Reflections on a Mammogram

Turning 40… it brings all sorts of new experiences. Not the least of which was my first mammogram. All I have to say is clearly men invented this device and if you want proof that there is not sufficient funding going towards women’s health issues, consider the process of getting a mammogram. Your breast is treated like an object… okay, that may not be new for women in our society… perhaps the difference is that suddenly your breast has no sexual or social implications whatsoever. The doctor pokes and prods it. The nurse lifts it up and pushes it this way and that. Then this contraption squeezes it harder than you ever imagined was possible. And they take a picture. As one who has never really had anyone poking or prodding my breasts, it was a bit of an uncomfortable experience. I imagine that pregnant women go through similar experiences with various parts of their bodies suddenly assuming different roles and/or significance in the world. I knew that our bodies were culturally as well as physically constructed, but this brought that understanding to a whole new level. It is amazing how our culture has shaped the significance of various body parts. How that construction is related to issues of power, race, and gender. How a body part can have a different meaning in a variety of contexts. As someone interested in art and photography, how can you tell the difference between art and pornography? Who gets to draw that line? Is it the person begin filmed, painted, or photographed? Is it the “artist”? The government and its laws and legislations? Our various cultures? The cultural construction of the body is significant theological discussion in feminist and womanist circles as well as among black theologians and others who reflect on issues of slavery and abuse. We tend to devalue the bodies that we want to use for our own benefit or pleasure. Perhaps we do the same to individual parts of our bodies. Perhaps we do it to ourselves as well as others. It seems clear that God values us as material beings, created with bodies that are to reflect the image of God. It seems clear that we are to treat others, and their bodies, as if they are bearers of God’s image. It seems clear, too, that I must be concerned about how we have constructed our world in such a way that others bodies don’t seem as valuable as mine. When traveling outside of the United States, I am constantly aware of the fact that my body is often more protected than the bodies of people from other countries who don’t have the power and influence to demand that their bodies be treated with respect. I am also aware that my body can become symbolic… one United States Citizen… or one Iraqi… or one Mexican… treated in such a way as to communicate something to the whole… in such a way that the individual body, the individual person disappears… All that from a simple mammogram.

Formerly Known As....

Today was my last day as dean of students at North Park Theological Seminary. It has been a very long good-bye! It all started with an announcement last January to free up the seminary to search for a new dean at Midwinter. It was followed by goodbye's with students in Mid-May, with faculty and staff in late May, with NPU staff in June, and finally... a quiet exiting of the building at about 3:00 pm today.

There are so many different feelings associated with leaving a position like this. As with most jobs, the work is on-going and so much is left undone. Yet, unlike many jobs, there has been a sense of accomplishment over the years. Watching students graduate, find their first call, and live into the ministries they have been called to. Students, faculty, and staff were incredibly generous with their support and praise over the years. I realize how much of a blessing that has been. And it is a privilege to be in the depths and at times mess of people's lives and to see them come through, grow, and change through the process. And of course to see God at work in the midst of it all.

I am leaving a community that I have been in the heart of for the last seven years. I am scared about moving into new communities and trying to start over again. I am unsure at times how to negotiate the changes in roles. I wonder which of my friendships were based on work and which will endure. I wonder how to negotiate the move from dean to.... well, it will be different for different students. For some I will always remain the dean. For others a mentor. For others friends and peers. Some, I am sure, will be my mentors in the near future. Yet it is always difficult to explain to some students that I am different as a friend than as a dean. That I expect different things. To be honest... I am not nearly as compassionate as a friend! I don't really enjoy being the care-taker all the time!

Some of you know me well enough to know that I am a gift person... in the sense that meaningful gifts are important to me. I like to give... and to get... gifts that are thoughtful and appropriate. And I was overwhelmed with the gifts that were bestowed upon me by the seminary. I'll just share three:

The first was a stone.... yes, many people were confused by this! The Association of Covenant Clergy Women sponsored the art stone project. Various organizations commissionsed artists to decorate paper mache stones and then they were auctioned off at Midwinter and the Annual Meeting. Three of our students were commissioned to decorate one of the stones: Katie Rose (from Alaska), Katia Kozlova (from Russia), and Ileana Garcia-Soto (from Puerto Rico). Here is a picture of the result... the words of a poem by Edward Munch are written on the stone. Jay Phelan went to a lot of trouble to make sure he was the highest bidder on this stone!



The second was a book complied of letters from students, faculty, staff, alumni, and even a few from denominational leaders. My staff did an incredible job putting it together. It was perfect. I was moved by stories of moments where I had touched people without even knowing it. I was also amazed that others had seen and valued the things that were most important to me in my work... especially in the areas of advocating for women and students of color.

The third was a brick. Yes... a stone and a brick. They gave a donation to the seminary and had my name engraved on a brick to go in the pathway in front of Nyvall Hall. Next to those honoring former deans of the seminary, this one has my name, title, and tenure.


