An Old Emergence

Belmont’s motto is “From here to anywhere,” and while I may be guilty of cracking jokes about that sometimes, these words have transformed from being simply a motto to having deep meaning for me over the last four and a half years. I discovered who I was called to be at Belmont. This is a profound statement considering who I was when I started classes in August of 2006. I had just begun the process of working out my inherited faith, and having been fairly well burned by the churches of my youth, I had no desire to seek out a church home in Nashville. It was a perfect paradox. I firmly believed that Christian community was essential to growth as a believer, and yet I was running away from church at full speed.

There are a few authors that I have had the opportunity to revisit multiple times during different seasons of my life. Among this group of authors are Zora Neale Hurston, Anne Fadiman, Brian McLaren, Parker Palmer, and Ayn Rand. Each time I encounter them, I learn something new, and often it is from reading the same text multiple times. I've had people tell me that my fascination with re-reading the same books over and over again is strange. My reply is always that normalcy is highly overrated.

To be dead is to be devoid of life, of vibrancy, of sensation. It is to no longer feel or change or develop. That is to be dead. Many of my friends, are embarking on new seasons of their lives right now as school is starting and summer is ending. I am included as I prepare for my final semester of college. When seasons change in our lives, there are often disturbances. These can be either good or bad, depending on how we receive them.

I don’t know where to begin. This blog may come off as overly sensitive or even “preachy.” I am not sorry for that. I am not sorry at all. And those who may read this and feel that way are probably part of the problem. Over the last few weeks I have encountered several situations that make me question my place in Christianity. I have literally had to stop and consider whether or not I want to be called a Christian anymore. My beliefs have not changed, but I have looked at the nature of my belief stacked against the way others who call themselves “Christian” act and have found myself at odds. I am tired of Christians using the Bible to oppress or back up politically motivated arguments. I’m sick of hearing verses of scripture contorted out of context. I’m done dealing with Christians disparaging people who are different from them. Just because you are white, straight, and have never had to deal with sexual issues doesn’t make you perpetually right. Just because someone

A few months ago I wrote a blog entry in response to the idea of our bodies being intrinsic to our individually-claimed theology. It was intended to be the first in a series of related posts. That never really got off the ground, nor did the exercise kick I was planning at the time. But here I am, four months to the day later, in the midst of a renewed interest in my body. I have regularly worked out every day this week, eaten mostly organic and local food, and spent time letting my body rest. In a week’s time, I already feel like a different person. My body feels whole for the first time in a while. By only introducing healthy foods to my body, I am saying to myself that my physical being is of importance. By exercising, I am saying that I believe my body can be stronger. Today I attended my very first Nia class. Nia combines yoga, martial arts, and dance into a mind, body, and spirit exercise experience. Our pastoral intern, Claire, has begun teaching this class regularl

It is fairly common knowledge that I drink tea as though it is necessary for my existence. Which, in fact, it very well may be. I find that drinking a cup of tea makes me stop and reflect. Sometimes those reflections are deep and end with new discoveries about what I believe. Most times, I simply reflect on the events of my day. No matter what though, drinking tea is most certainly a religious experience for me. I love the litany of preparing my teapot, measuring out my tea, letting it sit and steep, and the first pour into whichever of my teacups from which I choose to drink. The whole process reminds me of the liturgy I deeply love in the Christian tradition. And as every cup of tea is different, so are my encounters with the Holy. Earlier tonight, I had the opportunity to serve tea to a friend of mine who came over to my apartment, and as we sat and talked about life and Koine Greek, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that as we shared about our lives, we also sha

Wonder. What an interesting topic. I’ll admit that it’s one I’ve been turning over in my mind constantly for the last few months, and when April approached me a few weeks back to share my reflections on wonder, I jumped at the chance. I had no idea how difficult this would be for me to do. It would be easy for me to stand here and tell you that wonder is what I experienced while standing atop Table Mountain in South Africa; that wonder is seeing things first-hand that can only be described as miraculous; that wonder is somehow being able to distinguish that you’ve heard the voice of God speaking into your life. And while all of those things would be legitimate, speaking about them would be the easy way out. Lately I’ve been struggling very hard to believe in wonder, or at least, struggling to let myself experience it. My cold academic mind militates violently against my deeply spiritual heart on a regular basis. Many days I find it hard to believe in a divine Other as I encoun

