The River of Thought

I took this picture in Nebraska last summer on a canoeing trip. There were six canoes in all and almost every time we’d hit a bend in the river, someone (or all of us) would get stuck in the tree branches that were sticking out. Sometimes the canoes would tip and the soaking boaters would rush around collecting things from the water; occasionally, they would not be able to catch all that had tipped and they’d have to either let things go or rely on someone in a different canoe to collect items downstream. Other times, a canoe would get stuck and the frustrated passengers would need assistance from other canoes to get untangled from the branches. By the end of the day, there wasn’t a single boat that had escaped being tipped and most of us had war wounds from running into the tree branches.

In many ways, my theological development this past quarter has been like that canoe trip. I came up to bends in the river of thought and my mind got tipped over. Annoyed at being tipped yet laughing and enjoying the cool of the river, I collected what I needed and was forced to let some things go. I let go of certain ideas about what church “should” look like; ideas on salvation needed to float downstream because they were too narrow. There were times that as I approached a bend in the river, I got stuck in ideas or concepts and needed help getting untangled. For a few years now, I’ve been stuck on what to do with homosexuality – decry, accept, affirm, etc. Slowly, I’ve moved from one end of the spectrum to another and our class discussion helped to cement my desire to accept and affirm not just privately with friends that are gay but in classes or to my more conservative family members and friends. It’s nice to be unstuck from that branch – I’m glad my view of God has expanded.

As a tangent, I feel like the color picture is boring. I see green, brown, blue, and white in my everyday life. I like the picture in shades of gray better because it is not my everyday experience. Theologically, I’m moving from black and white to varying shades of gray and I’m learning to be comfortable with ambiguity. Theology is impacting my everyday experience and making it more interesting.

Roots

These pictures were taken in Rothenburg, Germany.

I don’t know how vines get started but I know how they continue. The roots of the vines find the tiny cracks in the building they’re climbing and they cling to those cracks. As the vine grows, sometimes the cracks get bigger and the roots go deeper; sometimes the vines just send out new roots to find new cracks so that eventually, the vine is held to the building by a bunch of shallow roots.

In class, we talked about how pop culture and the emerging church occur after the crack in our society – this crack has enabled changes to slowly take hold in our lives/societies/churches. Because new things have been able to grow, our theology is different and our culture is different which leads to our churches looking different. Like the vines that grow on the houses changing the look of the building over time, the moves in culture and theology are changing the look of the church.

We also discussed how church cannot exist outside of culture. The vines cannot exist without the building. The emerging church is willing to admit that without the “building,” they wouldn’t exist – they are accepting the fact that the church grows on, around, and in culture. Because of this, the emerging church is the viable face of our church in the future.

The church used to be where people connected to one another. Now, because of the increases in technology, we have a web of interconnectedness that spans the world. We’ve become a society like the vines on the buildings – our webbed roots may not run deep in very many places, but our web is strong enough to change the face of church.

For example:
--I attend Christian Assembly church because I like the singing, the preaching, the small group I’m in, the multitude of opportunities to serve, and the hexagonal sanctuary.
--I download the sermons from Montrose church because I like the preaching but felt a little awkward going there.
--I am a member of a church in Nashville, Tennessee because that’s the first church that I joined as an adult by choice (rather than due to working with the church). My sister and brother-in-law work there and it is my home church in spite of the less than stellar preaching of the head pastor – it is my home church because the people there love me and I love them.
--I consider the military chapel at the NATO headquarters in Belgium a second home and though I have not been there for two years, I know I could go visit and be welcomed back in excitement and open arms by those who still attend because I keep in touch with them on Facebook or through e-mail.
--My dad is an Anglican priest and whenever I go visit him in Virginia, I go to his church and the people in his parish think it’s wonderful.
--If we look at the church as not just a building but as relationships, then we can extend my church roots through at least 8 states and 10 countries.

I am connected to all of these churches and yet I only attend one church regularly. An honest assessment of my roots in each church body leads to the admission that none of the roots are deep. My roots in churches reach far rather than deep and yet I believe those roots are strong.