So now I am know as the person who was "formerly know as" the dean of students at North Park Theological Seminary. I have no new title to replace it. I am just a student again. It is a little difficult to adjust to! But probably good for my ego.

Quote of the Day

“We tend to repeat customary actions unaware that when we do today what we did yesterday we actually do something different since in the interval both we and our environment have changed; unaware also that we now do without conscious definition of purpose and method what was done yesterday with specific ends in view and by relatively precise means."

From the forward to H. Richard Niebuhr's The Purpose of the Church and Its Ministry, 1956

Outdoor Education

When I moved to Chicago seven years ago, I felt like I was losing something. For those of you used to the outdoors, you might understand what I am talking about. I knew that nature was important to me, but I don’t think of myself as an outdoor woman. I don’t do a lot of hiking or camping or fishing. I don’t own hardly any outdoor gear. But there are little clues around my house… the vases full of shells from California and Florida. Another full of rocks from the north shore of Lake Superior. The plants that fill my dining room. And, of course, the jeep I own.

The wilderness and faith trip allowed me to reclaim some of the outdoor in me… and to explore some of the reasons why nature is such a part of my soul. A lot of it has to do with where I grew up. Our house was surrounded by untouched hills filled with oak trees, poison ivy, and deer… Deer everywhere. So many that they spilled over into our streets and gardens. Less than a mile from our house was the San Francisco Bay. We’d climb the rocks that protected the roadway. My brother would fish out on the points. For a few years we had a boat in the harbor.

My school nurtured this love of nature. One of the benefits of growing up in Northern California. There was a salt marsh out back we would explore. Several times a year we would go on field trips to see Mrs. Terwilliger, a local naturalist who would gather us kids in a circle and teach us to flap our wings like the various birds from the area. We’d explore Ducksbury Reef, wandering through the tidal pools looking at anemones, mussels, and small fish. I still remember when the bee keeper came to school and I was the one who got to dress up and attempt to smoke the bees out of their hives (there weren’t really any bees, but I didn’t know that at the time!) And there were the trips to the aquarium, wandering along the ledge that allowed us to be eye level with the fish. I was sure I wanted to be an oceanographer. I even did one of my junior high reports on Jacques Cousteau.

And my parents added to this love of the outdoors. Some of my favorite memories are camping with the family. They were always short trips… but my family would drive down a dirt road in the midst of nowhere and park alongside a stream. Trout fishing. Campfires. And projects. I remember gathering leaves and making them into a book. Each page labeled with the name of the tree. We also used to go on an annual hike to see the Salmon spawning in Samuel P. Taylor State Park. It was almost always a misty or rainy day. We would pull off on the side of the road and start hiking up the trail along the stream. Back into the damp woods.

My mom had nature projects for us all the time. Collecting driftwood and making them into little creatures. Digging molds for sand candles. Making sun catchers with leaves, melted crayons and wax paper. Spray painting spider webs and mounting them on paper. She may have gotten some of her love of nature from her parents who do a fair share of birdwatching.

It is a heritage I am very grateful for. This love of nature. It is part of my culturally constructed understanding of the wilderness. It is part of the privilege of growing up in a world where wilderness is for beauty and recreation, not an entity to struggle with for survival. Those who struggle with wilderness may also have a love of nature, but it will be different, formed in a different context.

I wonder how Israel’s understanding of the wilderness was formed? Certainly witnessing to the plagues in Egypt, experiencing God as a pillar of fire, wandering for years in the wilderness shaped a generation’s understanding of nature. And their understanding of God. Jesus carried with him this heritage and then added his own experiences of the temptation and a life on the Sea of Galilee. Where do my understandings of nature and God intersect with those of Israel? And how does that change or enhance my reading of scripture?

It is this attempt to read context that I think is so vital to our understanding of scripture and theology. By examining my own context and that of those who are different than me, my own understanding of God is enhanced, widened, deepened. My own perceptions are questioned and I am able to consider and question the perceptions of others. And together, perhaps, we can come to understand more of this vast God that we worship and serve.

A Limiting God

Setting boundaries… “God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness… And God said, ‘Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.’ And God said, ‘Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.’” The forming of the earth was a process of setting boundaries. Of giving the light and the dark, the land and the waters, a place of their own.


Setting boundaries seems to be a theme that characterizes God’s sovereignty in this world. Isaiah write:
“Who has measured the waters in the hollow of their hand and marked off the heavens with a span, enclosed the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance?” (40:12)

Psalm 148: 3-6 states, “Praise the Lord, sun and moon; praise the Lord, you highest heavens and you waters above the heavens! Let them praise the name of the Lord, for the Lord commanded and they were created. The Lord established them forever and ever; the Lord fixed their bounds, which cannot be passed.”


