Waiting, Sleeping and Anticipating...Advent Thoughts

Advent is the season of waiting, and that's something that our culture no longer does well. We've become a fast food culture that doesn't like to wait for anything. When we are forced to wait, we don't respond very well. Just look at the behavior of shoppers on Black Friday to see how well we've learned to be patient and wait!

Personally, I've done a lot of waiting lately - waiting for job openings and interviews, waiting until I can see my YS friends again, waiting for phone calls and texts, waiting for family, waiting in lines, waiting in airports, waiting until I have a place of my own again, waiting to see how long I'll have to wait...

Earlier today, someone asked me about an Advent prayer practice I did with Tootsie Roll pops. When I started to explain the concept of waiting to get to the center, it struck me that maybe we have the wrong idea about Advent being a season of waiting.

This sparked thinking even more about waiting. I thought about the things that I do when I am forced to wait. I play on my computer, text or call people, read, think about new ways to help people connect with God, think about things that I still need to do, and sleep.

Which sparked another idea... "while you were sleeping." Jesus was born while the residents of Bethlehem slept. They missed the whole thing. The shepherds, who were paid to stay awake to watch over the sheep, were the only ones who heard the angels proclaiming the birth of the Messiah. The people had become so tired of waiting for the Messiah to arrive that they had fallen asleep. Jesus' disciples fell asleep while they sat up waiting for Jesus to pray before his arrest, and the arrest took place while the city of Jerusalem slept. Even the resurrection took place while most of the world was still sleeping. We've been waiting so long for Jesus to establish his kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. I wonder if we've fallen asleep again and maybe missed some things along the way.

While we sleep, we miss the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of so many people. We sleep-walk past people on the street, people in our schools, people at work and people in our neighborhoods who so desperately need to experience the kingdom of God. We get so caught up in our own lives that we fail to do what we could to stop poverty and injustice. We roll over and ignore the alarms of prejudice. We become so comfortable in our sleep-living that we fail to love, and thus fail to advance the way of Jesus in any way, shape or form.

But what if Advent became a season of anticipation? What if it signified the promise that our waiting with hope and joy isn't for nothing? What if we anticipated the celebration of the birth of Christ through Advent? What if our preparations for Christmas were more about anticipating Jesus than Santa? What if we woke up from our sleeping to notice the people around us, and more importantly, loving the people around us? What if we worked to break the chains of injustice, poverty, and prejudice? What if, by our awakening from the slumber of shopping and scrambling to make preparations that won't last, we bring the anticipation and hope of the way of Jesus back into the season of Advent?

Why Can't Life Be More Like Living at a YS Convention?

I've just finished the last convention of this season. Last night at Compline in the Sanctuary I had this very emotional moment where I didn't want the convention to end. Compline with Communion typically signifies the end for me, and when Mike started to prepare communion, I was overwhelmed. At first I thought it was because life isn't exactly good for me right now at home, but I quickly realized that wasn't it. I simply didn't want to leave the amazing people who have become my YS family - those who know me, allow me to be me, and love me anyway.

On the way to the airport, I had a few conversations with people who were concerned about what they convention has become or what it might become. That got me thinking about why the NYWC is so special to people, and I decided that life would be better if we could all live like we were at a YS convention.

Why? It seems that we are just better at loving each other at convention...

1. We share at convention. We had a ladder that Michael and Mark needed. It didn't matter that it was a little bit of an inconvenience and required some adaptation of the prayer chapel. They needed it, we had it, we shared. We give away knowledge and share our experience. Whether it's supplies, carts, food or ideas... if we have something that someone else needs, we share. Think about what would happen in our communities and churches if we shared like that! And how would the world be different if we shared our resources and made sure everyone had what they needed?
2. We help and serve each other at convention. We needed help getting workshops set up and torn down. Michael, Mark and Kelly helped us; we helped them. Gary showed up and offered to help set up a workshop. David showed up and packed after the workshop. Kelly walked almost a mile to pop popcorn for my session. Steve fixed our broken speakers. Holly sent us extra people to pack. Even the security guard walked through the building with me, showing me around and giving Lilly directions to the docks, finding the right people to get us carts and take our stuff to our rooms. People hold doors, help push carts, carry things out of their way, volunteer for things they'd never do at home, and go the extra mile at convention. What would happen if we willingly served each other that way in real life?
3. We're present with each other at convention. We take time to sit down and talk with each other. More importantly, we listen to each other. We sit with each other and pray - really pray - as in speaking to AND listening to God together. We celebrate together, and we cry together. We notice when someone is struggling and journey with them. We learn things about each other that would never come up in the casual conversation in our churches, schools and workplaces. Even in the briefest encounters, we connect with each other. Long after we leave a conversation, we remember the person's name or situation. We think about them and pray for them long after the convention is over. Whether we stay in touch or not, these people have left an imprint on our lives, and all because we are present with each other in those few moments or days when we are together.
4. We challenge each other to be our true selves at convention. We spark each other's creativity. We point out things in each others' lives that are keeping us from doing what we were created to do. We help each other notice patterns and passions in our lives. We encourage each other to follow our hopes, our dreams, our calls. We recognize each others' gifts, and we dream about how we could come together to do amazing things to glorify Christ. What would happen if we did this in our churches? Instead of holding people down because of their age or gender or background, what if we celebrated who people are and helped them discover who they were created to be? What if we held each other accountable to being true to ourselves and true to our calls? What if we served each other as spiritual directors and spiritual companions?
5. We're not afraid to admit we need help at convention. We openly weep. We tell others all the things that we've screwed up. We beg people for ideas on how to be better. We admit that we don't have all the answers. We ask people to walk with us on the journey. We quit trying to do it all ourselves, quit trying to be superheroes, quit trying to pretend that we have it all together. In those moments of honesty, when we freely ask someone to help us, we allow those around us to serve us, to be blessed by being present to us, to be stretched themselves by walking with us. Why can't we stop pretending in our churches? Why are questions and cries for help so hard, so scorned and so scarce in our home communities?

Now, I'm not naive enough to think that if we lived in convention-land all the time, everything would be perfect - or even as good as it is in convention-land. I realize that people tend to be on their best behavior for this short period of time. I also realize that one of the reasons we act this way towards each other is because we understand each other better than those outside the world of youth ministry understand us. We are also out of our home environments, often away from the stress and strain of every day life. We feel freer to take the time to be present or to go out of our way to serve someone else because we don't have to rush off to take care of the family or another youth crisis.

