For spring break this year, I've decided to become a Trinitarian.
I am, of course, already a Trinitarian. My faith and theology wouldn't be complete without Father, Son and Spirit (to use non-inclusive but best-metaphor-available language.) But how the whole thing works has always been a little hazy to me. In Systematic Theology last year, I remember reading in one of our books one way we might look at the Trinity--that God is one "person" who we experience in three main and semi-distinct ways. "Oh!" I thought. "That is excellent. I pick that one." Then I read in the next line that that was widely considered to be heresy. Oops. Apparently the idea that God is three persons in Godself is pretty important.
Some people might say that there's no reason to try to convince myself of what other people say or believe. But that's not really what I'm trying to do. I think that what the community of faith over time has affirmed is important to who we are, even if we choose to look at things differently due to our own experiences. So I want to know what people say, and what makes something make sense to them that doesn't always make sense to me. It's the whole "faith seeking understanding" thing...
The reason I've been thinking about this lately is because the other day, Paige said she liked CT501, and especially the parts where we read the church fathers talking about things like the Trinity. That part of CT501 made me want to bang my head on a desk. It seemed to me like a bunch of guys claiming to know things they actually didn't. The same can be said about the human-divine nature of Jesus. But the realization that somebody actually liked that got me thinking. And I know Lauren got into the whole Trinity thing through a few classes last year. So I got three books from her--Moltmann, Gregory of Naz, and She Who Is by Elizabeth Johnson, a feminist Trinitarian. And by golly, my faith is going to spend the next week seeking some understanding. I'll let you know how that goes.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Even though I'm right...
Today I sat in my preaching class and heard what I thought was a really great lecture. Mostly I sit in preaching thinking things like, "Why did I take an 8 am class? Oh yeah, I have to graduate" and "that person's coffee smells good" and "I wonder if it's time for my chocolate chip Muffie." But today I thought, hey, this is a really great lecture. It was about preaching the Old Testament. Especially, it was about finding a balance between the fact that the Old Testament contains the fullness of God's revelation on its own, and the fact that for Christians Jesus is God's definitive revelation of Godself. Dr. O'Day didn't have answers so much as she gave us some really good ways to think about the issues. That was what I thought. I was inspired.
Dave was not inspired. Dave sat next to me muttering things like "...bordering on Arianism." We got into a few short whispered verbal scuffles during the lecture. So at the end I said, "Dave, I just wanted to say that I thought that was a really great lecture." And he said, "Hey, I affirm you in that. I've definitely heard lectures before that I thought were great and other people thought were the worst lectures ever." Something we could agree on.
We all want people to appreciate the things we appreciate. But it's also kind of beautiful--not to mention an important lesson for preaching--that God speaks to us in different ways. Things that are meaningless to some people inspire others, and some things are guaranteed to be neither a complete success nor a complete failure as long as Dave and I are both listening :) The important thing is that in the end, God speaks to everyone--and that's what revelation's all about, right?
Also, just because it's awesome, found on Dr. Blevins's office door: http://stillsearching.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/are-you-a-christian-hipster/
Dave was not inspired. Dave sat next to me muttering things like "...bordering on Arianism." We got into a few short whispered verbal scuffles during the lecture. So at the end I said, "Dave, I just wanted to say that I thought that was a really great lecture." And he said, "Hey, I affirm you in that. I've definitely heard lectures before that I thought were great and other people thought were the worst lectures ever." Something we could agree on.
We all want people to appreciate the things we appreciate. But it's also kind of beautiful--not to mention an important lesson for preaching--that God speaks to us in different ways. Things that are meaningless to some people inspire others, and some things are guaranteed to be neither a complete success nor a complete failure as long as Dave and I are both listening :) The important thing is that in the end, God speaks to everyone--and that's what revelation's all about, right?
Also, just because it's awesome, found on Dr. Blevins's office door: http://stillsearching.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/are-you-a-christian-hipster/
Thursday, March 5, 2009
One body
There's a lot to be thankful for today. The weather turned unexpectedly beautiful, it's Taco Mac Thursday, there is a cake in my oven, and a Greek midterm is the only thing that stands between me and spring break less than 24 hours away.
