Roles in Community

With the trees around here yet to regain their leaves, today I found myself excited for the coming fall. Today I attended the seminary's student association panel featuring candidates for next year's positions. I was impressed by how the candidates all expressed an eagerness and commitment to serving the community next year, whether or not they are elected. Many of them used this comment as a stepping stone to empower the audience to realize that they, even though not in an official position, still had influence as we walk together into the coming seasons.

What inspired me even more than the candidates speeches today was seeing the number of positions that are going uncontested, where only one person is running. The lack of competition is not because these positions are unimportant, for they are really quite the opposite. There was, in fact, more people considering pursuing those positions, however after hearing the vision of the other candidates, they decided to support that vision and find other ways to serve at a more organic level in the community.

What are the roles of community members as they move forward? Is it to cast the vision? To empower others? To support another's vision? I wonder if we perhaps compartmentalize these areas too much at the cost of losing sight of the relationship between them all, even within how we see ourselves as leaders.

The Unexpected Place of Community

Having just returned from a meeting where I was able to talk about the many ways I have benefited from the unexpected adventures in my life (learning biblical languages, ministry internships in Kauai and Estonia, etc.), I came across another surprise. As I rounded the corner to turn into my room, I discovered two facilities workers checking the air quality there in. Their reader was picking up something from my bedding and clothing pile which I had just washed last Sunday. Upon further investigation, they discovered bacteria in the dorm's washer. With the washer out of commission, I set out with a dorm mate to a local laundromat, which was a new experience for us both. Needless to say, neither of us were particularly excited about this new adventure. 

Upon arriving at the laundromat and getting the loads of wash underway, I was surprised at the sense of community that the place held. Having brought along several books, I was surprised at the lack of opportunity to really sit and read as I felt like I was constantly loading, unloading, checking dryers and feeding them more quarters, and folding. The others there were evidently regulars as well, sharing updates on their lives with the attendant and joking with one another as they went about doing their laundry. The sense of familiarity there among the people, of sharing the regular task of life together, and possibly the old tv playing an episode of Jeopardy which reminded me of being at my grandparents back when I was a little kid, made the place feel homey in a way that I had never anticipated. 

As one born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, I love the culture of coffee shops. There are hints of community at coffee shops, yet this laundromat provided a different, positive aspect of community, where instead of the quick two minute conversation in passing, conversations weaved in and out over the course of several hours amidst the responsibilities of life. Coffee is often available after a church service, bringing part of that culture into the life of the church. I wonder what it would look like to involve more of the laundromat style of community in our approach to church. Possibly it would be a community that still treasures the coffee times, whether it be the two minute conversation or the intentional coffee date, but also finds the space to work side by side doing the tasks of daily life and find joy in sharing in that aspect of life together.

Where are the areas where we do life together, alongside of others, either inside or outside our home? 

I am happy to report that the washer in my dorm is now thoroughly cleaned out and back in working order and also that I resisted the temptation to put quarters into the pinball machine at the laundromat.

(Pictured is the view from the laundromat's parking lot)

Chair to Chair

Almost two years ago, I interned with a church on the island of Kauai. As the weather here on the East Coast returned to cold after a teaser of spring, I've been thinking about the warmer days I had on Kauai. It didn't help that when I called the parents earlier this week, I could hear wind on their end of the phone and knew it was the breeze coming off the Pacific onto the shores of Kauai whereas I, midway through my busy semester, was scrambling from the library to the desk in my room through the wind which made the temperature feel well below freezing.

The pink armchair came as a surprise, both in that I hadn't planned for a long time on interning on Kauai and was not expecting that day to find the chair on my hike. The chair I sit in now, a brown, cushioned office chair, is something I've anticipated for a while. Both chairs provided me with a place to pray, ponder, and be productive. While I expected to one day be sitting in this sort of office chair, still in the realm of academics, my p's (praying, pondering, and productivity) in this brown chair are still influenced by my time in the pink chair.

What chairs are behind the one we currently sit in?

Doors of Opportunity

What does it look like to choose a door to walk through, knowing that by choosing it you may have to close others and that once through its frame, it may close behind you, encouraging you on to a new room with different doors?

Chocolate Chai

Having grown up near Seattle, whenever I step into a Starbucks coffee shop, I always have a little sense of home. Along with a few trips to the Starbucks near campus this semester, a sense of familiarity has also appeared in my studies, particularly when studying for my Aramaic class. The practice of creating piles of flash cards and repeated writing and speaking paradigms is a practice I am familiar with having already taken Greek and Hebrew. So, today I changed it up and went to study Aramaic in a local coffee shop near campus that wasn't Starbucks.

What are the rhythms in our life that remain the same with a warm sense of familiarity? Where might we change our practices to discover new flavors, or perhaps a combination of flavors that we haven't thought of before, such as chocolate and chai?

