up the prayer. After giving thanks, one of my parents would go around the table asking us by name how our days went. In between taking bites, buttering our bread, and taking sips of water or milk, each of us would share how things went for the day. Looking each other in the eye, we would share our story with one another. It was around that kitchen table, which now is frequently surrounded by grandchildren, I felt and knew and experienced love.

I guess this is why I love Wednesday nights so much. It takes me back to those nights when I was little. We share in the same practices. We pray, we sit around table talking with one another, and in so doing, we share our lives. No matter what is awaiting me in regard to academic life when I leave, this place, these meals, with you people, bring a welcomed change of pace to an often chaotic and jammed packed week. It is a joy to break bread and hear your stories.

What you have been doing, what we have been doing on Wednesday nights, is something that has been done for quite some time, since the beginning of the church. In just a few minutes actually we will gather yet again around a table, we will pray, we will tell a story about the one we call Christ and what happened on that horrible night. The bread will be broken and juice will be poured out and we will be told that Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”
Some of us may think these words, the Last Supper words, mean that we’re remembering Jesus when we drink of this cup and eat of this bread is actually about the 12 and Jesus. Well, of course we are remembering Jesus, but that should not be all we’re doing. Instead, I think Jesus wanted the disciples and everyone after them to remember what they had together. By gathering them together he reminded them of what they made together, an alternative community for the world. What it meant to be together, a hospitable place where even tax collectors are welcomed. Much like every time we gather at the table we tell our story, and are reminded that in this story, we are not alone. This supper table, much like the ones we just ate at, gathered us together from the east and west, the north and south, and we ate a joyful feast with one another.

When Jesus said, “remember me”, perhaps he meant, “Do this to remember how we healed the sick and cured the lepers and relieved those possessed by demons. Do this to remember ho we were a band of men and women who traveled together and ate together and were a company of friends.” At the supper table, at this table, we as a community, as a body of Christ, are called together, united again as one. We are the body of Christ. We are the body given for each other. This is my body, he said. Look around you.

In this practice, much like the supper practice of my family and this family of faith, something miraculous happens. What is it? What is so miraculous that churches would want to eat of this bread and drink of this cup weekly? It is simple really I think, for when we all show up and do our parts, we are the sacrament, we are the body of Christ. When we gather our lives whisper to one another, “Do this to remember me. Do this to remember whom you were with. Do this to remember who you are.”

We come and practice eating a meal together. This practice, much like all practices, is meant, not to be a place where you stay and take a nap, but to lead somewhere outward to the world. At this table we are fed, met by the risen Christ, and then are sent to be the body of Christ to those we meet. Christ is everywhere, especially in bread and wine, where, as Luther says, he binds himself and us to each other. If Christ is everywhere, he is in us. We are his body now, his hands and his feet. We are all the ongoing incarnation.

Go out into the world, knowing you are blessed!

Objectionable Confession

2011-11-15T13:19:00.005-06:00

Today making my way through the rain, I made my way into the chapel on campus. Crossing over the symbol on the floor, "Many lamps, one light", I was asked to enter the chapel quietly. Because I am a person who values the quiet, I honored the request.

Chapel was about listening to God's voice. There is no one way for which God speaks to us God's children. As the liturgy held up, God speaks 'through the chaotic silence of nature', 'in times of quiet meditation, and even 'in the laughter and the voices' of those around us. God even speaks through an ass, a donkey that is (and not your snarky seminary blog writer!).

After an interpretive telling of Balaam and the donkey, we were invited to reflect in silence for a few minutes, "two or three" and listen for what God is saying. How fitting it was to offer silence on a day when rain was pouring down onto the chapel which looks like a ship turned upside down. It was as if every rain drop could be heard. Refreshing and beautiful.

But I have a confession. I doubted if I would be able to hear God's voice in the midst of these 2 minutes that weren't really silent because people were moving around and fiddling with their bulletins (uh...er...um...that was me by the way). Before the silence was invoked, I had my doubts.

But then I came up with this:

Nothing? No.

But something.

Anything, really.

But not nothing.

Always, something.

Hidden, perhaps

around, in

something but,

rarely ever is it

nothing.

Now, here.

Also, though, then.

Perhaps seeming

like nothing,

but always, always,

something.

I am one to question something before it even unfolds. My skepticism is debilitating at times. However, that Spirit which is too deep for words, usually stirs something within me that reminds me that God is much larger than the clear objections I project out. If I hold true to what I believe, God is making Godself known constantly to me. Somehow, some way.

Even if the cluster of noises prevents me from penetrating that still, small voice within.

Silence is needed.

In the chaotic, cacophony of voices, there is God's.

Something is always there, even if it appears to be nothing.

Words

2011-11-15T07:25:00.009-06:00

Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

Being in seminary, I have learned that words matter. What comes out of our mouth carries great power, power to edify and power to tear down. There is much to be learned from the statement, "Think before you speak." What may seem harmless to you, may in fact be quite hurtful to those around you.

Seminary is sometimes comical about words. As students we are given assignments that can only be between a certain amount of words. It has been my experience, which will not come as a shocker to any one who even looks at my writing space, of being told that I am a 'wordy person'. By this they mean, I use a lot of words. My vocabulary is weak and my grammar, well, it is probably as inadequate as my vocabulary. What takes an average person to say in one or two words, I like to use as many as possible. As a result, my readers (my professors unfortunately) get lost in what I am trying to say. What I want to say and what actually comes out are usually two different things. All of which frustrates me tremendously.

There are people at school who are fascinated with words. Some, when the speak, you want to listen because the listeners can tell the ones who are speaking have carefully thought through what they want to say. Others however, are not as careful. This is not a problem. I am one of those students who has hard time speaking up in class because of a fear of sounding dull-witted. I admire those who struggle with what they want to say but say it anyway. In their thoughtlessness they are attempting to be reflective.

Words matter at seminary. Especially as a community trying to figure out what it means to be a community. For every one thoughtful colleague, there is one who tries to use their words to push their perspectives. Instead of listening to the person next to them, they are constructing their argument, what they will say next that will 'debo' (make their neighbor look foolish) the person speaking. Or, another common practice on seminary is for us up and rising pastors to begin pastoring one another, without invitation. We begin to regurgitate what we have recently read onto one another, pretending to 'be there' for one another. This is most evident not necessarily in class but on the media outlet known as facebook. On statuses (statusai?) people offer their pastoral care, providing words of comfort, encouragement, or exaltation. There is a tendency in seminary to offer words to people who may not want words. Or like in class, and on the internets for that matter, words are spoken without consideration, without an authentic examination, and instead of comforting folks, they only add to the building animosity in the air. At seminary, it has been my experience that people speak because they feel as if they have to; people speak before they are spoken to; people speak because they know they have something else to offer (even if it is a rip off from a Hallmark card they looked at while shopping at their local pharmacy).

There are times for words, both carefully used words and yes, words used in the most absurd ways. But then there is a time for when we need to be silent, when we need to set aside our eagerness to play pastor, and listen to people. While it is helpful to limit people to the amount of words they use, it is equally as helpful to let those who have a hard time using words to use the vocabulary they know how to. Seminary is full of people who like to talk, use words they know other do not know, and assume they posses something others don't.

All of this came from reading Romans. Paul and I usually do not get along. There is much I wrestle with when I read the disgruntled pastor. So much he writes about leaves me shaking my head in disbelief and causes my blood pressure to rise.

But then Paul will saying something like this:

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words." Romans 8.26

The connection I am attempting to make is how with so much focus on words, it is easy for seminary students to feel as if they have to have the something to say. How detrimental this can be those of us outside of the classroom when we enter into the lives of those who know nothing of atonement theology, predestination, election, and supersessionism. How distracting our words can be when we pray we begin to pour out our systematic theology onto a family who has just experienced a miscarriage. How frightening it can be for those who sit anxiously in the ER waiting room looking for comfort and instead they are greeted with the "Romans road" to salvation.

As seminary students (and I am well aware of my projections in this writing) we need to be comfortable with not having the right words all the time. We need to learn to sit in the spaces we find ourselves, be fully present to those we are with, and letting them use the words they need to use. Because as ministers, as people who carry the good news, as people who are set-aside by God to go out into the world, it is less about us than it is about those we meet along the way.

We need to take comfort knowing that when we don't have the words, when we feel as if our $60,000 seminary education has failed us, the Holy Spirit has been, is, and will continue to pray on our behalf "with sighs too deep for words". Instead of our words, we need to remember to trust God who is the giver of life, who when speaking the first word, creation sprung forth. It is God who is the Word Incarnate, the one who came not to create a wordy doctrine, but instead is the one who spoke truth through the way God, through Christ, lived.

Parted Ways

2011-11-14T13:06:00.001-06:00

It is official, my favorite band has officially "parted ways".

I believe this means, they broke up.

friends(?)

2011-11-09T20:51:00.004-06:00

people have emerged in my life

that have become what we call friends

they listen, but don't try to fix

they care, but don't try to offer me 'pastoral' care

they sit with me, and, well, they sit

they help me see things differently, better

while not reciting cliche christian-ese

they don't pretend to provide something they can't or don't

and neither do i

but i do not know what to do with these friends

these people and their stories

our stories are similar

but different, intriguing

what will come of them? these stories

that are captivating, that are intersecting with mine

they've welcomed mine, help me tell mine

with

no competition

no one-upper's

no hidden agendas

what they want, what i want

what i think we want

is a genuine friendship, people who love us

who love one another

these people, these folks, these strangers

are now,

friends

and i'm not sure what to do with them

these people, who have emerged in my life

Prayer for Today: 11/04/11

2011-11-04T12:17:00.003-05:00

A Prayer In the Work of Redemption

O God, Thou great Redeemer of mankind, our hearts are tender in the thought of Thee, for in all the afflictions of our race Thou has been afflicted, and in the sufferings of Thy people it was Thy body that was crucified. Thou hast been wounded by our transgressions and bruised by our iniquities, and all our sins are laid at last on Thee. Amid the groaning of creation we behold Thy spirit in travail till the sons of God shall be born in freedom and holiness.

We pray Thee, O Lord, for the graces of a pure and holy life that we may no longer add to the dark weight of the world's sin that is laid upon Thee, but may share with Thee in Thy redemptive work. As we have thirsted with evil passions to the destruction of men, do Though fill us now with hunger and thirst for justice that we may bear glad tidings to the poor and set at liberty all who are in prison house of want and sin. Lay Thy Spirit upon us and inspire us with a passion of Christlike love that we may join our lives to the weak and oppressed and may strengthen their cause by bearing their sorrows. And if the evil that is threatened turns to smite us, and if we must learn the dark malignity of sinful power, comfort us by the thought that thus we are bearing in our body the marks of Jesus, and that only those who share in His free sacrifice shall feel the plenitude of Thy life. Help us in patience to carry forward the eternal cross of Thy Christ, counting it joy if we, too, are sown as grains of wheat in the furrows of the world, for only by the agony of the righteous comes redemption.

~from Prayers of the Social Awakening by Walter Rauschenbusch

Waiting

2011-11-01T15:50:00.001-05:00

It is early, but we are thinking of Advent....

Moving...Again!

2011-10-28T16:06:00.003-05:00

And so we move, again.

Saying goodbye to upstairs neighbor Mike, the homeless folk who take the soda cans out of our recycling, our NA friends who stand outside our house on Friday nights, and so many other interesting people!

Here is the itenarary for the day:

6:00 am - we get up and get ready for the day.
6:45 am - ready to leave for the new place with the first load in our car(s)
8:00 am - arrive at the Uhaul pick up point
9:00 am - Friends arrive to help us move. Begin to load the truck.
First load will include:
Desk, File Cabinet, 2 dressers, books in hallway, cube shelf in hallway, trunk, mattress, box springs, bed frame.
9:45 am - Leave for Alanmede Road. Unpack the truck.
10:45 am - Arrive back at Grinstead for the second load.
Second Load:
The rest of the the hallway and bedroom items - clothing boxes, nightstands, chair from bedroom, etc.
11:30 am - Leave for Alanmede Road. Unpack the truck.
12:30 pm - Pick up lunch and take it back to Grinstead. (We provide lunch.)
1:30 pm - Load the truck again.
Third Load:
Living room furniture, stuff in closet and top storage space, TV, small end tables, potentially add the kitchen table
2:15 pm - Leave for Alanmede Road. Unpack the truck.
3:15 pm - Head back to Grinstead. Take the boxes back to Grinstead to finish packing up the kitchen.
6:30 pm - Eat Dinner as a group. Chili!
7:30 pm - Load up the rest of the kitchen stuff and misc. items.
8:15 pm - Unpack the truck for the last time!
9:00 pm - Done moving for the day!!! Enjoy a cold (or hot) drink together!!!

Chapel Homily #1

2011-10-26T15:54:00.002-05:00

“Parable”

10/26/11

First Presbyterian Church of Jeffersonville, IN

Adam R. Quine

As I mentioned Sunday, it is always a treat to work with children. Being open and receptive to new ideas, children seem to approach new situations with little skepticism, unlike us adults. Although at times they question what may be going on [and can be quite squirmy], their questions come not as a form of criticism or an attempt to undermine our authority. Rather, they ask questions because they are genuinely curious. Lets be honest, the questions children often ask are the most profound and puzzling questions we ever have to address.

One of my favorite activities is giving a prop, an object of some sort, to a group of children and let them create something with it. For instance, if we were to give our children a water noodle (the long, foam tube looking thing), we would be brought into a variety of scenes. Perhaps the water noodle would be used as a horse that the children rode around as they rescued people from a dangerous scene. Or they would bend it so that both ends would meet forming a circle, that when you slipped through the circle, you entered into an entirely different universe. (Even while I was trying to think of a situation, it took a good while to think of using this tube for something other than a horse. It was a stretch for me to think imaginatively.)

Our children are master storytellers. Even if you do not have children of your own, I bet you have encountered a time when a child explained to you how they encountered an event. It has been my experience, they tell it as they see it. Perhaps this is why shows like Bill Cosby’s “Kids Say the Darndest Things” are so funny, because children grasp reality for what it is. Us adults over time, in the business of our lives and in our maturity, do not have the time to sit and embrace and use all five senses to tell what we saw.

We need what is happening around us to be told to us quickly and efficiently and in a conveiniet way that does not challenge our linear thinking. We want facts, the cold hard truth. Take a look at our evening news: our news stations don’t linger on one particular story, but a cacophony, snippets of sound bites with not much depth. Our realism can rob us from the world that is unfolding all around us. In our attempts to be knowledgeable it can be a temptation for us to forget how to be curious, like the children we once were.

Jesus in the text tonight speaks in parables, which means, “to cast alongside”. Instead of telling the people what they want, Jesus irritates the spectators by responding with a story that is really more than a story. There are numerous reasons we could list why Jesus uses parables instead of direct answers. For instance, the Jesus was teaching to a mixed crowd of his followers, people who were curious, and those who were opposed. Parables then, the way Jesus used them, reinforced the division of responses people had. Or if we want to go deeper theologically we could discuss what was being told in the Jesus’ stories and how the disciples understood the mystery that God’s empire was being manifested in Jesus and how the crowds did not quite get the meaning behind these stories. This then would lead to an interesting conversation about how the disciples are presented in each Gospel. How in Mark they are frowned up because they rarely understand what Jesus was talking about, how in Matthew they are a little more insightful, and by the time we get to Luke, they are quite aware of who stands before them.