We pushed against those boundaries over and over in our Wilderness and Faith Class. So many of the issues in our world seem to be caused by our own lack of understanding of boundaries. Our desire to live beyond our means, beyond our limits. God seemed to know this would be our weakness. In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve transgressed the only limits God set for them. We often speak of this as trying to be like God…

In our evangelical world, we speak regularly of being created in the image of God, the imago dei. It is a vital concept. One that reminds us of who we are. Yet so often, we forget to apply this concept to all of humanity. As we study the wilderness, we are reminded of the people who were driven from the land because we did not consider them equal in the eyes of God. We live in a country that continues to consume more and more, refusing to live within the limits of our world’s natural resources. In doing so, we refuse to see that others created in the image of God are suffering because of our greed. We have difficulty imaging a world in which all people are seen in the image of God.

Boundaries… key to raising children, living a holy life, living in community… We are to live into the boundaries God has set for us, including the limits of our resources, and to create communities that help us to live into those boundaries.

Constructing Wilderness

One of the first articles we read for the Wilderness and Faith class was “The Trouble with Wilderness; or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature,” by William Cronon. The article explores how the idea of “wilderness” has been constructed by our culture. Cronon argues that while as late as the late eighteenth century wilderness as seen as “deserted, savage, desolate, barren, -- in short, a waste” by the late 1800’s wilderness was romanticized as a part of the foundation of the United States. With the frontier disappearing, with the development of urbanization, the wilderness became a place where white men (primarily) “rediscovered their primitive racial energies, reinvented direct democratic institutions, and thereby reinfused themselves with a vigor, an independence, and a creativity that were the source of American democracy and national character.”

Many people think Cronon was challenging or weakening the environmental movement. They believed that he was arguing against conservation. I disagree. I think Cronon was simply exploring how our culture has shaped our idea of wilderness and how that can, at times, distort our relationship to it. He writes of how the ideal wilderness was a place without people, pristine, untouched. To romanticize the wilderness and frontier allowed us to pretend that we didn’t drive the Native American people from the land. To assume that wilderness is most ideal when not in relationship to humanity allows gives us no place to explore ways of healthy interaction with nature and reclaiming our tie to the land. Wilderness in isolation allows us to continue to take land from the poor and those we devalue for a “higher good.”

I am not arguing against the need to preserve pristine landscapes. I think it is valuable for us to recognize our limits in this world and our place sharing this planet with all of creation. Cronon points out, though, that our concept of wilderness was tied to an idealized beauty, a sense of the sublime. Early on, this meant that we preserved spectacular landscapes before attending to the less striking. Yosemite becomes a national treasure, but the desert Central Valley of California only a few miles away is turned into one big irrigated, farmland.

I think this idea has changed in the last few decades. I grew up with an appreciation of a variety of types of wilderness. California is full of striking national parts, but surrounding our house were rolling brown (years of drought) hills covered in oak trees and poison ivy, full of deer and chipmunks. They had been set aside by the utility company and full of fire trails. Behind our elementary school was the marsh, a salt-water wetlands that was part of our educational experience. I remember how ugly I though it was. Yet I learned to look for the red wing blackbirds that would try to lure us away from their nests by feigning injury. I remember the smell of the fennel and the fuzz of the cattails. I remember how out of place it looked when the built a tennis court right in the middle of it all. I was taught early on to appreciate a variety of wildernesses.
This seems quite biblical. Recognizing the value of all of creation. Not valuing those who seems more valuable or beautiful on the surface. But recognizing that we are all connected, the body of Christ. In the same way, all of creation is related to one another. One great organism. At times we have overlooked the parts that have seemed less valuable, but as God reminds us, often those parts that look the least valuable are to be valued the most.

Below are a few of my attempts to find beauty in the "less spetacular" parts of nature:

Lake Superior's North Shore...

This past week I traveled to northern Minnesota with the Wilderness and Faith class offered by North Park Theological Seminary. I will need to write more about the experience this weekend, reflecting on the biblical significance of natures praise of God, our dualistic assumptions about soul and body, the ecological concerns raised by our discussions, and the social construction of wilderness. For now, though, I leave you with a few pictures to wet your appetite...

These first two were taken from Palisade Point, about 20 minutes north of Duluth. It was one of my favorite overlooks when I lived there. It used to be just a small, hidden turn off from the highway, but in recent years they have put in a little paved parking lot at the entrance to mark the way. There is still little to indicate what you will find if you venture up the one way road that winds up the hill and out to the point... I kind of like it that way.

At the top is another small parking lot, one small stone wall, and then a few trails that wander around the bluff. There are no guard rails, no warning signs. Climbers venture out here often in good weather to scale the face of the cliff. I love being able to walk up to the edge and look down or look out. Our stay here was too short, but a great surprise!

These two were taken on the rocks out behind Phil Anderson's cabin in Hovland, Minnesota. I'll post more pictures of this area later. For now, I'll just say how much fun it is to jump from rock to rock along the shoreline! Exploring, watching, listening...

