hello reading public
i have a headache today.
ahhhhhh
anyway. thanks for reading. i don't have the ability to be either deep or clever right now.
Best,
Bre
Monday, August 24, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
drama queen
A turning:
1. the act of a person or thing that turns.
2. an act of reversing position
3. the place or point at which anything bends or changes direction
4. an act of shaping or forming something
5. this past weekend
A decision to move forward with prayer and bold confidence. An act of faith, a careful consideration of Paul’s words, a difficult look into a mirror and a corresponding act of repentance and reunion with myself. A remembering. A new life, unfolding freshly daily. A choice to live in today, not within the past or the future. A re-entrance onto the dance floor. A breaking of chains. A beautiful and terrifying liberation. A questioning of my own strength and spirit. A reliance on grace to move forward.
Thank you.
1. the act of a person or thing that turns.
2. an act of reversing position
3. the place or point at which anything bends or changes direction
4. an act of shaping or forming something
5. this past weekend
A decision to move forward with prayer and bold confidence. An act of faith, a careful consideration of Paul’s words, a difficult look into a mirror and a corresponding act of repentance and reunion with myself. A remembering. A new life, unfolding freshly daily. A choice to live in today, not within the past or the future. A re-entrance onto the dance floor. A breaking of chains. A beautiful and terrifying liberation. A questioning of my own strength and spirit. A reliance on grace to move forward.
Thank you.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Really, I Don't Even Like this CD.
Listening to martin sexton and contemplating my existence.
I am ready for a change. I am itching for a change. My spirit is ready to go somewhere and to start fresh. To go back to school. To start fresh somewhere with a clean slate. To grab onto the calling I hear so clearly.
But I feel blocked. I am unsure how reckless to be in this life. Finances scare me. And moving scares me. And leaving my parents scares me. But staying here scares me, too, in terrifyingly different ways. And I am ready to move on – every part of me except for my bank account and my lack of safety net. And these are stupid reasons to stay somewhere.
And I question the wisdom of doing this in a time of immense change in my life. Of a time of vision shifting and uncertainties about things such as health and family ties. So much has changed in the last few months. My everyday life looks so different now and has such different cares and concerns. My daily routines are filled with foreign-feeling tasks and movements. Some comforting, most frightening. In many ways, I thrive on this.
There aren’t many things in this life that scare me. I have learned to see challenges as opportunities; to embrace discomfort and to stare the devil in the face when he knocks at my door. I have faced many challenges in my life and came through them, bruised but wiser and bigger and more thankful. I am Euphemia. I have learned my strength in these situations. I have learned of my capacity to love and to stand through hardship. But it seems that in matters of money (and spiders), I can’t seem to overcome my fears and I become paralyzed, unable to move or to take risks. Unwilling to let Christ do Her thing; always resisting the calling to step into the abyss of blessing and to simply trust.
I want to overcome my fears. To overcome myself. I want to be godly and thankful and beautiful and follow the Spirit without question and without hesitation. I want to give and be given to and learn and grow and experience and follow my calling with conviction and courage and grace. I want the courage and the voice to push the church into a more loving and diverse being. I want to change everyday. To be scared everyday, to walk in and with faith and love and mercy and grace. I want to live.
Maybe its time.
I am ready for a change. I am itching for a change. My spirit is ready to go somewhere and to start fresh. To go back to school. To start fresh somewhere with a clean slate. To grab onto the calling I hear so clearly.
But I feel blocked. I am unsure how reckless to be in this life. Finances scare me. And moving scares me. And leaving my parents scares me. But staying here scares me, too, in terrifyingly different ways. And I am ready to move on – every part of me except for my bank account and my lack of safety net. And these are stupid reasons to stay somewhere.
And I question the wisdom of doing this in a time of immense change in my life. Of a time of vision shifting and uncertainties about things such as health and family ties. So much has changed in the last few months. My everyday life looks so different now and has such different cares and concerns. My daily routines are filled with foreign-feeling tasks and movements. Some comforting, most frightening. In many ways, I thrive on this.