Instead, we will focus on how Jesus uses parables to teach. While Jesus could have openly chastised the disciples and the people with lectures and an outline that highlights what Jesus’ mission was, he tells a story the same way we were told a story about a duck. We know the story, the on that tells of a homely little bird born in a barnyard who suffers abuse from his neighbors until, much to his delight (and to the surprise of others), he matures into a beautiful swan, the most beautiful bird of all.

Jesus was a brilliant storyteller. He was able to not simply tell people about the kingdom of heaven, but through storytelling he was able to show them. He took everyday tasks, the activities of the lives of the peasants, spinning a tale that challenged conventional perspectives while engaging the people’s imagination, causing them to think differently. Jesus’ use of parables cultivates an opportunity for the listeners to discover for themselves what the kingdom of heaven is to be like, rather than simply telling them about it. Or like the Native American proverb says, “Tell me and I'll forget. Show me, and I may not remember. Involve me, and I'll understand.”

Children have the ability to take us back, not only by their inquisitive minds but also by the use of their imaginations. Let them tell you a story. Ask a child how their day was and be prepared to be wowed, perhaps not by the facts but by the details captured by the use of their senses. In so doing, perhaps we will learn how to listen not only with our ears but also with our whole lives. Jesus spoke in parables, telling stories and at one point, grabbed a child and said, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

I conclude with this quote from Eugene Ionesco:
“Childhood is the world of miracle and wonder; as if creation rose, bathed in light, out of the darkness, utterly fresh and astonishing. The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. When the world seems familiar, when one has got used to existence, one has become an adult.”

Prayer for Today: 10/26/11

2011-10-26T07:30:00.005-05:00

There is a stirring happening within me.

There is a restlessness I have been aware of for quite some time.

Exhausted all of this has made me.

But my hip is starting to hurt, perhaps I am soon to walk away, having been blessed.

There are days when I simply do not know what, let alone how, to pray.

Then I run across prayers such as this one, and I am reminded that sometimes, the prayers of others is all I have.

"O my God, I don't care about anything; all I know is that I

want to love You. I want my will to disappear in Your will. I

want to be one spirit with You. I want to become all Your

desires and thoughts. I want to live in the middle of Your

Trinity and praise You with the flames of Your own praise. O

my God, knowing all this, why do You leave me alone in my

selfishness and in my vanity and pride, instead of drawing me

into the midst of Your love? My God, do not delay any longer

to make me a saint and to make me one with You, and do not

delay to live in me. And if it require sacrifice, You will give me

the courage to make all sacrifices. You will consume me in Your

own immense love. So do not be afraid of my weakness, O God,

because You can do everything. I believe in Your love above all

things. I have forgotten everything else (that is, I want to). I

live for Your love, if You will only make me live so."

~Thomas Merton

I am not completely there. Still am I selfish, consumed with my own desires. But, soon, it is my prayer, I will move past this and into the freedom that only God, through Christ, can offer me.

"And if it requires sacrifice, You will give me the courage to make all sacrifices."

May it be so.

Amen.

sermon audio

2011-10-25T14:46:00.002-05:00

if you would like to hear the 'word proclaimed', then click here!

(this is the sermon from sunday i preached)

10.22.11 "In Repentance and With Assurance"

2011-10-23T11:40:00.004-05:00

“The Bible Teaches Us How To Worship: From Repentance and in Assurance”

First Presbyterian Church of Jeffersonville, Indiana

Adam R. Quine

10/22 & 23/11

It is mid-autumn and you find yourself downtown sitting on a bench on the corner of a busy intersection. With a warm beverage in hand, you take in all that is happening around you. Being warmed by the fall sun shining brightly above you, free from the obstruction of the towering skyscrapers, you allow the rhythm of the city to center you: the humming of the cars, the chattering of fellow pedestrian, and the sound of shuffling feet that remind you, you are not alone in this world.

As you are about to experience enlightenment, or drift off into an impromptu nap, this peaceful city scene is disrupted by the person standing on the opposite corner wearing a sandwich board sign that has what they are screaming through a bullhorn in bright red letters, “Repent! Or you will burn in hell!” Whether it was because of the obnoxious yelling or if the message proclaimed penetrated your mind, you rise to your feet, no longer at peace, and return back to what it is you were doing.

In keeping with the theme that has been laid out before us, today we explore how the Bible teaches us to worship: in repentance and with assurance.

How do we begin to explore this idea of repentance and assurance? Essentially in this Bible Geek series about how the Bible teaches us to worship, we are asking ourselves, “Why do we do what we do?” To address this question let us look at a couple characters that will help us figure out what repentance is and more importantly, “what do we do with this assurance”?

Let us begin with Jonah. When you think of Jonah, what comes to mind? Presumably I am willing to guess you think of a giant whale or fish, right? Even now I bet you are pondering what this giant fish, whale, thing large enough to swallow a grown human, must have looked like. As you know though, there is more to this classic VBS story than Jonah and the giant fish. You see, Jonah was given the task from God to go into the city of Nineveh and cry out against their wickedness, and after resisting God which lead to the giant creature incident, which then lead to Jonah giving thanks to God for rescuing him from said giant something, Jonah goes to Nineveh and proclaims how in forty days Nineveh will be turned over to their enemies. What happens next demonstrates what repentance looks like. The king, in the presence of Jonah and in the presence of God, replaces his throne and royal robes, symbols of his high position, with sackcloth and ashes. The king changes his course after hearing Jonah’s prophecy with hopes that maybe, just maybe, in his repentance God may pardon him and the city of Nineveh. The people of Nineveh engaged in the rite of self-humiliation after taking the prompt from Jonah, and turned away from the course they were heading and turned to the life-giving way of God. As the story goes, God saw the ruler and the people change, repent, and God changed God’s mind!

From Jonah we turn to another character, John the Baptist, who we meet crying out in the wilderness with his wild hair and with sticky fingers. John, like our bullhorn friend, cries out with an urgent message, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” John is a prophet who urges people to repent in the light of God’s coming reign. John is urging all to reform, to turn back to faithful living. John is calling for a changed society. What John was petitioning for was a response similar to that of the people of Nineveh, a radical reorientation of the people’s lives to that of what God longed for.

For John, unlike us Protestants, this call for repentance meant more than to feel bad because an overwhelming sense of guilt. Instead, it was a call to begin to turn away from the ways of this world and prepare to follow Jesus, the one who comes bringing the kingdom. John’s call for Israel to repent is not a prophetic call for those who repent to change the world, but rather he calls for repentance because the world is being and will be changed by the one whom John knows is to come. To repent, for John, t is to live differently, to live not as the status quo but as the people of God. Repentance is imperative to following the way of Christ. It is an ongoing reformation of individuals and communities into the body of Christ. God’s presence and power fundamentally disrupts what we know as reality. The coming of God’s reign thus makes repentance both possible and necessary. When we repent, we turn our behavior and our minds to the way of Christ, becoming new creations, and living into a renewed identity.

What then does Jonah, John, and Jesus have to do with Jeffersonville? As Jonah helped re-direct the lives of the people of Nineveh to the way of God, and as John encouraged a changing of the mind to the way of God, we do the same each week in worship.

Every week we come to worship with one another and we confess our sin. We admit both individually and communally where we have missed the mark, where we have turned a deaf ear to the cries of Gods people, and where we have turned a blind eye to those in need. Our confession is a corporate confession, after all, we belong to one another and to all of creation. In prayers of confession, we not only recognize how we have not been the individuals God has called us to be, but also, we as the church confess we have not lived into our new identity as a covenant community, as God’s people. Our sin is never a private matter alone but it is always social, for it entails not simply a distortion of our inner hearts, but also the destructiveness toward God and all of creation.

When we confess our sin we become truth tellers, but this is not the only part of our stories. The prayer of confession is not designed to be a form of self-flagellation; its purpose is not to denigrate us or undermine the integrity of our lives. “It is instead a moment of honesty about the human condition in all of its brokenness and tragedy, and a moment of hope in the God who meets us amidst such brokenness for healing, wholeness, and restoration.” God meets us in our confession, where we turn our minds back to God, returning to the paths God desires for us. Presbyterian Minister Joseph Small says it best, “We do not confess sin in order to be forgiven; we confess sin because we know that we are forgiven and because confession of sin is a necessary element in repentance—the turning away from sin and turning toward God’s new Way in the world.”

What we do on Sundays when we confess our sin is an honest reflection of our brokenness and limitation. Our confession and our repentance, is not a condition of God’s mercy. It is a response to God’s prior mercy given to us freely. In baptism God gave us a sign of God’s unmerited love. We confess our shortcomings but know that “God’s sovereign and inclusive love” has claimed us in the waters of baptism because before we turn to God, God has already in love turned to us. God in the waters of baptism gives us the assurance of our forgiveness and hope for our restoration.

Our plea for mercy, our confession, is always followed by an assurance of pardon. Friends, this is when we are reminded that there are no requirements listed in order to gain God’s mercy, no suggestions for self-improvements, no chastisement for having failed once again. God hears our prayers and in God’s mercy, nothing can come between our pleas for forgiveness. Our confession is not complete until we receive this good news of the gospel, that in Jesus Christ we are already forgiven, that God does pardon and God’s mercy is poured out upon us who return to the ways of God.

This then, is when we begin to turn, to physically respond to God’s forgiving grace. Having been assured we turn to one another and extend God’s grace to our neighbor. Although we use this time as an opportunity to let our neighbor how fly they look, or how terrible or not IU will be this year, it is so much more than that. It is a time for us to look one another in the eyes, the ones we have hurt, the ones we have mistreated, the ones we have caused to stumble, and we give to them the gift we have just received from God in Christ. Peace! Luckily we do not do what the ancient church did. They not only passed the peace but they did so by kissing one another. I’d hate to be the person to walk in that day with a cold. This assurance moves us as a community in a new direction in our journey. It takes us to the table, where we join in on the heavenly feast as a family. Having set aside our differences, having confessed our brokenness, we head to the table, where we gather to share the goodness of God’s grace. From repentance to assurance is indeed a journey: it begin with our baptism and the life we receive in those waters, and we find sustenance when we come to the table and are met with the overwhelming and generous love of God!

From the table we respond to the assurance with our lives. We go out into the world, returning to the ways of God by bringing good news to the poor, setting the captives free, giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, and hope to the hopeless. Our response is to participate in the ministry of reconciliation of heaven the way the Apostle Paul, once persecutor of Christians, turned pastor did by taking the good news of Jesus Christ to a variety of places. Responding to the assurance with our lives is giving up our own agenda’s the way John Newton, writer of the hymn Amazing Grace, turned away from being a slave trader, and became an abolitionist and a predominant voice in the ending of the slave trade. These examples demonstrate how in repentance and with assurance, God’s mercy and grace, is available to all.

The person with the bullhorn stood on the corner of the busy intersection, screaming, “Turn or Burn! Repent!” It may not be our style, but it is a good reminder that we are to be the Jonahs and Johns of this world; that we are to be participants in the redemptive ministry of Jesus Christ. Every week we come to this place and worship, and we confess to God where and how we have gone our own way. We linger in the depths of despair but, our hope lies in knowing that when we come, when we confess our sins, when we repent, we come assured knowing that through Jesus Christ, God has forgiven us. The Bible teaches us how to worship from repentance to assurance, through the way God, through Christ, is reconciling the world to Godself.

May we then, be to those we meet when we rise to our feet and return to the world, the Jonah’s and the Johns, pointing to the way of God that is Jesus Christ and in so doing, participate in the ministry of reconciliation and the ushering in of the kingdom of heaven. The book of Confessions puts it this way: “To be reconciled to God is to be sent into the world as [God’s] reconciling community.” Go!

May it be so. Amen.

Romero

2011-10-21T08:28:00.002-05:00

Even when they call us mad,

when they call us subversives and communists

and all the epithets they put on us,

we know that we only preach

the subversive witness of the Beatitudes,

which have turned everything upside down

to proclaim blessed the poor,

blessed the thirsting for justice,

blessed the suffering.

~Archbishop Oscar Romero

I Want To...

2011-10-18T21:05:00.002-05:00

There are times when I want to voice my thoughts. To stand along side my colleagues, my friends, the stranger, and others, to show my support for and with them.

But I never have. It would be a new endeavor for me.

Running through my head I often have things I want to say. Actions I want to take to show my concern for the world, for my brothers and sisters.

Nothing more in this world do I want than for people to be who God has created them to be. The context I find myself to be in is one that has to struggle for much. Never have I had it 'rough', really. Never have I had to 'prove myself'. Never have I felt out of place in a way that was hurtful, demoralizing, or ostracizing.

I will confess these things. Am I ashamed of it? Maybe. I do not know what do with it. What I do know is that I do want to people to feel that way. People should not have to pretend to be someone other than who they are. My hope in life is to be a part of communities that empower people to live into their identities, to discover their giftedness, and then share their lives (all of who they are) with everyone they meet.

This is what I wanted to do when I came into seminary. I wanted to be a good pastor, one who loves their people, and helps them discover who they are. This was my reason for coming to seminary. I wanted people to experience freedom, to experience themselves the way God experiences them. How have I learned to do this? How am I doing this? It would do me well to revisit, often, my intentions before I cam to seminary, so that I may remember my love for community.

I want to stand in solidarity with you. But I am afraid my voice will shake. I want to let you know I love you. But I am not sure if my arms are strong enough to hug you. I want to let you know that there is room at the table for you. But I am afraid I do not cook to your satisfaction.

Help me so that I can help you.

Solidarity

2011-10-14T07:52:00.000-05:00

Archbishop Tutu sent an Open Letter to Presbyterian Church (USA) about the passage of the 219th General Assembly's Ordination Amendment.

To Rev. Grayde Parsons, Stated Clerk, Presbyterian Church (USA)

Dear Brother in Christ,

I am writing you with the request that you share these thoughts with my brothers and sisters in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.):

It is incumbent upon all of God’s children to speak out against injustice. It is sometimes equally important to speak in solidarity when justice has been done. For that reason I am writing to affirm my belief that in making room in your constitution for gay and lesbian Christians to be ordained as church leaders, you have accomplished an act of justice.

I realize that among your ecumenical partners, some voices are claiming that you have done the wrong thing, and I know that you rightly value your relationship with Christians in other parts of the world. Sadly, it is not always popular to do justice, but it is always right. People will say that the ones you are now willing to ordain are sinners. I have come to believe, through the reality shared with me by my scientist and medical friends, and confirmed to me by many who are gay, that being gay is not a choice. Like skin color or left-handedness, sexual orientation is just another feature of our diversity as a human family. How wonderful that God has made us with so much diversity, yet all in God’s image! Salvation means being called out of our narrow bonds into a broad place of welcome to all.

