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...

What happens when we lose our shell?

The other day we went out on a small road trip to the neighboring villages surrounding Rapla.  Nestled in one of the thickets near such a village stood a church, ruined through weathering and neglect.  There is a particular history behind how the church came to be in such a state, though I pondered the broader question the scene brought to mind: is the church too much like a snail, defining its existence by its shell?

By outward appearances, Joseph seemed to have a good beginning of life.  He was favored by his father, exemplified in his unique coat, and received dreams in which he saw himself in a position above the other members of his family.  When his brothers grew jealous they sold him into slavery after stripping of his coat.  They dipped the coat in blood to make it look as though Joseph had been killed, causing their father to enter into mourning.  The destruction of Joseph’s outer life, however, led him into a position where he was able to provide for the needs of his family.  In his speech self-revealing speech to his brothers, he states “And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years, and there are yet five years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. And God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God” (Genesis 45:5-8a, ESV).  Joseph saw that the destruction of his earlier life led to him being able to apply himself in a new context where he was able to better help others.  In this speech, he recognizes the authority God had throughout the entire process.  

The church, once given a beautiful building/coat/shell, has been stripped of its exterior.  Where might God be leading the Church (which remains committed to Christ as its head) that it may better reach the lives of others?

(Link to a study done about the history and current proceedings about the pictured church and others like it across Estonia: http://www.ainova.sk/files/file/BHCD%20Abandoned%20Buildings%20and%20Public%20Involvement.pdf)

Active Anticipation

        For my last exegesis paper as an undergraduate student, I researched the story of Abraham almost sacrificing Isaac found in Genesis 22.  The professor of the course had encouraged us to focus on ways in which our texts showed humans wrestling with God, which had been the theme for our course.  Whereas Abraham seems to not contend with God and instead comply with God’s odd command, I argued that Abraham was arguing with God through his obedience.  Abraham’s ready obedience was a display of his active anticipation and hope that God would follow through on His promises (Hebrews 11:17-19).  

        As Abraham prepares the altar on which he would nearly sacrifice Isaac, the narrator slows down the narrative and focuses on the details of what is going on.  The detail-oriented phrase ‘and he arranged the wood’ also appears in 1 Kings 18 where Elijah is in the midst of preparing an altar onto which he will soon pray for God to send fire.  In both circumstances, the people are expecting God to act according to His previously revealed character (Abraham: God will keep His promises, Elijah: God hears and responds to prayer).  These are not instances of idle expectation, but rather are acts of active anticipation.

        I was reminded of the stories of Abraham and Elijah arranging the wood as they anticipated God to act on my walk to church last Sunday.  Like several cities in Estonia, Rapla is preparing for St. John’s Day, the longest day of the year, by building a giant bonfire to be lit that night.  I had observed locals coming to the pile and adding their sticks, logs, ladders, fences, and other yard trimmings to the growing pile.  They are expecting the fire to be lit based on what they have witnessed in previous years and responding to that expectation by their actions.  

       What does such active anticipation look like in ministry?  In his book Homiletics, Karl Barth describes preaching as being in a chronological place between two poles.  The first pole is the revelation of Jesus Christ, which he calls the “unconditional whence.”  The “unconditional whither”, the second pole, is the second coming of Christ.  This same spot is occupied by ministry in general.  We point to Jesus Christ in both directions and expect God to continue to make Himself known to people during the space between the poles.

        As I participate in ministry in Estonia, I am arranging my metaphorical sticks and adding them to the pile that is growing here.  These sticks include building relationships with people inside and outside the church, learning the language, and finding ways to serve.  Like the physical bonfire that is growing in the public park, my sticks are contributions to a larger pile of sticks laid down by people, both past and present, who have this active anticipation and hope, based on the unconditional whence and whither, that God will show Himself to the people here.

Embracing Culture

       In my first few days venturing around the countryside of Estonia, I found myself thinking about how my time here compares to last summer’s internship in Kauai and my recent European venture to Greece.  As these comparisons arose, I tried to block them thinking that I would enjoy this experience more if I let it stand on its own.  Being a cross-cultural experience, I thought that it was the chance to find out more about myself and God through being surrounded by a new setting, which comparisons to previous experiences could potentially hinder.

On my third night in Estonia, I walked around Old Town Tallinn for the first time.  As we followed his energetic kids up the cobblestoned streets, which were still lit by natural daylight despite being 9 pm at night, the pastor described what the Old Town used to look like when he first moved to Estonia over 15 years ago.  Over the past several years, the structures have been maintained and strengthened and their exteriors have been painted over with vibrant and varied colors to attract more tourists.  Despite these recent changes, the history of the Old Town still plays a defining role in how the site functions today.

After taking in the mesmerizing view from one of the lookouts near the highest point in Old Town, I turned to follow the kids to the other lookout.  As I turned, I looked up and laughed aloud.  The tree that shaded me had leaves that were strikingly similar to a tree that I had spent a great deal of time under in Kauai.  It was like God was inviting me to go ahead and reflect on how the adventures I had in Kauai shaped me and let that be a part of who I am here in Estonia.  As I continued to ponder this on the way to the next lookout, I followed the pastor down a side street that wasn’t the right way to the next lookout, but led us to an open air concert featuring a group of musicians with violins and cellos.  As we stood in the back of the crowded venue, I realized that the song they were playing was Mama Mia.  The last time I remember hearing Mama Mia was during the last night of the Greece trip, watching several of my friends sing and dance to the song.  Again I felt invited to let the memories of Greece come flooding back.

        As I looked out over Old Town Tallinn from the second viewpoint, I thought of how its function had changed over the years.  Once needing to provide the necessities of life for those who lived in it, its focus is now on inviting tourists to learn more about the history and indulge themselves in the many cafes and souvenir shops that line the streets.  Despite the change in its purpose, the defining features shaped by the history of the city remained.  Like this site, as I encounter new tasks and adventures in Estonia, my daily life will surely not look the exact same as it did in the past.  Comparing my new adventures in Estonia to past experiences in Greece, Kauai, Gig Harbor, or Whitworth may not always be helpful.  However, viewing such experiences as a context and framework for my present time helps me to be myself while also allowing myself to continue to grow into who I already am in Christ.