There aren’t many things in this life that scare me. I have learned to see challenges as opportunities; to embrace discomfort and to stare the devil in the face when he knocks at my door. I have faced many challenges in my life and came through them, bruised but wiser and bigger and more thankful. I am Euphemia. I have learned my strength in these situations. I have learned of my capacity to love and to stand through hardship. But it seems that in matters of money (and spiders), I can’t seem to overcome my fears and I become paralyzed, unable to move or to take risks. Unwilling to let Christ do Her thing; always resisting the calling to step into the abyss of blessing and to simply trust.
I want to overcome my fears. To overcome myself. I want to be godly and thankful and beautiful and follow the Spirit without question and without hesitation. I want to give and be given to and learn and grow and experience and follow my calling with conviction and courage and grace. I want the courage and the voice to push the church into a more loving and diverse being. I want to change everyday. To be scared everyday, to walk in and with faith and love and mercy and grace. I want to live.
Maybe its time.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
pacifist.
If we care about human life and about freedom, we must reject war, no matter what our political leaders tell us. War poisons our souls, kills the children of "the enemy,' and mutilates the bodies and minds of our own soldiers. -Howard Zinn
Friday, July 10, 2009
timely reposting
Give your sorrow all the space and shelter in yourself that is its due, for if everyone bears [their] grief honestly and courageously, the sorrow that now fills the world will abate. But if you do not clear a decent shelter for your sorrow, and instead reserve most of the space inside you for hatred and thoughts of revenge - from which new sorrorws will be born for others - then sorrow will never cease in this world and will multiply.
--Etty Hillesum
quoted in Marc Ellis, "Toward a Jewish Theology of Liberation"
--Etty Hillesum
quoted in Marc Ellis, "Toward a Jewish Theology of Liberation"
Monday, July 06, 2009
dude.
In a culture obsessed with consumption, I believe fasting needs to be considered in terms of its inner dynamic: abstinence . . . . The purpose of abstinence is to learn rightly to enjoy God's gifts. We need disciplines of abstinence because we have come to relate to food, drink, sex, money, recognition, and many other things in life not as lovely gifts to be enjoyed in moderation and gratitude, but as objects of consumption to fill emotional voids. When what we consume is consuming us, and what we possess is possessing us, the only way back to health and balance is to refrain from using those things that have control over us.
-Marjorie J. Thompson
-Marjorie J. Thompson
Monday, June 29, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Radical Evangelical with Strong Anglican Tendencies
There are so many layers to this story. So I’ll try to communicate them accurately . . .
Last week I had the pleasure and opportunity to attend the Kairos gathering – basically a gathering of Christians from around Canada to come together and talk about issues of Peace and Justice. As always in the justice world, there are many Anglicans, United Church people, Lutherans, Roman Catholics, etc., and very few from the Evangelical world. In fact, my presence was requested there because I attend a Mennonite church.
I have always been open about my faith and about my Evangelical perspective. There weren’t many of us – I met 3 others who would sort of fit into Evangelical-ish perspectives – this in a conference of about 400 people. Evangelicals, we have a lot of work to do in the social justice world.
I had many opportunities to speak and be heard throughout the conference, in a number of capacities. When asked what perspective I come from, I normally identify myself as a “radical Evangelical” – I find that language helpful, in that I am intentionally not allowing people to box me into a little category.
But inevitably it happens.
At the closing of the gathering, we participated in an Aboriginal hugging ceremony – this took over an hour as we were to hug everybody in the circle twice! There were still a number of people whom I didn’t meet yet at the time of the circle, so we all had our nametags on and sometimes it was more of a “good to meet you” than a “goodbye.”
A lady came to me in the circle and, while hugging, she noticed my nametag. “Bre. You’re the Fundamentalist. Should I be frightened?” She said this without a smile.
I was somewhat taken aback. I didn’t quite know what to say. “Don’t be frightened. I’m not a fundamentalist. I’m radical evangelical.”