You are undoubtedly aware that in some countries the church has been complicit in the legal persecution of lesbians and gays. Individuals are being arrested and jailed simply because they are different in one respect from the majority. By making it possible for those in same-gender relationships to be ordained as pastors, preachers, elders, and deacons, you are being a witness to your ecumenical partners that you believe in the wideness of God’s merciful love.

For freedom Christ has set us free. In Christ we are not bound by old, narrow prejudice, but free to embrace the full humanity of our brothers and sisters in all our glorious differences. May God bless you as you live into this reality, and may you know that there are many Christians in the world who continue to stand by your side.

God bless you.

Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu (Cape Town, South Africa)

Writing

2011-10-12T21:53:00.003-05:00

I want to wake up before all creation.

To sit at a table, with only a lamp lighting the room.

With a cup of coffee sitting next to my pen and my paper.

What I want to move my pen is not a prompt from a class.

Nor do I want it to be from a requirement to prove something of myself.

No, instead, I want it to be moved by the silence in the space.

Moving in swirls and lines, with dots and crossings, I want to be prompted by the stirrings of all things holy.

The fountain from which life will flow, will momentarily come from the pen in my hand.

Listening for the rhythms of the darkness to emerge as brighter words of hope.

My hope then, is to one day, write the echo of the silence.

Capturing what lies beneath the surface of our hearts.

Moving us to works of beauty and wholeness.

It will happen.

Until then, I must continue to sit at the space where I write.

With perseverance and steadfastness, I must lift up my pen and continue to work out that which I am writing.

My life.

Pastoral Identity

2011-10-11T07:13:00.004-05:00

It was the definition of a perfect fall day. Leaves have started changing, farmers and their tractors are in the fields harvesting their yield, and people are making their way to apple orchards and pumpkin patches as they gear up for the fall season. Beauty is emerging all around in nature, setting up opportunities for people to get outside and enjoy these last few weeks of warm weather and cooler coffee drinks.

My friends and I took advantage of this time of the year and went to a local farm to pick pumpkins and taste good apple cider. We arrived to this family operated farm in the late afternoon. The sun had not quite started to set but the cooler breezes were making their way to the fields. Children were laughing as they got their faces painted, parents were feeling good as they tasted wine from the winery, and we were enjoying ourselves being way from the books and conversations that come with being a seminary student. The trip was a success with all of us coming home refreshed, a little more settled, and with a pumpkin, or two, on our laps.

As we were heading home, about four or five miles into the trip home, we came to a dead stop on a busy, two lane country 'back-road'. (It wasn't really a country back road like the country singers sing about, but it wasn't a major interstate either.) We were ten cars deep, just far enough back we could not see what was causing the traffic jam. However, we assumed that it was more likely caused by an accident of some sort: two vehicles or a vehicle and a deer. Having sat at a dead stop for ten minutes or so, two of us got out of our car and made our way to the 'scene of the accident'.

Our assumptions were right.

What had how a good half-mile to a mile worth of cars stopped, was an accident caused by two motor vehicles. One car was trying to turn left onto this busy road and was hit on the driver side by a truck who's breaks locked up. The result being his truck slamming into the Ford Taurus, ripping off the Taurus' bumper and the truck ending up facing the opposite direction in the opposite lane. There was glass on the pavement and you could see fluids leaking from both vehicles. The scene was not nearly as bad as we thought it would be.

Neither was what happened to the passengers.

There were only two people involved in the accident: the driver of the Taurus and the driver of the truck. No one suffered major injuries except for the driver of the Taurus who received a broken leg from the accident. It was a sigh of relief for a woman who came running up behind us asking what type of car was involved, frantically trying to asses if it was that of her son. Again, thankfully it was not.

As I stood twenty five yards from this accident, I began to watch for what was going on. A state police was first to respond to the scene, followed quickly by one ambulance. As the sun went down (was almost completely gone when we arrived about thirty minutes before) more people began to arrive to the scene. More police officers arrived, with one immediately getting out and talking with witnesses. She had on a reflective vest over her uniform. There was a lot of commotion on the scene as officers from a local sheriff office showed up in their brown uniformed with their baseball-hate style cap placed on their heads, followed quickly by one more state police officer who had on their darker colored uniform and a bigger, rounder hat on their head. Soon in the distance we could hear the high pitch sirens of a fire engine making its way through the congested two-lane highway. Eventually they made their way to the scene, wasting little time to clean up the gasoline and other fluids that were leaking from the vehicle. They had on their bunker gear, fire helmets, and the chief had their walky-talky in hand investigating what appeared to be part of the vehicles in a ditch near by. While all this was going on, the EMT's in their navy-blue uniforms that said, "EMT" on them were still tending to the passengers.

It was fascinating to stand back and watch each 'team' do what they were supposed to do. Each person knew their role, went straight to work, and cooperated with the other. If the fire chief needed information, they would go to the sheriff who was taking information from anyone who might have witnessed the accident. The EMT people had their uniforms on so the passengers knew they were getting attention from medical staff, and so others who may need information from the passengers may do so without confusion. Everyone was properly identified with their uniforms, which in turned communicated what their service was they offered to the scene.

As I stood there, I had a desire to go and see if the passengers would want prayer, or a pastoral presence. This response came from my experiences as a chaplain at the University of Louisville Hospital this past summer. However, I am self-aware of enough to know that my presence might have added confusion to the assembly of people who were responding to the scene. I kept thinking though, "What if these people are scared? What if they are nervous or anxious and the last thing they want right now is people poking and probing, not only with medical instruments but with questions as well? Would it be helpful to them to pray? Would a 'chaplain' or a 'student pastor' calm them perhaps?" All of these questions, plus some, were running through my head.

My friend and I talked through what we would do. Obviously we would communicate with the sheriff who was directing the scene and let her know who we are. But what would this entail? Would we have to show them our student id's? Or recite the 66 books of the Bible to prove we were student pastors in seminary? I know this may seem absurd, and it probably is, but there was nothing identifying us as future clergy, or clergy for that matter if we want to own the title we find ourselves to hold.

For twenty minutes or so my friend and I expressed to one another how we would respond. At one point when the driver of the Taurus let out a moan indicating she was in pain, followed by crying, I wanted to go and insert myself into the situation. Again though, I am self-aware of enough to know this may not have been the best idea. There I stood for twenty minutes or longer, examining this accident, wanting to be go and be of assistance to anyone on behalf of the church. But I didn't.

With the sun complete gone now, it grew colder. People in their vehicles were tired of waiting and many had turned around to search for another way home. As we were walking back, and as I was lamenting the fact that I lived into my passivity as a pastor, I looked up and saw another person in 'uniform' heading our way. They had on what seemed to a nice pear of black shoes, and gray business pants, and what appeared to be a Northface fleece or jacket. Emerging from the top of this fleece which was zipped up to their mid-chest was a collar, a clerical collar. This person had gotten out of their car and made their way to the accident. They walked straight to the ambulance where the EMT were finally able to put the passengers in the back of the ambulance and stuck their head in the back. I assumed they prayed, offered some sort of pastoral care, and as quickly as they arrived, were heading back to their vehicle. What I was hesitant to do, this person did with certainty.

Much like the firefighters, the police officers, the EMT' staff, and even the tow truck person, this clergy person, probably a priest, had on their uniform: a black shirt with a white clerical collar. With this piece of attire on, this priest was able to quickly identify themselves to the officer regulating the scene and provide the necessary services pastors provide to people who are 'sick'. What set me a part from this person was our attire. They were noticeable, recognizable as a person of the church and as a result, became a part of the team of service people attending to the accident. Each team was represented by their attire, indicating their function on the scene, and their role to not only the passengers, but the community of people as well. Clearly these people in uniform were in control, performing their duties, and as a result were able to calm the nerves of a people gathered both as spectators and unfortunately, participants.

Since this event has occurred, I have thought about the person in the collar and the role they played in the accident. Also, I am working through why I feel as if I 'need' a collar in order to insert myself into a scene of an accident to provide pastoral care to people. At the same time though, I am wrestling with the idea of wearing the collar. How am I identified as a representative of the church? Other than my actions in my life, the worship I lead on Sundays, and the class I am enrolled in, what is there to let those on the streets know that "If you need pastoral care, someone to pray with you, someone who represents the church, I am your person,"?

When you see a firefighter on the street, perhaps you assume they are putting out a fire, rescuing a cat from a tree, or providing assistance to an elderly person. Maybe when you see a police officer you think they are their to provide order to a chaotic scene, writing a ticket for a car that has been in the same place for three weeks, or they are questioning people about a recent attack. Regardless, these service people are recognizing by what they wear and the services they provide. We could say the same for EMT folk, park and recreation people, those who work for the city taking care of our roads, and the list goes on. What do you think of when you think of Wall Street? Suits, heels, ties, and gaudy watches and jewelry. Even the business people in our world have their uniforms.

What about clergy? What about those of us who are called pastors? What about those of us who have been called to serve the people of God? When we go home for holidays, it is not uncommon for our family members to have us 'say grace' before the meal. To those closest to us, they know where we have been called, what we are being equipped for, and the gifts we posses to bring peace, care, and a presence to those who might need them.

I continue to reflect and wonder, what are we as clergy communicating by not wearing the clerical collar? Are we avoiding our call to those outside our parish or even in our parish ministries? Are we afraid of the stereotypes that come with wearing a collar? These questions have since sparked my interest of the history of the clerical collar. My hope is to further investigate its place in the church/parish/ministry setting.

If I had a collar on that night, who knows how I would have responded.

What I do know, I probably would have been greeted in a different way had I walked up in my holy jeans, purple flannel, and beat up Merrels.

What do you think of when you see someone wearing a collar?

Perhaps it is time for clergy to reclaim their uniform as one set a part and called by God.

Want

2011-10-04T13:22:00.003-05:00

I am looking for those people, that group of individuals, who helps me be me.

I am wanting a place where I can go to exercise my theological perspective where I am met with patience as I struggle to articulate myself, yet challenge me to clearly express myself.

I desire to be with a people who take time to ask me, "Why are you the way you are?", rather than simply assuming me to a category they have created for me.

I long to be a part of a people where we dream together, over coffee or other beverages, where we aren't afraid to cry, to laugh, and to be silent.

Empower me, my friends.

Awaken me, my loved ones.

Help me find who I am to be so that I can help you find who you are to be, in order that we both may be ourselves.

No longer do I want to sit idle, wishing I would have acted, wishing I would have said something, wishing I would have prayed, wishing I would have loved.

I want to know what inspires you, so that I may be inspired.

I want to know what saddens you, so I can join in on the cause.

I want to know who you are, so I can hold you in prayer.

It is like a lion who paces back and forth in its cage, wanting to taste the freedom on the other side, to feel the wind blowing through its mane, the space to pounce from one place to another with no hindrances. This is what I want.

Inspire me friends. Teach me your way of peace and justice. Help me understand the causes that are near to you and I'll share with you mine.

Liberate me so I may join with you in this restoration.

100111

2011-10-01T22:21:00.002-05:00

fields and freedom

fits of uninhibited laughter

in wonderment together

reveling under a southern indiana sky

harvesting fruits from vines

away with no expectations

honesty in the interactions

setbacks and hesitation made for an

opportunity of a beautiful conversation

night sky with stars and strangers

busy roads, connection

amusement over coffee, decaf

local produce, fresh and heavenly

with each other, nothing unnerved

comforting perspicuity

farewell to the day and now to the night

fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel.

Closet Clothing

2011-09-30T15:20:00.005-05:00

If one were to look through my closet, they would notice there isn't just one style to me.

No. In fact, they would probably grow concerned with my diverse articles of clothing.

Hanging up one could find: dress shirts, ties (1 bow tie even), khakis, dress pants, a suit, v-neck t-shirts, regular t-shirts, plaid long sleeved, button down shirts, a turkey print long sleeved, button down shirt I wear only around the Thanksgiving season, and the list could go on. Oh, and a few old baseball jerseys from high school and college.

Perhaps this is not out of the ordinary for most people. It is not unusual for people, especially my age, to have a variety of clothing options. You need to have something for those formal, profession encounters, as well as those hanging out with friends around a campfire on a Friday night attire as well. One needs to be ready for anything, all the while be able to mix-match and add-on, or take-off when necessary. Options people, options.

As I continue full swing into my internship as a student pastor, I find myself standing at a crossroads in regards to what do I invest in terms of clothing. After all, there is something to be said about the way we present ourselves. Over the summer I was a chaplain at a hospital. This required me to dress appropriately: tie, dress shirt, dress pants, and a nice pair of dress shoes. When I read my syllabus and saw the requirements for our attire, I was a bit frustrated. However, after a week or two, I began to enjoy looking polished. There is in fact something to the way you present yourself. I noticed how I was respected more and even when I did get the, "What are ya, 19?", it didn't seem as offensive.

But now that I have been out of the hospital now for a while, there is nothing more comfortable to wear than my well-worn jeans, a nice t-shirt, and now that the weather has turned, a colorful, non-Kurt Cobain flannel, with a pair of Toms. Let us be honest though, this isn't the kind of apparel ministers wear. Perhaps some. Perhaps if you drive to the local mega church you'll see the v-neck t-shirts, with tight jeans, and a pair of motorcycle boots. But that isn't how my tradition normally works.

This is totally fine with me. I am maturing (despite what many think). No longer am I a young, right out of college, kind of guy. Instead, I am 20 months away from graduating grad school. That means, I am 20 months away from becoming a pastor of a church, or entering into the real world no longer as a 'young-adult' but as an educated adult. Thinking about it in this way makes me realize how quickly time has gone. Maybe I'll be alright with it slowing down a bit.

So what do I do? Do I continue to shop at American Eagle, buying the clothes I am most comfortable in? Or, do I begin to expand my clerical attire, investing in ties, dress shirts that are not only from Target, and pants that need to be hung up properly after each use?

What do I do?

Then again, when I become ordained and become a pastor of a church, more than likely I will wear the clerical collar. When I mention this to people they frown. Even now I imagine as you read this you are frowning for you have images of a Catholic priest or you might have said before, "That just isn't going to attract young people to your church." This may in fact be true. However, how do you recognize a fire-fighter or a police officer or doctor or a park ranger or a...I think you get the point.

If there is one thing I learned at the hospital this past summer it is, wearing the professional attire will not set you a part. Yes it will I suppose from the medical staff, but even some of the, like doctors, wear the tie, nice shirt and pants. There was nothing for me to stand out, to make myself available to those who may be in need of a pastor during an emergency. Clergy, in my opinion, need to re-claim the clerical collar. [Also I am well aware of how a fire fighters get up probably attract a lot of people, of all ages.]

Our attire, our appearance matters. No longer can I, or should I, get away looking a little rough in the professional setting. I think I am past the showing up in a wrinkled shirt and pants that probably should have been ironed. In fact, I might even be past leading worship in anything other than a suit, or close to it. [Luckily, when I become ordained, and even before then, I wear my alb while leading worship. However, currently at the church I am serving I do not want to contrast the pastor, thus I am opting out of wearing it. Even more of a reason to sharpen up my image.] It is time to become what my brothers would call, a banker.