Even as I hold on to the belief that my shallow roots are strong, I long to have some roots that grow deep. I read somewhere that some trees cannot grow taller than their roots go deep and cannot grow wider than their roots spread out. I put this third photo upside down because I like how the tree growing into the sky looks like roots that are growing deep. If the roots grow in the direction of the sky, then they can go on forever – it reminds me that as my roots grow into God then they can go as deep as they need to. It’s not like God’s going to run out and no matter where I am, no matter what church I’m a part of, God is there. (This photo was taken here, in California.)

Well, it's really all candles...

This picture was part of my brother-in-law’s “Will you marry me?” night to my sister in Nashville, Tennessee.

It reminds me of a mix of what I believe the emerging church is saying and Barry’s caricature of the emerging church.

Let sleeping babies lie

I took these photos last Christmas in Sacramento. This is Eva; her grandmother is my step-sister.

I’ve been thinking about why black and white photos are often so much more striking than color photos. My theory is that it all has to do with desire. I desire that which is different from my usual experience. Because I see in color, I often find black and white photos more interesting. I desire change from the norm and I look for chances to see something unusual.

I think this is what church should be. In an ideal world, my everyday experience with God would be interesting and different. In reality, my everyday experience with God tends to be just that: everyday. (I’m going to use church in a broad sense here because I’ve been challenged in my ideas of what church can be and what it can look like. My mind is swirling with statements about church that I immediately dispute with “yes, but” or “yes, and” statements.)

I desire church to be a time where I can see God in new ways. If that means that church is my small group on Monday nights, that’s fine. If that means church is a day at the beach, that’s fine. In all honesty though, I want my church – the body of believers that I worship with on Sunday evenings – to be a place where I have different experiences of God. I go to church expecting to interact with God in ways that are not everyday. I desire different encounters with God and I know that God is big enough for this to happen.

I think a lot of people go to church out of a desire for something different. Maybe people want a different encounter with God. Maybe they want a different kind of community. Maybe they want a chance to be still in the midst of chaos spinning around them (I know I often need this). In a competitive world, are followers of Jesus welcoming, caring, and excited to share our experiences with others? Am I welcoming, caring, and excited to share my experience with others? Am I willing to share God?

Often, when I see a black and white photo, my attention is drawn to something I failed to notice when the photo was in color – the change from my everyday experience makes that possible. What are we, what am I, doing to make church a place (or community) that is different from the everyday experience?

I think it comes down to “realness.” The people who have made the biggest impact on my life are those who are real with who they are, who they are not, and who they want to be. My favorite professors have been unapologetically irreverent (in a good way). My best friends are honest about their strengths as well as their weaknesses. They are honest about needing support and willing to offer support as needed. I experience real people as gracious. The real people in my life are those who desire authentic relationships and value honest communication. The real people in my life remind me of Jesus. This is what the church should be – a bunch of real people with real problems who are in love with a real Jesus.

Sunset

This sunset photo was taken from my balcony when the wildfires were burning California.

It’s amazing to me that something so destructive can make something so beautiful. While the wildfires raged, the sunrises and sunsets were astonishing. The sky mirrored the blazes below. Everything smelled like campfire and my throat was scratchy from the smoke. As I walked outside, I noticed snow falling on my clothes and in my hair; then I realized it was ash. My windowsills were coated with fine, black dust and my car would not stay clean.

Historically, the church has seen culture as the wildfires. Culture needed to be controlled, stamped down, or extinguished. Culture was destructive and the church wanted nothing to do with it. Christians pulled (and continue to pull) verses out of context to support this damnation of culture: do not love this world or anything in this world… do not be conformed to this world… set your mind on things above… store up for yourself treasures in heaven…

I was on staff with Young Life for 8 years and it was always interesting to me when someone would be friendly until they found out who I worked for. The, their attitude would change to wary condescension. Well-intentioned Christian parents would sometimes refuse to let their children come to events because we played non-Christian music and the “bad” kids were there. Oftentimes these were the same parents who were utterly unaware of the types of photos their kids were posting on myspace. Because we utilized cultural aspects in and for ministry, kids that would never set foot in the door of a church learned that God isn’t a giant policeman in the sky waiting for them to screw up so they could get sent to Hell.

Abraham Kuyper said something like, “There is not one inch of the world that Christ does not claim saying: That is mine. That belongs to me.” This doesn’t necessarily mean that our world looks like Jesus, but that it belongs to Jesus. If this statement is true (and I believe it is), then dualism between secular and sacred is heretical.