“Which means what?” She asks. By this time we were about 4 people apart, as the hugging hasn’t stopped and now more people were being brought into our conversation. I had to think fast, as within seconds we would be out of earshot of each other.
“It means that I love Jesus. And I love diversity.”
We didn’t get to finish our conversation. But another one started with the next person I hugged. “And is Jesus ok with that?”
“Jesus loves diversity, too.” I said. And again the line moved on.
I wish I could have been more eloquent. I wish I could have been more prepared; I had assumed that my presence at the gathering, and at the Aboriginal ceremony, would have allowed people to presuppose my stance on the church and on my personal theology. But assuming is bad, so it turns out.
I wonder how many people during that gathering didn’t approach me, or didn’t speak to me because they had assumed that I was not a safe person to speak to, simply because of how I identified as an evangelical. This thought saddens my heart to a degree where I find it painful to speak about it.
I firmly believe in an evangelical faith which is inclusive and supportive of all cultures, all religions, and all ways of being and living. A faith and a church which breaks down walls instead of putting them up. A faith and a church with an open heart, which is committed and passionate about Jesus, scripture, and service from a standpoint of humility, grace, and anti-oppression. A church more concerned with Spirit than of rules of being. A church in love with the concepts of grace and mercy, of the mystical and the divine. A church which stands firm in our understanding of sin and the reality of the bodily resurrection, of culturally respectful and appropriate evangelism of biblical truths, and a church which exudes God’s love and intention for diversity in every way.
Last week I had the pleasure and opportunity to attend the Kairos gathering – basically a gathering of Christians from around Canada to come together and talk about issues of Peace and Justice. As always in the justice world, there are many Anglicans, United Church people, Lutherans, Roman Catholics, etc., and very few from the Evangelical world. In fact, my presence was requested there because I attend a Mennonite church.
I have always been open about my faith and about my Evangelical perspective. There weren’t many of us – I met 3 others who would sort of fit into Evangelical-ish perspectives – this in a conference of about 400 people. Evangelicals, we have a lot of work to do in the social justice world.
I had many opportunities to speak and be heard throughout the conference, in a number of capacities. When asked what perspective I come from, I normally identify myself as a “radical Evangelical” – I find that language helpful, in that I am intentionally not allowing people to box me into a little category.
But inevitably it happens.
At the closing of the gathering, we participated in an Aboriginal hugging ceremony – this took over an hour as we were to hug everybody in the circle twice! There were still a number of people whom I didn’t meet yet at the time of the circle, so we all had our nametags on and sometimes it was more of a “good to meet you” than a “goodbye.”
A lady came to me in the circle and, while hugging, she noticed my nametag. “Bre. You’re the Fundamentalist. Should I be frightened?” She said this without a smile.
I was somewhat taken aback. I didn’t quite know what to say. “Don’t be frightened. I’m not a fundamentalist. I’m radical evangelical.”
“Which means what?” She asks. By this time we were about 4 people apart, as the hugging hasn’t stopped and now more people were being brought into our conversation. I had to think fast, as within seconds we would be out of earshot of each other.
“It means that I love Jesus. And I love diversity.”
We didn’t get to finish our conversation. But another one started with the next person I hugged. “And is Jesus ok with that?”
“Jesus loves diversity, too.” I said. And again the line moved on.
I wish I could have been more eloquent. I wish I could have been more prepared; I had assumed that my presence at the gathering, and at the Aboriginal ceremony, would have allowed people to presuppose my stance on the church and on my personal theology. But assuming is bad, so it turns out.
I wonder how many people during that gathering didn’t approach me, or didn’t speak to me because they had assumed that I was not a safe person to speak to, simply because of how I identified as an evangelical. This thought saddens my heart to a degree where I find it painful to speak about it.