I am left then searching on Google for 'polished' professional images. This usually means I end up looking at photos of Frank Sinatra, James Bond, the President(s), and of course, Leonardo Dicaprio. There is a responsibility to maintain an image that honors not only God, ourselves, but also those with whom we share life with.

So now, as I seek this transformation, encourage and welcome donations to make this transformation happen, I have to begin to address perhaps the scariest part in all of this:

What do I do with my hair?

...gulp...

Until next time.

Peace.

Heal

2011-09-29T07:37:00.002-05:00

For a class we have to read the Synoptic Gospels. Thus far we have read the Gospels of Mark and Matthew. Each Gospel presents itself in different ways, emphasizing different agendas, and introducing Jesus from their own distinctive perspectives. Mark is quick, Jesus wasting no time getting to the places Jesus needs to get to. Matthew slows the pace down, emphasizing Jesus' teachings and this gift of God that is Jesus. Luke will come next week, but even in that account, Jesus is shown in yet in another light.

Over the years I have heard bits and pieces of Matthew read in church and preached on. Personally I have sat down and read from Matthew's gospel both encouraged by following the lectionary and my own curiosity for the text. Each time I read it, I encounter Jesus in a new way, I pick up on a different part of one of Jesus' teaching, and I learn something knew about God's kingdom, love, and hope for the world. It always fascinates me how this happens.

Often when I read Matthew I get hung up on the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus' inaugural address to a crowd, and the disciples, where Jesus begins teaching, and hinting towards what God wants from humanity. This monologue which stretches over three chapters instructs disciples, shaping their identity and lifestyle. Again, being one who is learning more about non-violent resistance, the verse "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God," is always refreshing to hear. These chapters offer hope to those who are not the elite, the ones whom society favors, or even the smartest. The sermon sketches a life in an alternative community marked by justice, transformed social relationships, practices of piety, and shared and accessible resources. For one who feels called to be a part of a community, these chapters inspire and shape my vision for such a people/place.

This time though, I found myself becoming apprehensive to those Jesus meets after coming down from the mountain. It does not take long after Jesus comes off the mountain top before he begins to heal. The first task Jesus performs is healing a leper, followed by the centurion's servant, an then the healing fest at Peter's house. This is only the beginning of Jesus' healing ministry. Regardless of whether or not these miracles actually happen no longer mattered to me. Instead, I began to see them in a different way, a way that began to stir within me my own desire to be healed.

Jesus healed those who were sick, lame, blind, and the list goes on. You've heard of it before. Jesus does not worry about who the person was, in fact, to the point the leaders of the time were becoming angry with Jesus and his lack of concern for the social codes. Instead of staying away from those who society saw as the untouchables, he engaged in them, touching, rubbing, and healing them. In addition to the sick, Jesus even healed those who faith may not have been in God alone. Jesus met these people where they were, welcoming them, and helping become themselves.

I do not have any diseases. Yet, I found myself lurking in the background of the crowds, wanting ever to badly, to cry out to the Christ, "Make me well." What is it Adam that you need to be healed from? My hands are not crippled, I am not bleeding, nor is my skin emitting liquid. Rather, I have forgotten what makes me, well, me.

How does one view themselves? Truly, view themselves. Yes, I am a child of God but how easy it is for me not to begin there. Instead, I wake up dreading the work that needs to be done, anticipating encountering colleagues who have their lives together, and engaging in conversations that I probably do not want to have. It is a pretty negative approach to a day, a day that God created.

All of these concerns, in the larger scheme of my life, are all external realities. They are not what define me, although at times, they are enjoyable and I do not mind them. I am a seminary student who is in their second year of education. Now I am a student pastor, one who is called to be a presence for a people. These are just the tip of the iceberg of the many different hats I wear. Although these make up part of who I am, shape me, are they what define me? Are these titles, these places, the people I share these parts of my life, are these my fingerprints of existence? Is this 'reality' that I am currently in, would this be the picture on my passport of life?

No. This is not who I am. Though lately, I have attributed my identity to these things. The result being a feeling of numbness and frustration. No longer do I feel as if I am living but instead, I am simply existing in a systems which define, control, and determine who I am. Thomas Merton puts it this way, "Instead of facing the question of who he is, he assumes he is a person because there appear to be other persons who recognize him when he walks down the street," (The New Man, p. 120). My identity has devolved into what others, what I have assumed others, want me to be.

It is startling how quickly I forget who I am upon descending the mountain. Instead of embracing the teachings of Jesus, I forget that worrying gets me nowhere, that the speck in my neighbors eye does not compare to the log in my own, and that my life, the journey that I am on, is one not of ease but rough terrain. Where I am and who I am, begins and end in the same place, a child of God, created in the image of God.

"The image of God is in the soul according to the knowledge it conceives of God and according to the love that flows from the knowledge," St. Thomas (Ibid. 122).

My plea to the Wounded Healer then is this:

Make me aware. No longer do I want to be simply self-actualized but I am in need of a reminder of the awareness of the God to whom the depths of my being drawn to. Remind me of what defines me, what my identity is, and then the responsibility I have to that. Remove the false-self that has/is preventing me to experience my true-self, the creation God intends for me to be.

Take what appears to be numb and aloof and bring it to life!

Only Temporary

2011-09-28T08:12:00.004-05:00

I am trying out a new design blogger has to offer. To be honest, I do not know how I feel about it. At first I welcomed the opportunity. Now that I have tried to navigate through it, I am not so sure I am as enthusiastic about it as I originally was.

Needless to say, all of this, and I don't mean life, is temporary. Eventually I will be relaunching my blog through a my mac's iWeb. I am still wrestling with what all is available through the iWeb's 'program' and it is quite in depth. However, it gives me more freedom and options to make this space flashy, ya dig?

Let me know what y'all think about this. I can easily flip it back to the way it was.

Peace.

We Are Young

2011-09-27T16:05:00.002-05:00

This sound is interesting.

The video, even more so.

It is a catchy tune.

And it got me noddin' my head like 'yea'.

Enjoy....

Why I Write #1: Frustration

2011-09-27T15:07:00.005-05:00

My junior year of collegiate baseball was one of the most frustrating of seasons for me. By seasons here, I am referring to both the actual baseball season and the stage of life I was in. Previously to this particular season, the last time I played ball was my freshman year of college. Having decided on a different path, and after meeting a young lady you capture my heart, I opted out of playing my second year of Junior College baseball. When I decided upon the school I would attend after completing my junior college courses, I was presented with the chance to play ball again. With excitement I committed to try out for the team.

For me baseball is like a bike and like the old saying, it never really goes away. At first you might be rusty, trying to re-learn some of the basics to stopping, maintaining balance, and doing all that you can to be safe. Getting back into the swing of things, no pun intended, was easier for me than some but also very shaky. It is one thing to remember the mechanics in how to throw a ball, how to swing a bat properly, and field and catch and run. It is another to remember who goes out for a cut-off when a runner is on second base with less than two outs and you are trailing by one run. Or judging when you should, or if you even should, break for a bunt that is heading down the third baseline with a runner on second base. But like I mentioned, it came back to me pretty quickly.

It felt good to toss the ball again. The touch of the padding of the leather glove on your palm, the smell of the freshly mowed field, the glow from the while baselines and bases, the sounds of 'phawp' every time some one catches a ball, and of course, the taste of David's sunflower seeds capped off what was the start to a new beginning. As the practices went on I began to remember how good it felt to hit a ball on the sweetest part of the bat. Or how exciting it is to make a diving play, throw from one knee to get the runner at second and first, turning a double play. The excitement, the love of the came returned and I had the rest of fall and winter to prepare, practice, taking thousands of swings, hundreds of ground balls so when the season began in the spring, it would be as if I never took a year off.

Quickly did the leaves fall and the winter months came rolling in. Before I knew it I was in the locker room putting on my black baseball socks, sliding shorts, and of course, the 2 long-sleeved shirts, my traditional undershirt, and then the rest of uniform. It did not take long for me to remember how I did not miss playing ball in the late winter in the Mid-West. Baseball season was back and so was I. I was ready to get the season under way, to begin our march to the tourney championship, I remember feeling, other than numbness from it being so cold, as if I was ready for anything.

I knew in my heart I would still have kinks to work out. All I had seen for the last three or four months was batting cage pitching, so seeing a live arm would be a challenge. Plus, it had been over a year since I had been in an actual game, with real umpires and in a competitive environment. These things I was a ware of.

As the season steamrolled on, I was reminded of another part of baseball in my naiveness I would forget: frustration. I had become a 'Christian' again, having 'rededicated my life to Christ' (still not sure what this means) and I was going to use my athletic skills, my baseball career to evangelize not only to my teammates but to the world. So that meant, when I struck out, I would jog back to the dug out, gently putting my bat back into the bat rack, and placing my helmet ever so sweetly onto the bench. When I would make an error, I would not mope or pout but instead I would thank Jesus for giving me the opportunity to play baseball again and praise God under my breath for the a chance to get better. In my glove I wrote in black permanent marker, "1 Cor. 10.31' to remind myself when I hit my fist in the pocket of my glove out of frustration, that it was for "Jesus" that I was playing and not myself.

This approach lasted about half the season when I could not take it anymore. I was struggling in many ways. My desire to witness to my teammates made me an oddball on the team since I viewed everyone as needing Jesus in their life. But more importantly, I had entered into one of the biggest slumps of my life. I do not exactly know what my stats were, something like 0-15 with 7 or 8 strike outs, but what I do remember is how mad I was.

There is nothing worse than not being able to get a hit. After all, you worked your tail off practicing hitting the pitches you were getting caught looking at, spending time adjusting the pitching machine so it could throw curve balls, and taking hundreds of swings a week just so maybe you could get a ball to drop behind first base. You begin to get desperate and if the slump is real bad, you begin to play the game of the pitcher. No longer do you remain patient at the plate but instead you are swinging at anything. Some folks even try to bunt just to get on. You do whatever you think is necessary just to get a hit. If the slump drags on too long, you begin to blame the umpire as well, claiming how they don't have a consistent strike zone or some other ridiculous comment that stems from the batters inability to hit the baseball.

I thought I could waltz in after a year off, play for Jesus, and everything would fall into place. Instead, it was the most trying season of my life. Not only had I distanced myself from most of my teammates, but I was not playing up to my ability. That is one of the most frustrating things about baseball, you know what to do, you have the skills, you may even know what pitch is coming next, but sometimes, it doesn't matter. Although baseball is the only sport that if you fail 7 out of 10 times you are considered an above average player, it produces feelings of despair and annoyance. It can be a very frustrating sport.

Eventually I managed to squeak a hit in between the second baseman and first baseman, ending what was a long drought of no hits. I also became less of an evangelist and began to be more myself, which the guys welcomed with grace. Baseball and I came to terms with each other: I was to play the game and it was to be the game. A mutual respect.

I write all of this because I have entered into another frustrating season of life. This time it is not about baseball but is about my writing. Which is funny because what is frustrating about my writing is that I am being reminded by some that I need to write with more clarity, be more specific, and more succinct. Why is this funny you ask?

I began to write this post to express my frustration with my writing, my wordiness, and thought that I could communicate this through a story about baseball. Now look, I have grown tired of writing and used a lot of words to get there.

Thus, I have decided to turn this into a 'series' about why I write.

What should you take away from this: what I am experiencing today, even in this moment, is a sense of frustration I have not felt since playing ball. In baseball there were tangible ways to get past it and the criticism stung less. Now I am faced with my writing and how I will respond to the frustrations stemming from it.

Until the next wordy-blog.

Peace.

Importance

2011-09-27T06:42:00.003-05:00

Community has always been important to me. Being the youngest of four boys, I have always had someone in my life. I remember the sadness I felt when my first brother moved out of the house. There was an emptiness that lingered around for a while. Then, another one left. Finally, the last. Eventually it was just myself in the home where laughter, bickering, and love had been share for many years.

In these experiences I came to know what it felt like to be a part of something. Meals around the table were always meaningful to me. It was not until we got older did we begin to move away from the table and towards the TV. Before we became like most American families, our time around the table would be a time to catch up and share what was going on with one another. My dad would ask us, "Adam, how was your day?" Each of us would then have the opportunity to share our highs and our lows. We listened to one another (perhaps not as closely as we should have), asking questions where we needed clarity or wanted to know more. Everyone shared, everyone participated, and it impacted me in the most meaningful of ways.

When I think about my call, I think about community and meals. There is something about a group of people around a table breaking bread, sharing stories, praying, and being themselves that inspires me. It is what motivates me in my studies, knowing that one day I will be called to a community to serve them, to come along side them, and to break bread with them. Often I forget this sense of call as I worry about whether this is an Attributive Adjective or a Predicate Adjective; if Mark purposefully used the title "Son of Man" for particular reasons; or if it is by grace alone I am justified or saved or both? Although these conversations are important and some are quite life giving, I find myself loosing sight of what I have set out to do: to be a pastor of a community of ministers, the people, who commit themselves to justice and peace.

It is then when I am around table with my friends eating buffalo wings and drinking water, I am reminded of why I am here. I am reminded of my call when my friends and I begin to share our dreams, our frustrations, our doubts, our joys, and our lives.

God some years ago, placed within me a vision of a place where people are themselves, where I am myself, and where we can be ourselves together as a community who is intentional about one another.

Tried

2011-09-26T22:53:00.004-05:00

It has been quite sometime since I've last seen you. In fact, I can't even tell you when the last time was. Don't get me wrong, there have been attempts. I have sat down and tried. Even before the sun rise, in the darkness of the day, right before the sun emerges bringing with it new life, I have tried.

Then again, I have not tried as hard. I used to remember things about you often. When I poured my glass of water, silently or to whomever I was with, we'd "Remember our baptism and be thankful." They would look at me crazy-like and I, well, I meant it. Even in that statement I feel like a foreigner saying it. Water has not been something I craved in a while. It has become only a last resort, what I drink because I don't want pop. What I would give to go back to a place where my feet felt the chill of the a wave washing over them. I need to emerge again, wiping the cooling and life-giving water out of my eyes, so that I may see again.

Even now I sit at table, surrounded by books and articles that are about you. Tonight I wrote about grace and what it means for our life. For me, I have not tended to my garden as Teresa of Avila would put it. Weeds and wild plants have grown over the once tilled and carefully placed plot of life. Occasionally something beautiful will finds its way through the chaos but it is most often short lived. With the weather turning colder and harvest season upon us, what will happen to the remaining life under the thick vegetation.

Remind me I am yours.

Claim me as your own.

Cleanse me into life.

Restore a battered heart.

Let nothing disturb you,
nothing frighten you,
all things are passing.
Patient endurance
attains all things:
one who God possesses wants nothing,
for God alone suffices.
~Teresa of Avila

In the Thickness of Life

2011-09-26T06:59:00.003-05:00

It is probably one of the most well-known teachings from Jesus.

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of God in heaven; for God makes God's sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous." ~Matthew 5.43-45

If someone wants to take a civil discourse and turn it into an all out royal rumble when talking politics, simply mention this. Use this teaching to promote peace, that war is unnecessary, and that if you are Christian, how can you support something that Jesus specifically teaches against? As well as a snarky, smart-allecy attitude, you may find yourself in need of the love Jesus is referring to here. Jesus' teaching is quite controversial, even in regard to the story of God and God's people.