I like lists. They help me be goal-oriented in a way that my self-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder finds particularly satisfying. I make a summer reading list every May of books I wish to encounter in my time off from required reading. More often than not I will include the most recent book I completed so that I may begin my list with an accomplished task. Few things are more fulfilling to me than marking things off a list. I also make lists as reminders. These lists mostly appear when I am packing for a trip or preparing for a presentation. They're far less task-oriented than my other lists, and they help combat my poor short-term memory. I made a list last night that is far different than any of these others lists. I wrote down the names of twelve people. Seven months from now it will be the first day of January 2011. I will have graduated from Belmont and will be on the next part of my life's journey, whatever that may be. I have seven months left at Belmont and, perh

My God Loves This morning we have gathered to show these guests in our town from Westboro Baptist Church that we believe they are wrong, that we believe they are bastardizing the Word of God. I’m here today simply because I have to be. I am a lay member of Glendale Baptist Church here in Nashville. We are a caring community of equality and grace that celebrates diversity, champions social justice, and encourages honesty. I must be honest: it’s groups like the Westboro Baptist Church that make me ashamed to call myself a Christian. For many gathered here, the church has been the ring-leader for oppression and hatred. Groups like the Westboro Baptist Church have done nothing but further that idea. It is unfortunate that churches, which should espouse love and inclusion, have so often done the exact opposite. Today churches around the world celebrate Pentecost, the end of Eastertide and the beginning of a new season in the liturgical year. How beautiful is it that we stand here on

There are churches I have known that have completely missed what being a church is about. The infighting and politics have completely trumped any form of pastoral care and generosity. Everyone has such an agenda that it is impossible to truly grow and become vibrant as a congregation. Instead, stagnation occurs, and eventually death comes knocking on the church doors. I wish there was some way to shake a congregation and yell, "WAKE UP!" But there isn't. We can only stand by and watch and cry and pray. But how does a church get to this point? The churches I have been a part of in my life have at one time or another been thriving bodies of Christ, being in the world doing things. They were places of joy and celebration. And even though the two churches in which I grew up preach a theology that doesn't align with what I believe now, I can still appreciate how both of them grounded me in a faith that has held on for dear life through my life's struggles. It's tru

Hey friends, check out my friend Amber Garner's blog about her upcoming move to the Dominican Republic to work with an orphanage. On her blog, you can even donate to her ministry via PayPal. It costs a lot to give up everything to move to another country, and I'm not just talking monetarily. But if you are led to do so, feel free to help support her through your donation. Every little bit helps. THANKS!!! Amber in the D.R. (click here)

Here's a great article from EthicsDaily.com written by one of my professors and mentors, Dr. Andy Watts. It is an interesting assessment of the changes in the Southern Baptist culture over the last several years. Check it out HERE .

This week is Holy Week , a time in Christian tradition where we focus on the final week of Jesus' life as portrayed in scripture. I grew up in the Southern Baptist faith tradition. As a Southern Baptist, we really didn't observe much of greater catholic (little "c") liturgy. Every few years we would get the liturgical bug and observe some form of Advent, but even that was a stretch. More often than not, the celebration of Advent stemmed from some Lifeway or Southern Baptist Convention material. It wasn't until I got to college that I first encountered the Lectionary . Even then, my early encounters with the Lectionary were purely speculative, as the churches I attended, much like while growing up, did not follow or use the Lectionary in weekly spiritual life. Much like other liturgical practices, my being Baptist at the core (something I've only recently come to accept) kept me from engaging the Lectionary purely by accident and circumstance. It wasn't unt

I've been thinking about my body a lot lately. It is not an exceptional body, mainly because I haven't done a very good job of taking care of it over the majority of my nearly twenty-two years of life. I've been pondering what it means to be created, in essence a part of the created order. In light of these thoughts, I started working out again on Monday. There's this program called P90X that is a very holistic daily workout routine that pushes your body to the edge of the abyss. Yes...that's a bit melodramatic. However, the pain stretching across my body has me constantly aware of my efforts to get my body in a healthy shape. This morning when I looked out my window I saw the overcast skies and saw the dreary rain. While I actually love rainy days, I decided that I didn't want to succumb to the feel of the day. I put on a bright pink shirt and stark white jeans and left my house feeling full of life. Clothes do not make a person, but just like being true to you

Yesterday I found myself having multiple conversations about the future. In fact, lately I've found that subject matter to be inescapable. Perhaps it comes from being near to graduation...or at least sort of near. Many of my friends will soon be graduating, and I have begun turning my eyes toward December and my own graduation. As I do this, one pervasive question continually comes up: What's next? I can assure you this is only the first of what will most likely be many writings on the future by me. As a senior in college, the future has started to loom menacingly on the horizon. However, this concept of looking toward the future is not reserved for college seniors. One of my conversations yesterday was with my friend Grant, a freshman at Belmont. We were both struggling with the same question. What's next? About this time of year as winter struggles in its death throws and spring begins to emerge, I believe many of us look for newness, for refreshment. Grant later asked, &