Space for Light

This week, one of my assignments for a class is to write out an order of a worship service for two different Sundays. As I gather the pieces for the service, I am coming to appreciate how the service is a space where the elements can come together to engage the worshiper, reminding them of the grand narrative of redemption and showing how individual practices all weave into that area. Perhaps the service is like a coffee shop I was in a few weeks ago, where as the sun shone through the painted window the purpose of the coffee shop stood out, namely the purpose to be a place where coffee, culture, and community connect. Like the coffee shop needing the sunlight to show inside what was outside, the worship service needs the work of the Holy Spirit to transfer the words being spoken and sung to those that take root in the heart. 

Where are the windows in our life that allow God to shine through? Surely God doesn't need us to create a window, but I believe He desires for us to create spaces where we dwell and delight in His light. 

Take a picture of that

Being the first day of the year when the weather was forecasted to be mostly sunny and over 60˚ Fahrenheit, I set aside the books (temporarily) and journeyed out to the beach with several friends. While at the beach, I had the pleasure of walking alongside a friend from last semester who is returning to their home country later this week. As we walked along, we decided to take a selfie, I pulled out my phone turned on the camera, but before I could switch the camera orientation into selfie-mode, my friend, peering onto my screen, noticed how beautiful the sand that the camera was currently pointed at was and asked me to take a picture of it.

While we may willingly share our 'pictures' with one another (see previous post), do we trust others enough to let them into our lives as we seek to live out our calling, letting them add their input? It may lead to a different picture than the one we were aiming for, but often the picture will still capture an aspect of God's love. 

I've treasured the friendships that have thus far survived the transition to long-distance and still keep me accountable. I've come to realize though that while such friendships ought to be valued, it is also vital to build relationships locally with the people who are seeing me day in and day out that may hold me accountable. The local friends are those who are able to peer over my shoulder to see what is currently on the screen of my life, possibly better than those who are at a distance. Allowing such friends to speak into my life and hold me accountable has changed the 'pictures' I produce. For example, one of the subjects that I am now focusing on is Sabbath rest. As I go about life here, my friends have seen me with class related books in my hand seven days a week and question me as to that habit. I doubt that I would be so focused on Sabbath this semester on a personal level if it wasn't for these friends walking alongside me. 

Calling has both individual and collective aspects. While I feel called to focus on certain areas, it is important to allow others to walk alongside me who may observe the tools I have and point me to what is often right in front of me. It takes vulnerability, but in the end, the best photos are often those that capture life unposed.

Do we leave our life open enough for people to peer in to hold us accountable as we seek to live out our calling?

Shooting the Same Subject

Earlier this week, campus was coated overnight with a few fresh inches of snow. I walked around with my camera, snapping a few photos. Even before 7am, there were other people wandering around, also taking photos. Throughout the day, more photos of the campus covered in fresh snow flooded my Facebook feed. What's remarkable to me though, is that even with pictures of the same subject and captions describing the beauty, the photos and captions each person posted maintained a uniqueness.

Within the class where students shared their calling stories, it was readily evident that not only was the clarity of our calling different, but also the frame of our callings were unique. There were those in the class who were eager to engage in full time pastoral ministry and some who currently are full-time pastors. There were those who wanted to stay local to the area, and those who had or are planning on relocating and ministering to another community. There were those who felt called to dedicate their time to youth and some to ministering to those in the armed forces. Each frame was slightly different from the others, yet each frame was filled with the subject: the shared calling to love God and love others.

Do we take the time to examine the photos of others as they continue to focus their lens on what it means to revel in the beauty of God's love and share that with others?

Calling through the snow

This week I experienced my first major snowfall while living on the East Coast. Yesterday, I sat in my dorm under a blanket with a book in hand, gazing out the window at the view which had become obscured through the swirling snow. Today as I hiked up the snowy hill to class I could clearly see where my path was leading. Continuing to reflect on the subject of calling, I realized that it may be like these two pictures of snow (one below) in that the sense of calling, particularly in regards to clarity, is different for different people.

Earlier this week I was assigned to write out my sense of calling in under two-pages, double-spaced. I brought the assignment to class where before turning it in, the professor instructed the class to get into groups of three and share what we had wrote with one another. One person in my group had a very clear sense of calling, even a particular moment when he was called that he could reflect upon. The other person wasn't sure what exactly his calling is, though he is actively taking steps towards what he thinks it might involve. The variety of call stories continued to become more and more apparent as the class heard briefly from each group about similarities and differences that emerged. I felt myself growing emotional as I listened to the stories about what had brought this group, comprised of people from a variety of cultures and life stages, to invest in seminary as they look to be more effective in their ministries. It is such a joy to hear people speak about their calling who have a clear sense of it, yet it is also encouraging to listen to people describe their continuing journey of discovery in regards to their calling.

Are we willing to take steps towards our call even when the path isn't entirely clear? 

As I work on translating the beginning of the Gospel of John for another course, I am amazed at how quickly the disciples knew who they were following. While the disciples were quick to know who, they spend the rest of the book discovering more about who He is and what that means for their lives. Surely they didn't see the path of their calling fully in the moment when they started to walk with Him, but they did respond to the part of the call that they had received and followed Him.  