I firmly believe in an evangelical faith which is inclusive and supportive of all cultures, all religions, and all ways of being and living. A faith and a church which breaks down walls instead of putting them up. A faith and a church with an open heart, which is committed and passionate about Jesus, scripture, and service from a standpoint of humility, grace, and anti-oppression. A church more concerned with Spirit than of rules of being. A church in love with the concepts of grace and mercy, of the mystical and the divine. A church which stands firm in our understanding of sin and the reality of the bodily resurrection, of culturally respectful and appropriate evangelism of biblical truths, and a church which exudes God’s love and intention for diversity in every way.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Poetry is Not a Luxury
I’ve been reading a lot of Audre Lorde lately. Her writings come up often in my courses, and my friends keep shoving wonderful books into my arms to read. She is fantastic.
Just going over a short essay she wrote back in 1977, and pondering . . .
The essay is called “Poetry is Not a Luxury.” Much of it can be summed up thusly (I love using the word “thusly.”)
“As we come more into touch with our own ancient, non-european consciousness of living as a situation to be experienced and interacted with, we learn more and more to cherish our feelings, and to respect those hidden sources of our power from where true knowledge and, therefore, lasting action comes . . . I believe that women carry within ourselves the possibility for fusion of these two approaches so necessary for survival, and we come closest to this combination in our poetry. I speak here of poetry as a revelatory distillation of experience . . . For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence . . . poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.”
My mom hates poetry. I struggle with poetry in the same way I struggle with the Bible – you often have to read it a million times over and really dig into the text to get what’s happening. Takes a lot of time to go over a short little piece, and I often feel I don’t have time to ponder a certain piece over and over and over again. My loss.
And isn’t that the point, really? Lorde points out the need to get in touch with our own ancient, culturally separated selves – to not be so obsessed with the physical and to focus on the spiritual. To cherish and experience and dance. It is within these careful, slow ponderings that we discover our power, our action, our very selves.
Poetry is not a luxury. But I treat it as such, as I often callously treat time with beloved family, friends. As I treat time alone or in meditation as luxuries and not necessities. Today I feel called to a deeper understanding of life – life which is thoughtful, careful, joyful and unhurried. Full of so many important things, truly important tasks and ponderings, that I need to bring myself to a place where, when I wake up in the morning, my schedule is empty enough to be able to fit them all in.
Just going over a short essay she wrote back in 1977, and pondering . . .
The essay is called “Poetry is Not a Luxury.” Much of it can be summed up thusly (I love using the word “thusly.”)
“As we come more into touch with our own ancient, non-european consciousness of living as a situation to be experienced and interacted with, we learn more and more to cherish our feelings, and to respect those hidden sources of our power from where true knowledge and, therefore, lasting action comes . . . I believe that women carry within ourselves the possibility for fusion of these two approaches so necessary for survival, and we come closest to this combination in our poetry. I speak here of poetry as a revelatory distillation of experience . . . For women, then, poetry is not a luxury. It is a vital necessity of our existence . . . poetry is the way we help give name to the nameless so it can be thought. The farthest horizons of our hopes and fears are cobbled by our poems, carved from the rock experiences of our daily lives.”
My mom hates poetry. I struggle with poetry in the same way I struggle with the Bible – you often have to read it a million times over and really dig into the text to get what’s happening. Takes a lot of time to go over a short little piece, and I often feel I don’t have time to ponder a certain piece over and over and over again. My loss.
And isn’t that the point, really? Lorde points out the need to get in touch with our own ancient, culturally separated selves – to not be so obsessed with the physical and to focus on the spiritual. To cherish and experience and dance. It is within these careful, slow ponderings that we discover our power, our action, our very selves.
Poetry is not a luxury. But I treat it as such, as I often callously treat time with beloved family, friends. As I treat time alone or in meditation as luxuries and not necessities. Today I feel called to a deeper understanding of life – life which is thoughtful, careful, joyful and unhurried. Full of so many important things, truly important tasks and ponderings, that I need to bring myself to a place where, when I wake up in the morning, my schedule is empty enough to be able to fit them all in.
Monday, June 01, 2009
turning...
