Friday, January 27, 2017

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?

Friday, January 20, 2017

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?

Friday, January 13, 2017

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?

Friday, January 6, 2017

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!