There were several storms while we were at his cabin producing some great waves and white caps along the shore. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks was a constant through out much of our time... It is one of the most relaxing sounds in the world to me, in spite of the fact that it is a result of a great force at work pounding and crashing against the rock.

I had a little trouble sleeping... not getting to sleep, but staying asleep once the sun came up in the morning. Many of you know that I am not a morning person, but in this setting I am! At the beginning of the week I was one of the earliest up most mornings, providing some quiet moments on the shore and some beautiful views of the mist rolling in off the lake as the rising sun hit the cold surface of the water.

The fog always reminds me of San Francisco... when people say that the fog is like a blanket, they are often talking about how it looks rolling in over the hills, covering and engulfing. To me, it also has the comforting effects of an old, familiar blanket that covers you and reminds you of home. I grew up with days that began in the midst of fog, freezing cold and damp... as the day rolled on, the fog rolled up the hill, the sun would burn it off throughout the day. While the morning belonged to the mist and the dampness, the sun would win the battle in the afternoons, claiming its territory once again and sending the temperatures soaring. We used to wear layers to class at UC Berkeley... sweats and jackets in the morning, gradually removing them throughout the day until we were laying on the grass in shorts and t-shirts in the afternoons (to study, of course!).

As I said, more later... but I hope these bring a bit of enjoyment for now!

Another 40 Year Old Virgin

I have hesitated writing this post… it’s embarrassing. It’s vulnerable. It’s about sex. It is not like I want to announce to everyone that I am now a 40 year old virgin… but it seems like someone needs to. I remember a few years ago a woman writing a book on the subject of her virginity at a relatively late age. I also remember the jokes on Letterman and Leno about it. I won’t go into those here. Then, of course, there was the recent movie with the title “The 40 Year Old Virgin.” It is not the first time I have been the stereotypical geek of a movie. You might remember the movie “Sixteen Candles.” Classic teen romance. Geek meets jock. Molly Ringwold. Joan Cusack plays the girl with the back brace they ride the bus with. If you can picture it… in junior high I was the girl with the back brace, braces on my teeth (the big silver ones… not the clear ones they have now!), carrying the cello with her on and off the school bus.

Okay, so this is a little different. Yet it evokes some of the same feelings. I feel like I must be the only 40 year old virgin in the world. Though I know it is not true. I have friends in a similar situation. A few. It is such a joke that I wonder if something is wrong with me. Okay, granted, I have trouble with relationships and there is something a bit messed up about me. Yet, from what I have observed, perfection has not been a requirement for most people to start having sex.

The reason it disturbs me the most is that I feel the same way in the midst of the church as I do in the rest of the world. Lauren Winner recently spoke about sex at North Park. She has a fairly recent book about chastity. I’ve heard it is a great book. I also know that it was written by someone discovering chastity as a new Christian, a renewed virginity. I’ve decided I should write a book about virginity… what it is really like to wait for 40 years. (I hate to admit it… while it might be frustrating, it hasn’t been that difficult. I don’t have guys falling at my feet begging me for sex everyday… or ever).

I have found that most people assume that someone who is single and my age has had sex. If we haven’t had sex, we must have found some outlet for our sexuality. And most of the outlets people can imagine are not condoned by the church. So, we must be doing something sinful. But it is easier to assume that I am doing something sinful than to imagine that I might actually have been faithful. Now don’t let your mind wander too far at this point… stick to the point of the post….
I am not writing to condemn those who have not followed this path. I know it is a hard road for many. I don’t know why God has not placed me in a situation where my conviction has been seriously tested. Mostly I am grateful for that...I suppose I wanted to write this to encourage others who have remained chaste their whole life… and have done it as an act of faith and obedience. It is not something we should be ashamed of. It is not something that people should whisper about or make jokes about… especially in the church. It does not mean that we are undesirable or unattractive. It is simply the path that God has called us to… may the church come alongside and support us as we strive to be faithful.

Blood Diamond

Last night I watched the movie Blood Diamond, a story about conflict diamonds in Africa. The story follows the lives of a diamond smuggler from Zimbabwe and a fisherman from Sierra Leone that weave together over a giant pink diamond found in the mines. It was an excellent movie with a social and political message as well as a story of personal redemption.

The movie centers on the civil war raging in Sierra Leone… there are scenes of villages being overtaken, the rebels taking the capital city, captives in the mining camps, children forced into the army, a refugee camp of over a million people, and a foreign corporation that is profiting from it all. I remember thinking how grateful I was that I don’t live in that world. I can’t imagine being dragged out of my home and forced to flee with nothing but the clothes on my back. Living with the constant threat of violence.

Two things came to mind… first, could that sort of violence one day make its way here to the United States. What makes me think that this country or my home is immune to such a possibility? Perhaps it won’t be the violence of war. Perhaps it will be a natural disaster or an economic crash. Some in this country have lived with this reality. Would my life be different if I lived with the reality that all of this is transitory?