But I still have to believe that real life would be better if we lived more like we do in convention-land. Somehow, it reminds me of another "land" - I think Jesus called it "the kingdom" - where people share and serve and listen and challenge and love in such a way that relationships (with self, with others, with God) are restored, what is broken is healed, what is damaged or destroyed is rebuilt. The hungry are fed, the sick are tended, the homeless are sheltered, the imprisoned are freed. To me, it sounds a lot like the kind of kingdom God intended, and the kind of worship, at least according to Isaiah and Jesus, that pleases and glorifies our Creator. In fact, I think this might even be what it means to be a follower of Jesus...

Voices

It's been a long time since I've blogged - mostly because my life has been in chaos, and there has been nothing worth writing about. But as the struggle has continued, I've been influenced by many voices.

This morning, at church, the pastor was speaking about the voices that are positive and speak the truth - the voices of God. It inspired me to think about all the voices in my life.

Sadly, most of the influential voices in my life at this point are negative - or not of God. It didn't take long after moving in with my folks to be reminded that nothing I do is ever good enough for them. I never seem to be able to live up to their expectations, and no matter what I've done to earn money to pay the bills, to help them or to try and move towards what God has for me, it's wrong. Then there are the echoes of the pastors who have told me that I'm not good enough, that I'm not fit for ministry, that God really doesn't want me. Add to that the voices that tell me I haven't been doing my jobs right or that I'm not good enough for those either, and the result is that I've been feeling quite alone, depressed, trapped and worthless.

But there are the other voices - the voices of truth - in my life as well. I spent last weekend in Los Angeles with my Youth Specialties friends creating and helping with the prayer spaces at the National Youth Workers' Convention there. It didn't take long for Lilly and Larry to speak the truth into my life, and when they did, it rang so much truer than the other voices in my life. There was encouragement and a sense of things being "right" when they spoke with me. Their voices didn't leave me feeling trapped and hopeless, and even the confusion and uncertainty didn't seem negative.

This morning, after being back home for a week, the voice of truth spoke to me again. The pastor's message pointed out all the negative voices in my life, but it also encouraged me with the voices of truth. After the service, one of my best friends from high school (who also is the worship pastor there), asked me a simple question: "Are you OK?"

Of course, my typical response is "yeah," but I have never been able to play that game with Shawn. A quick (and somewhat disapproving) glance from Shawn reminded me that the basis of our friendship has always been honesty and openness, and so, standing in the middle of the roller rink, I found myself telling him everything. Although I prefer not to cry in public (due to something I was taught as a small child), the tears came pouring out, along with all the hurt, confusion and hopelessness.

What's amazing is how a few simple moments of sharing with a friend, a simple hug and a smile of reassurance can help put things into perspective. Shawn has always been my protector, and he has always believed in me. Somehow, just knowing that someone is here with me (not far away like my YS friends) who believes in me and is willing to hang on to that belief and hope until I can take it for myself, makes the life I am currently stuck in seem bearable. And then, as we were driving out of town and ended up beside each other at a red light, he signaled me the "peace" sign. Now Shawn has no idea what that means to me. Another voice of truth in my life - Stephen - always reminds me of peace and wishes me peace. Seeing that sign and being reminded of another voice of truth brought tears again, but this time they were tears of hope and a promise of joy to come.

So I have no idea what's in store for me. I currently see no way out of the trap of a life I'm in. Still, because of these voices of truth, I know that I am not alone, that I have hope, and that God has something else for me if I can just be patient enough (and quiet enough) to hear and follow.

So to Shawn, Lilly, Larry, Stephen and the other voices that God is using to speak truth to me... thank you.

This past week, a group of us began working through Scot McKnight's book 40 Days Living the Jesus Creed. We're posting our thoughts on the book on a Facebook group, which forces me to really think about what I'm reading and how it applies.

For me, the idea of the Jesus Creed and praying it throughout the day isn't much of a stretch. Through the contemplative practices, I've become accustomed to praying the Jesus Prayer or other breath prayers on a consistent basis. However, I found that the Scripture from Mark was just a bit too familiar, and it quickly became a repetition of words without real meaning for me. I turned to the Message instead and created a combination of the two versions that is more thought-provoking for me. I've been using this:Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is one. So love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy. Love others as well as you love yourself. There is no other commandment that ranks with these.After getting my version straight, I jumped in. Day 2 was no problem for me, though it gave me an opportunity to journal and to check on where things are in my life. I liked the reminder that to love God means to yearn for, to pray for, and work for what glorifies God and what puts God in God's place in your life (8). I thought I was cruising along and getting the hang of this.Then I hit Day 3. With the recent events of my life, loving others has been somewhat selective. I've found myself praying a line from Kendall Payne's song "Prayer" - What you do unto others, may it all be done to you - when thinking about my former employers and their political ambitions. Somehow that just didn't seem to fit into the concept of loving your neighbor - at least not in this case. So I seemed to have gotten stuck on this particular concept and how it plays out in my current situation.I started thinking about the needs that my former employers have. I discovered that what they perceive as needs are simply ambitions or desires. They need to be popular, to be promoted, to be in control - those are all their personal desires. On the 2 hour drive to my folks' place, I prayerfully considered what their true needs might be. I felt like I was consistently being led back to "love others as well as yourself," and I began to realize that Bill, Kristen and Cathy are all striving to gain others' approval and others' love rather than being able to love themselves. All three of them have spent their entire lives doing what pleases others and being whoever they needed to be to please the person who could promote them. This is especially true as they are in positions to be promoted in the next 6 months. Everything they do - including firing me - is an attempt to get someone else to love them. They don't see themselves as the beloved of God; they see themselves as little worker bees for the church. It's all about doing, pleasing and earning love, including God's love.With that sense, I actually began to feel sorry for them. I remember what it was like to be trapped in that never-ending cycle. I am so grateful for my friend Larry who helped me to believe that I am the beloved of God and that being is way more important than doing! Once you are able to "be", the doing becomes the natural outflow of all that you receive.Looking at Day 4 then, this caught my attention: "For us to be empowered by that face, we have to turn our face to God by gazing at God and by talking to God. If we fake it, we offer to God nothing but a facade. If we face God honestly by offering our true face to God, we discover in the face of God the face of love. We discover that God is love." (22)That struck me because of the facade I see my former employers and others around me (and at times myself) putting before God. I have had the terrifying experience of finding myself naked and true before the face of God and finding only love despite my own fear and shame. Although it is never a pleasant experience (at least to start), it is a rewarding, humbling and encouraging experience. My prayer for my former employers has become simply that the facade would crumble and that they would not run from the presence of God in those first difficult moments, but that they would have the courage to stay and experience true love.

