Local Adventure

Three years ago around this time, I was preparing to spend three weeks at an isolated camp in the Cascade Mountains. It would have been my first extended experience with snow, however for the first time in decades, there was a lack of snow (though thick and slick ice was present throughout the whole time). Two years ago, I was preparing to go to the same camp for a different class, this time with snow on the ground. A year ago at this time, I was preparing for a three-week trip to Greece. All three experiences were wonderful adventures.

Now, instead of figuring out how to fit three weeks worth of traveling gear into a carry on bag, I am leisurely packing my check bag to return to my room at seminary, wondering whether or not I could fit a giant Costco-size pillow pet into my bag (closest thing I can have to a real pet living on-campus). There is a part of me that wishes I was preparing for another new adventure, yet maybe this is the new adventure, to have these four weeks in January to continue becoming more rooted in the community at seminary as I take a class entitled 'Early Eastern Christianity Beyond Byzantium.' Perhaps there may even be the adventure of being in my first blizzard, though I would be just as happy avoiding that particular adventure.

This morning as I walked to breakfast with my dad, I was visually reminded that wonder can occur even in places where I have spent significant amounts of time. I will likely not have my camera out this next month as much as I did in Greece, but I fully intend to be a tourist in my own town, or rather, a woman in the process of becoming a local who maintains a sense of wonder and curiosity.

Home for Christmas 2016

During the final week of school, I watched a young family pull into my dorm's parking lot, unload their sleds and excited kids, and head towards the hill to enjoy an afternoon in the first snow of the year conducive to sledding. I put on my coat, and hiked up the hill to the library (pictured is my finals week seminary student version of playing in the snow.

Thankful for the opportunity to be home for a few days to enjoy time with family, have significant time to process this past semester, and prepare for the upcoming Jan-term (1,600 pages to read and write reflections on by Jan. 14th). Most of all, though, I'm thankful for the time during this season to ponder the coming of Christ and how that has impacted my life and ought to continue influencing every moment thereof (including moments of sliding down a hill gleefully on a sled and writing in a library).


What influence does Christmas have on the days leading up to and following our celebrations on December 25th?

Merry Christmas!

The Exegesis Camera

As I continue working through the many steps of Greek exegesis, I'm finding the process to resemble the time earlier this week when I moved my camera around to find the spot where light shined through the interwoven design.

Take text criticism for example.

Text criticism is the process by which one tries to determine what the original Greek reading of a passage was from examining the multitude of manuscripts that have been discovered. Through analyzing the external evidence (age/date/location of manuscripts) and internal evidence (how one particular reading may have led to another through various scribal errors) an argument may emerge for preferring one reading over another.* It takes a bit of time and patient tinkering to see how the external evidence (threads) interplay with one another and may be connected together (style of knot).
I'm enjoying being behind the exegesis camera again as I wrap up my last assignment of the semester.

Do we take time to observe designs? Do we see them as blocking our view, or as providing a framework that draws us to the center?

*The variant readings of the Greek do not significantly alter the general message of the passage. For example, as I'm working on Matthew 14:22-33, one of most contested variants is whether there is a definite article for Peter (a definite article normally accompanies proper nouns in Greek). Whether the article is included or not, it is clear that the passage is referring to Peter the disciple of Jesus and does not influence the English translation.

Preparing for Snow

Moving from the Seattle area to the Boston area, people told me to be prepared for snow and cold winters. Thus far, the city I went to college in has regularly had colder temperatures than Boston and yesterday my hometown officially received more snow than I have here (more is expected there as well). 

Do we encourage others to prepare for something while neglecting caring for ourselves thinking that it will not happen to us? This may be something physical, like snow, or could apply spiritually as well.

Note: The picture above is from a trip last January to Greece. 

Enjoying the Process

With less than twenty days until the end of the semester, there is much work still to be done, yet the work is enjoyable. One of my habits during these past few weeks was allowing myself to study in a coffee shop once during the week for a change in environment. This morning as I packed up my assignment (comparing Paul's view of marriage with a position put forward around the same time by the Cynic philosopher Epictetus) and prepared to return to campus, I noticed there was still a bit of coffee in my cup. Looking at the remaining coffee as a task to be completed, I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as I had initially when I viewed it just a few moments before as a special treat. It is such a unique opportunity to have the next few weeks to dedicate myself to studying God's word in-depth through Greek exegesis. It is a privilege to be able to read the works of figures in church history and attempt to grasp their method of spirituality. With my eye on the calendar counting the days till I go home, I fear that I may begin to view these tasks as something to be finished, when really there may be so much joy in the process. Hopefully, when I finish these assignments, I may be able to look back and say, 'that was a delightful cup of coffee.'