Second, how is it that this country has avoided civil war and/or genocide for so long? We are so often the ones that profit from the wars taking place overseas. How do I contribute to these wars by demanding an unlimited supply of oil, diamonds, or other natural resources? By refusing to carpool or take public transportation. By not recycling. By wanting everything new, fast, and convenient. Like having a DVD delivered to my home each week by mail so I can watch a movie such as Blood Diamond.

Will watching this movie change my life? Not as much as it should. But perhaps it will nudge me a little.

Personally, I prefer Lent...

I've decided that I am more of a Lent person than an Advent person. Advent involves anxious expectation, hope, blessing, joy, babies and families. I feel like most of this country lives an Advent life. Expecting blessing, assuming fulfillment, striving for an abundantly life (defined by our consumer culture, of course...) I am much more of a Lent person. Living in the unexpected, awaiting the impossible, unsure, doubtful, at times full of pain and suffering, a waiting that often fears the outcome rather that hopes for it.

Some of this has to do with my spiritual journey. I have lived with waiting that has moved beyond hope to the need for the miraculous. I have seen prayers go unanswered. I have been left wondering about God's presence. I have walked with those who may have never come to know Christ. I have walked with those who strive for faith but feel that they can never believe.

Some of this has to do with theological convictions. I believe that I live in a culture that remains in Advent and Christmas... perhaps not quite as God intended. One a bit more focused on hope and answered prayer. On blessing, gifts, and the presence of God. I believe, though, that there are so many in the world who live in the midst of Lent. Always waiting, always wondering. Living in the midst of suffering and violence. Living in faith amidst a world where we all question God's presence. Lent reminds me to walk alongside those who are suffering in this world. And to seek God's presence in those places.

And, I must be honest, much of this has to do with my personality. Some of us are just more Lenten, more melancholy, always lonely, always questioning, always a bit fearful. Much of my family has a Lenten streak. And so I feel much more at home in the midst of Lent. Not just because it allows me to live in the depths, but because it gives me language for Christ's presence there. In the darkest of hours, Christ was present, walking towards the cross. In the midst of the deepest emptiness, Christ's death. And on the otherside... the resurrection.

A few more pictures from Copenhagen

Following our day in Vaxholm, we spent a final day wandering in Stockholm before flying west to Copenhagen. Our first day we wandered the Stroget, the main walking street, through shopping district, along the wharves at Nyhavn, and onto Amalienborg.

Bicycles everywhere! The major mode of transportation Copenhagen seems to be the bicycle. These filled the major square, Amagertov, surrounding the famous pelican fountain that sits in the center.

There are two major palaces in Copenhagen... this is Amalienborg. At the end of the plaza you can see Frederiks Church, the state Lutheran Church.

The guards, dressed in blue but with the same tall fuzzy black hats as in England, line up in the central plaza of Amalienborg and then march through the city to another palace. Unfortunately, I stepped into the Royal Copenhagen store minutes before they passed through Amagertov! Phillis said they procession was led by musicians and filled the square.

The following day we wandered in the other direction, towards the lights and industry of Copenhagen. Neon signs, more industrial looking buildings, just like any other downtown. We checked out a few stores before returning to the historic district.

In the midst of the city is Rundetarn, a tower that looms over the city providing spectacular views. There are no stairs up the tower, rather it is a sloped circular walkway to the top.

I had actually come to Copenhagen for a specific reason. Two years earlier on our flight back from Stockholm, five of us had been bumped from our flight on a layover in Copenhagen. We spent one night in the city... arriving at our beautiful hotel just as the sun was setting... unfortunately we spent a few hours trying to settle in, call home, and get dinner before wandering out on the streets of the city. It was a bit of a magical night... and my hope was to return to some of the sights we had seen that night. I remembered the Pelican Fountain in Amagertov, but I hadn't yet found the palace we had wandered through... that would wait until the last morning in Copenhagen... and my next blog.

Vaxholm

On our first free day in Stockholm, Phillis and I headed out on an adventure into the archipelago outside of Stockholm. Our plan was to hike across Stockholm to catch the bus to Vaxholm, one of the harbor cities in the archipelago, spend a few hours wandering through shops, cafes, and along the water, and then return on a boat from Vaxholm to the harbor in Stockholm. Alas, we arrived too early... a few days too early. Apparently we were out of season, arriving in March rather than April. When we walked into the ticket office for the ferry on Tuesday morning and asked about the next boat to Stockholm, the response was a big grin and the word "Friday."

We still enjoyed a few hours wandering around Vaxholm. Up on the hilltop was a small tourist set off the main square. In the tourist office we were given a map with a few sites and small parks along the coast. Our first and longest stop was Battery Park.

