An Old Emergence

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...