What factors change our view of the activity before us? Are there ways in which we can counteract negative view-changes?

Growing local while maintaining distance

As I sat in a coffee shop early this morning waiting for winter tires to be put on my car (a necessity when one grew up near Seattle with little experience driving in the snow), I listened in to the conversations of the other patrons. With people carrying in their personal thermoses, greeting the other early morning coffee drinkers by name, and the shop owner saying 'welcome home' to the kids back with their families for the holiday, there was a definite feel of localness. I suppose another way to phrase it is that among the people there was a sense of familiarity. It was more than the feeling I get when I walk into a Starbucks, which thanks to the chain atmosphere always feels known to me. This morning, amongst the patrons at this other local coffee shop, there was a sense of familiarity not just with the place, but also with the people. It was evidence of them knowing others and themselves being known.

I'm particularly thankful as the end of my first semester at seminary draws to a close for the sense of localness that has emerged. I love being able to go to church every Sunday and greet familiar faces. I am grateful for the developing friendships with other students on campus. I am also thankful for an emerging mental map and understanding of the local area along with patience in adjusting the relational driving style here on the East Coast. Some of these things, such as driving, may seem trivial, but it really does help me feel a sense of localness. I am beginning to know those around me and also beginning to be known.

Along with a growing sense of localness, I am thankful for remaining connected to dear friends and family from the other places that I have called home. Finding a balance between staying in contact with previous connections and investing myself into the community here has at times been a challenge. Thanksgiving night struck the balance though. I immensely enjoyed spending the evening at a professor's home getting to meet new people as we enjoyed the traditional (with the addition of goat soup) Thanksgiving meal together. When I returned to my room late in the evening, I FaceTimed home and found myself looking at a table surrounded by extended family on the West Coast. It was such a joy-filled evening to be local and yet also maintain long-distance connections.

What does it look like to balance being present to our local surroundings while also engaging with those who continue to hold significant, yet distant, roles in our lives?

Reflecting Rain

In this visually overwhelming photo, I pointed the camera outside the car window towards the side mirror. With so much to reflect on, it sometimes becomes difficult to see forward. As the rain continued to come down in sheets as I drove to my destination, all of my attention became focused on the road, particularly on the dashed highway line that let me know the limits of my lane.

Do we allow ourselves to become overwhelmed with reflection that we lose focus on the way forward?

What are the dashes in our lives that we seek and use as guides?

Active Hope

During Game 7 of the World Series, I was working on homework. As I crawled into bed that night, I checked the score again, expecting to see the Cubs maintaining a significant lead. I was shocked to find the game tied. Knowing, however, that there was not much I could do to assist the Cubs in clinching the title, I turned off my phone and went to bed so that I would be awake for my job the next morning.

Nearly a week later, I checked my phone again as I crawled into bed to read the news of the election results that were starting to come in. Again I saw what I was not expecting. Knowing there was nothing more I could do though having cast my vote and continuing to pray, I went to bed so that again I could get up and do my job the next morning.

Do we become so focused on what we can no longer control that we lose our energy to do what we still can?

I was immensely encouraged by reading the Facebook posts of several of my friends following the election. While many were disappointed in the result, their frustration at what the many had not stood against was met with a commitment to individually do what they could to stand against disregard for the dignity of other human beings. Compared to recognized offices of leadership and power around the globe, which in some cases protect and in other cases disregard the value of people, one's ability to protect and serve people may seem small. Even small contributions though can lead to great things. However, as our ability to contribute may lead to great things, our negligence or outright disregard for others can lead to terrible things. 

No matter who one voted for, may individual commitments to stand up for human rights, to care for neighbors, and for love to be proven through actions not be postponed. May people not be so enthralled and disheartened by the news that they become inactive in their own communities. Hope is an active thing.