Set along the ridge on the outskirts of town, the park was lined with benches and a stairway down to a small beach overlooking Northamm, one of the harbors. The name refers to the deserted gun batteries that line the ridge defending the archipelago and most likely Stockholm from enemy ships. It took us a while to figure out that the metal arcs and dials set into the rocks were most likely designed to help position the guns and cannons. The batteries themselves reminded me a bit of the batteries overlooking San Francisco in Golden Gate Park that I grew up exploring.

We settled in the park for a bit of relaxation before heading down to the harbor. Off in the distance was a great fortress set in the middle of the channel.

We wandered along the wharf and then back towards the main street where we found a great cafe for lunch. It was full of young women and strollers (mothers or au pairs? we are not sure), a popular place for the locals. Really, who else was around?
After lunch we boarded the bus back to Stockholm for a leisurely afternoon... Phillis reading in a cafe and I wandering through the streets and stores lining the main walking street. I ran into a few of the students getting shiek new European haircuts in a the department store.

We ended the day over dinner with Chris Peterson, a former student and now pastor of student minitries at the English speaking congregation of Immaneul Church, the large Covenant Church in Stockholm. One more day in Stockholm before our evening flight to Copenhagen and a new adventure!

Wandering through Stockholm

On my recent trip, I had about three and a half days to wander through Stockholm... I rarely return to the places I visit, so it was a surprise how much I remembered, how much was familiar, and how comfortable it was to be in Stockholm for the second time. It is a great city to walk around and explore... wonderful walking streets lined with shops and restaurants, rambling cobblestone alleys on the island of Gamla Stan, beautiful old buildings along the water, churches sitting on hilltops... here are a few pictures from my days there:

Benj, Erik (Norway), Pea (Sweden), and Katie along the harbor at Nybroviken

Square on Gamla Stan, the old part of the city

The Palace on Gamla Stan

Radmansgatan, the T-bana station near Immanuel Church and the place where we stayed in Stockholm

Filadelfia Church, one of the largest and oldest Pentecostal churches in Sweden... The church is attached to an old castle which serves as offices and meeting rooms. The new pastor was previously serving a thriving Covenant church and the denomination is mourning the loss. The service was not what I expected... more like a typical contemporary Evangelical service in the United States than a Pentecostal service. There was little mention of the Holy Spirit and very little praying, yet I know the charismatic gifts are still significant for this denomination. They are just expressed in a different way.

Finally, a fruit and flower market located in the square outside the bright blue concert hall... This is the building where the Nobel Prizes are presented.

Freedom in the Wide Open

Well, I thought I would take a few blogs to give you some highlights on my trip to Sweden! Sorry this isn't in real-time... I was not quite as diligent as my students!

Nine of us flew all night from Chicago to Stockholm... Six students and three professors. Jay Phelan and I are the co-teachers for an exchange course with THS, our sister seminary in Stockholm. The course is designed to build connections between the Covenant in the US and Sweden. In addition, our students are challenged to consider how leadership and mission in the church are uniquely shaped by cultural contexts... particularly the United States and Sweden. In the United States we considered the Willow Creek movement as well as the Emergent Church movement. In Sweden we looked at the Pentecostal movement and the former state church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Sweden.

During a conversation with the Lutheran Bishop of Stockholm (who seemed like an amazing woman!) one of our students asked about church planting and church growth. The Bishop didn't have much of a response. Many students assumed that this demonstrated a lack of concern for evangelism on the part of the Lutheran Church. While this may be true, it is a simplistic response to the issue. What is evangelism in a country where just a few years ago everyone was automatically a member of the church upon birth? What is church growth when 70% of the population attends confirmation? How is ecclesiology different in a system that developed as a state church versus the free church market economy of the United States?

I have been re-reading By One Spirit, the history of the Covenant Church in the United States (I know... this is difficult for many of you to imagine!). It has been so interesting to see how the Pietistic renewal movement in Sweden and the revivals that took place at the time changed into something different when translated into the U.S. context. In particular, a movement that emphasized freedom in Sweden developed a denominational structure in the United States. When there were strict boundaries, the emphasis was freedom. In the wide-open context of the United States, the emphasis was structure and connection.

I think about this idea often actually... I grew up in a family with relatively few boundaries. No curfew, few rules. They weren't really necessary. With all that freedom, I created my own boundaries, pretended to have curfews, held myself to pretty strict moral guidelines. Not all kids react this way, but I did. I meet a lot of young people who grew up with relatively strict boundaries. As they get older, they try to push those boundaries and draw them in different places. I have close boundaries in an expansive world. They try to draw expansive boundaries in a closed in world. Often the conversations about these various boundaries lead to judgements of sinfulness or self-righteousness. Context... context is key. As is community... and communication... a love for one another that allows these discussions to focus on the good of others rather than our own needs.

And so, our time in Sweden starts with the need for context, community, and communication.

