An Old Emergence

"As we continue our worship in the daily patterns of life, may we immerse ourselves in the mystery of the Holy, and may we always seek to dwell where Love is the language most spoken and Peace is the path most taken." For several weeks, this has been the unison congregational response to our worship at Glendale, almost like a communal benediction. This response connected with my spirit for some reason so much so that I committed it to memory and pray it each day. But why? Why this particular response? I think this concept of continuing worship is what first drew me to these words. I cannot begin to count how many times I have both heard and said the phrase, "Worship is a lifestyle, not an event." We do not really have to say that at my church. We belong to a bundle of life, and we live this life through one another. And then there is this concept of "daily patterns of life." As someone who finds himself stuck in the monotony of daily schedules, reframing m

i am struggling with what it means to be a christian in today’s world. it takes a lot of courage for me to say that. it’s something that has been building up over the last four years that i am just now in a position to verbalize (or in this case type). i look at the injustices around me and wonder what people who call themselves christians are doing in response. i wonder where we get off justifying our selectivity in encountering injustice. when did we decide that some societal wrongs are more important to pursue than others? the christian tradition i had been exposed to for twenty-one years said that there are things that can make a person a lesser member of the body of christ. it said that some things are not worth my time to care about. it said that there are more important things. i refuse to believe this. for a while i have thought that it is worth my time to care about the role of women in the church. that it is worth my time to care about the aids-affected of africa. it is worth

today i sat in church and cried. i cried hard. my friend allyson, who was sitting next to me, obviously noticed but said and did nothing. for this i am incredibly grateful because, at the time, i was really struggling with why the service was affecting me so much. but now i really know why. today during church, the interim pastor presented an opportunity for people to make themselves vulnerable. he asked any family dealing with job loss to come forward to the altar so that the church could gather around them a pray over them. and i saw people come forward, letting themselves be honest to their church that they were struggling and were in need of prayer, i started to cry. it moved my soul. i sat on the third row of a church with which i have fairly profound disagreement doctrinally and felt the holy spirit move. i saw the church as it should be. i saw members of a christian community hurting, and i saw their sisters and brothers surround them. from that point on i just couldn't keep

The story of the prodigal son from the Gospel of Luke is one of many encounters with a male-centered parable told by Christ. This furthers the overall masculist ethos of scripture. Christian scripture was written by men toward a male-dominant society featuring a male incarnation of Christ which presents problems for women who study and encounter the Bible. As Rosemary Radford Ruether points out: “A Christology that identified the maleness of the historical Jesus with normative humanity and with the maleness of the divine Logos must move in an increasingly misogynist direction that not only excludes woman as representative of Christ in ministry but makes her a second-class citizen in both creation and redemption.”1 The theme of redemption found in the parable of the prodigal son is directly related to the fact that the story uses three male characters as the primary players. What if the prodigal child was a daughter and not a son? The society around which scripture was built would never

“I can hear Jesus saying to us: I was sick with AIDS and you did not visit me. You did not wash my wounds, nor did you give me medicine to manage my opportunistic infections. I was stigmatized, isolated and rejected because of HIV/AIDS and you did not welcome me. I was hungry, thirsty and naked, completely dispossessed by HIV/AIDS and globalization in my house and family and you did not give me food, water or any clothing. I was a powerless woman exposed to the high risk of infection and carrying a huge burden of care, and you did not come to my rescue. I was a dispossessed widow and an orphan and you did not meet my needs. We, the church of this era, will ask, When Lord did we see you sick with AIDS, stigmatized, isolated and rejected, and did not visit or welcome you in our homes? When Lord did we see you hungry, naked and thirsty and did not feed you, clothe you and give you water? When were you a powerless woman, a widow and an orphan and we did not come to your rescue? The Lord wi