As Christians, we cannot forget to that this calling to contribute as individuals applies to ministry too (of which loving others is a crucial part). See post entitled Active Anticipation from June 14 this year for more on how this may look within the context of ministry.

"And the second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 2:39

Silently Sinking: A Cry for Community

On the silent retreat a few weeks ago, I did eventually make it to reading the passage I had intended to, the story of Peter walking out on the water to Jesus in Matthew 14. What struck me as I read through is that Peter actively cries out for Jesus to save him as he begins to sink. Up to that point in the Gospel of Matthew, Peter has built up a relationship with Jesus. Even within this story itself, Peter calls out to Jesus asking to be invited to walk out to Him. It is within this established relationship then, that Peter cries out for help, instead of being content to sink silently along the venture towards Christ.

With this story in mind, I decided to try going back to a church that I had been to a few weeks previously. The church I had attended in the intermittent time had a great service, yet even when I stuck around for the coffee hour, there were not many signs of a vibrant community and I slipped out the door. As I drove out to this other church the week following the silent retreat, I was praying the whole time (with my eyes on the road), praising God for the beauty of the fall foliage which was in full swing and praying for God to make it clear if I was to attend that church in further weeks or keep searching. Before the service even started, several people came up to introduce themselves. The greetings continued after the service as I got to know the members of the church who now well into their adult life had been attending the church since childhood along with those who had recently started attending. Even as I walked back to my car in the parking lot, someone said hi and carried on a conversation for five minutes. It became clear that as I continue venturing into seminary, this would be a church that would not let me sink silently but actively reach out to me and call me to cling to the Gospel.

Being a month of thanksgiving, this week I am particularly thankful for all of the communities that I am surrounded by. I am thankful for the new community of friends at seminary, for continuing contact with friends and professors from undergraduate, family at home, and this church community. 

Who do we call out to when we feel like we're sinking? Who encourages us to call out to God?

Empty Beaches

With temperatures hovering just above freezing (not including wind chill) a friend from college and I had the beach almost entirely to ourselves. Despite the change in climate from the week before when hundreds of people congregated on the sand, the beach was still just as beautiful for those willing to adjust to the change.

As we celebrate when paths converge, how can we also celebrate when our paths with dear ones temporarily diverge?

Do we look ahead, thinking 'when I get to that point, I'll be able to see ... ' only to find that we will see what we have already been able to see?

Methods of Hiking

On a recent hike up Mt Monadnock in New Hampshire, one of my companions noted that for them, hiking was about getting to the top as quickly as possible to enjoy the view, and then dashing back down the hill to move on to the next thing. As a slow hiker, I've come to the opposite conclusion, that hiking is about savoring the journey. 

Are we so focused on the wonder that awaits that we miss the wonder of the journey or are we so caught up in the wonder of the journey that we stop pressing forward?

What if there was a balance between the two?

Row

During orientation week at seminary, the administrators stated that there are three groups of people who come to seminary: those who know what they want to do after seminary, those who have no idea where they are going after seminary, and those who think they know now but will leave with a very different idea. Even as I reflected on my own life, particularly over the last eight years, the most formative experiences and things I enjoyed, such as interning in Kauai and Estonia, participating on a speech and debate team, and learning Greek and Hebrew exegesis, were not what I had expected to treasure (or even do). Acknowledging the unexpectedness of life from my perspective, where am I to focus and what am I to do as I seek to move forward?

The story in Matthew 14 of Jesus and Peter walking on the water continues to be an encouragement to me during these early weeks in seminary. As I pondered this passage on a recent retreat and also read over the passage directly preceding it of Jesus feeding the five thousand, the image of rowing came to mind. Instead of needing to know exactly where I am going after seminary, throughout my adult life, or even knowing what will happen later today, I, as a rower, am called to sit facing the rear where one, Christ, is calling out the strokes for all those in the boat. I can see where Christ has brought me, I can hear the stories of those rowing beside me, and I can know what Christ has ultimately done for me and how He calls me to respond.

The disciples had thought they had reached the limit of their abilities and there was nothing more they could do for the large and hungry crowd. Jesus, moving past their attempt to say the day was over, told them to continue serving the crowd. When they cited their limited resources, Jesus requested that they give what they had to him and through their obedience He performs a miracle they didn't expect. The disciples were not required to know exactly what Jesus would do with what they offered to him, they were called to obey in hope and love.