So much for "Nice"

Things have developed since my last post.  I have since found out that although they were trying to be "nice Christians" to my face, they have been anything but nice!

Not only did they not follow the denominational procedures, but they were barely legal (and wouldn't have been had our financial person not caught it).  They didn't follow procedure because they want the congregation to think it was my choice and to push through another person for the position that has been handpicked by the pastor and not the hiring committee.

It turns out that the real reason for all of this is self-promotion.  Both the pastors and the district superintendent are bucking for promotions.  Unfortunately for me, I could care less about denominational politics, and I was doing nothing to help them advance.  Although I was doing my job (or at least what I was told was my job), I failed to produce instant recognition and promotion for them at the district and conference levels.  I also discovered that I am the 3rd person in less than 3 years to be hired and fired quickly.

All this has left the entire church and community reeling.  I feel sorry for all the people stuck in the system.  They don't want to leave their church family, but the leadership is slowly destroying everything they believe in.  Some are even questioning their faith because it doesn't seem like God is in this (and how can God not be part of a church and a pastor's life?).  I'm doing what I can to help people through this.  After my "church from hell" experience, I realized that pastors and people in the church can be just as manipulative, abusive, self-seeking, etc. as anyone else.  God isn't in the politics, and so I can recover and survive.

So much for the "nice Christians" though...  I think I'd rather stick with the messy, confused, stumbling followers of God in the way of Jesus!

"Nice" Christians

The other night, I was called in to talk to all the "power authorities" in my local church. Turns out that they had decided to fire me. They tried to be "nice Christians" (they actually used that term) as they told me that after 7 months, they've decided that I'm not producing the results (apparently big numbers) that they were looking for and that I haven't made enough contacts to warrant me keeping my job. Of course, I think there are lots of reasons for this that the "nice Christians" wouldn't admit (maybe even to themselves).

I'm not exactly sure what they expected. I moved half-way across the country to do this, and it takes time to build a ministry. They told me they wanted a spiritual formation process, but apparently they want "glitz and glamour" ministry that attracts lots of kids but has little depth. My bad. I went on what they told me they expected not on the actual expectations. There was no warning of this, no previous conversation about expectations, nothing.

The "nice Christians" went on to say that they felt I wasn't called to youth ministry and that they wouldn't recommend me for another youth job. They want me to go to a Christian coach because as "nice Christians," they want to help me find God's real call on my life. I found this ironic because they based this on a "we know you better than you know yourself" concept. I have spent very little time with any of the people in that room, and absolutely no time outside of a work context. They don't have a clue who I am or what I was actually accomplishing there, for that matter. But as "nice Christians" they felt the need to justify themselves in this manner.

The "nice Christians" even said that they would help me out financially - by providing what they are legally bound to provide. Some help! Even the "church from hell" experience provided better compensation and more communication than that! And they didn't even pretend to be "nice Christians."

I've decided that it's because of people/churches/situations like these that I refuse to call myself a Christian any longer. About 1 year ago, I started saying that I'm not a Christian, but I do tell people that I'm a follower of God in the way of Jesus. I think that's more appropriate. After all, Jesus wasn't exactly "nice." Read his conversations with the Pharisees and teachers of the law or check out some of his conversations with his disciples. Jesus was real, honest, straightfoward, etc., but "nice" doesn't fit the list. One of my problems with the church and "Christians" is that so many have gotten so far (don't hear me say ALL) from the original kingdom vision. Most people, including my now former employers and the parents of my former youth, just want Christianity to be about making people "nice." It's a prosperity, personal gospel to make you behave, to make you more popular, to help you get better grades or a better job, to make you, well... "nice."

I have to say that I've had enough of "nice Christians." I much prefer the real people that I've worked with in other churches and other contexts. I'd rather have a real spiritual conversation with someone sitting at the bar than lead a "nice lesson" in a church youth group.

I still think God can redeem the church, but all of these "nice Christians" are certainly making it more difficult!

A Bit of Grace

I just had themost unique experience at a ministry fair. The fair "traffic" was slow, and I was visiting with the ladies from the ministry next to me. We were chatting about what we do, the churches we attend, etc. The one lady asked me where I was from, which surprised me a bit. She said that she'd lived in the area for 27 years, but she was still considered an outsider, as were her children, so she recognizing other "outsiders." Then she asked me, "So how are things going for you personally? Don't tell me about your ministry or your church now; tell me about how things are going for you."

I wasn't quite sure how to answer this relative stranger. I've moved several times, so I know that breaking into a new community is often difficult, especially when it's a small, close-knit community such as the Olean area. I have some people that I consider friends, but I don't have anyone I would really go to in an emergency. I don't have anyone who calls and justs wants to do something. The people I do talk with all have other groups of friends or their families, and so they don't think to invite me along to things. Even when I reach out to them and invite them to do something with me, the answer usually is no because they're already doing something with another friend or with their family. I really am an outsider here.

I finally answered that it has been tough, and for the next several minutes she listened patiently and asked wise questions as I found myself revealing things to this lady that I normally would never tell to anyone except for my closest of friends. As we talked, I realized how difficult this move has been for me. I realized how much I miss my friends and my students in the Chicagoland area. I realized how tired I am of trying to be OK on my own. I realized how hard I've been trying to "play the game" so that I can fit in here and how miserably I've failed at that game.

All of this comes on the heels of being summoned before the "powers" for a meeting this evening. I was only told that we needed to discuss "some issues," and my past experience tells me that when the "powers" call a quick meeting without giving you any indication of what they want to discuss, it's trouble. It's nothing I haven't been through before, but it's never easy. And I know that I don't have one person at that meeting tonight who is in my corner. Flashbacks to the "church from hell" come rushing back.

And yet, for at least a few moments this morning, someone understood. She cared. She listened to me and affirmed me. In the midst of this stressful time and struggle, I received a bit of grace this morning - not from my pastor, not from a friend, not from the church, but from a stranger.

Breathe

I recently watched Rob Bell's Nooma Video "Breathe" with my students. I've seen it before, but some new things hit me this time:

If our breathing is actually saying the name of God, then it makes sense that life begins with a breath and ends when we can no longer say the name of God.

If our breathing is actually saying the name of God, then what does it really mean to "take the name of God in vain?" My students say that it means that you shouldn't swear using God's name, but if our very breath is God's name, then wouldn't it mean more? Wouldn't it mean that our breath shouldn't be used to gossip? Wouldn't it mean that our breath shouldn't be used to tear people down or destroy people? Wouldn't it mean that our breath shouldn't be used for anything that is harmful or hurtful? Wouldn't all of that be considered taking God's name in vain?