It is hard to make sense of some stories in the Bible. Innocent tribes of people being massacred and destroyed for the sake of God's chosen people. What do we do with these stories? Do we justify them somehow? Did God really commend these actions? Often it is in these stories, the ones where God's mercy seems nowhere for the enemy, we shy away from. We shouldn't. They are a part of our story and we need to wrestle with them. Do what you can to explore the stories in depth, find out how the story of our faith has interpreted it, and sit with them.

There are times we simply miss the mark. Throughout history there have been many injustices that have occurred at the expense of one tribe by another. What we have done we cannot undo but we can make it better. Regardless of how we have treated our enemies in the past, we can never forget how God longs to be in relationship with humanity. We must continue to find ways to demonstrated this longing of God in ways that exhibits God's love for the world.

It was this quote that got me thinking this morning.

“Jesus Christ lived in the midst of his enemies. At the end all his disciples deserted him. On the Cross he was utterly alone, surrounded by evildoers and mockers. For this cause he had come, to bring peace to the enemies of God. So the Christian, too, belongs not in the seclusion of a cloistered life but in the thick of foes. There is his commission, his work. 'The kingdom is to be in the midst of your enemies. And he who will not suffer this does not want to be of the Kingdom of Christ; he wants to be among friends, to sit among roses and lilies, not with the bad people but the devout people. O you blasphemers and betrayers of Christ! If Christ had done what you are doing who would ever have been spared' (Luther).”
― Dietrich Bonhoeffer

In the thick of life, in the plot of our own stories, we will encounter those who may not see the world the same way we do. We may have to tell tales of how we responded in ways that were not for the better interest of humanity. When we do encounter these people, when we encounter our stories of past, we will be faced to make a decision.

Jesus on the Mount offered an alternative response to when we encounter conflict. One that does not encourage violence but instead one that has a deep regard for the other person.

After all, "for if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?"

Virgin of Guadalupe

2011-09-23T07:48:00.004-05:00

After the merciful Virgin had heard from Juan Diego's words, she replied:

Listen and hearken to me, littlest of my sons. This that frightens and distresses you is nothing. Let not your heart be troubled. Have no fear of this sickness or of any other sickness or trouble. Am I, your mother, not here? Do you not stand in my shadow? Am I not your health? Are you not in my lap? What more do you need? Let nothing sadden or afflict you; have no concern for the illness of your uncle, who will not die now. Know that he is already cured...

an excerpt from Religion in Latin America: A Documentary History

91711

2011-09-17T11:20:00.002-05:00

the weather has turned colder

without you, so has this space

the wrestling of the leaves, nature's music

your laughter, the heart's music

your absence lingers heavily

the days falling off the calendar

slowly, eventually, you'll return

to this place, with us

where the dog's tail wags

a smile, secretly, comes across the face

when you walk through the door

it'll be normal again

rhythms will return

beats, with your heels, will keep our pace

add a blanket

grab a book

curl up, with a cup of hot cocoa

or wine,

we'll be together again

laughing, smiling, doing what we do best

filling our house

turning it into a home, once more

missing you

But what if you did....

2011-09-14T23:00:00.003-05:00

Everybody needs to take a step back every once in a while and look at themselves. They need to remove themselves from the routines of their lives and evaluate where they are.

Is this where I want to be?

Is this where I thought I'd be?

Will this get me to where I want to go?

To wrestle with your doubts is not wrong. We all have them. Some of us run from our doubts seeing them as weakness or afraid of being accused of "having too little faith". There are those of us who are okay with doubt, who welcome it, will sit with it, and then at the end of the day, escort it out the front door and go back to your lovely world of faith that can move Mt. Everest.

Of course, there are those of us who perhaps are too comfortable with doubt, that give doubt too much space, and listen to doubt too much. But no matter how many times one tries to show doubt the door, before it leaves it always seems to stop and ask, "If you are so sure, then why aren't you like everyone else? Why are you still having this conversation with yourself? Why are you still where you are after all these years?" At which point, doubt comes back, but not as itself, but as despair.

My energy is fading as I continue to make my way through a three year degree program to be ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA). If you were to walk around my seminary, you would see folks smiling, laughing, and going on about how wonderful things are. I wish I could join them in this conversation but I can't. There is something internally going on within that is disrupting my peace of mind. It pokes its little head and starts irritating my hopes right when I feel certain this is what I am to do. The conversation, the wrestling match, is exhausting.

Even now it is 12:09am est and I should be sleeping. Instead I am up dreaming of what it would be like to be a part of a brotherhood, a place where you are truly known, and to fully live. Perhaps I have been watching too much TV lately or perhaps it is the fact that at school, I have not found my place.

This year has started and I have maintained a healthy work ethic (tonight, now that is a different story). Already though, I am tired. I am not living these days but rather I am being influenced by something else, something that has not allowed me to get settled into my 'groove' this semester.

If I was in CPE, I would probably say something along the lines of, "I'm not sure I know what it is," or "I don't know what it is that is making me feel this way."

At which point my supervisor would ask, "But what if you did..."

The Other Side

2011-09-12T08:34:00.001-05:00

What happened on that day was horrifying. A demonstration of how there is in fact evil in the world. The destruction gave witness to how we are a broken people, a people who have lost their imagination.

But it was only one side of the story.

Then there are those who risked their lives, firefighters specifically, who rushed back into burning and falling buildings to rescue those who were literally running for their lives. We have heard the stories, listened to testimonies, and have heard those who were saved express their gratitude for the heroic work of the first responders. These people on that day demonstrated the other side of the story.

Humanity may be evil. Too often it is this part of our story we hear most often about. However, we cannot forget to tell the stories of how humanity has risen above our 'falleness' to help one another. This is not only the case for 9/11 but any disaster that strikes. Hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis, and the list goes on. Look at how the world came together after the earthquake in Haiti. There is still work needing to be done there but it speaks to how evil is not the only part of the story worth telling.

At the foundation of humanity is this intrinsic understanding of our need for one another. Perhaps the Rescue Me character Tommy Gavin said it best when he said, and I paraphrase, "When those firefighters were rushing in those buildings they weren't looking for whites only or they didn't help some folks because of the color of their skin. No, they went in and did what they do. They helped people, rescued them and brought them to safety, while risking their own lives." When humanity is faced with the realization their neighbor, the stranger, or one of their own is in need of some sort of help, history has shown (although media would disagree) we have responded with love and courage.

Perhaps we need more of these stories. We need to tell more stories of those who risked their lives for the sake of others more so than the stories we tell of how evil this group or that person is. After all, I trust that if I were in need, if I was in the midst of a tragedy, that those around me, my fellow 'fallen' human beings, would do what they could be bring me to a place of safety.

82

2011-09-08T23:37:00.004-05:00

Fishing is much more than fish. It is the great occasion when we may return to the fine simplicity of our forefathers. ~Herbert Hoover

To be honest, there is not much I remember about my grandfather.

What I do remember is enough to take me back to those days when I was young, still had my curiosity, and felt something I have not felt in a long time, innocence.

I can still hear his laugh, the sound of his voice, and the image I have of the dark complexion man is him waving goodbye to us as we headed back to the 'city', standing in the front lawn with his work pants on and a flannel of some sort. It pains me not knowing more, not being able to remember what I would like. Then again, I was young when he died. I don't remember the funeral really, which I'm sure was a celebration.

My grandparents had a 'place'. It was their own. They tilled the land, planted seeds, on hands and knees weeded, and made it theirs. Their love, the way they cultivated it both in the dirt their house settled on and in their relationship, has warmed my being on some of the coldest of days. The way my grandmother laughed at some of my grandpa's obnoxious antics. In this moment, it is hitting me that I think I now know where I get some of my personality.

What I do remember was a loving man, who cared deeply about my grandmother, his children, and us boys. I remember the feeling of sadness every time I had to leave their house. There was something about the man that has always captivated me. I'm not sure what it was but what I do know, I miss the man who taught me, who introduced to me to one of the most life-giving hobbies I have...

fishing.

Every time I go out to dunk a worm, memories of us boys fishing with my grandpa come flooding back to me. He introduced me to patience by not only demonstrating it with me, but in the way he fished. Although he may not have sat me down and offered specific life advice, he taught me more than I think he knew in teaching me how to fish. Fishing is something I will never be able to do without thinking of him, my grandpa quine, or my dad. It has gotten me through many seasons of my life. My Grandpa Bob taught me about life by teaching me how to cast a line, bait a hook, count to 5 while your purple worm sinks, and to always wear a life jacket. Lessons I learned, although I didn't realize it until years later.

Until tonight.

For this I will be forever grateful.

2nd Year

2011-09-08T08:39:00.004-05:00

The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind. ~Kahlil Gibran

Today I begin my 2nd year of seminary, the Middler year. I have my bag packed, my assignments read, and a positive attitude, leaning towards excitement actually. My hope is that I am ready for this year. The vision to digest my experiences, to savor them, and to be present where I am. There are but 2 years remaining in my seminary education and in the depths of me, I know I will look back and wish I had "made better use of my time and friendships".

I suppose, today, in just 19 minutes, I should practice this. Greet my colleagues, pay close attention to the contributions of those around me, and soak up the wisdom of my professors. There is much I want to accomplish this year. For instance, I want to speak up more in class. No longer do I want to grumble or complain because of others. Instead, I want to participate, let folks know more about me in this way. It will be a challenge. Then again, so was sitting with a family as their loved one drew their last breath.

Today I begin my 2nd year of seminary.

What do you begin?

Stuffed...Peppers

2011-09-07T09:04:00.005-05:00

Last night we made for the first time stuffed peppers.

What You Need:

1 lb. ground beef
1 large onion, chopped
1 can (15 oz.) tomato sauce, divided
1-1/4 cups water, divided
1 env. GOOD SEASONS Garlic & Herb Dressing mix
1 cup instant rice, uncooked
4 large green peppers

(recipe from kraftfoods.com)

We stuck pretty close to this recipe. Our only deviation was the seasoning: we used garlic, basil, and oregano. Didn't seem to affect it too much.

Before:

As we make more meals, we are trying our best to use only 'local' or 'organic' ingredients (without bankrupting ourselves). Our meat was from the farmers market (organic meat tastes better and looks slightly different when frying), our peppers were from a local farmer, and the basil we used was from our back yard. The tomato sauce was 'organic' from the Kroger, along with the oregano and garlic. The water was from our faucet.

You bake this mug for 35-40 minutes and the result:

The picture does not do justice for our tasty stuffed peppers. It didn't taste nearly as gross as it looks here. I tried to make look like you can find it in "Home and Garden" but I just couldn't.

When you are about to serve the stuffed peppers, the sauce on the bottom of the pan is to be scooped and served on top of the pepper. Tasty!

(Rest of the Destruction's):

Brown meat with onion in large skillet on medium heat. Stir in 1 cup of the tomato sauce, 1 cup of the water and the dressing mix. Bring to boil. Stir in rice; cover. Remove from heat. Let stand 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 400F. Cut tops off peppers; remove seeds. Mix remaining tomato sauce and reaming 1/4 cup water in bottom of 9 inch baking dish. Place peppers in baking dish. Spoon meat mixture into peppers; cover with foil.

Bake 35-40 minutes or until peppers are tender. Spoon sauce from bottom of dish over peppers just before serving.

A Hurried Indulgence

2011-09-07T07:08:00.006-05:00

One of the comments my parents often received from my teachers when I was elementary school was, "Adam appears to go too fast on his work." The result being lower grades simply because I would not read directions. Instead, I would receive the assignment and do it, just to get it done and turn it in. There wasn't time to check over my work. The quicker I got it done, the sooner I could be outside playing with my friends.

Even today as a 26 year old graduate school (seminary) student this habit has carried over. On one of my first assignments here I had it returned with a decent grade but also with the comment, "Adam, good work but take the time to read over it to make sure it flows and to correct obvious grammatical errors." It was sort of embarrassing for me. After all, I am in graduate school. No longer will flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type work cut it as I advance in my graduate work.

I could sit here and share even more stories of how my hurriedness shows up in other parts of my life. But for the sake of time and space (perhaps this is an example of me 'rushing' things [or not]) there is one particular part in my life where it stands out that isn't too healthy.

Before I begin, I need to confess something: I am what you call a 'fast eater'. Although this is not a serious eating disorder (and please do not take this blog as me demeaning those who suffer from serious eating disorders. Any eating disorder is debilitating and can be difficult to vanquish. Eating disorders are nothing to joke about. If you or anyone you know suffers from eating disorders, please do what you can and seek immediate help. Again, it is not my intention to make light of eating disorders.) it does have an affect on one's health. Let me give you an insight into what my struggle is with eating.

Like most United States citizens, I enjoy a good meal. There is nothing better than to cook up my favorite dish (whatever it may be). To have an empty plate before you and then cover it with an appetizer, then a main course, and followed by dessert. None of this is 'bad'. It is a joy to cook my own meals or even go out and purchase a nice breakfast, lunch, or supper with my bride or friends. The problem though is how quickly I consume my meal. I have mulled over how I could demonstrate this to you without taking video of me eating. After evaluating closely how I eat, I realized this probably would not be a 'tasteful' way and I don't want to scare away any readers. So instead, I thought I'd let the Simpson's demonstrate for me:

Let it be known that I am a quick eater. However, I do not make those noises, if any, when I am at the table. What this scene shows is exactly what I feel like after I get done eating. If you were to go out to eat with me, you would probably notice a couple of different things:

1. If there is an appetizer, I'd probably be the first to try it

2. I would have more refills than anyone else.

3. During the meal, I would probably be the most quiet

4. While you were finishing up your meal, I would probably have been done for quite some time

These habits are frustrating to me and probably disturbing as well to whomever I am eating the meal with.

Why have I become mindful of the way I eat? To put it bluntly: there are major health related issues that develop from eating too quickly. According to many leading health professionals, it takes your brain roughly 20 minutes from the time you begin eating before it sends out signals of fullness. When one eats too quickly, they do not give time for this process and will keep eating. The result being, overeating and feeling miserable afterwards. When one eats leisurely, or at a slower pace, it gives ample time for you the eater to feel, know, and understand you are full. When you feel full, guess what happens? You eat it less, go figure.

One of my biggest fears is becoming overweight. Although obesity has not fully emerged in my family, heart disease most definitely is. According to the American Heart Association being obese can lead to heart disease. How does one become obese (obese being 20% over your ideal weight)? Again, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this one out: "Obesity is mainly caused by taking in more calories than are used up in physical activity and daily life. When people eat too many calories, or too much saturated fat, trans fat and cholesterol, their blood cholesterol levels often rise. That raises their risk of heart disease." Living a lifestyle with this approach to food can lead to heart disease, type 2 diabetes, and other potential health issues. A path I am quickly heading down.

What then does this have to do with the fact that I am 'quick eater'?