Do we focus to much on trying to bend in awkward ways to try to glimpse where we are going, instead of setting our attention firmly on Christ and digging into where we currently are?

Apple Picking

There is something about picking your own apples that is less convenient than the supermarket, particularly when it is raining outside, yet also more enthralling.

Do we go for what is convenient/instant at the cost of not seeing the beauty in a longer process?

Relational Driving

One of the noticeable differences between the West Coast and the East Coast of the U.S. is the unique driving styles. Not only do people on the East Coast not believe in the safety and utility of long on and off ramps to the freeways, but one often finds drivers doing things (not all negative) that you wouldn't expect them to do. For example, whereas I would have been fine waiting for the car on the road to turn off left before I made my left turn, the driver waived me ahead of them despite the growing line of cars behind them. During my first few ventures driving around the area, I was confused and slightly frustrated at this difference. Then, earlier this week, one of my friends helpfully explained to me that West Coast drivers are legalistic whereas East Cost drivers are more relational. One is not necessarily better than the other (excluding the difference in freeway ramp styles). However, it is necessary for one to adapt to the driving culture of the local area.

In what areas can we stand to become more relational?  Also, in what areas do we need to be more legalistic in order that we are clear on the mutual expectations and are able to accomplish the task before us?

The Interrupted Rest

Midway through the week, I became exhausted and regretted not having taken more of Sunday off to intentionally rest from academic work.  As an assignment I had anticipated taking most of my time mid-week was postponed, I decided to take my lunch to the beach.  

Despite being a mostly clouded Tuesday afternoon, the beach was crowded with people soaking in the last bit of summer.  I sat up on the boardwalk enjoying the marvelous view as I munched on my pb and j sandwich and began reading.  One middle-aged man came and sat down across fro me to put his sandals back on his sandy feet.  He asked if and where I was a student.  When I responded that I was a student at the seminary he immediately responded “Don’t tell me you’re one of the Jesus people.”  A short conversation ensued in which he continued to ask pointed questions about what I believe.  After the series of questions, he stood up, walked over to me, shook my hand and introduced himself as a pastor.

In Luke 24, two disciples allow a stranger to come alongside of them on their journey.  They are challenged in their thinking by this new companion who challenges their current perspective of the events surrounding the death of Jesus.  Realizing the fruitfulness of this conversation, they continued to make space in their lives by inviting the unexpected companion to join them for the evening.  As the evening progresses, they suddenly realize that they have been listening to the risen Christ.  Jesus disappears and the disciples rush back to Jerusalem with renewed energy with which to encourage the other disciples that the Lord has indeed risen.

My interaction with the pastor on the boardwalk was not nearly as life-giving as the experience the disciples received on the road to Emmaus.  While I found myself somewhat frustrated by the pastor’s approach to the encounter, it did lead me to reach out to several friends with whom to debrief the experience and renewed my excitement to be at a seminary where I can continue grappling with some of these tough questions. 

Do we allow space for our lives to be interrupted and challenged in the midst of our regular demands?

Focusing on the beach

Amidst the week when course syllabi suddenly present a view of a semester containing mountains of reading and assignments, one friend came and pounded on my dorm door inviting me to the beach.  Despite my initial decline, her persistence led me to find myself standing on a beach where my long shadow cast by the setting sun seemed tiny in comparison to the distance of the ocean that stretched out beyond.  The daunting (yet exciting) horizon of rigorous academics temporarily found its place in a bigger picture.  One of my main hopes for this semester is that my academics will stay in their proper place, namely in that God is calling me to see, experience, and participate in far more this semester than just what sits on my desk.  Doing so will require a prioritizing of where I invest my focus.

In Matthew 14, Peter sees Jesus walking on the water and asks to join him.  Peter has initial success walking on the water by keeping his focus on Jesus.  When the wind swells up, Peter loses his trust in Jesus and cries out for help.  Notice that the passage does not say that the wind which challenged Peter ceased when Jesus reached out and grabbed Peter, but rather it ceased when they got back into the boat, implying that there was a time when the wind was still there while Jesus was restored as Peter’s main focus.