Would "wasting our breath" by rambling on with meaningless chatter also be considered taking God's name in vain?

The other thing that caught my attention this time was that science says we should receive 90% of our energy from breathing, but we don't. How much does that speak to us not tapping into the power that God has for us?

I'm not sure I have any answers for this, but it certainly made me (and my students) think!

Emerging Church Conference

Last week I attended the Emerging Church Conference at Houghton College. It was a surprise to me that Houghton would bring in Tony Jones for an event, but it was no surprise that people pulled their funding from Houghton or that the event wasn't very well attended (compared to other conferences). Why do people see the emerging church as such a threat?

Some of the questions and statements made were very interesting. Someone said that Brian McLaren doesn't believe in the atonement. Have they read any of his stuff? A discussion about "absolute truth" broke out at one point, and I loved Tony's response: Truth doesn't need a qualifier like absolute. It's true or it's not. I thought Tony did a great job of responding (or not) to a woman who kept pushing him on a few issues. It was obvious that Tony had several opportunities to completely destroy her, and he very deftly avoided doing so.

I guess I wonder how I ended up in an area that is so anti-emergent when I am so emergent myself. Even on my facebook page, old college friends were upset when they discovered I was supporting Tony and emergent at the conference. Is it simply because I've been through so much with the church and realize that this can't be all that God intended for us? Are my friends and colleagues so bound up in the bureaucracy and politics of the dominational structures that they aren't willing to even consider that some of those structures might actually be harmful to the church (as the body of Christ)? Have they sold out for a paycheck or security? Or have they simply never questioned anything?

I know it sounds a bit hypocritical to say they've sold out for a paycheck or security since I am working for a church myself. I'll readily admit that I play the game to some extent to earn the paycheck. But I also refuse to go through the denominational indoctrination process in any denomination despite the fact that it would benefit me financially and would insure future positions with the church. I just can't do it. In fact, when someone asks me for my church affliation, my typical response is "Well, right now the ____________ are paying me." I just think there are more important things to focus on the denomination differences.

I work within the church systems because I believe that the church (like everything else) can be redeemed. I remember having a conversation with Mike Yaconelli at one point when I was ready to walk away from the church. He said that he understood my pain and frustration, but he also said that he hoped I wouldn't walk away. The church is the body of Christ, the vehicle for sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with the world. It is made up of imperfect people, so, of course, it has its flaws. Mike said that he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if people who wanted to follow Jesus actually worked within the church to try to help the church become at least more of what it was supposed to be. Eventually, that became my own philosophy as well. So I keep working for churches and praying that my influence within them will help them become more like the body and bride of Christ. I think the example of many of the emerging church leaders is helpful in this process, and I think many of the emerging churches are giving us great examples of what this can look like for a local congregation.

Ash Wednesday

So I'm leading a large part of our Ash Wednesday service this evening, and I wanted it to be more of an experiential prayer piece. I'm handing out little squares of burlap (cut from a feed sack) and asking the people to smell it, hold it, rub it's rough texture against their skin. I'm tying it to the Old Testament idea of "sackcloth and ashes," but the real empahsis is on repentance.

I started thinking about how people use Lent to give up chocolate, TV or coffee. I know the idea is to sacrifice throughout the season, but I think we've made it a contest or a bit of a joke by making it so trivial. In my former church, the pastor and I used to joke that the church does "death and dying" really well, but we don't do "celebration and joy" well at all. As I think about it, we focus so much on the death of Christ, but what about the journey to get there?

Lent was originally a season of reflection and repentance as new converts prepared for their baptism on Easter Sunday. The symbolism was walking a journey with Christ and turning away from the things that harm your soul. In fact, "repent" means "to turn away." It's not the simple "I'm sorry, forgive me" concept that churches often present. If Lent is the season of reflection and turning away from what harms the soul, then our kick-off of the season should point the way.

So, I designed a reflection around this burlap and repentance. The key is for each person to have time to reflect on the things that they need to turn away from this season. Perhaps they need to turn away from pride and seek reconciliation with someone. Maybe it's to turn away from anger and seek healing or to turn away from self-righteousness and seek forgiveness. It could be a need to turn away from the comfortable and take steps to do what God is calling them to do. It could be a need to turn away from noise or busyness and to seek time in silence and solitude so they can hear God speak to them. These are the things I am posing to my fellow travelers this evening. This is the challenge for this season of Lent. I'm hoping that they will be encouraged to turn away from whatever is harming their souls and to turn towards Jesus, who offers beauty instead of ashes.

Transforming Theology: All the Answers

From Reclaiming Church, p. 59: Christians sometimes aruge that this dynamic history of transformation ended with Jesus Christ. In him, it is said, we have finality and completeess, so tha tonce the meaning of this event was settled by the church no further transformation has been desirable. Change after the kerygma was proclaimed, the canon closed or the creeds fixed is heresy. For those who think this way, renewal is indeed the correct response. Although there may be room for contiuing to interpretation and reformulation for the sake of intelligibility in different cultural contexts, there is nothing of relevance to be learned from other sources.

If God created the world to change, grow, evolve... why shouldn't our faith and our practices as the church? and are we to assume that we (or they) knew all there was to know of God at the time of the canon, creeds or even Christ? Did they have a complete knowledge of all future times, future cultural pressures on faith and future perspectives?

Similarly, we can't assume that we have all the answers for all of time either. We have to do the best we can with what we know, but I think it's a contant pursuit. Thus, "transforming" rather than "formed" or even "transformed."

As for renewal, we've settled into this pattern of renewing behavior or ideas, but we haven't done a very good job of changing anything substantial or teaching people to think. Behavioral change for the sake of fitting in has contributed to the problem. This fits with the westernized interpretations of much that we believe in oldline churches.

From Reclaiming Church, p. 31: This does not mean that pastors and lay people in large numbers must study the writings of academic theologians. It does require that church people recognize that unless we reflect seriously, as Christians, about who we are and what we are called to be, we continue to drift into decadence. ... If we continue as present, the losses may be gradual, but there is no end in sight. If we commit ourselves to follow Christ as best we can, there is no guarantee of numerical growth. There is, however, a chance that the renewed authenticity will attract new people and become the basis for a new beginning.

