An Old Emergence

It's been over a year and a half since I've posted here. That's mostly because I've been on a spiritual journey of a different sort and could never find the right words to make a blog post worthy of a space that has billed itself in the past as being "at the intersection of religion and social change." The religious climate in my country has been dark in the last year as the evangelical right has taken the last steps toward idolatry and blasphemy in its support of the radical right wing of the political spectrum. In many ways, it has finally drawn a line in the sand that allows us to demarcate the separation between those who follow Christ and those who follow their own self-interest. We can finally point to the things like The Nashville Statement and the false prophet Franklin Graham  and say, "This is not Christianity of Jesus but the work of idolators and charlatans." Yet even though this clear separation makes it easier to point out the...

I find myself spending a lot of time loathing the Spring…despite my best efforts to the contrary. To be sure, I love the blooming flowers and the greening trees, but the pollen count does me in.

In May of 2009 I was able to visit South Africa for a second time. While there, my group had the opportunity to visit the Cathedral Church of St. George the Martyr. This was the cathedral at which Desmond Tutu performed his duties as Archbishop of South Africa. Up until that point, I had only ever studied labyrinths and had never actually walked one. There in the courtyard of the cathedral was a beautiful stone labyrinth. I am an experiential worshipper, which is why I think it was such a powerful encounter for me. Here I was in one of my favorite cities (Cape Town), at the church of a modern saint. And so I made the only choice one has to make upon discovering a labyrinth: whether to enter or not.

I wrote a blog this morning responding to the tragedy in Japan and the entire Pacific Rim. It was poorly written and emotional. I am not saying that is bad. Tragedy occurring during Lent has become a bit of a hot-button issue for me. So while I affirm my frustrations and the difficulty of understanding why tragedies seem to go hand-in-hand with this particular liturgical season in my life, I don’t really feel like ranting against God or bemoaning my state of existence does anyone any good. And so I deleted it. Instead, today let us take moments to lift prayer to whomever we pray for the loss felt around our world today and for the recovery of those who have lost everything.

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)

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 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.

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...

“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...