How does our primary focus and love influence the way we perceive and handle all areas of our lives?

Hebrews 12:1-2

The Lastingness of Temporary

Four examples of the lastingness of temporary:

a) As I moved into my dorm room and adjusted the old window, several Hebrew flash cards came fluttering out, apparently having once been used to keep the window in place.  I laughed thinking of how I have shared and will share some understanding with the previous resident, despite never meeting them, over the shared task of studying Hebrew.  The previous resident has graduated seminary and now is on to a new adventure, yet the lastingness of the shared experience remains.

b) One of the librarians mentioned that the library was a place where one is physically surrounded by a ‘great cloud of witnesses’ (Hebrews 12:1), namely referring to the testimony of those who had looked to Jesus, walked in faith, and wrote about what they thought and encountered along the way.  Even though their earthly experience was temporary, there is a lasting quality to it that remains to encourage and challenge us today.

c) I’ve jokingly called this orientation week my finals week, since I’ve taken five tests to try to waive courses that are similar to ones I took at Whitworth.  Despite the extra stress it caused, taking those tests served as a reminder that I am building upon my previous experiences (see blogpost from June 6th about embracing culture for more thoughts along this line).

d) Long-distance friendships can still be life-giving.  While we may no longer be singing the doxology as we leave the library at midnight, making late-night runs to the grocery store, and catching up over lunch in the garden, there is still a connection in that we once shared those particular experiences together.  As several of my friends begin their seminary experience, return to Whitworth, and settle into new jobs, there is a potential (as in requires one to be intentional) for them to be lasting friendships.  I’m looking forward to staying connected with people and creating new memories with new friends here that may also last beyond the temporary.  

And finally two questions:

What does it look like to draw lastingness out of the temporary?

Where is the balance in treasuring the past while embracing the new?

To whom shall we go?

Amidst transitioning from Whitworth to Estonia to Washington (home) and now to seminary, I found hiking to be a great means of helping me process the journey I’m on.  On one hike, I came across a pile of rocks which immediately brought to mind the altars in the Old Testament where people recognized the sovereignty of God.  As I reflect on where God has brought me up to this point and look towards what lies ahead, I must remember that where I go is always secondary to the One who sets the path before me.  (Psalm 23)

I’m looking forward to continuing to blog throughout seminary.  Look for new blogposts every Friday!

A few pictures and questions to ponder from August:

(Home Garden)

What resources make communities unique?

(Upper Big Quilcene Trail, Olympics, WA)

Do we take on only what we know we can handle (a short hike), or do we allow ourselves to be challenged by our trusted friends?

(Spokane, WA)

What makes a place a home?

(Whistler, BC)

How do we view dust in our lives: is it something which distorts the intended image (an originally black boot) or something through which we can be reminded of God's goodness?

Happy Fall!

Remember to check back every Friday for a new post.

The Garden of Christian Community Part II

        Early on during my time in Estonia, I bought myself a pad of paper and a small watercolor kit at the local grocery store, with the intention of using them to spend my free time The first painting was of the ruined Orthodox church I blogged about earlier.  As I spent the afternoon working on it, I reflected on where the church is which resulted in the blogpost.  I’ve been meaning for a while now to paint again, this time reflecting further on the ideas raised in the blogpost about the garden of Christian community.  When the paint of this reflection finally began to leave its mark on the paper, I learned another important lesson about what it means to be part of Christian community.

        As I painted, I was surrounded by the two young girls were each working on their own painting.  Having spent an hour working on perfecting her painting, Mim let out a cry of frustration as she looked at the three skinny petals on the flower she was drawing in pen.  She had been aiming to outline the broad petals of a sunflower and began to fall into paralyzing despair that what she had done didn’t match up to what she had envisioned.  I tried to reassure her that the flower was still beautiful and added to the allure of the picture overall.  Realizing that this tactic wasn’t giving her the hope to lift the brush again, I offered to finish sketching out the series of skinny petals.  I made this offer with the assumption that she looked up to my artistic abilities (although they are equal if not surpassed by hers) and would be encouraged that I wanted to take part in what she was working on.  She didn’t accept the offer for me to add to her painting until I asked her to fill in the empty center of a sunflower on mine.  As we exchanged paintings again after making the requested additions, she eagerly began to paint her picture with renewed enthusiasm.  Looking at my painting, I saw a visual reminder of the beauty of Christian community that takes form when we let others into our lives, particularly as the painting reminds me of the events that occurred during the painting process which left their mark on the final product.