I guess this is all that I, and others like me, are hoping for. I'm not looking to work within the church to create the next mega-church or the next marketing wave. I simply want my local church and my students to learn to think about who they are and what we, as a local congregation and as "the church," are called to be. The entitlement and decadence that has crept into our lives needs to be challenged, and the motivation for doing so can't be "a new program to encourage church growth." I think this type of change in a local church will actually cause the numbers to drop a bit, but those who do come to the church will notice that something is different, and hopefully, they will help us reclaim and rebuild what was intended.

I have a friend who says that church would be great if they just posted the "Let's Pretend" signs on the door so that everyone knew what to expect. What would happen if this commitment to think and be real actually happened in a church and the "Let's Pretend" signs could be destroyed? Think how much impact that could have on a community!

Transforming Theology: Responsibility

From Reclaiming Church, p. 23: The vast majority of lay people and even most pastors deny that they are theologians. For them, theology is something to be done by scholars in universities and theological schools. Lay people and pastors do not understand themselves as responsible to think as Christians. Such responsibility as they accept is for the operation of the church, the adjudication of disputes that arise within it, and moral judgments in response to issues posed to them, usually by the secular world.

When did the business of church become more important and more acceptable than seeking to know God? Why have we encouraged this behavior and this pattern?

Also, I work with a pastor who sees himself as a theologian. However, by his own admission, he'd much rather sit in a comfortable chair and discuss theology than actually act on his convictions. The acceptable perception is that the "scholars" should sit and talk about theology, and the rest of the church should just get busy and do something. Theology rarely informs or influences the action. Why have we allowed this to be the case? When did we expect people to either be theologians or worker bees?

Transforming Theology: Feminist Issue?

From ReClaiming Church, p. 18: We are left with an increasing sense that no one knows, or much cares, who or "what" God is. The church cannot call for ultimate devotion to such an uncertain entity.

I'm not convinced this is just a "feminist" issue as the author claims. I think the narrowed vision of God occured as part of an effort to make Christianity palatable for Americans who just want their faith to enhance their lives and bring them prosperity. I think the real culprit is the sell-out to a consumeristic culture that requires little and promises much. We have consistently left out the cost of following Jesus. We (as the church) haven't done a very good job of painting the whole picture or encouraging people to seek after God as a priority.

This is evident in my youth ministry. Parents and students say they want to learn to be followers of Jesus. Give them a choice between a prayer retreat, mission trip and soccer camp, and they'll choose soccer camp every time. Encourage your students to take a year off after high school to do short-term mission work and watch what happens! I guarantee the parents won't be thanking you. And heaven forbid if you might even insinuate that basketball, the marching band or a student's full schedule of AP courses might be harming that child's soul...

In effect, we have watered down the vision of God because we want people to like our church, to like our services and to give money to pay our bills. Challenge the people, turn things upside down, suggest that maybe some of their thinking is a bit off... people leave and go to the church down the street. There's always another church ready to offer a nicer, safer vision of who God is so that you don't have to do anything that might be uncomfortable or even hint at real sacrifice.

Transforming Theology: Loss of Shared Convictions

When thinking about the loss of shared convictions, I wonder if our fast food culture isn't to blame for some of this. It's hard work to dig into theology and determine beliefs. The church has tried to make it easier by telling people what to think, do, believe and/or behave. Our worship service structure even revolves around this. We center our services around a sermon where we tell people what to think and what to do. We've spoon-fed people for so long that they no longer see the need for a personal pursuit of theology or a need to allow what little theology they do have to impact their lives.

It's kind of like deciding you're hungry and then pulling into the nearest drive-thru. What you eat is determined by the menu of that particular fast food joint, and you accept that and go for it. If, at any point, you get tired of that or have a problem with that, you just drive on down the road to the next fast food joint. There isn't a lot of thought involved. It's just what you do.

Transforming Theology: Intro to Reclaiming Church

These are some of the things that stood out to me as I read the intro of John B. Cobb Jr.'s Reclaiming Church:

Movements flourish when their members are passionately committed. Christianity has flourished when Christians have been convinced that their faith is of supreme importance to them individually and collectively and also to the world. These convictions call forth deep personal commitments and willingess to sacrifice.

Personally, I think that the passion in most times of the church flourishing was inspired by the commitment and willingness to sacrifice. The church seems to have flourished the most when it has been forced underground, when there is a need to sacrifice in order to be a part of the church. There's something about our comfortable lives and our comfortable churches that drains the passion from us. Perhaps it's simply too difficult to imagine sacrificing for anything, let alone our faith?

But today in the oldline churches, this is rare. ... More often the leadership holds it together out of institutional loyalty while losing most of those who have strong convictions and find that htey can act on these better somewhere else. Those who remain are the lukewarm.

Again, I've found this to be true. I see people pulling together to build homes for those who are homeless, provide food for the hungry, care for the sick, visit those in prison, clothe those who are naked... all completely outside of the church bubble. It seems to me that Jesus mentioned doing these very same things in Matthew 25, and yet the church would rather hear sermons on Matthew 25 than actually do any of these things. On the rare occasion that someone decides they should act on it, a collection is taken for a particular cause. I'm not knocking those who are willing to help pay for such efforts, but it seems to me that writing a check isn't a really transforming experience for most people. So the committed leave the church frustrated with the inaction, and they join efforts such as the ONE campaign, genocide prevention, programs that care for children or the homeless, AIDS prevention and assistance programs, building organizations. Those who have the strong convictions about their faith are finding places to minister and to "have church" outside the church and church organizations. In many cases, this leaves the church institution struggling to teach and motivate the lukewarm and the apathetic. No wonder our churches are dying a slow and painful death!

We inspire no passion. Need I say more? Except that I think we do inspire passion. We (as the insitutionalized church) inspire passion for the "club" mentality. We inspire passion for marketing and finding "better" ways to get people to join our club. We inspire passion for the status quo and making sure that no matter what happens in our culture or our community, we keep the church as a steady constant. We inspire passion for a routine and a comfortable rut. We inspire passion for a certain style of music or preaching. Unfortunately, none of these "inspired passions" have anything to do with mission, with searching for truth, with seeking God wholeheartedly, with faith in action.