For the past couple of weeks I have been running. Thus far I have ran a total of 26 miles and burned off more than 2,000 calories. Yet, my weight has increased, along with my waistline. I attribute this to my over consuming of food. Because I eat too fast at supper, I often find myself eating a bowl of cereal an hour later or so. As a result, I begin to consume more calories than I am burning off during the day. A hard lesson I am learning is just because I am exercising more does not mean, as I mentioned in a post before, I can consume anything or as much of anything, as I want.

There is a connection between eating slower and losing weight. In addition to slowing down at the meal, there are other benefits that come with it. In the coming days (hopefully not weeks but since school starts tomorrow, I am not promising anything) I am going expound more on the importance of eating slowly. Essentially I will address eating as a spiritual discipline and gift from God. Until then here are some tips that can help one slow down in their eating.

Visualize in your mind eating slower
Relax before you begin eating--take time to slow down in order to enjoy the meal
Drink a glass of water before your meal to help begin the process of feeling full (during and after for that matter too)
Eat small bites as opposed to spoon/fork full of food
Set down the utensil after each bite
When serving the food, give yourself smaller portions
Put the remaining food, on the stove or away from the table, so the temptation to reenact the Simpson scene is likely
Don't wait and eat until you are starving--this is when we usually find ourselves inhaling our food
See if you can stretch your dining experience into a 20 minute meal (or longer)
Sit up straight and use good posture
Decorate your plate with your food for visual appeal

These are just a few examples of what can be done to slow yourself down. This article has many other great suggestions on how to slow down eating.

It can be embarrassing to admit you have an eating issue. Although mine is not nearly as serious as other eating disorders, it still has a negative affect on my life. It is a struggle for me to eat slowly, to enjoy my food and the company I am with. Much more could be written about this, and probably has, but this is just the start for me. One step to overcoming addictions is to admit you have a problem. So here it is: I, Adam Quine, am a quick eater.

May you, as you go about eating, take time and become more mindful of your eating habits. My hope for you is that you will learn to savor each bite, appreciate what you are eating for what it has to offer you, and adore the piece of cake which you won't be able to consume because you have slowed down, making your body desire only one or two bites, leading to one or two bites and fewer calories.

Eat slowly and enjoy, so that you may eat and have your cake too!

Sermon 04.04.11

2011-09-05T19:37:00.006-05:00

“Its Better That Way”

First Presbyterian Church

Owensboro, Kentucky

September 04, 2011

Adam R. Quine

It was the summer of my freshmen year in high school and my oldest brother had just left to start a new life out in Colorado, his first teaching gig. As exciting as it was for my family, it was probably one of the saddest days up to that point in my young life. For the first time in our lives, us four boys resided in cities that were farther apart than a short hours drive.

There the three of us sat, with heavy hearts, in our empty living room, still whipping the tears off our cheeks as we watched my brother’s White Ford Escort turn out of the driveway for the last time. The house was silent. All you could hear was the sniffles from our runny noses. It was an eerie feeling for a house that was often home to not only 4 boys but a house load of friends too.

After a while, our faithful Bassett hound, Lucy, made her way into the living room carrying a tennis ball, breaking the silence. Like most dogs, she knew just what to do: she dropped the slobbery ball onto one of our laps. And of course we do what boys do when a tennis ball is dropped on their laps: we started throwing it back and forth. As we did, after each toss one of us shared a memory about growing up. The storytelling would only be disrupted when one of us, usually one of the twins (although if you ask them, they’d tell you otherwise), would drop the ball and of course we’d catch a good amount of grief for ‘dropping’ the ball.

Soon, as you probably guessed, this got old and we needed to do something else. We needed to get out of the house. We needed a change of scenery. As we started to make our way outside my brother tossed me the tennis ball, seeing if I would drop it. As it turned out, I didn’t drop it and what happened next, well, I now know why Peter Brady once said, “Mom always said don’t play ball in the house.”

As I mentioned I caught a difficult toss from my brother and in turn I was on top of the world! I felt like I could catch…or hit…anything I wanted to. So my brothers challenged me of course and bet me I couldn’t. Not wanting to be proven wrong, I pointed out a one of the curtain rod finials on the other side of the living room and guaranteed I could hit it…with the green Wilson tennis ball I was holding. Before I tell you what happened it is important to let you know the living room and the dining room were one room. I was in the dinning room, standing behind the dinning room table (the one where just the night before my mom and dad shared with us boys how proud they were of us), and the target I picked out was on the opposite wall, 23 ft. away.

I took a deep breath, spinning the tennis ball in my hand to find the seams, and stared down my target. Lucy sat at my feet thinking I was about to toss the ball for her enjoyment. Little did she know what was about to happen would be for my brothers and I enjoyment for I wound up, extended my arm back, and let the ball go sailing into the air. The curtain rod finials exploded into about a million different pieces. My mouth fell open. My brothers stood in shock. All three of us looking at what had just happened and like boys, started laughing hysterically.
To this day, if my brothers and I need a good laugh, all we need to do is take a look at the super-glued curtain rod finial and we are reminded how in a moment of deep sadness, together we found a way to smile.

I tell you this story to provide hopefully some comedic relief but also to express to you in the telling of one of my own stories that when there are two or three of us, life is better that way.
Our gospel lesson for the day sets us up for all sorts of different conversations. On this section alone there are a few different sermons that could rise from this teaching and bit of wisdom from our Jewish teacher.

We could converse about church life. This would have given me the opportunity to ‘WOW’ you with catchy Greek words like, “ekklesia”. As tempting as this is to demonstrate to you the fine education I am receiving from seminary, I thought better considering I take Greek this coming year. This past year I took Hebrew, which would have been fitting if we discussed sin, because the word ‘sin’ in our Hebrew Scripture does not enter into our story until after the fall. Now if that does not knock your socks off, I am not sure what will.

Or we could talk about the bumper sticker we’ve seen around town. In fact, I know Jonathan has mentioned it before. You know the one that is on that new Escalade that says, “Don’t be fooled by my car. My treasure is in heaven?” Been there and done that one, I suppose.
Another stimulating discussion we could have gets those who have studied family systems salivating at the reading of this text. We could explore systems and triangulation and the dynamics of a community. In addition to consulting system theorist we could have consulted some of the ancient Qumram texts, which also expound on a step-by-step procedure about what to do with a member of the community who deviates from the said community. It would read something like, “No one shall bring a matter before the many unless there has previously been a reprimand before witnesses.” Which then we could ‘name’ the problem and how each of us has functioned in the system from which the problem has emerged. Again though, I thought better and figured it’d be a good idea to let those who have studied theories such as Bowen’s, to lead this conversation.

Then there is the difficult conversation of reconciliation and radical forgiveness. It goes without saying the importance of this conversation. Jesus even lays out a multistep procedure in how we do it, the goal being not to humiliate a person but to restore a relationship. It would do us well to reconsider Jesus’ earlier teaching about the log in my eye and taking care of it before I go and try to remove the speck in yours. Reconciliation is a huge issue today, especially in our cultural context as we enter into yet another, or a continued season, of our politicians doing what they do best: playing politics. On a smaller scale in our own lives some of us have friendships that need mending, we see broken marriages, feuds between neighbors, and the list of examples could go on. All around us reconciliation and forgiveness is practice we need to engage and re-learn.

Thankfully Jesus knew that when we share life together, things, both good and bad, are going to happen. He gives us insight into how to handle our conflicts in a non-confrontational way. “Here Jesus is advocating that Christians be willing to sit and break bread together, even while they are working toward resolving their differences.” Granted, not every offense can be addressed in this way, but it is a good place to begin before we go and triangulate ourselves with someone whom we have experienced conflict with. Reconciliation and radical forgiveness can be difficult. It is difficult. In it all though, in the difficult, often messy work of reconciliation and humility and forgiveness, we aren’t left on our own as we struggle to become the sort of communities, families, and churches that Jesus has described.

This is where I ended up as I sat with this text. In our attempts to be the continued incarnation, bringing heaven on earth, God is always present with us. Now this is nothing new under the sun and I know you all know this. Yet we can never hear this promise enough that when “two or three are gathered together in my name, there God is.”

This summer I experienced and was reminded of this in many different ways. If you read my PresbyNotes article, which I know you all are faithful, diligent readers of the PresbyNotes, always aware of the going on’s in the church, you would know I added the Masters of Arts in Spirituality degree offered as a dual degree program with LPTS and Bellarmine University. For one of our assignments we had to read selections of my favorite writer, scholar, mystic, and theologian, Thomas Merton. We were to read from his journal during the time he was a hermit and had a discussion about a contemplative life, sharing what we knew about Thomas Merton. At face value, we saw Merton as this mystic from Kentucky in the Trappist order, who lived in a small hermitage by himself, who was a prolific writer, artist, and monk. It is pretty safe that these all were true.

However, my depiction of our hermit friend changed when we had the opportunity to sit and spin a few tales with one of the brothers who knew Merton personally at the Abbey of Gethsemani. To hear stories first hand about someone whom society has basically made into a saint was a fascinating experience. I sat captivated, listening to these stories. As we shared about our desire to live a contemplative life and wrestled with if we could live a life as a hermit, Brother Fredrick began to laugh. Seeing we were confused, Brother Fredrick went on to share with us how Mr. Merton, the famous hermit from Kentucky, couldn’t stay away from the Abbey. Sure he lived in the building out there by himself, writing and thinking, but for the most part, Merton was always interrupting the other brothers during their work. Which if you think about it, makes sense since this is the same guy who tried to live a life in the country only to have come to Louisville, and at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, he pronounced, “I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers.” As much as Merton tried to escape from the noise of people, the business of the city, and live a life as a hermit, the spiritual master couldn’t. Then again, Merton is notorious for living in the world of paradoxes such as: “the more I am able to affirm others, to say ‘yes’ to them I myself, by discovering them in myself and myself in them, the more real I am. I am fully real if my own heart says yes to everyone.”

For those of you who love literature and poetry, this was similar to Thoereau’s experience at Walden Pond. Thoreau himself has been quoted having said, “I had more visitors while I lived in the woods than any other period of my life." We must not over romanticize our desire to live unaccompanied and forget that even those who were hermits weren’t ever really alone.

We are the people of the Living God, a god who is not up there and everywhere but here. Instead, we are part of God’s recreation of the world; a world and process God is very much so still a part of. We have a promise from God to hold on to, that God will remain faithful to us, Her children. God, in Jesus Christ, is with us. After all, “’God with us’ (Emmanuel) is the Messiah’s name even as a child, and this ‘being-with-us’ continues in the community.” As God once accompanied a people into the wilderness, so now Christ is among those who gather in his name, that is, when they think of him, call upon him, and appeal to him.

It was 3:30 in the morning and for the first time since 7pm I had the opportunity to sit down in the chaplain’s office at the University of Louisville hospital. It had been a crazy night having made over ten pre-surgical visits, as well as a good seven Room 9, ED, patients come rolling in. I was tired, hadn’t had anything to eat since supper, my dogs were barking, and I had just opened my peanut M&M’s when my faithful pager started buzzing.

I called and was told there was a patient who was scared and requested a chaplain. Without hesitation I grabbed my trusty prayer book and head up to the 7th floor. After checking in with the nurse I made my way into the room where I was met by the frailest person I have ever laid my eyes on. She was 51 years old and dying of cancer. She had nobody with her. No family. No friends. The only company she did have was that of the medical staff. She lay motionless, for every move she did make brought extreme amounts of pain up her spine and into her neck. Her room was dark with the only light coming from the TV, which was muted. The nurse, before I entered, shared with me her condition and how it prevents her from getting sleep. She also informed me of how scared and lonely the patient was, this being the reason for me being requested.

After I introduced there was a moment of awkward silence. Not knowing what to do next, I asked if I could pull up a chair. She motioned yes. She then, in what was no louder than a whisper, asked me to tell her a story. Quickly I looked around the room to see if there was something I could share that she could relate to. Sure enough, in the corner, was a cloth bag that had the Purina Dog Food logo on it. I asked her then if she had a pet. Immediately her face lit up like the TV and shared with me about her Rottweiler pup and how she misses him and how she wishes people would not immediately assume all Rot’s were mean. After a few more stories from her, she gently turned her head and asked, “Chaplain, do you have a dog?” I shook my head proudly. “Tell me a story about him.”

There we sat. The two of us: me being full of life and her being days, maybe even hours, away from completing her baptism. There we sat sharing stories about those things in our life that made us happy. There we sat, two of us, in the presence of God. It was one of the most holy of moments I have ever been apart of.

My story was so remarkable and entertaining she fell asleep. My presence is all she needed. By me being there I was able to offer her something she could not get being by herself. I like to think in those wee hours of the morning, she experienced something she hadn’t in quite some time: peace.

Jesus’ teaching presents steps to be taken in the community when one member sins against another. It highlights the difficult reality that life together can be chaotic. Thanks be to God Jesus knew his history and the faith he came from to teach his disciples, his bride the church, and us how to deal with conflict. If there is any lesson the story of God has taught us is that life will not be easy and the people we share life with will probably aggravate us at one point or another. Yet, beyond all the pain, the hurt, and amidst all the ugly ‘sin’ and brokenness in the world, God has given us relationships and each other to make God’s presence known to one another. When we laugh together, even when our world shatters (like the curtain rod finial), when we cry and when we celebrate, it wouldn’t be the same if we did it alone.

May we never forget how God has gifted us with one another and promises “where a couple or a few of you have gathered, I am with you always.” And because of this, friends, lets be honest, life together, well, it’s better that way.

Camping Sounds

2011-09-02T13:16:00.004-05:00

chirp

crackle

hisss-up

zirp't--zirp't

chizzit...chizzit

whoo-whoo-whoo

hootin'-and-hollerin'

giggle-laughter

silence

dark

chirp

Preparation

2011-09-02T09:48:00.002-05:00

This Sunday I have the privilege of preaching at the church I served as the Youth Director for 3 years. Although it is short notice, I am enjoying wrestling with the Gospel text of the week. Who knows where it'll go but it'll go somewhere. It has to.

The picture is my little table at a local coffee shop. I seem to get better work done, with more clarity, away from my spacious table at home.

I'll post it next week some time.

Go figure.

Peace

Running Reality: Continued Contingency

2011-09-02T07:50:00.002-05:00

It was your average mid-August evening. The sun was still shining, burning up the world around me. It was hot and very humid. The cicadas were singing their songs, along with the neighborhood kids with their songs being their laughter as they experience one last night of freedom before school starts. Typical Midwestern August evening.

I had gone over to my brother's and sister-in-laws house for supper. On the menu? Cheeseburgers, a vegetable of some sort, and a milkshakes, made by the Ninja (?). A typical Midwestern American meal. The burgers were great. The vegetables were refreshing. The milkshake, filling. It was a delightful meal with delightful company. Because I no longer live in the central Illinois area it is always a gift to spend time with family around supper, especially the little ones. The night was young and the my stomach was full, stuffed.

What happened next I do not really remember. I am sure my family and I sat around talking about everything under the sun. We might have gone outside and played with the assortment of toys in their backyard with the 2 little ones. Whatever we did, I think I did it wobbling around on a full stomach, with some side cramps I'm sure. Regardless, what I do know is, the sun went down, the kiddo's went to bed, and we the adults were left alone in the living room, watching the latest program on the boob-tube. A peaceful way to end the night.