The Spirit insists on transforming us at every level: personal, social, economic, and political. Gos is Lord of our whole life. When we think of categories like prayer and service, contemplation and action, and individual and community as opposites, we simply create false and unnecessary divisions. Nurturing the inner life and addressing social realities are both important aspects of the Christian spiritual life. One is not more "spiritual" than the other, but either by itself is less than a full embodiment of the life we are called to in Christ.
- Marjorie J. Thompson
- Marjorie J. Thompson
Monday, May 25, 2009
Ugh
Hey everyone
This blog right now is not too thought out. I am in an emotional state, as well as a painful state in regards to a headache.
I think back now, and am overwhelmed by how much my life has changed within the last 30 days. 30 days ago I was coming back from Kansas doing what I love to do. Since then my life has shifted so much in so many many ways. Significant life plan changes which I didn’t foresee (life is never a straight line . . . ), I’ve moved, made some educational and career plans, my Mom is fighting sickness in the hospital and we don’t really know what’s going on.
Very unsettling. But also a time of learning and of remembering what’s true. Christ is my anchor, and that has not changed. I derive great feelings of peace, presence, and a healthy place to grieve, lament, scream, and at times experience joy in this relationship that I have in Christ. My anchor is strong, and even though my figurative home may be (violently) shifted, I find comfort in my faith and my God and my wonderful community of friends worldwide.
This, too, shall pass. All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. I suspect, in a cosmic sense, they already are.
Here’s to a painful, but exciting and fulfilling journey.
Bre
This blog right now is not too thought out. I am in an emotional state, as well as a painful state in regards to a headache.
I think back now, and am overwhelmed by how much my life has changed within the last 30 days. 30 days ago I was coming back from Kansas doing what I love to do. Since then my life has shifted so much in so many many ways. Significant life plan changes which I didn’t foresee (life is never a straight line . . . ), I’ve moved, made some educational and career plans, my Mom is fighting sickness in the hospital and we don’t really know what’s going on.
Very unsettling. But also a time of learning and of remembering what’s true. Christ is my anchor, and that has not changed. I derive great feelings of peace, presence, and a healthy place to grieve, lament, scream, and at times experience joy in this relationship that I have in Christ. My anchor is strong, and even though my figurative home may be (violently) shifted, I find comfort in my faith and my God and my wonderful community of friends worldwide.
This, too, shall pass. All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. I suspect, in a cosmic sense, they already are.
Here’s to a painful, but exciting and fulfilling journey.
Bre
Monday, April 27, 2009
bye (for now) and a poem
Hey everyone!
I am off to Toronto (just got back from Kansas . . . will talk about that later!) I'll be gone until Mid-May and am unsure if I will be able to update my blog. But check back in 2 weeks!
Many blessings to you,
b
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more from the first similitude
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I am off to Toronto (just got back from Kansas . . . will talk about that later!) I'll be gone until Mid-May and am unsure if I will be able to update my blog. But check back in 2 weeks!
Many blessings to you,
b
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more from the first similitude
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Monday, April 20, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
MennoAnglican
Hey everyone.
This Easter was a significant one. I don’t think I’ve ever been to church this often. Went 3 times this weekend, and each experience was very different. Which brings me to something I’ve been considering lately.
In New York, people were somewhat obsessed about which denominational background I identify with. Simply saying “Evangelical” wasn’t cutting it, but I didn’t quite know what else to say. Finally, I started using the term “MennoAnglican” and that seemed to communicate my particular church place at the moment. Which satisfied others, but somewhat irked my spirit.
I currently, sort of, attend both a Mennonite Brethren Church and an Anglican Church here in Winnipeg. My dual church personality was first sprouted out of necessity; Faithworks (Mennonite Church) meets on Saturday evenings which is sometimes hard to get to due to my work and ministry schedule. So I began attending St. Matthew’s Anglican on Sunday mornings when I couldn’t make it out to Faithworks.