The problem of the oldline churches is more commonly that expectations are too low...
Again, I've found this to be all too often true in my experiences. I expect the confirmation students to embark on a journey of self-discovery and God-discovery; I'm told that I just need to tell them what to believe and get it over with. I expect jr. high students to actually seek God in silence and various prayer practices; I'm told they aren't capable of being quiet and still. I expect the students to learn and discuss something during our youth group sessions; I'm told that I should just play games and do whatever it takes to get them through the door... I've had all these experiences with youth. Ironically, the youth have risen to the challenge. Though there are some struggles initially, they actually want the bar to be raised. It's the parents and the entrenched "church people" who complain the loudest and demand that expectations be lowered. Maybe I'm crazy, but I expect that people who seek God through a church should be challenged to actually seek God! I expect that they shouldn't just talk about it, but act on what they believe. I expect that hearts and souls and lives should be transformed through the process, and I expect that we should continue to become more and more like Christ - to each other and to the world outside our church bubble.

I think most people want to be challenged. I think most people want to belong to something that isn't easy, that costs them something. I think most people don't put much thought into their faith because we've made faith/church/theology too easy to be worth the effort.

Transforming Theology - Church Decline

I didn't get any further than John B. Cobb Jr.'s first paragraph of Reclaiming Church as I started my reading and contributions to the Transforming Theology project.

Cobb states, "I have become distressed about their [the church and theology] growing separation and the rsults htis has had for both. The church has come to identify theology with what professionals do. Since what professionals do has been increasingly determined by the norms of the university rather than by the needs of the church, the church has lost interest in what it understand to be 'theology.' Too often the result has been that the church has ceased to think about its own life in terms of its faith, a faith that has itself becom vague and unconvincing. This is, I believe, the deepest cause of the decline of the oldline denominations."

As someone who has been working for the last 6 years in an oldline denomination, I have seen this first hand. In my own journey, as theology became increasingly more important to my faith and my transformation, I felt the need to share this discovery process with others. As a youth leader, it was natural that I began to encourage my students to develop their theology. I mentioned this to a parent who freaked out. It turned into meetings with the pastor and the leadership, during which the pastor and I patiently explained that theology was simply learning about God, God's attributes and searching for truth. That was OK with this parent (who had grown up in the church) until we moved from "just study" to action. It seems that a number of people are OK with knowing about God and Jesus, but when that knowledge turns into practice, it disrupts their nice, safe, comfortable lives and is totally unacceptable.

I've found this to be true in a number of church scenarios. Let's talk about God, figure God out, even debate various aspects of how the theology should change us, but don't cross the line and actually do something as dictated by your theology. The result is a lot of talk and no action - something that accounts for much of the "hypocritical" status that the rest of our culture often uses to define us. The church has become more and more an institution concerned about learning stories, learning beliefs, learning specific behaviors that make you nice and might appeal to others in your community. Ironically, it is this desire to control beliefs and behaviors that have pushed so many away. In my experience, people outside of the church or people who have been rejected by the church are much more likely to have at least begun exploring theology - or seeking of God and truth - in a mcuh more interesting, authentic and comprehensive way.

Transforming Theology

OK, so I started this blog as part of this project called "Transforming Theology." You can read more about the project and see what's happening there at this website: http://transformingtheology.org/

I joined the project because the rebuilding of my faith and consequent healing process from all my abandonment issues, rejection by the church, pastoral abuse, etc. was linked with my ability to rethink all that I thought I knew of Christ. As I developed my theology, it transformed who I was, how I viewed myself, how I approached life and how I approached others. I had help along the way from various authors from Henri Nouwen to Tony Jones and Brian McLaren. I had help from supportive people who understood the need to take this journey. I recovered my faith through the conversations about theology, and I began to see the importance of not blindly accepting what you've been taught. Now I question everything and am involved in a constant pursuit of truth. I attempt to teach my studnts this pursuit, and it is because of the transforming capabilities of my attempt to define what I believe that I believe this is so important to the church (as people, not institutions).

Direction

The first person that walked through that valley of hurt and despair with me was Larry. He had been my spiritual director at the retreat, and it was through him that I began to see myself as having value and being loved.

Larry has this thing about making sure that everyone knows they are the beloved of God. I wasn't even remotely capable of believing that when I first met Larry, but he was persistent. He loved me and cared for me. He helped me to see that others loved and cared for me. He even believed I was the beloved of God enough for me to consider that I might be. You might say that he believed enough for me when I couldn't believe it myself. Eventually, with some help and guidance from Larry, I began to believe this basic truth for myself - and about myself.

Larry also taught me to pray with bubbles. There's something joyful and happy about bubbles that just doesn't allow you to sit in self-pity, despair, stress or sorrow for too long. It was a great release - to pray (scream, yell, cry, etc.) about my situation and all my hurts while blowing bubbles. They floated away on the breeze, rose up to the heavens, popped on the grass or simply swirled to an end on the end of my bubble wand. The thing about bubbles is that they don't last, you can't hold on tightly to them, and no matter what you do, they can't be taken back once they are blown. Eventually, I learned to do that with my hurts and stresses. Bubble by bubble, bit by bit, I began to release all the things that were beyond my control. Slowly, all those hurtful things began to lose their power over me, and a joy that I hadn't felt since I was a small child began to creep back into my life.

Saving Faith

Even while I was at the "church from hell," my faith crisis began. I remember sitting at a friend's kitchen table and saying, "I know I'm a youth pastor, and I know that I'm supposed to be helping other people grow their faith. But right now, I'm not even sure God exists."

I did eventually move on from God's existence because there were just too many things that I had experienced to let go of God completely, but I did wonder if God really cared about me, about life, about anything. It seemed to me that the only connection with God was church, and all the church cared about was filling the seats and the offering plates. This, combined with my personal experiences there, led me to a point where I was ready to walk away from everything.

But my best friend just couldn't let me go. Even though he was dealing with his own crisis of faith, he couldn't bear to see me walk away. He arranged for me to go on a retreat that changed everything for me. It was a Sabbath retreat designed by Youth Specialities, and it was basically a 5 day prayer retreat. Although it was not normally something I would have pursued, the idea of having 5 days of quiet and rest appealed to me since I was being used and abused at that church. It wasn't the rest that saved my faith though.

I walked into a small group of people who genuinely cared about me and cared what was happening to me. I experienced a kind of love and care there that I had not experienced before. That is the moment that I now say that Jesus grabbed hold of my life - all my life. Everything was miserable for me, and so it wasn't that big of a deal to give it to Jesus and to these people who loved me, right?

As Mike Yaconelli used to say, "Jesus gets a hold of your life and he ruins it." That's exactly what happened to me. After having a taste of what the church is supposed to be like and starting to actually believe that I was worth something, I couldn't let that connection go. I had found a connection with Jesus outside of the church itself, and I couldn't bear to let the church destroy what I had found. In the process, I had to surrender way more than I had bargained for. It was this desire that ultimately led to my being fired from that church. I lost everything that I relied on for security, and I embarked on this journey of searching for healing and truth - a journey that I wasn't really sure I wanted to take.