As my mom'z turned to me to say, "Well you ready....", my sister-in-law asked me a question I was hoping should would not have asked.

"Wait, aren't we going to run tonight? I haven't ran in a couple of days. Plus it is dark and I need a partner to make sure nothing happens to me."

"Umm, really? Are you kidding me?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding you? Oh and tonight, I need to bump up the mileage. Got to get to four miles by the end of the week."

I knew she was going to ask me this. For a week we had been talking about running together. Now my sister-in-law is a lovely person. I have known her for the majority of my life and I'm so grateful she is a part of my family. If there is anyone who will tell it to you straight it is her. But that night, I wanted to strangle her. She has been running since the beginning of the year. Literally at the strike of midnight on January 1, 2o11 the two of us, along with my lovely bride, ran a 3k (well I ran the full 3k, the ladies on the other hand got 'confused' or so they say). It was a goal of my sister-in-law to run this year, to run in races, and to get back in shape. Being a way I did not realize how serious she was. I mean she told me about the different races she ran but come on! This is the girl who I hit a pop-fly to and it busted her in the face, the result being 2 black eyes. Athletics never really was in her story-past. Except for maybe a couple of years of cheerleading, which she reminds us often by spontaneously bursting into cheers. All this to say, I didn't think she would be into running like she is.

With all of this in mind, reluctantly I agreed to run with her.

I had not brought my running gear (probably a subconscious move, hoping that if she saw no gear, there would be no running. Then again, I should have figured my brother would offer his running supplies or offered some brilliant suggestion like...) but after a suggestion from my brother, I rode home with my mom, a good fifteen minute drive, and grabbed my stuff. The whole way to and from I was thinking, "This won't be bad. I mean granted, you have not ran in over a month but when you were running you were a solid 2.5 miles once a week. Plus it is your sis-in-law. She is not tall so she can't be that fast."

Arriving back to their house sometime around 9:45pm, I was met by a stretching sister-in-law in the front yard of their house. It was in that moment as I evaluated her running gear, this chick meant business.

"Well, you ready for this?" she asked.

"Of course I am. You might need to go slow. This is my first time in a month or so."

"I doubt it. You'll have to wait for me I am sure," she responded back.

At that moment we went back inside and told my brother if he doesn't see us after a good while, send out a search and rescue (probably be a good idea to send a defibrillator as well for I am sure they would find me passed out and not breathing...)

"So, how long are we running by the way?" I asked.

"Hopefully 4 miles. If that is okay?" she said back with a bit of a grin.

Not wanting to seem like a weakling, "Oh yea. It'll be good to go longer than 2 miles. It'll be good. Yea, I'll be fine."

After I had 'stretched', we were off and it felt....

GOOD!

It was a great night for a run. The stars were out. The humidity had dissipated a bit along with the heat. I was running well, the pace was a good one, and we were keeping up with one another. At this point, the first 10 minutes of the run, my only worry was rolling and ankle or stepping off a curb. I was feeling good! This was going to be way better than I had anticipated.

But this feeling, this hopefulness, this confidence would not last much longer. Once we slowly descended down a hill, I was told there was another hill ahead. It seemed like at that exact moment my legs went dead, as if I was running with 5 pound ankle weights on. My breathing had increased, so much to the point that about every ten yards or so my sister-in-law, who wasn't even sweating yet, would ask if I was okay.

"We can stop if you'd like," she would say.

"Oh no, I am fine. Once we get past this next part, it'll be good." I. Would. Say. After. Every. Deep. Inhale. And. After. Each. Exhaustive. Exhale.

I was not going to stop. I was an athlete, damn it. Never had I ever stopped. Not even when I had to run 14 100 yard sprints in under a certain amount of time for tryouts at the junior college I played ball at. I always finished without quitting, stopping, or looking like a fool. I am a former college athlete. I played baseball my entire life. I am an ATHLETE!

All of that went down the drain at the top of the hill we had run down and then back up. My record of never stopping because I couldn't go one was broken that night. For the first time it took only 16 minutes for me to feel like the biggest fool in the world. My sister-in-law was very encouraging and sweet throughout the whole process. She did not give me a hard time but was very supportive. Yet, I could tell I was slowing her down as she kept looking at her watch and reassuring me, "Walking doesn't really affect your time much."

The rest of the run was painful. We would go for a while and then would have to stop. The whole way she was very encouraging. The last part of the run my sister-in-law informed me this is when she sprinted to the finish line, she stretches her legs a bit. I kept thinking, "There is no way your little legs can get much longer. How in the world have you become so fast?" Off she went. There I was. Gasping for air and holding my side, convincing myself that I could in fact finish.

"I said sprint. What are you waiting on," she yelled as she was a few, couple paces ahead of me. I hobbled behind her, feeling as if my legs were going to fall off and coming to a realization I was not ready to deal with.

As I paced around the vehicles, trying my best not to keel over and die, all that kept running through my head was this question:

"How did it get to this? How did I let myself turn into this? How is it I had to stop in the middle of the run? What has happened to me?"

Now, you must give me the benefit of the doubt that just a few hours earlier I had consumed a large cheeseburger, some veggies, and a large milkshake. So as I was running, about every other step towards the end I was being reminded of how good the supper tasted. The reality though is that you only need to wait roughly 45 minutes or so after eating until you should run. I had waited a good 3 hours and still I felt as if I was going to collapse.

My pride was hurt. It might have been a little ambitious to run 3 or 4 miles on my first time out in a really long time. But still, I did not make it. Each stride I took I could feel just how much weight I had put on. Never had I felt like that running. Never was I like the cross country folks you see running through your local park. However, never was I like the center on a the local collegiate football team either. I had let myself 'go' as some put it.

The thought I had wrestled with had become a reality: my body has in fact changed.

Gone are the days of consuming any and everything I wanted to eat and not have to worry about it.

Gone are the days of just 'going for a run' without it becoming a fully body, mind, and being workout.

Gone are the days of athlete Adam.

Now are the days of needing to make adjustments, having to stretch before I run, and being more mindful of how I live my life.

Exercise will no longer solve my problems. I must begin to think holistically.

No longer am I who I once was....

I want to thank my sister-in-law for her support. It was her pushing and encouragement to get me back out there and running. She has been running for all of 2011 and if you run with her, you can definitely tell. Thank you J for this. I admire your dedication and welcome your support. Even if you give me a hard time about slowing you down.

Potential Cognizance of the Reality of Life

2011-09-01T09:23:00.006-05:00

All of my life I have been around sports. Some could say, all of my life I have been an athlete. Having three older brothers put me in places with kids much older than I. My family tells me stories of carrying around a baseball when I was but a wee-little guy. I have seen pictures of me wearing a glove that was obviously too large for me (it was the size of my scrawny little legs) and a baseball hat pulled down to the top of my eyebrows, pushing my ears way out to the side. There was a time even when I was watching my brothers' game and the coach put me in to play (I am 5 years younger than the twins so this experience was terrifying). I played basketball for as long as I can remember (up until my sophomore year in high school). In high school I even played on the golf team.

In addition to all of this, I am what you call a former collegiate athlete. Three out of the four years of college I played on a baseball team: one year at a local junior college and then the remaining two years at a Division III school where we finished 3rd in the NCCAA World Series my senior year.

Most of my life I have had the luxury of organized sports. This often meant organized and mandatory practices. Which this lead to running and depending on how well we played, perhaps a LOT of running. When I was younger, I could run for days. Don't get me wrong, speed is not something that is common in my family, so yes, I ran slow, BUT, I could run without stopping. I complained often when I ran and when coach told us we had 1 or 2 more poles, I groaned with the rest of them. My body could handle it. I enjoyed it. The sweat. The pain. The burning. The results....

Now I am 26 years old. Over the last couple of years I have come to some conclusions. One being my body is changing. Another being, running is no longer something I look forward to. Finally, because of my age, I am coming to the harsh reality my body is, to be completely honest, not going to be or look like it used to.

I am not overweight (not that I know of). However, I have, and am, carrying around extra weight. If I ever need to know where I stand in regards to my physical appearance and if I want honesty, all I need to do is visit my grandpa. He is known for letting us know we look like we've "put on some weight there" or if we are "looking good, Duke". This last time home grandpa did not offer any of those insights. No, instead I found out the hard way some serious changes need to occur in my life.

Over the coming weeks I plan to expound on this story. I want to do this though in an articulate and insightful way. There is more to these changes than simply exercise more and eat right. Yes these changes help. However, I am gaining great insight into the care of my body as I pursue information about mindful eating, my aging body, and the affects of my lifestyle.

So the 2 of you that read this, I ask you be patient as I try and discipline myself to finish out this 'series' of blog posts.

Until then you can expect some of the same old ramblings and bad poetry.

Be well.

Peace.

Louisville?

2011-08-31T12:47:00.001-05:00

I've been waiting for years [okay maybe not year(s) but 2 or 3 at least] to see these fools live. I thought it was going to happen this month when I saw they were to play in Louisville. However, they had to back out. I am disappointed and sad.

I guess, music videos such as this one will have to suffice.

Enjoy.

Morning Prayer Thoughts

2011-08-31T10:42:00.007-05:00

“Prayer is the key of the morning and the bolt of the evening.”
Mahatma Gandhi

It is a practice of mine to attend morning prayer at a local Roman Catholic church once a week. Eventually it is a goal of mine to attend twice a week, then three times, and then five times. I enjoy waking up early, before the sun rises, and heading to the large church to sit with the folks who have been called in by the bells tolling at the 7am hour. The space is beautiful, along with what happens there every weekday morning.

To my knowledge there is no other church, other than other Roman Catholic churches, that offer the morning office. This is not unusual for much of the Protestant tradition have done away with tending to the hours (offices or times of prayer). However, some traditions such as the Episcopal Church and some in the Presbyterian Church (USA) offer prayer opportunities that look and feel similar to that of our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters. Again, there are other traditions that offer prayer opportunities, these are just a couple I am more familiar with.

Personally, I have been 'going' to morning prayer since I was a senior in college. For one of my final theology classes we had to attend a certain amount of morning prayer's at a local Free Methodist church as part of our grade. At the time I found this requirement to be annoying and 'unfair'. 7:30 am is awfully early for a college student who is an athlete, don't you know. Then when I graduated I served in a Presbyterian Church where we offered morning prayer as well. It was during my three years here I was able to lead morning prayer on Wednesday morning, and then on other days as I gained more experience. Each experience was unique and life-giving to me to be a part of a community praying with and for one another for each other and for the world. Morning prayer is a time for the community to assemble again outside its traditional Sunday morning to bear witness to the world with their lives in the form of prayer.

It goes without saying in addition to morning prayer I engage in my own practices such as meditation and journaling as forms of prayer. I do not discourage people to leave these practices for they are essential for the shaping of our faith and lives. However, there is something morning prayer offers that individual prayer does not: that is the communal experience of prayer. Again, I do recognize that even when one prays alone, they are praying the church's prayer, joining in prayer with all the faithful of every place and time. Many of us can agree that sometimes our spirits can be lifted simply by being with other people. It is for this reason I often attend morning prayer. As i have mentioned before, there are many times I do not know what to pray, what to pray, or even how to pray. Thus, I gain much comfort seeing, hearing, and listening to those around me as they pray with me, and on my behalf more often than not. Communal prayer in the attending of morning prayer, invite humanity to bring themselves together outside of the Lord's Day worship to share life, share stories, and prayers with one another. It is in the gathering of people to pray we learn how to pray. When we gather together, we teach each other, learn from each other the practice of prayer.

Too often I am a stickler for how morning prayer should 'function'. I am one who advocates for the use of the Book of Common Prayer or the PC(USA)'s Book of Common Worship for they take you step by step through the order of the prayer service. In addition to the flow of the prayer, they provide the lectionary text to be read during the prayer gathering. Again, it is in the lectionary the Church finds itself united no matter where it has assembled. It is reassuring knowing that the liturgy is being shared with my brothers and sisters all over the world. Morning prayer conveys a sense of solidarity with all of the baptized when the lectionary and liturgy is used in the gathering.

I am learning to be less rigid with prayer. After all, sometimes the only thing we can do is pray. If you have the chance and the money, I would check out the Book of Common Prayer. If anything, it is a good resource to have around.

I encourage you to find a local community that offers/practices morning prayer. Most often you do not have to even participate for it is lead by the priest or pastor. Take time to go and explore what is being done. Go and sit with strangers, a community of witnesses who are probably there for the same reasons you are, and pray with them, together. Eventually, like your morning cup of coffee or diet coke, it will become a part of your daily routine.

08.27

2011-08-29T20:39:00.003-05:00

Faithful you are

watching, seeing only by flickering, dwindling camp fire light

your shadow with you tonight thanks to the stars

you sit,

Never having removed your eye

you've stayed at your post.

Watching

Listening

Agonizing

Yet,

you remain

still

fixed and motionless

Concerned

Focused

Vigilant

Faithful you are, dog

Not only to me

but to her,

to us

and that is you.

Faithful in who you are

in what you do

to me

and her

and we

always

Faithful dog,

you will be.

Retreat

2011-08-29T13:39:00.004-05:00

For the first time in a while, we were able to get away from the city. Although we had a lovely time at home with our families a couple weeks ago, we had not had a time away for just the 3 of us in quite some time. After much debating and questioning and reassuring each other (after all we both have the strength of harmony) we made our way to Deam Lake State Park in Southern Indiana. It was here at this park we made camp for 3 days (Saturday-Monday). This trip was a big deal for us for many reasons:1. It was our 1st camping trip as a team

2. It was also the first trip of this kind for Silas--he, like us, had never been camping

We had little expectations for the trip except to do something other than what you usually do. We started a new novel from our favorite author and fictional community (Wendell Berry & Port William); I finished a book about Sabbath by Abraham Heschel (which inspired me to write about my own experience of Sabbath); Teresa was able to go at her own pace, think about her own thoughts, and do what she needed to do, and she started Jayber Crow; Silas did what Silas does best--be a dog: he ran, he swam, he chased, he slept, he barked, and he was wonderful. Together we walked, we talked, we tight-lined, dreamt, and read (having just completed Hanah Coulter by Berry we began Nathan Coulter), all of which was refreshing to our beings.

All around the trip was a 'success'. We were able to set up, experience, and take down our camp site having all of our 'expectations' met, and then some.

While we were there, I was inspired at many moments, some of which I hope to write about and others, like more lame poetry, I hope to share here in the coming days. There were many moments those roughly 40 hours away I found myself being soothed by the breeze blowing through the tress, being warmed by the sun, and being fed by the stirrings of all creation. It was what I needed, what we needed, as we prepare for yet another school year.

Powerful Stuff

2011-08-18T08:35:00.003-05:00

For those you have the what they call a "TV", you might have seen the latest Subaru commercial featuring Sean Hayes' song, 'Powerful Stuff'. It is a catchy tune and the commercial itself is great. Needless to say, the tune got stuck it my head and I had to find out who is the artist. So, this is for all you Subaru fans (and those of you who enjoy listening to catchy, good music!)

