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.

Dents in a Hydroflask

The dent, pictured below, represents one of the most treasured aspects of my Whitworth experience, namely the relationships formed there.

During my last finals week as an undergraduate student, I met with a professor for lunch.  While the professor has one of the greatest intellects I've encountered, he also has a tremendous amount of playfulness.  Thus, when another student instigated a water fight, he quickly joined in, disappearing from sight as he proceeded to chase the student around the building.  I and another friend, hoping to assist the other student, waited for the professor to return and approach our seemingly innocent conversation before tossing our water bottle contents at him.  During my first unsuccessful attempt at this I dropped my Hydroflask on the sidewalk.  I later redeemed the honor of my water bottle by successfully soaking the professor, only after I acted involuntarily as a successful shield for the professor against another student as they emptied the contents of their water bottle.  From water fights to snowballs in the Cascade mountains, from classrooms to cafes in Greece, from the living rooms of professor's homes to the late nights in the library concluded by singing the doxology, I will cherish the relationships I formed at Whitworth.

As I begin to embark on new adventures, I'm certain my poor Hydroflask will receive a few more dents.  I'm eager to know what stories lie behind those upcoming dents and discover the stories that hidden in the dents in the unfortunate Hydroflasks of others.

As with dots on a fork (see the previous post), what are the details in life that make it so precious to us?
Also, what would it look like to care about learning the stories behind the details of others' lives?

Dots on a Fork

  

The row of dots on this fork is a design which, in this case, I find visually appealing.  Together, the dots provide me with a picture, that no one dot could accomplish on its own.  Yet if all of the dots simply blended together, the fork would seem rather plain.

As graduation draws ever closer, I continue to reflect on my time in college.  Like the fork, my college experience has many unique aspects to it which stand distinct from one another, yet at the same time, they are all linked together, like the dots are to this fork.  

One of the highlights of my college experience has been learning Koine Greek (Biblical Greek).  There are many dots, if you will, on this Greek fork.  Dot one was meeting with the Greek professor at the end of my freshman year and being persuaded to take the class the following fall.  The dots that followed included experiences of laughter both in the classroom and working through Greek homework with others, in class debates at the start of every 8 am class (which had nothing to do with Greek oddly enough), observing classmates show up to the final in togas, two games of Grabble (Greek Scrabble), and even a backpacking trip.  The dots are continuing to be added on daily too as I TA the first year Greek course where the students and professor surprise me by how much laughter they can bring to an 8 am class four days a week.  Together, theses experiences make a personal inscription on the Greek fork, which make it a joy for me to behold, or in this case reflect upon.

What are the details of the things in our life that make them precious to us?  

The Jesus Train

As I was about 3/4 of the way through a walk around Chambers Bay, I heard a train approaching.  Since I was near to the tracks at that point, I thought it could be fun to wait and take a picture of it as it went by.  Despite the sounds seeming to indicate that it was just around the corner at several times, it took several minutes for the train to pull into sight.  As it rushed along its track, its wheels made their terrible screeching noise against the rails.  It was an unpleasant noise, but necessary for the train to accomplish its purpose.  Once the train passed, the view looked almost exactly like it had before, and I continued my walk.

Yesterday was Good Friday, the day the Lord died to restore us into right relationship with God.  

So, how does this relate to the train?

Period of waiting: B.C., especially as described in the Old Testament.  A time filled with longing for God to make Himself known and redeem the world.

The train: Jesus life on earth.

The unbearable noise of the train: the torture and crucifixion on the day the Church remembers during Good Friday.

After it passes: Continuation.  Christians, like the people of God in the Old Testament, are eager for God to reveal more of Himself and redeem the world.  However, now there is a sense of hope.  Whereas several people in the Old Testament could hear the train approaching, we have now seen the train.  We’ve heard the awful noise, and yet through that, we know that Jesus accomplished what He came to do.  

Imagine experiencing the train and having an experience of awe to the extent that it inspires you to do something, such as a little kid wanting to grow up to be a train conductor or engineer.  The sense of awe in the whole Jesus train, including his birth, teachings, miracles, and the sound of his death signaling the fulfillment of his purpose in coming, inspire me to live in such a way that reflects that state of awe.  Easter to me is a celebration of the fact that through his death and resurrection, the tracks have been laid enabling me to live in that state of awe and be in right relationship with God.

Happy Easter indeed