In the midst of this, there were a number of people who walked through that disasterous early part of my healing journey with me. Had it not been for them, I probably wouldn't be here today. Some of these people were personal contacts who loved and cared for me. Others were authors and speakers who caught my attention and started shaping who I would become.

I basically threw out everything faith-related that I couldn't confirm by my own personal experiences and started over. When I reached into my "Sack O' Faith" as one friend calls it, I discovered that most of what was there had been shoved into the bag without any thought or meaning. The hard work of my real spiritual journey was just beginning.

The Church from Hell

My first full-time ministry position landed me in the church from hell (as I affectionately refer to it now). They were all about making converts and building up church attendance, and this was often at the cost of digging deeper. Questions were not allowed. People were asked to leave the church if they didn't support the pastor and his views 100%. If you made mistakes publicly, you were asked to leave. "People like that" weren't allowed to be associated with the church. All that mattered was the number of people who "said the prayer" and "checked the box" each week.

I entered ministry thinking that working for a church would be easier than working for the public schools. I imagined staff meetings as a time of sharing about what really mattered, praying and connecting. I imagined that the pastor would actually care about the state of my soul. I imagined that the leadership would truly care about and for one another. I couldn't have been more wrong.

Within a few weeks, I discovered that I was expected to work crazy long hours each week. Vacations and days off were not an option for me. Although the senior pastor seemed to only work 10-15 hours a week, I was expected to work 65, then 75, and eventually 85 or more hours each week because "it's for the Lord." I was systematically cut off from all those who were a support system for me because I "needed to be set apart." I found myself being told I didn't know how to pray correctly. I was leading worship, and I was repeatedly criticized because I didn't worship correctly. I didn't connect with the right people, and I defended the wrong people. I was in trouble because the youth program was ministering to "the wrong kids." I was being used and abused - mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and to some extent physically - and I had no idea it was even happening.

After almost three years, I was so totally entrenched in this system that I actually believed the pastor when he would say things like, "Go ahead and try to find another position. No one else will hire you." After a 90+ hour work week, the pastor called me in and told me that I needed to spend more time at the church because I wasn't meeting all of his expectations. He demanded that I complete an 8 week devotional and a full curriculum on love prior to leaving (in 2 days) for our spring mission trip. When I pushed back saying it couldn't be done in that short amount of time, he told me, "I know we're reading this book where all the people who were on staff together loved each other so much that they all retired to the same community, but right now, I don't think I even want you as part of this team, let alone to be with you for the rest of my life." I left his office and collapsed in a heap in my own office. My best friend (and the only person in my life that the pastor hadn't scared away) was also there, and he couldn't take watching the abuse any longer. I couldn't have escaped that situation on my own, and I didn't believe my friend when he pointed out what was happening. He arranged for me to attend a retreat, and it was that retreat and the loving people that surrounded me there that saved my life.

When I returned home from the retreat with a clearer understanding of what was happening at that church, I demanded a few changes in hopes that the people of the church would be godly, loving people and would still care for me like I thought church people could. It never actually got to the people of the church. The leadership team told me to "suck it up," and when I revealed to them what had been going on, they threatened me. It seems that the building project was contingent on the pastor's approval rating, and they couldn't risk anyone knowing what had been going on with the staff. Within three months, I had been fired. The church people were told I had another job elsewhere. My compensation was dependent on me not having any contact with people from the church or in the community. I was even told that I had to do my grocery shopping late at night when most people wouldn't be in the store.

I lost everything - my house, my job, my friends, even the guy I was seriously dating. I left there wounded and bleeding from the soul. I had been questioning the very existence of God, and had it not been for a few loving souls who walked with me through this devastating experience, I would have walked away from ministry and my faith completely.

Call to Ministry

As I said before, Dr. Moulder was the one who first mentioned to me that God might be calling me into full-time youth ministry. I had never considered such a thing. In the little church where I grew up, women didn't go into ministry. They assisted their husbands with ministry by playing the piano and leading women's Bible studies. They served the local church as Sunday School teachers, musicians, choir members, funeral meal preparers and fundraisers. But women didn't actually go into ministry! Still, the idea was planted...

Dr. Moulder arranged for me to attend some youth ministry classes. Rick Dunn was a youth ministry guru at the time, and he was the head of the department at Trinity during those years. The very first class I attended made an impression on me. Rick said, "If you think God is calling you into ministry, do everything else you can think of instead. If you still end up in ministry, you'll know it was God." So I took him quite literally. I pursued my degree in music education and went home to my former high school to teach.

I found myself loving every minute of the times I spent volunteering at church. After a few years of teaching, I found myself volunteering for worship and youth at a local church. The youth pastor sucked me into a number of programs, and I found that I couldn't wait to get to church or to meet with the youth. Meanwhile, I found myself dreading going to school more and more. The saving grace of teaching was the interaction I had with students after school - during musical practices and sporting events. I started wondering if there wasn't something to a call to youth ministry for me.

In October 1999, I was given the opportunity to attend Youth Specialties' National Youth Workers' Convention in San Diego. I hadn't told anyone about my tugs toward full-time ministry. I sat in a general session and listened to Mike Yaconelli. I'm not sure what he really said that day, but I heard the call into full-time ministry and was affirmed by Mike in that very instant. Still, I wasn't sure. What about my teaching job? The money wasn't great, but it was better than youth ministry pay. What about this church and these students I had come to love? Where would this ministry gig take me? What would I have to give up? I really wasn't sure I was ready to cave in to the call to ministry just yet.

A few weeks later, there was a terrible car crash which killed 3 of my students and injured 3 more. One of the students who was killed was one of our starters for the varsity basketball team. Practices had just started, and we'd just started to get back into the rhythm of team life. The coaching staff gathered the team together to process Adam's death, and the team decided to give Adam's jersey to his mother as a gesture of our sorrow and as an act of "retiring" his number. The team chose the head coach and I to represent the team in doing this. Handing Adam's jersey to his grieving mother and having her look at me and ask "Why?" was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life.

I left the funeral home that evening and went to the youth pastor's office. I sat down with Gregg and finally gave in to my own grief and confusion. I had worked with Adam every day over the last five years, and I had not had one significant conversation with him in that time. The school regulations forbid personal conversations. I remember telling Gregg, "I can't keep doing this. I have to do what means something."