In thinking about this integration of culture and church, I can understand why the church would want culture cut out – it is a lot easier to use the same old stuff over and over again claiming it is sacred than to make an attempt at relevance. Integrating culture takes a lot of work, more (and different) thought than I am used to, and the willingness to engage in uncomfortable conversations. It also helps if there is a commitment to use culture well – I’ve been to some churches that believe they are cutting edge because they use movie clips from Chariots of Fire to illustrate a point to the youth.

I would love to claim that I fully embrace culture and believe myself to be culturally relevant… unfortunately, this is not true. I do not consider myself to be a really original thinker – it takes a lot of work for me to wrap my mind around how certain aspects in our culture could be useful in the church. Yet, at the same time, I firmly believe that if the church does not continue the work of embracing and integrating culture, then it is not doing the work of Christ. I have a friend that cringes each time someone says they want to make Christianity relevant to the world today because she feels that God is already relevant and exciting. I understand her point but it bothers me that she refuses to see that while God is relevant and exciting, Christianity often falls woefully short. I don’t want to live my life caught in this dualist view of secular and sacred; it is taking a lot of work but slowly I am arriving at a more holistic place.

I AM a rock

This picture was taken in Rome about two years ago.

I don’t think this picture is amazing, but I like it because the stone was part of an ancient Roman building. It’s possible that the stone in this picture existed at the same time Jesus was around. I like the fact that this old carved stone sits in the middle of flowers that bloom and die in a matter of months. Something ancient sits in the midst of constant rebirth, fresh growth, and change.

That’s how it is with the church – ancient truth sits in the middle of passing fads, cultural changes, growth, death, and rebirth. Just as the dandelions and daisies that surround this stone have no possible way of fully understanding the stone in their midst, we have no way of fully understanding God. God is beyond our time, beyond our description, and beyond our grasp. Yet, as Rollins points out: God is what we constantly need to be looking for, talking about, and centering upon.

Another thing I like about this photo is how the dull gray of the stone contrasts with the vibrant yellow and green around it. Because of the vibrant colors surrounding the stone, my eyes are drawn to the detail in the stone. This too reminds me of the church: sometimes I see the church as boring gray when compared with the vibrant colors culture is offering me. It is precisely because culture offers such vibrancy that my eyes are drawn to search for the details of God in the midst.

I Count

These photos were taken in Virginia last Christmas. The non-digital version has the words “I count” in focus but I couldn’t get my digital camera to focus where I wanted it to (another reason I need a digital Rebel).

In thinking about the words “I count” there are a few things that come to mind. First, I am using the words out of their intended context: I count none but sunny hours. This is so often what Christians (including me) can do with the Bible. I know that my reading is influenced by the translation, my understanding of the history, my location in history, my gender, life experiences, mood, etc. I know that there is no way that I can read the Bible in a completely unbiased manner. I choose to read the Bible anyway. I choose to think of God anyway. I choose to speak of God anyway.

Second, I like the words “I count” because they remind me that in church, in culture, in theology, I have a choice. My purchases matter, the way I treat my environment matters, the way I treat my neighbor matters. It is easy to get caught up in the thought that I cannot make a difference in this world, in the environment, or in my church – these thoughts are easy, convenient, and untrue. I can take the easy way out, but that way will not benefit anyone, including myself.

Third, I like these words because they make me think of all the young women I have worked with. The media has shaped so much that the girls who don’t look like models (and even those who do) are convinced they don’t count. They believe they are flawed and that they need to be someone or something they are not in order to be worth anything. I want to remind them that they matter. Each of us counts – it doesn’t matter what we look like, how we learn, or what we sound like when we speak; everyone matters. It doesn’t matter where on this earth we live – all life is valuable. I believe God’s image dwells in each of us and yet so often I find myself not acting like it. Even then I count. Even then, when I forget, God does not forget; God counts.

In Bruges

I took this photo in Bruges, Belgium in July, 2006.

I like this photo because while the beer was good, the reflection was better. I think that’s how it is with a lot of life. I can enjoy things for what they are but if I let the Light shine through them, I enjoy them even more.

I also think that most things that the church has labeled as “sinful” aren’t really sinful if enjoyed in moderation – beer (especially Belgian beer) is good, too much beer can lead to undesirable consequences. God is glorified in our enjoyment of life – if it wasn’t glorifying, why would we have our 5 senses? Why would we be able to see the beauty of this world, taste so many wonderful flavors, feel the warm sun and the cool breeze, hear the laughter of friends or the sigh of a lover, or smell a rainstorm’s approach if it weren’t for God to enjoy our pleasure in all we experience?

