Monday, May 31, 2010


I deny the resurrection of Christ every time I do not serve at the feet of the oppressed, each day that I turn my back on the poor; I deny the resurrection of Christ when I close my ears to the cries of the downtrodden and lend my support to an unjust and corrupt system." - Peter Rollins

Monday, May 17, 2010

a remembering

At the end of April 2009 I was a guest speaker at a Christian college in Kansas. In their chapel I spoke about gender issues within the Church, and the day after I gave a short sort of motivational talk to the group of senior women.

Cleaning my office last week, I came across my printout of that speech to those women. And I looked it over and it shocked me! There were so many things in there that I said, that I was so convinced of, which I seemed to completely forget about just a few days later when life threw me a curveball. May 2009 began a year of much hurt, struggle, and confusion including my own health problems, family member’s health problems, money issues, and other deeply significant changes. Everything seemed so out of my control and unfair. And confusing and angrifying (did I just make up that word?). I felt so powerless over everything and didn’t understand anything that was happening. I still don’t.

These are the words of wisdom that I had in April 2010 which I shared with those women:

(my grandiose life plan of marriage and cats and kids and ministry didn’t work out). Did I fail? It felt like it. It really did. I thought I messed up my life, in a way permanent and unfixable.
I didn’t fail. I have come to understand that these twists and turns of life, of God, were such blessings, even though I didn’t consider them such at that time. Life will never go exactly as planned. And, though that is hard and somewhat painful, if you come at it with an open heart and your eyes on Christ, you will discover that these twists and turns are actually invitations to an exciting, faith-filled, life of adventure and holy discomfort. Without these twists, I never would have discovered my deep gladness . . .

It is now May 2010, a significant time for me and a beginning of what I hope to be a newly re-birthed adventure. I look at these words and am stunned (primarily because they sound so ridiculous and cheesy), but also because whatever wisdom I had that day that I spoke of was quickly discarded in the midst of hardship. Strange and discouraging. But also helpful in that I remember that this, too, shall pass, and remember that grace abounds in this world. That today, though difficult, will look vastly different to me in a few years from now. Now I see only a dark piece of the whole; someday I will be able to see the entire painting.

What I need to do now is to believe that, when finished, this mysterious painting will turn out to be beautiful. Breathtaking. This is my struggle today. But when I look back at the lines drawn so far, they’re not all bad, and have a lot of promise. This gives me hope. My community gives me hope. Winnipeg gives me hope. On even the darkest of days there are gifts around me which lift up my spirit and make me smile.

I am thankful that there is always some form of tomorrow. Thanks be to God.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Student Christian Movement

Conference. Conference. Conference.


Much happiness and liberation, tied with much sadness and challenge. This is my third SCM conference, and this seems to be the running theme throughout them all; they are always a time of significant life changes, new beginnings, and cutting endings.

I think I’ll focus on the joy and liberation. The challenge is too tricky to deal with via paper.

SCM is my family. These people are all so important to me. If I have a home it is with this community of people, these quintessential ragamuffins who are all so beautiful in their honesty and in our collective relative brokenness. Behold the bread and wine.

Part of my joy in this is my ability to serve in ways which I am unable to serve back in my real life. My church relations are so estranged and painful, and I have been kept out of full participation in my evangelical home for a number of reasons (mostly my GENDER, which pisses me off. Anyway . . . ). Being able to participate within worship by speaking, drumming, and administering communion was so healing for me. I felt supported, a vital part of a spiritual community, affirmed in my calling as a child of God and as a prophet of Christ. I gave and I received and I was healed and I had a part in healing others. ‘twas beautiful. And I feel hopeful about life and the church again for the first time in eons.

Sort of a spiritual refueling, a remembering of who I really am, who I really want to be, and a commitment to dealing with my oozing junk.

Feels good. Feels scary. Feels like myself again, or at least on the road back to engaging myself again.

Thanks be to God.