'Treat treat'

This month I had the privilege of dog-sitting. As instructed, I would slide open the back door of the house a few times a day to let the dog out. After a few minutes, I would call out the dog's name, hoping that he would readily return. There were a few times, however, when the dog didn't respond readily to his name. If he was in my line of sight, he would even look up to show that he had heard his name, yet not move from where he was. As soon as I would say the words 'treat treat', the dog would jump in excitement and run full speed towards the door. After almost a week of house-sitting, I hoped that when I would call out his name, the dog would eagerly return without me having to call 'treat treat'. Instead, the dog got into the habit of coming to the back porch, watching me as I would slide back open the door, and wait till I said 'treat treat' to fully enter the house.

Are there things that we wait for before entering into where we are called? Are there times when we use the absence of a particular sign, even though we may be sitting on the porch aware that we are being called, as an excuse not to go?

This theme of calling is one that will continue to be explored on this blog every Friday for month February. In the coming blogposts, I hope to share a few thoughts specifically on being called to seminary and how that call still plays an active role in my time here as something I pursue, grapple with, and find assurance in.

Finding the Temple of Zeus

About a year ago this week, I set out with two friends to find the Temple of Zeus. What we thought would be a short 20 minute walk from where we were turned out to be an hour of friendly arguing about which street to go down and laughing about  our inability to navigate in Athens. Despite the extended journey, it continues to be a memory that I look back upon as an example of the value in enjoying the journey, particularly in treasuring those you are walking besides. 

This semester I am 'required' to read Peace Like a River, which happens to be one of my favorite novels. One of the reviewers notes on the back cover that when you read this book, you are eager to find out how it ends, yet at the same time you don't want to speed-read over the wonderful writing that is displayed on every page. 

Do we seek to reach an end, whether it be completing a degree, finishing a book, or arriving at a destination, at the cost of not being open to joy where we are currently at?

Rest in Transition

January has usually been a period of transitions for me. This month in particular, I've transitioned back into living on-campus at seminary after Christmas. I spend my days in the library researching and writings the assigned papers for my Jan-term class. After I return from work in the evenings, I transition into reading and trying to work ahead on assignments for what will be a busy spring semester. In the midst of this, finding snippets of time and trying to devote almost a full day a week to rest has been hugely important in helping me to personally process much of what is going on.

The photo is from a year ago when the group I was traveling throughout Greece with enjoyed an extended period of rest from our busy traveling schedule. While all that we were learning through the sites we were seeing and the museums we wandered through was important, perhaps equally as important was this moment of relearning the refreshment and renewed energy that come after rest.

In moments full of transition, do we find space to rest?

Watching the Branches Move

Having lived in the Pacific Northwest during winter, I am used to seeing trees maintain their pines all year round, creating a green curtain that covers up the trees that lost their seasonal leaves. Now living on the East Coast, I am astounded at how much further I can see when the trees lose their leaves. Today as I was working on an assignment in front of a tall window in the library I watched the tree branches sway in the wind. In the next few months, the leaves will reappear and I will be glad to see green hills again instead of brown, but this is a season of examining the core movements.

In my January class, the professor discussed the idea that one of the main opponents of Chalcedon (declaring Jesus Christ as having two natures (perfect humanity and perfect divinity) in one person) was arguing for the same ideas Chalcedon supported. Their disagreement was based on two different uses of the same Greek word. Now that scholars are in a different season, one which features the distinguishable English terms 'nature' and 'person', they are able to look back and examine the core arguments and see that the opponents were actually in agreement, though they didn't realize it at the time.

Do we sometimes cling to leaves that sometimes need to fall in order for us to watch the core movements? Such leaves may include different forms of technology and social media, busy schedules, relationships, etc. (In the time surround Chalcedon, the leaves included various definitions of particular terms and the assumption that one's interpretation of it matched others and the stress of needing to come up with a clear view of who Jesus Christ was in order to confront heresies that were spreading.)

Are there regular seasons in life when leaves change, or do we find ourselves clinging too long in one season when there is more to be seen?

Punctuated by Worship

A year ago tonight I joined the group of others who had gathered together in the university's chapel to praise God as was the weekly rhythm. It was the eve of my trip to Greece. In many ways, it symbolized the beginning of the trip, particularly as it was a visual reminder that over the next three weeks as I and others would be journeying through Greece, others would still be at the university, regularly gathering together to praise God.

The group I traveled through Greece had a particular love for singing the Doxology together. We sang it together on the bus, in monasteries, in a tomb, and while circled together in evening reflections on hotel rooms and roofs. It served to draw our attention back to praising God and as a reminder of the global nature of the Church.

I am thankful that on New Year's Eve my brother sounds in the New Year with a rendition of Auld Lang Syne followed by the Doxology on the bagpipes. May this new year be one frequently punctuated by the sound and sight of the Church gathering together to offer praise to God.

Psalm 150 (ESV)

Praise the Lord!

Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens!

Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp!

Praise him with tambourine and dance; praise him with strings and pipe!

Praise him with sounding cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord!

Happy New Year!