Copenhagen

We finally found an internet cafe! It is hard for me to believe that there were far more options to access the internet in Guatemala than there are here in Europe. I suppose there are hotspots everywhere, but since we did not bring computers with us we are left to roam the streets looking for the gathering places for gamers and tourists in this very interesting city.

Unfortunately I have not found out how to rotate my pictures yet in this program, so you will be left twisting your head a few times...
Phillis and I are staying at a little bed and breakfast right on the Strøget, the walking street in central Copenhagen. See the McDonald's sign on the right? We are the next doorway. Actually, it has turned out to be very convenient! Our room is near the back overlooking a little courtyard and fairly quiet. It is about as wide as our two beds... but it works. And it means we are close to everything.

We spent the first day wandering down this street trying to reach the Little Mermaid... a small statue set on the canal in Copenhagen and apparently the destination of most tourist romps through the city. Alas, we spent too much time wandering, taking pictures, sitting in cafes drinking coffee and watching people. We only made it as far the castle, Amalienborg. There is a large courtyard surrounded by buildings on all sides. Throughout are scattered guards (think Britain... only their uniforms are blue and they are not quite as stoic! But they do have the big fuzzy black hats and all) each next to a doorway that opens for cars to drive into the far reaches behind the buildings. At one end is the large marble church central to the city.

The street itself is beautiful. Large old buildings on either side. Shops, cafes, churches, squares. This is one of the main central squares surrounding the Stork Fountain. Off the left is the Royal Copenhagen shop displaying the porcelain and china that the city is so famous for.

Of course what I enjoyed most of all was sitting in a restaurant along one of the cities many canals... This is a section of town called Nyhavn. Just a short stretch off the main square, Kongens Nytorv, Nyhavn was filled with tourists and city dwellers lining the outdoor cafes seated under heat lamps, bundled in winter coats, with blankets across our legs. Directly across from us was a small trio playing a little music with drums and a bass fiddle. Behind us, once the trio stopped, a jazz duo began with voice and guitar.

It has been interesting... Copenhagen is so very different than Stockholm, yet it is difficult to put it into words. Stockholm is all clean lines and order. People are pleasant and friendly, yet as you walk in the streets there seems to be little interaction with strangers. For me this brought a feeling of safety and predictability. Copenhagen, however, has more of an edge. People walk a little faster, make more eye contact, jostle you a little more. They are still very helpful, but much more direct. I feel that I am making judgements in this comparison, but that is not my intention. It is just difficult to put into words the sublte differences that you feel... which is a bit what this trip has all been about. Learning to look beyond the surface, beyond first impressions. Things that seem so similar can be so different. Copenhagen and Stockholm. So close, so related, yet so diverse. The Evangelical Covenant Church and the Stockholm Mission Church... both from the same heritage, yet very different... and very much akin to one another at the same time. The subtlety causes you to consider your words, define terms, ask questions... if you are looking closely enough. It is a conversation that I find fascinating and enlightening... but of the other that I am considering and of myself. Who are we really? How shaped are we by our own cultures? If we can recognize how the world has shaped us, will we be able to shake loose from it a bit more and allow ourselves to be more fully shaped by God?

Sweden

Well, I haven´t had much access to computers during my trip to Sweden, but apparently my students have! I´ve spent the last five days with a group of faculty (Phillis Sheppard, Jay Phelan, and myself) and students from North Park as well as faculty and students from the Stockholm School of Theology. It has been fascinating hearing about the church here in Sweden... especially trying to grasp the impact of the Lutheran State Church, a system that was only dissolved in the last few years. Sweden considers itself the most secular country in the world yet 70% of its population still belong to the Lutheran Church despite the fact that it is no longer the state church in which citizenship automatically ensures membership. We visited a thriving Pentecostal church which has been around for over 100 years as well as an emerging church type service of over 100 young adults. We shared class with students who are passionate about the church and ministry. So much to think about... but that will have to wait for later blogs... for now I leave you with links to those students who have been posting about the trip:

nhizgrip.blogspot.com
lisaholmlund.blogspot.com

In Denial

The following is a sermon on Matthew 16:13-28 that I preached in chapel at North Park Theological Seminary on Thursday, March 1, 2007:

Who did Peter think he was trying to rebuke Jesus? I mean, really… just a few days before he had been telling everyone that he believed Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of the living God. And now he takes him aside and rebukes him.

Jesus is trying to tell his disciples what is going to happen over the next few weeks… it is the first time he’s shared so openly and directly about the suffering to come, the first time he has really clearly stated that he is going to be killed and raised again..

And here Peter takes him aside and rebukes him. “Never, Lord!” he says. “Never! This can’t happen to you! This isn’t supposed to happen to you! You’re the Messiah! And Messiahs are supposed to…”

And here is where the problem is… Messiahs are supposed to what… Come on Peter, finish the sentence… Messiahs are supposed to what…

Peter got in trouble not because he didn’t believe Jesus was the Messiah. He got in trouble because he believed he knew more about who the Messiah was than Jesus did.