And I was thankful to get to go to the international student worship service today. It's the first regular Tuesday/Thursday chapel service I've been to all semester, since I'm usually at work then. The chapel was full, and in a very colorful way. Candler's such a diverse place, but you can't always just look around and see that like you could today. And it was a chance to recognize the real gifts that international students bring to the community, gifts that aren't always in the spotlight.
Obviously a three-paragraph blog entry isn't the place to go into the reasons why Candler's diversity doesn't always permeate our experience or why certain people's gifts haven't more often been in the spotlight. So though that's a worthy discussion topic, I'm not trying to lead it here today. All I want to say is that I was thankful for the chance today to come together and celebrate as one more complete, more representative body of Christ, and that I'm thankful for that chance whenever it arises.
And I was thankful to get to go to the international student worship service today. It's the first regular Tuesday/Thursday chapel service I've been to all semester, since I'm usually at work then. The chapel was full, and in a very colorful way. Candler's such a diverse place, but you can't always just look around and see that like you could today. And it was a chance to recognize the real gifts that international students bring to the community, gifts that aren't always in the spotlight.
Obviously a three-paragraph blog entry isn't the place to go into the reasons why Candler's diversity doesn't always permeate our experience or why certain people's gifts haven't more often been in the spotlight. So though that's a worthy discussion topic, I'm not trying to lead it here today. All I want to say is that I was thankful for the chance today to come together and celebrate as one more complete, more representative body of Christ, and that I'm thankful for that chance whenever it arises.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Inspiration...go!
Today, my thoughts revolve around one thing: harlotry. Well, harlotry and spring break, but harlotry is the more immediate of the two. I'm writing an exegesis of Jeremiah 3 which, over the last few days, has proven harder than I thought.
Don't get me wrong. I love sitting and working with a text in the nerdiest possible way. I'd like to do it for a living. Because it's so exciting when you can see something new in it, something that changes the tenor of the whole thing. In one of my classes first year we read something that said to preach, you first have to be astounded by the text. I love finding the part of each text that astounds me.
But I'm not astounded by Jeremiah 3. I wrenched out a thesis. It's basically taking part of another guy's thesis and nuancing it a bit to fit my passage. He took pieces of other people's scholarship and nuanced it a bit to fit his passage. Sometimes it feels like the pressure to write sucks the joy out of the discovery. But on the other hand, I love that theology is a conversation, even one of nuances. And maybe at some point I'll come back to this text and it will astound me. Maybe even later tonight, after a few too many lattes.
Don't get me wrong. I love sitting and working with a text in the nerdiest possible way. I'd like to do it for a living. Because it's so exciting when you can see something new in it, something that changes the tenor of the whole thing. In one of my classes first year we read something that said to preach, you first have to be astounded by the text. I love finding the part of each text that astounds me.
But I'm not astounded by Jeremiah 3. I wrenched out a thesis. It's basically taking part of another guy's thesis and nuancing it a bit to fit my passage. He took pieces of other people's scholarship and nuanced it a bit to fit his passage. Sometimes it feels like the pressure to write sucks the joy out of the discovery. But on the other hand, I love that theology is a conversation, even one of nuances. And maybe at some point I'll come back to this text and it will astound me. Maybe even later tonight, after a few too many lattes.
Monday, March 2, 2009
I'll be the vegetarian at the pot luck
Something caught my attention in my UMC Polity class this evening. (Yes! Something caught my attention in Polity, and it wasn't just Facebook on Meg's computer next to me!)
Dr. Frank was talking about how we can still see vestiges of historical understandings of Methodist ministry in the Book of Discipline. Of course I can't find what I'm looking for in the Discipline right now, but there was an old term still in there along the lines of "traveling ministry" or "covenant of traveling ministers." What a great way to look at itineracy.
I've done my share of grumbling about the itineracy system, especially since I decided to be ordained into it. It means, technically, that my bishop can appoint me anywhere in the Virginia Conference, and I have to go. And it means, I am convinced, that instead of being assigned to a nice urban church with a good homeless ministry, I will almost certainly be moving to a three-point charge two miles from West Virginia. That scares me. Especially the thought of announcing I'm a vegetarian at the first church pot luck. ("A what?")
