An Old Emergence

A running joke growing up in my old Southern Baptist church was that dancing was somehow evil or taboo. Even in our youth musical one summer, the dialog for the drama included a reference to “rhythmic interpretive movement” instead of dance. Since that time, I have wondered why we were so afraid of incorporating dance into our Sabbath…and I don’t think just assuming no one can dance is good enough reasoning. I did a little research on the matter to see what the Bible had to say. The psalmist is a HUGE fan of the practice, and the Israelites often celebrated their worship with dancing and singing. While we do a great job of lifting our voices in song week to week, we miss out on experiencing the Holy through “rhythmic interpretive movement.” Is it that we’ve labored under this notion that we shouldn’t dance as worship for so long that we’ve forgotten how to do so? Sometimes the Spirit moves in such a way that words and song and stillness are not adequate responses to the pres...

Some days I cannot imagine living in this world where injustice abounds. Some days I think this faith I’ve so desperately grasped through the ups and downs of my adolescence and young adulthood is nothing but a boondoggle. I look around me and wonder why I still call myself a Christian when that term has come to mean something it never should have been to so many. I am embarrassed to say I label myself with the same moniker as Ridgedale Church of Christ in Tennessee or Charles Worley or Pat Robertson. I get strange looks from many in my larger circle of friends and acquaintances when I back out of brunch or dinner because I have commitments at my Baptist church. That is what makes days like today so special.

Over the last three weeks I have had the opportunity to spend some time with the youth group at my new church, Baptist Church of the Covenant. We have been participating in what is a yearly event at BCOC called “School for Christian Living” during which time the church restructures its normal Sunday school hour into a three-hour seminar. This time is broken into two sessions with a lunch break in between.

Breathe deep. Relax. Bask in this moment. This is a Holy Space, a Space meant for us to let go. Stretch your legs, your arms, the knotted muscles of your spirit. We have run swiftly, with vigor, with passion, with purpose. There have been obstacles. The path has not always been smooth. And we have been worn low. But in this space, we can be refreshed. In this space, we can encounter a fountain of life that renews. In this space we may worship with all of who we are. We may inhabit the fullness of our creation. All that separates us falls away and we are equal before Yahweh. Beyond this moment, 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. May it be so. May it be so.

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...

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...

"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...