I have found much richness in this combination, but also some discomfort and angst in this situation. I feel comfortable at Faithworks in many ways. It is the style of worship which my Christian upbringing is most familiar with, and I appreciate their fluidity and flexibility the pastors show in arranging our weekly gatherings. I connect completely with FW’s statement of mission and values. I adore and appreciate the pastoral support I have received from Faithworks. I am appreciative of the opportunities that I do have to serve in music ministry and some other random things. There are a number of excellent people in this faith community. Everything seems fantastic, but I significantly struggle with my place there. With what I can truly give, with where I fit. I have often stated that I never seem to actually “fit” anywhere – I experience a constant nagging feeling of separation at FW and in a number of other Christian communities. Like I don’t belong. Though I have been around for years, I have yet to find a specific place within FW where I feel like I truly belong; a community or smaller group of people whom I am able to share my life with in a meaningful way. I don’t really understand this, and I struggle with what this means. I have often wondered what I am doing wrong here.
At St. Matthews, I have been able to find a very open and welcome community of believers from very diverse backgrounds – this I love. The diversity shown in a worship service at this church is very rich and deep with meaning. Though I often get lost in the thick ritualized service, I find much of the symbolism, common prayers, and other aspects of the service comforting and meaningful. I connect well with female priest, who shares some of the passions and perspective I have on issues of social justice. One of my most favorite parts is that people there are so unrushed. After services or meetings people truly sit together and just . . . are. This is so good for my soul. To feel unrushed, unhurried, to connect with people in a true and leisurely manner. They understand, y’know? They understand about faith and life and community in a very deep way. People there know about each other’s lives and are invested in the community. This is fantastic. But I also still feel a bit of an outsider. Like I am a constant visitor, peering in and learning the ways of the Anglican life. There is much that I respect and love and cherish about this community and about their style of worship. But again, I have yet to feel like I truly fit, like I truly belong. I struggle to not feel stupid when trying to find out what page of the green book we are on. There are many rituals which I do not understand the purpose of. Some of this makes the meaning of the service feel inaccessible. And I find the passing of the peace to be actually very stressful, which is somewhat ironic and funny. I do not know my place here either. I do not know where I can serve. There is no praise band which I can join, I don’t know how to break into this community in a meaningful way. I often sit and look confused.
I find attending both of these churches to be a very meaningful experience for me. They both feed sides of my spirituality which I crave – FW feeds the side of me which is Evangelical, and which seeks a personal experience of god within the context of a unified community, a place where I can call Christ “Lord,” and where people understand and affirm that. St. Matthew’s feeds my craving for ritual, intimate moments in community, diversity in worship and thought, where matters of faith are challenged in tangible and powerful ways from the moment I step inside the door.
Perhaps this tension is good for me. Perhaps it is helpful to be aware of what’s stirring inside of me, my confusion of the pain I experience in Christian community, and what that means for my soul. Perhaps someday I will be able to find a home within a church community. Perhaps I am destined for a life of constant wandering; sometimes I feel that I change and grow so often that it is impossible to stay in one place for more than awhile without pissing people off or having them fear for my soul with my constant questions.
I must admit though, it would be nice to someday find a home.
This Easter was a significant one. I don’t think I’ve ever been to church this often. Went 3 times this weekend, and each experience was very different. Which brings me to something I’ve been considering lately.
In New York, people were somewhat obsessed about which denominational background I identify with. Simply saying “Evangelical” wasn’t cutting it, but I didn’t quite know what else to say. Finally, I started using the term “MennoAnglican” and that seemed to communicate my particular church place at the moment. Which satisfied others, but somewhat irked my spirit.
I currently, sort of, attend both a Mennonite Brethren Church and an Anglican Church here in Winnipeg. My dual church personality was first sprouted out of necessity; Faithworks (Mennonite Church) meets on Saturday evenings which is sometimes hard to get to due to my work and ministry schedule. So I began attending St. Matthew’s Anglican on Sunday mornings when I couldn’t make it out to Faithworks.