        Another story that conveys a similar beautiful growth from a faithful community is that of Ruth.  Having committed herself to Naomi as Naomi was in despair, Ruth finds herself waiting to be married to someone who will carry on the name of Ruth’s late husband.  When Boaz, whom Ruth has offered the position to, offers it to another man who has first-dibs, the other man rejects it as soon as he realizes accepting it would be a risk to what he had planned out for himself.  Inviting Ruth and Naomi into his life, which undoubtedly changed his own plans, Boaz takes Ruth as his wife and they have a son who will become the grandfather of David. 

        While we may catch glimpses of the beauty of community when we let others impact our lives, God may be doing more through our devotion to one another than we could even imagine.  Acts 2:42-47, a Christian community is portrayed where they are clearly invested in one another lives, not just with the excess they don’t need to keep for themselves, but rather with all that they had.  They saw some of the fruits of this community in the numbers that were being saved, but think of how surprised they would be if they had known how many people their story would inspire.  The call to community is not just a call to help out, it is also a call to be willing to be helped yourself, to be known, and to end up looking back on the picture of your life and see a beauty that can only be created by community.

The Sustenance of Stories

This past week was Rapla’s English Camp.  As the anticipated camp approached, I spent time reflecting on my camp experience last summer with Hume Kauai.  Most of what I remember from Hume Kauai is tied to a video shot by professional videographers throughout the camp.  The high-energy video highlighted the best moments of camp with shots ranging from kids yelling from inside bubble balls to kids sharing their testimony of how God made Himself known to them during the camp.  With the Hume Kauai video in mind, I spent my waking hours, which far outnumbered the precious hours of trying to sleep on the school’s hardwood floors, filming short clips around English Camp.  By the time camp was over, I had a few memories of where God gave growth to the work put in (1 Corinthians 3:6), such as an unanticipated invitation for the people at camp to play soccer against the local youth (the camp team lost, but connections were made).  As the other intern and I pieced together a video the day following camp, I was reminded though of the many ways that God created visible growth which served as yet another reminder for how some of the seeds planted may yet yield such visible growth in the future.

As I read through the Old Testament in preparation for seminary, I am struck by how many times the history of what God has done up to that point is recounted to the Israelites.

For example, in the last chapter of Joshua, a brief summary of what God has done to bring the Israelites into the land they are just beginning to settle into is recounted.  The account of what God has done is immediately followed by a command for the Israelites to serve the the LORD alone.  The Israelites affirm that they are willing to take up the command and the covenant is renewed.  Notice that the telling of what God has done has a purpose, namely to showcase God’s character and inspire trust.

This week will turn another chapter in my life story as I conclude my internship in Estonia.  The stories contained in the concluding chapter will still play a role in how I live into upcoming adventures (see blogpost on embracing culture).  The stories that influence me though are not only those that I’ve personally experienced, but also those I hear from others and those I read.  As I’ve attempted blogging about my adventures this summer, I’ve found several stories from the Old and New Testament to be helpful in providing me a framework with which to think through my experiences.  Stories, even really old ones, are active and crucial as encouragement and sustenance as one grows into their identity in Christ.

The video of the English Camp: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObWSxdbD--8

Roadtrips and a local highlight

I've enjoyed having the opportunity to travel throughout Estonia this summer.  Recently, the pastor took the interns on a trip to the two largest islands, Saaremaa and Hiiumaa, where we learned about the history of churches on those islands and the construction of windmills.  A few days later, we joined several other families from the church on a church camping trip on the shore of Lake Peipsi with an excursion to Narva.  Here are a few photos from those ventures:

 

(An Estonian castle on the left and a Russian one on the right)