That evening, and the following conversations I had with God, were the turning point for me. I gave into the call to ministry. Still, I didn't tell anyone. I didn't know what to say or how to go about making this change. It wasn't until February, when Gregg finally called me out and asked me what was going on that I confessed my sense of being called into ministry. There was something "magical" in that moment. As soon as I actually said the words to Gregg - even before he responded - I knew that it was what I needed to do.

And thus began the phrase of my journey where I entered full-time ministry. I'd "caved in" (as I often tell people) to the call of God on my life, but I still had my reservations. I wasn't quite ready to give God my entire life just yet.

College Impact

College life was a challenge for me. I had some awesome professors who challenged me in a number of ways. Some wouldn't let me slide by without putting much effort into the class. Others turned my worldview upside down. However, the most challenging for me was Dr. Bill Moulder. He challenged me to dig into the text of the Bible and engage with what I was reading and studying. He challenged me to question. He challenged me to go beyond the text and to engage in St. Ignatius' imaginative prayer practices (though I had no idea that's what they were at the time). He challenged me to consider that God might be calling me into youth ministry. He challenged me to take what I was learning and consider how that should be transforming my heart, my soul, my life.

I remember having a conversation with Dr. Moulder about that phrase from my childhood church: to know Him and to make Him known. Dr. Moulder asked me what I knew about Jesus. After spouting off all the information I had stored up, he said, "Yes, but do you know Jesus?" I hestitated before relaying the story I had been taught to tell about my "conversion" experience where I "accepted Christ as my personal Savior." Again, Dr. Moulder asked, "But do you know Jesus?" This one question, more than anything else in my four years of experiences, stands out to me. Did I know Jesus? I knew my friends and my roommate. I could tell you what they liked and didn't like. I could tell you what made them tick. I could tell you what kinds of people they were. But I wasn't sure I could do that for Jesus. For all the information I had, I had never really considered Jesus to be a real person that I could know. That question from my childhood began to haunt me again: what does it mean to know Jesus?

Bible Quizzing

Throughout high school, my church encouraged us to compete in Bible Quizzing. it was a great way to learn verses and the content of whole books of the Bible; however, the knowledge never go from the head to the heart. I memorized whole chapters of the Bible, but I had no idea what any of it really meant or how it connected to that idea of knowing Jesus. Of course, in any given situation, I could readily spout out an appropriate verse, which showed how "spiritual" I was, right?

I still hear of Bible Quizzing, and my local conference even had a "Bible Knowledge Quiz" at their latest event. I often wonder what the purpose of this is. Is it to teach students to spout Bible verses in any situation? Is it to make sure that these kids are staying out of trouble and doing nice, "Christian" things instead? Why did my church want us to engage in quizzing and memorizing?

One of the ancient Jewish commandments was to take the words of God and "write them on your heart." Somehow this doesn't seem to be what we were doing with quizzing. Internalizing instead of memorizing seems more appropriate. Finding the connection between head and heart seems more appropriate. Engaging in what the text means, how the text connects you to Jesus, allowing the text to change you... these seem more appropriate. I often wonder if being allowed to question and examining the text from different angles wouldn't have been a better use of all those hours I spent quizzing.

Childhood Church

Thinking back to my first remembered experiences of church and of God, my overall impression is "rules." There were some great people in my little country church, and had it not been for them, I probably would have gone off the deep end long ago. But still, the overall impression of what God and church was all about was that I was to behave and follow the rules.

At first I did pretty well with this. I sat relatively still during the sermons (thanks to the raisins and drawing paper my mother provided). I listened to the flannel graph stories in Sunday School, and other than that day when I shifted the car out of park (on a hill) while waiting for mom to come out of the church, I generally did what I was told. But then came the day in my 4th grade Sunday School class when I bucked the system. I asked a question. It's not that questions were completely forbidden, but I asked one of those questions; I asked why creation and evolution couldn't both be true. Without really understanding what I had done wrong, I found myself getting kicked out of Sunday School and being sent to my mother's classroom. This began a pattern of questioning and being kicked out. Fortunately for me, most of the time I was intercepted by a wise pastor who often took me for walks and patiently answered my questions. Unfortunately, I learned that everything has an answer, and when that pastor moved on, I learned that it was better to just not ask the questions.

Still, there were great people who loved me. Jr. high was a traumatic time as my parents fought and discussed splitting up and my older brother decided to use me as an outlet for his frustrations. I spent hours at the church and playing basketball and volleyball in the church's recreation center. The church gave me a place to belong when I didn't have any other safe place to go. Playing their game seemed a small price to pay for such love and security.

There was one phrase that stands out to me from my childhood church: To know Him and make Him known. That was a phrase that was introduced to us as an early form of a mission statement. It was scuplted in big letters and placed on the wall at the front of the church. I spent many hours looking at that phrase and wondering if I really knew Jesus - or if anyone in my church did, for that matter. I think that wondering led me to even more of those secretly harbored questions, the biggest being "What does it mean to really know Jesus?"

Journey Map

As I start this blog, I am amazed at where I've already been on this journey! This is the extremely short version as an overall map to my journey thus far. Additional posts will fill in details as well as provide a bit more theology to discuss.

I was raised in a small town (and thus a small church) in NW PA. Church has been a part of my life as long as I can remember, although I later came to learn that it was just something that everyone from our small town did on Sunday mornings - everyone except my dad, that is.

My journey has been marked by amazing people who have helped guide me through life. Some have helped me connect with God; others have helped me question my faith.

I went to Trinity International University (the Trinity College) in Deerfield, IL. Mostly, I chose Trinity because of the scholarships they gave me, but it was a great place for me to explore my faith further. It was a Trinity that I first was introduced to the idea of women in ministry and was challenged to consider that God might be calling me into youth ministry.

It took me 10 years to finally give in to the call to ministry. When I did, I found myself in what I now affectionately call "the church from hell." It was a miserable experience that led me to question everything I believed. Yet, through that situation, I was given opportunities to explore contemplative prayer, emerging theology, and what it means to be a follower of God in the way of Jesus.

My other ministry positions have been less eventful (for the most part), but my journey has not. I've journeyed from an extremely conservative, fundamentalist theology to what many now consider to be a liberal, emergent, ever-changing, ever-questioning theology. I just see it as a constant pursuit of truth and what makes the most sense. I'm always open to what makes more sense!

The biggest part of my journey at this point is conversation. The ongoing conversation with others challenges me to keep exploring, to keep searching, and to keep thinking. In fact, I started this blog so that I could officially be part of a conversation about transforming theology. I'm looking forward to the conversations in the posts ahead.