I have found much richness in this combination, but also some discomfort and angst in this situation. I feel comfortable at Faithworks in many ways. It is the style of worship which my Christian upbringing is most familiar with, and I appreciate their fluidity and flexibility the pastors show in arranging our weekly gatherings. I connect completely with FW’s statement of mission and values. I adore and appreciate the pastoral support I have received from Faithworks. I am appreciative of the opportunities that I do have to serve in music ministry and some other random things. There are a number of excellent people in this faith community. Everything seems fantastic, but I significantly struggle with my place there. With what I can truly give, with where I fit. I have often stated that I never seem to actually “fit” anywhere – I experience a constant nagging feeling of separation at FW and in a number of other Christian communities. Like I don’t belong. Though I have been around for years, I have yet to find a specific place within FW where I feel like I truly belong; a community or smaller group of people whom I am able to share my life with in a meaningful way. I don’t really understand this, and I struggle with what this means. I have often wondered what I am doing wrong here.
At St. Matthews, I have been able to find a very open and welcome community of believers from very diverse backgrounds – this I love. The diversity shown in a worship service at this church is very rich and deep with meaning. Though I often get lost in the thick ritualized service, I find much of the symbolism, common prayers, and other aspects of the service comforting and meaningful. I connect well with female priest, who shares some of the passions and perspective I have on issues of social justice. One of my most favorite parts is that people there are so unrushed. After services or meetings people truly sit together and just . . . are. This is so good for my soul. To feel unrushed, unhurried, to connect with people in a true and leisurely manner. They understand, y’know? They understand about faith and life and community in a very deep way. People there know about each other’s lives and are invested in the community. This is fantastic. But I also still feel a bit of an outsider. Like I am a constant visitor, peering in and learning the ways of the Anglican life. There is much that I respect and love and cherish about this community and about their style of worship. But again, I have yet to feel like I truly fit, like I truly belong. I struggle to not feel stupid when trying to find out what page of the green book we are on. There are many rituals which I do not understand the purpose of. Some of this makes the meaning of the service feel inaccessible. And I find the passing of the peace to be actually very stressful, which is somewhat ironic and funny. I do not know my place here either. I do not know where I can serve. There is no praise band which I can join, I don’t know how to break into this community in a meaningful way. I often sit and look confused.
I find attending both of these churches to be a very meaningful experience for me. They both feed sides of my spirituality which I crave – FW feeds the side of me which is Evangelical, and which seeks a personal experience of god within the context of a unified community, a place where I can call Christ “Lord,” and where people understand and affirm that. St. Matthew’s feeds my craving for ritual, intimate moments in community, diversity in worship and thought, where matters of faith are challenged in tangible and powerful ways from the moment I step inside the door.
Perhaps this tension is good for me. Perhaps it is helpful to be aware of what’s stirring inside of me, my confusion of the pain I experience in Christian community, and what that means for my soul. Perhaps someday I will be able to find a home within a church community. Perhaps I am destined for a life of constant wandering; sometimes I feel that I change and grow so often that it is impossible to stay in one place for more than awhile without pissing people off or having them fear for my soul with my constant questions.
I must admit though, it would be nice to someday find a home.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Gear Campaign - United Nations
Hey y'all . . .
While at the United Nations I worked a bit with the GEAR campaign . . . info on this campaign can be found at http://www.wedo.org/wp-content/uploads/the-gear-campaign-background3.pdfGear stands for Gender Equality Architecture Reform and is a push for the adoption of the new UN entity for gender equality and women’s empowerment.
If you support this (I do!) please consider signing the online petition here:
http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/GEAR
This petition was forwarded to me by my UN Delegation, so I trust it.
Thanks muchly,
Bre
While at the United Nations I worked a bit with the GEAR campaign . . . info on this campaign can be found at http://www.wedo.org/wp-content/uploads/the-gear-campaign-background3.pdfGear stands for Gender Equality Architecture Reform and is a push for the adoption of the new UN entity for gender equality and women’s empowerment.
If you support this (I do!) please consider signing the online petition here:
http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/GEAR
This petition was forwarded to me by my UN Delegation, so I trust it.
Thanks muchly,
Bre
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