Joseph and His Amazing...Story

2011-08-16T16:10:00.003-05:00

August 14, 2011

Adam R. Quine

"Joseph and His Amazing...Story"

Bethel Presbyterian Church in Peoria, Illinois

Where do stories come from? What is needed to tell a story? Where does one begin?

If the great novels and stories of history have taught us one thing, a good opening

line helps:

There is the infamous, “Call me Ishmael!” from the classic, Moby Dick.

Or how about, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” the well known Charles Dickens’s line from A Tale of Two Cities.

If those two were perhaps too difficult, my hope is we should all get this one, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”

Or, “Four score and seven years ago,” although Mr. Lincoln’s famous speech isn’t quite like the other 3, his opening line is memorable, setting the stage for what is to come.

It all needs to start somewhere. Somewhere along our lives we take a step back, reflect, and begin writing what began years before we started. Our stories are our lives, our lives are our stories. They are meant to be told, not kept to ourselves. Around campfires and over coffee, our stories are what connect us to one another. In this connection, in this communion, the stories told between two mortals become immortal.

A good story has a way of captivating its reader. A good story can draw the reader, to the point where the reader becomes a part of the story, disconnected from all that is around them. They get lost in the story. Usually this happens when you find a story that resonates deeply with you. When you read, you find yourself hanging on every word the author has put down on paper and if you’re like Miley Cyrus, you begin to ‘nod your head like yea’. Stories, whether they are being read or being told aloud, has the ability to take us places we never thought we go. They have a way into the depths of our being providing excitement, curiosity, and even rest. Alida Gersie says it best, “Whenever stories are told, stillness falls. We cease our restless frittering. During these times of concentrated devotion to alternative realms we may reconnect with the power of creation. Through such resting we are renewed. Renewal inspires the courage to change.” Stories are told, we read them, we try and share our own, with hopes that something, someone, even us, may change.

If there is one fundamental truth about humanity, it is that we all possess stories. You and I have lived a life, some of us a little longer than others that are full of stories. Some of us have traveled the world, seeing lands in the Far East and places here and there. Others have stayed close to home, but have invested in the lives of those around them and along the way, met some interesting and memorable folks. Regardless of how adventurous or how rooted our lives may appear, we all possess one thing that unites us as a people: our stories.

Ever since the beginning of time, humanity has shared stories to connect us with one another. When we are faced with the complexities of life, or a question such as how did the world come into existence, we tell a story. We sit around a fire and we say, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth,” and in this story we have been told, we tell, and will continue to tell, how God created all things good. I think Joan Halifax said it best when she suggested, “Stories knit together the realities of past and future, of dreamed and intended moments. They teach us how we perceive and why we wonder.”# The stories we possess are as fundamental to our soul, intellect, imagination, and way of life as flesh, bone, and blood are to our bodies.

God has given us each a story to tell. Each and every one of us has been gifted with a tale to tell. We, like with creation, are to be good stewards of our stories. It is in our stories that we communicate how we feel and what we have experienced. As individuals, we have both a personal and social obligation to bear witness to our own experience, rather than letting it sink into oblivion. Our bearing witness to our own experiences comes in the way we tell our stories. “If we respect the people we’ve loved, the places we’ve lived, the issues we’ve championed, the lessons we’ve learned, the jobs we’ve performed, and the feats we’ve accomplished then it’s up to us to preserve them in stories and to share those stories with others who might benefit from knowing them, or in many cases, from knowing us better than they already do.” When we tell our stories, we enter into one another’s lives in a way that facilitates vulnerability, authenticity, and great amount of trust to one another, something our society today does not encourage. Storytelling is where we share what we have discovered and I think we’d all at one point or another, all of us have discovered a little secret about life.

Some of the best stories we have told and heard are stories with and about our families. For most of us here, who we are as a family has been handed down through our stories. Just last night I found myself around one of those fires with my mom and my dad, my brother and sister-in-law, and Emily spinning tales about my own family. There we sat asking our parents questions about our family of origin and about our own personal stories. They gave us what we wanted to know, but it came through a story. This is not unusual though for my family. Often when we all get together we reminisce on our time together. We have those good stories we always return to, our favorite ones about Grandma Quine and her hospitality and of course her love for those oh-so-lovable Cubbies. We tell stories about Bethel reminiscing about being in one of Linda’s Christmas plays or my parents will share stories about the anchors of faith of this church: Bob Shaw, Don Addis, or, and I can remember being captivated with her ability to tell stories through poetry, Helen Rice. Then there are some of us here who could sit for hours telling you stories about the Christian Center bowling alley and how important and influential of a place that was for our lives. It goes without saying; we have you to thank Mr. Crocker. Of course, if the majority of us were going to tell our stories, we have to begin here, in this place at Bethel Presbyterian Church. It is here were many of us have been baptized, were we have said our goodbyes to loved ones, and it is here where we have come for many years to hear rousing and prophetic stories told by inspiring ministers like Garrison, Springer and Barnett. It is in this place where many of us have heard the story of God being told for the first time. If these walls could talk, imagine the stories they would tell. We need to tell these stories because hearing and telling stories about our own families and heritage helps us, especially our children, figure out how they fit in—at home and in the world. Our stories are important and we must tell them.

Joseph’s story has always fascinated me and has always inspired me to tell mine. It is a story that many of our families can relate to. The dynamics in the family are nothing out of the ordinary: parental favoritism, a little tattle-tailing, along with sibling jealousy, egotistic childish dreams, and a little bit of everything in between which would cause Family System therapist to salivate at the even mention of this story. Perhaps I resonate with Joseph and his story because I find myself in the way he dreams, I understand what it is like to be one of the youngest children (and I think Nate, a fellow fourth child, would agree with me on that one), and although I do not know what it is like to have been thrown in a pit by my siblings, sold into slavery, and then eventually a ruler of a nation (although pretty darn close at times I’m sure), I do know what it is like to have a part of my story that is difficult to tell, or difficult to make sense of, especially when it comes time to family dynamics.

What is probably the most provocative part of our scripture reading today is how Joseph responds to his estranged family. After all those years his family finds themselves at the mercy of this now Egyptian ruler. They come with hunger in their bellies, in need of the basic needs for life, and their fate lies in the hands of this young ruler. On different occasions his brothers come to Joseph and each time Joseph sends them back and weeps over them. Finally Joseph “could no longer control himself” and he cries out to his brothers, “I am Joseph. Is my father still well?” Shocked and ‘dumbfounded’, and I imagine a little fearful, they were unable to say anything. It was in the telling of their story, their desperate plea for help, and not to mention the 14 different times they uttered their “aged father”, that brought down the Jericho like walls of self-restraint Joseph had built. There is no getting around the obvious that Joseph’s brothers had acted with evil intentions but it lead to something beautiful: healing and reconciliation through power of storytelling.

Some of the stories we have are stories we cannot wait to share. In fact, there are probably many you have told and re-told. Anne Morrow Lindbergh spoke to this when suggesting, “When one is a stranger to oneself, then one is stranger from others too. If one is out of touch with oneself, then one cannot touch others.”# Joseph could no longer hide from his brothers his true identity. Since chapter 37 we have waited and wondered about the dream of Joseph and after Judah’s moving appeal, we get this disclosure scene.

Unlike most of us who may spend a great amount of time running from our past, his past came to him, in the form of an alienated and frantic family member needing Joseph to care for them. It was in the telling of who he was in the revealing of his story that Joseph and his family were able to reconcile. Joseph could have chosen to hold on to grudges, could have turned away his family, could have used his power, the empire to embarrass them, but instead, Joseph brings healing through the power of his story. Joseph’s revealing to his brothers who he was brought on both fear and astonishment because his family was afraid he would exploit them, would act out from the past. Instead, Joseph opens to them another future, one of newness and a fresh chapter to their long historical story. Joseph could have done something else, returned evil with evil. Instead, he returned to who he is as a dreamer, dreaming of another way of life for him and his family.

Which is ironic if you think about it? Why was he thrown in the pit in the first place? Because he was speaking of the future, of a time yet to come. Even amidst his revelation to his brothers he continues to be who God has made him to be, royalty. Joseph is portrayed as a deeply human person who is impacted and transformed by his brothers, yet another reason why I resonate with this story. In this story we can see how it is the connection of the family that is deeper than that of the Egyptian empire. Joseph never forgets his connectedness to his family, his brothers, to Jacob and Joseph begins what Narrative Therapist call re-authoring his life: taking something ‘bad’ into something ‘good’ by telling who he really is. In this crucial moment, Joseph in his identification to his brother, by the telling of his story, brings healing to his broken family by identifying not with a kingdom, not with his credentials, but with his connection to the family story. It was the Reformed Theologian Martin Luther who observed, “that when this brother announces himself, he uses no Egyptian throne name, but his own family name. Joseph identifies himself as Joseph, the one ‘added’ by God, the surplus of meaning and joy and hope given to this family of faith.”# In his telling of his story, Joseph harnessed his power and created a newness which came not from detachment or withholding his story, but from taking a risk and telling his story, which is a selfless, self-disclosing engagement.

On a larger level this story of Joseph is quite inspiring and insightful. In the book of Genesis this narrative of Joseph is unlike the rest of the narrative found in the first chapter of our ancient story. This narrative urges that in contingencies of history, the purposes of God are at work in hidden and unnoticed ways. “The purposes of God are not wrought here by an abrupt action or by intrusions, but by the ways of the world which seem to be natural and continuous.”# This story testifies to no matter how chaotic, how tragic, how dark life may get, God’s with us, in hidden and mysterious ways. “In the midst of all the tragedy and uncertainty of Joseph’s story, guiding it all was the hand of Divine Holiness investing the base deeds of men with meaning and benign purpose.”# We are where we are, spinning the tales we spin, because God has brought us here. Not a single one of us could stop it.

There is so much more that is bound up in this story not only in the story of Joseph but in the placement and the narrator telling the story. It is subversive story of empire sovereignty over faith’s salvation. The narrator gives no hint that this dream is from God. “The God of this narrative does not appear, speak, act, or intrude. But there is no doubt about God’s governing intent and capacity.”# When read in its entirety, the story of Joseph is about the overriding power of God’s rule and how God’s power is intended to feed God’s people, to value life, to live into our ‘iamgeo dei’. God’s power is intended for humanity to create alternative communities to the worldly empires. God indeed has God’s way and they are not vague or eternal. It is in this story we learn of how to explore the good that God intends for us in spite of us.

At the core of the human mind is a storyteller. We, like Joseph, need not be afraid to tell our story. This means all of it, not only the parts we like. Deena Metzger once said, “Stories heal because we become whole through them. In the process of...discovering our story, we restore those parts of ourselves that have been scattered, hidden, suppressed, denied, distorted, and forbidden.” As we discover the storyteller within, as we become more familiar with our own stories, as we begin to embrace our stories, we will begin to live differently, free of burdens, free of lies, and free of thoughts that say we have no good stories to tell. Our story, your story, and my story, like Joseph’s story, has to be told. It is the most natural way for me to learn about you and you about me. My story is best understood in light of your story, and your story is best understood in light of mine. Together, our stories are best understood at the intersection of all of our stories and God’s.

This past week I have had the opportunity to spend time with the youngest of my family. Each day, each encounter with them is something new. And as we all have probably experienced with children, we never know what they are going to say. For me though, what has been fun to listen to are the stories they tell. Although they may not be factual, they are full of creativity and imagination. They have not lost that yet, they have not had their rose-colored lenses of the glasses they view life through dirtied. Also, I have learned that children challenge us adults to tell stories. Like last night I was walking on the land with a couple of these daring storytellers when we stumbled upon a dragonfly that had seen better days. We examined it, noticing its delicate wings, and its beautiful colors. It was a great find for the adventure we had just gone on. As I gathered up the troops and turned to head back out on our adventure, I was asked the most provocative storytelling question that I am sure you all have been asked: Uncle Adam, WHY is the dragonfly just laying there? From there we shared stories about why we think the dragonfly was ‘resting’ and why we needed to move the dragonfly because if we didn’t, her family would not be able to find her.

The stories I have heard this week have not always had the best and most memorable opening line and this did not prevent them from being told. It was Presbyterian Minister and author who coined the phrase, “Let your life speak.” Today I want to borrow it and tweak it a bit and challenge us to, “Let the story of your life be told.” Each of us has an important story to tell and like Joseph, we need not be afraid to tell it.

I leave you with this thought from Philosopher Sam Keen:
“I can’t promise that your stories will give you certainty or objective truth any more than the ancient myths gave the Hebrews or Greeks accurate maps of the world. They will, however, fill you with the stuff from which romance, tragedy, and comedy are made....They will hollow you out so you can listen to the stories of others, as common and unique as your own. And that remains the best way we storytelling animals have found to overcome our loneliness, develop compassion, and create community.”

A New Hymn

2011-07-31T08:59:00.005-05:00

Today I heard a hymn I never had before. As I sung, it took me back to a place where I met the Wounded Healer, where I was offered rest. It made me think about those who have helped me find a place to be, to worry not about tomorrow but to care for me today. In who's voice have I heard Jesus say, "Thirsty one, stoop down and drink..."?

When have I been that voice?

I heard the voice of Jesus say

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
"Come unto me and rest;
lay down, thou weary one, lay down
thy head upon my breast."
I came to Jesus as I was,
so weary, worn, and sad;
I found in him a resting place,
and he has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
"Behold, I freely give
the living water; thirsty one,
stoop down and drink, and live."
I came to Jesus, and I drank
of that life-giving stream;
my thirst was quenched, my soul revived,
and now I live in him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
"I am this dark world's light;
look unto me, thy morn shall rise,
and all thy day be bright."
I looked to Jesus, and I found
in him my Star, my Sun;
and in that light of life I'll walk
till traveling days are done.

27

2011-07-29T23:14:00.005-05:00

"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not."
— Kurt Cobain

I do not remember when Kurt Cobain died. I would not be able to tell you where I was or what I was doing. In fact, the only thing I remember about him dying is hearing my brother talk about it.

It has not hit me until recently did I realize how big of a loss it was for the music scene when Kurt Cobain died. I do not know much about him except from the general knowledge about the Seattle grudge band leader. I've come to understand how he suffered (potentially) from depression that essentially led to his early death. He was a troubled person, suffering from addictions and perhaps also from bi-polar.

The video I am posting has sparked a fascination with Kurt Cobain and Nirvana. I probably will not pursue any in depth exploration into the man, but the more I am around and the more I listen to mainstream music, the more appreciative I grow for folks like Cobain and Nirvana. As mentioned earlier, I do not remember much about the early 90's and its music, but what I do know is that I've heard many people say Kurt Cobain changed it in a big way. Personally, I do not know what that big way was, but I can tell you this, Cobain was a talented musician whom I am growing to appreciate more as the years go on.

ps--the look on Cobain's face @ 4:48 is haunting. if you read the comments on the bottom of the video, there are pretty crazy theories about how it was in that moment he knew suicide would be his outcome.

pps--get past the last comment and watch a talented musician do what he did best....