I have spent the last ten days traveling. I've seen Berkeley, CA. I've spent time in Seattle, WA. I have become well acquainted with the Salt Lake City airport on 3 separate occasions. All this time I have had the opportunity to spend time with some amazing people in my life. This is spring break, a fantastic invention of the academic world for undergraduate students. This is the first of my four years in college that I have actually taken my spring break instead of working. It has been a much-needed respite from my undeniably hectic weekly schedule. Over the last week, I had the opportunity to visit with my sister and brother-in-law as well as my cousin Brian. As I live in Tennessee and they live on the west coast, it is rare for me to get to see them often. My time spent with all of them was wonderful, and it made for a perfect break. But the reason I'm writing here, is to think more intentionally about how relationships and spiritual peace can go hand-in-hand. While i

I like to think that I do my part when it comes to creation care. In fact, I can say that I recycle, try to keep my energy use low, and generally enjoy communing with nature. Many people who balk at global warming frustrate me. This is not because they do believe global warming is an issue. It is, in fact, because they support their positions with ridiculous "evidence." Recently, snow storms sprang up across the United States. There have been many who have pointed to this as evidence that global warming is a non-issue, thought up by "liberals" and "tree-huggers." This article from EthicsDaily.com is a great response to this mindset.

So here it is, my new blog. I've created this space to provide a location for me to seriously blog about serious things. A little more intentional than stream-of-consciousness...So we'll see how this plays out. I find myself whining about how no one takes my other, personal blog seriously. However, upon reading many of the entries, I can understand why that is. As fun as stream-of-consciousness writing is, it is hard to be taken too seriously when any legitimate thoughts one may have are jumbled amongst painfully hysterical YouTube clips. That's why I have created this place. I wanted to have somewhere I could post my own thoughts, and occasionally the thoughts of others, in relation to an increasingly broad range of theological topics. The title of this blog is "An Old Emergence." I chose this title and web address to highlight a few things about me and about what I will be saying here. I have a new appreciation for the connection of church history with contempor

God of peace and light, we come into your presence today as a community dedicated to hearing from you. Our hearts are heavy with care for the hurt in our world. We think of our sisters and brothers in our global community. In Haiti and Chile there are members of our body struggling to see the Holy amidst destruction and pain. We pray for our extended family in Cuba as they worship with us this morning in spirit. Our hearts cannot help but dwell on the hurt in our own community that we’ve experienced over the last two weeks. Show us comfort Lord. Give us healing. We pray desperately for your divine peace. Yet we cannot help but thank you for the moments of celebration. Today we celebrate the decision this week to advance equality in our nation’s capital, even as we work toward the same goals in our own community. We also ask your blessing on the tithes and offerings of money that are to be brought. May what we give be used to bring your peace and light into each of the lives our communi

I believe... Those two words are incredibly profound. With them, lines have been drawn for conflict, unions have been formed in peace, and entire faith traditions have been established. When I wrote those two words a few seconds ago, I had fully intended to jump into a long discourse about the many beliefs I hold. For some reason, that now seems inappropriate. Yes, this blog is my bully pulpit to speak about my many beliefs, but that's not really what I want to do tonight. Last night I came home from my "Christianity in the Entertainment Industry" class in a absolute frenzy of frustration, anger, and sadness. This class is forcing me to apply everything I have learned over the last two and a half years of being a student of religion. I am having to cautiously weigh the opinions around me in order to form coherent statements that support my own minority opinion (as far as this class is concerned) about the world, especially as it relates to Christianity. I won't go int

This morning my mom texted me to tell me that she was carrying the South African flag this morning at church in honor of me and my travels in Africa for a missions emphasis at my parents' church. When I read that message I just started crying. In fact, I'm still crying and will probably do so all day now. And I had to ask myself why this simple statement affected me so much. I have a South African flag in my room along with paintings I purchased while there. Looking at this may make me miss it, but it does not make me cry. I am crying because I love the church. And that statement is such a divergence from where I have been for the last several years. There have been moments over the last few years when I have said that I never wanted to be a member of a church again. I have said horrible things about the body of Christ. And it hurts my soul knowing that I have said such things, because even though we metaphorically refer to the church as the "body of Christ", there is