I also like this photo because if it’s turned like this, it kind of looks like the Virgin Mary with Jesus in her lap.

I should have sold the beer on e-bay…

This picture was also taken in Bruges… I just included it because I like it. I like it because it made me smile to watch the movie, In Bruges, knowing that I had walked the same streets that the story took place. Also, having lived in Belgium, I can completely understand why the character (I forget his name) thought Bruges in the winter could be hell – anywhere in Belgium could be hell in the winter for someone who would rather spend their holiday where the sun warms the earth and the sky is more than gray. It’s like England – dark, wet, and dreary… but England has more to do and better drivers.

Focus

I took these pictures in Cinque Terre, Italy a few summers ago.

It’s all about focus. I’ve found that with God, it all depends on where I focus. There are days that I focus so much on what lies in the distance – classes, exams, work, practicum, clients, financial aid, grades, getting my car serviced, moving to Pasadena (in June!), internship, getting a job, paying back student loans, where will I live, and on and on and on that I miss the beautiful details of what is right in front of my face.

Other days I am so intently staring at what is in front of me that I miss the beauty of what will be. I’m so busy looking at the way the sun changes the hills where I live from green to black to brown to purple depending on the time of day that I miss the brake lights of the cars up ahead…

There are pros and cons to both ways of looking at life – one tends to overwhelm me and the other tends to distract me from where I’m going. But in both of these situations, I can choose to see the gifts in my life – the privilege of being able to pursue higher education, owning my own mode of transportation, the (almost) guarantee of a job after graduation, and the friends here and now that make my life enjoyable. I can choose to thank God that I get to do all that will come as well as appreciate the variety in front of my face.

This past quarter, I’ve felt like I was on a giant carousel moving at high speeds. Each Monday I would think, “It’s already Monday? Where did last week go?” Each week, I’d whiz by the same faces, places, and events without really taking in who, where, and what was going on. It felt like I was going somewhere, but I knew that I was only going in circles. I have to keep reminding myself that April is coming very soon but I can’t for the life of me figure out where January and February went. This is not a good feeling; it is not something that I want to repeat next quarter. I want to be present in my days – to take in what is in front of my face; to look thoughtfully at the future with hopeful anticipation. I am getting off the carousel and I am choosing to walk instead of ride. I choose to change my focus. I’m pretty sure that time will continue to zoom by but I refuse to let that intimidate me.

Climbing

I took this picture in Colorado Springs last Thanksgiving.

I like this picture because while we can see one of the climbers in person, we see two shadows. In order to see the guy on top of the rock, I had to walk around to the right. Even then, I could only see him when he stood up. The climber with the red backpack was somewhere between 80-100 feet up the rock face when I took this photo – while it looked like fun, I know it can be terrifying.

It takes courage, stamina, and skill to be able to climb the rocks like that – I doubt that the two guys climbing that day just woke up that morning and thought, “Hey, I’ve never climbed a rock before, I think I’ll go try that.” These guys had practiced what they were doing – they had the right tools, the right shoes, and the right communication skills. While the guy with the red backpack couldn’t see the guy on top of the rocks, he had to trust him and rely on him for help. In order to make it up the rock, the guy climbing had to find his way while listening to the advice of the guy who’d already done the climb.

In many ways, these guys are like the church. We may not see those who have gone before us, but we rely on where they’ve been. We can find our own way up the rock, but it helps to know what the people before us did. If I don’t know the mistakes my church has made, then I am liable to make those same mistakes. If I don’t pay attention to the one’s I can’t see anymore, then I am missing out on some wisdom that could be helpful. At the same time as I can rely on my predecessors, they don’t know how my culture is impacting my climb. Only those climbing with me know how culture is playing a part in our climb. We have to talk to one another about what’s going on if we want the climb to be successful.


I also like this picture because it reminds me of God – I can’t see God, but I can see the shadows of God all around me. Because I can see the shadow of God, I can rely on God to help me up the rocks of life. Plus, there are others on this climb that I can process with, talk to, get advice from, and simply sit with and enjoy the sun warming me as I climb.