Between these extended explorations, I enjoyed a day of rest in Rapla.  As I walked through town that day, I thought I would see if the Lutheran cathedral was open to visitors (I had been inside once before).  As I approached the open doors, I heard the joyful roar of the organ and was greeted by two elderly women as I stepped inside by the info desk.  Neither of them spoke English and I realized in that moment that I really should know how to say 'I don't speak Estonian' in Estonian (for the record, I do know a few phrases and can count to ten in Estonian).  After trying to speak to me in Estonian for some time as I tried to do my best bewildered smile, they motioned for me to walk further into the church.  After enjoying the organ rehearsal, which was now being accompanied by a male singer, for half an hour, I went to leave and passed by the info desk to say thank you.  The women tried to talk with me again and though I still could not understand any of their Estonian, I was able to read their non-verbals enough to gather that they wanted me to sign the guestbook, which when accomplished seemed to please them.  They each reached into their purses and pulled out bags of Estonian candy to offer me a piece and didn't take 'no thank you' (a phrase I know in Estonian) for an answer.  I walked out of the church laughing at the humor of the whole experience and treasuring the feeling of being loved despite the lack of a shared verbal language.

Working in the garden of Christian Community

Surrounding almost every Estonian home is a masterful garden.  When the weather is pleasant, I often see Estonians tending to their gardens and other outdoor projects.  The other day the pastor invited the interns to help out with a project in his yard the following day.  He texted us the morning of to say that he might start on the project that afternoon since it was raining that morning.  The rain, however, continued to fall throughout the day. I met up with the other intern that evening for the church worship service and we walked over to the pastor’s house afterwards.  We found the pastor taking a break, standing by a pile of burning wood, having worked most of the day on the outdoor project.  Despite the unaccommodating weather, the yard was being improved upon so that even more work could be done on it when the weather was more pleasant for being outside.

When do we invest in the life of the Christian community?  Do we wait for the ideal weather to come along when it is pleasant to be in the midst of such community, rather than being present and active even when the community doesn’t meet our ideals?  

In Matthew 14, the Jesus’ disciples urge him to send the crowds away that they may buy food for themselves since they think they don’t have enough to share.  Jesus instead tells them to give what they have (five loaves and two fish) to him, blesses it, and the crowd partakes in it and is satisfied with extra leftover.  In Matthew 15, Jesus again is with a crowd in a desolate place.  Rather than sending them away hungry, he tells his disciples to give them something to eat.  Again the disciples question how they could possibly give anything since they only had seven loaves of bread and a few small fish.  Jesus takes what they give him, blesses it, and the crowd’s empty bellies are filled.  By the time we reach Acts, it seems believers have finally caught on when we read in Acts 4:32-35 that believers shared everything they had so that no one among them was in need.  In these situations, the context is not what we might call ideal, yet by using what people contribute, God works through those situations and shows Himself sometimes even more fully than if those situations would have been ideal by our poor standards.

Dieterich Bonhoeffer in the book Life Together writes, “Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.”  When is the situation ideal to invest in Christian community?  This is not a question that we are invited to ask.  Instead of being invited to ask and dream, we are called to participate, even when it is raining, and hope.  Bonhoeffer continues, “The more clearly we learn to recognize that the ground and strength and promise of all our fellowship is in Jesus Christ alone, the more serenely shall we think of our fellowship and pray and hope for it.” Bonhoeffer also writes, “Human love breeds hot-house flowers; spiritual love creates the fruits that grow healthily in accord with God’s good will in the rain and storm and sunshine of God’s outdoors.  The existence of any Christian life together depends on whether it succeeds at the right time in bringing out the ability to distinguish between a human ideal and God’s reality, between spiritual and human community.”  Even in the rain, we are called to be gardeners and nurture that community which God is sustaining and growing.

Processing through Photos

One of the things that I've enjoyed about this fellowship is having the time to process what ministry looks like in several different forms.  One of the ways that has helped me to think through some of the unique aspects ministry is photography.  Here are a few photos from my recent ventures along with questions that I have been pondering.  

What does it look like to treasure the beauty in the process of ministry?

Where is the Church visible?

Do we focus too much about preparing what we think will be big fires (such as delivering a great sermon or hosting a fantastic summer camp) that we ignore what seems to be small fires (such as day to day interactions with youth, members of the church, and broader community)?

What does it take to see things from a new angle?

Do we worry too much about momentary discomfort that we miss out on what could be a revitalizing experience?  (Note: I did not miss out on swimming in the Baltic)

Another blog post, like the previous ones, coming soon...