But I've always loved to travel, and when you talk about itineracy as a ministry of travel, I'm in. As I've learned from being completely lost (literally and metaphorically) in places like Seoul and Madurai, you learn to rely a lot on God when you travel. You learn you're not as independent as you think you are, but you're also not as alone. You learn to be open to things and people you wouldn't be open to at home. Even just across the border from West Virginia.
There's something exciting about being completely not in control of your own future. Of course, I'm ignoring for now the politics and seniority that inevitably make their way into the appointment process. David assures me that God is present in the process, and David knows everything. So ministry of travel, I'm ready for you. At least, in a year or so. :)
Dr. Frank was talking about how we can still see vestiges of historical understandings of Methodist ministry in the Book of Discipline. Of course I can't find what I'm looking for in the Discipline right now, but there was an old term still in there along the lines of "traveling ministry" or "covenant of traveling ministers." What a great way to look at itineracy.
I've done my share of grumbling about the itineracy system, especially since I decided to be ordained into it. It means, technically, that my bishop can appoint me anywhere in the Virginia Conference, and I have to go. And it means, I am convinced, that instead of being assigned to a nice urban church with a good homeless ministry, I will almost certainly be moving to a three-point charge two miles from West Virginia. That scares me. Especially the thought of announcing I'm a vegetarian at the first church pot luck. ("A what?")
But I've always loved to travel, and when you talk about itineracy as a ministry of travel, I'm in. As I've learned from being completely lost (literally and metaphorically) in places like Seoul and Madurai, you learn to rely a lot on God when you travel. You learn you're not as independent as you think you are, but you're also not as alone. You learn to be open to things and people you wouldn't be open to at home. Even just across the border from West Virginia.
There's something exciting about being completely not in control of your own future. Of course, I'm ignoring for now the politics and seniority that inevitably make their way into the appointment process. David assures me that God is present in the process, and David knows everything. So ministry of travel, I'm ready for you. At least, in a year or so. :)
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Thoughts from this side of the window
Like pretty much everyone in Atlanta, I'm amazed by the snow today. I would be even more amazed if I had had a scraper when I was trying to leave church. Turns out a closed umbrella (still on the floor of my car, btw) is a surprisingly ineffective alternative.
There were more homeless (or apparently homeless) people in church than usual. A few wandered in halfway through the service, looking wet. During fellowship time I talked to a few of them; we chatted about the unusual weather, mutually wished each other good days and weeks. And I felt a little guilty--because where would they go when church was over?
When it's rainy or cold, we often remember people with nowhere to go. (Maybe not as often as we should.) But even people who can escape the elements don't usually get excited about downpours or potential frostbite. At least we're all agreed on that. But snow is beautiful and exciting. Snow makes people gather by the window in the kitchen instead of passing the peace. Only some people, though.
I'm glad my church was a place where people on the streets could spend an hour warm and dry. I'm glad Trinity is the kind of community that welcomes them. I'm glad people could come in and find a word of peace, coffee and a donut, a place for a nap, whatever they needed. And I know it's not as easy as just saying I wish the church could give them that for longer. But I wish it could.
There were more homeless (or apparently homeless) people in church than usual. A few wandered in halfway through the service, looking wet. During fellowship time I talked to a few of them; we chatted about the unusual weather, mutually wished each other good days and weeks. And I felt a little guilty--because where would they go when church was over?
When it's rainy or cold, we often remember people with nowhere to go. (Maybe not as often as we should.) But even people who can escape the elements don't usually get excited about downpours or potential frostbite. At least we're all agreed on that. But snow is beautiful and exciting. Snow makes people gather by the window in the kitchen instead of passing the peace. Only some people, though.
I'm glad my church was a place where people on the streets could spend an hour warm and dry. I'm glad Trinity is the kind of community that welcomes them. I'm glad people could come in and find a word of peace, coffee and a donut, a place for a nap, whatever they needed. And I know it's not as easy as just saying I wish the church could give them that for longer. But I wish it could.
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