We all have preconceived ideas of who Jesus is. They are shaped by our families, our faith experiences, our churches, and our cultures. Peter was no different. I don’t know what particular type of synagogue he was a part of. I don’t know about the faith of his family. But I know a little bit about the faith of his culture. I know that many were waiting for a different type of Messiah. One who would come with military power. One who would defeat the Romans and restore the kingdom of the Jewish people. And when Jesus started to describe what would happen in the next few weeks, it went against everything Peter thought the Messiah would be. And without thinking, Peter took Jesus aside and rebuked him.

The response was swift and harsh. Get behind me Satan. You are a stumbling block to me. You don’t have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns…

I cannot imagine how devastating it would be to one moment hold the keys to the kingdom and then, suddenly, be rebuked as a tool of Satan, a stumbling block to Christ…

Looking back, Peter’s rebuke seems ridiculous. Of course, Jesus had to go to the cross… we’ve built our entire faith around that idea. That is what a Messiah is supposed to be…

What are our cultural images of the Messiah? How do they shape our understanding of Christ’s mission? How, at times, do they cause us to miss what God is trying to do?
Peter was unable to understand the role of suffering in the mission of Christ. The way of the cross seemed to antithetical to who he understood the Messiah to be.

Peter’s concept of the Messiah was limited to human understanding. The rebuilding of kingdom on this earth. The rebuilding of a kingdom with Israel at its center.

We too seem to have a difficult time understand the role of suffering in the church and the mission of Christ. Like Peter, our goal is to avoid suffering at all costs. We avoid conflict. We avoid pain. We seek the easiest path in life. If we cannot avoid suffering, we pretend it doesn’t exist or that we don’t have any part in it.
I wonder how we can claim to look at the suffering of the cross, to claim it as a symbol of our faith, to grasp the depth of what Jesus did for us when we seem to be so blind to the suffering that is all around us?

When I first starting looking into issues of racism, sexism, and other forms of prejudice, one of the hardest things was believing it truly existed We can provide statistics about unequal wages, domestic violence, sexual harassment, and racial profiling. We can tell you about the poverty level of women and children around the world. We can show you how the consumption of the United States is destroying economies and the environment. Yet we still have a hard time believing that there is truly a problem… believing it enough to act upon it. How could there be that much suffering in the world? How could I be a part of causing such suffering? How could it be that people would cause me to suffer like that? It was difficult to allow my mind to take it all in because the suffering was overwhelming and problems seemed impossible to overcome.

If we can’t look at the suffering of the world, can we truly say that we have looked fully into the suffering of the cross? Have we truly grasped the depth of love, the sacrifice, the impact of Christ death and dying? And can we grasp the true mission of God?

There are some areas of suffering that we have an easier time accepting than others. In our community, there are certain types of suffering that are socially acceptable. We do a great job of surrounding those who are dealing with grief, those who have lost loved ones. We are very supportive of those who are sick and in need of our prayers. We have a harder time talking about the financial concerns of our community. We have a more difficult time talking about depression and mental illness. We don’t talk about struggles in marriages or domestic violence. We don’t like to imagine that our students of color are experiencing racism or that our immigrant students are feeling isolated and alone.
We are able to talk about those types of suffering that are socially acceptable, but so much suffering goes on behind closed doors.

If we can’t look at the suffering in our own community, can we truly say that we have looked fully into the suffering of the cross? Can we truly say that we grasp the depth of sacrifice and love Christ has for us?

I am not suggesting that we don’t need to be good stewards of our time or set good boundaries for ourselves. I simply want to highlight the fact that so often we are blind to the suffering that is going on around us.

Peter was unable to see that the mission of the Messiah would lead Christ through suffering. Even when Jesus himself told him directly what would happen, Peter denied it, rebuked him…
We are in the midst of Lent… a season to reflect on the sufferings of Christ… we often give something up as a way of denying ourselves and taking up our crosses… but perhaps instead of giving something up we could try to attend to Christ’s presence in the midst of the suffering in our world today… perhaps we could give something up not to deny ourselves, but to bring a bit of salvation to others…

In closing, let me offer one bit of hope… while Jesus’ rebuke of Peter is swift and harsh, Jesus love for Peter never wavers, and his call on Peter’s life does not change. Peter will retain the keys of the kingdom, the foundation of the church will still be built upon the rock. Peter will stumble again, denying Christ… and yet Jesus will offer forgiveness and renew his call on Peter’s life…
Feed my lambs. Take care of my sheep. Feed my sheep.

The Messiah Complex

No, this is not a blog in response to Valentine’s Day. I am not sure I could post that here. Rather, it is a short reflection on “the Messiah Complex” and my own recent struggles with this phenomenon.

In teaching survival skills to new pastors and classes on leadership, I have often referred to the concept of the “Messiah Complex.” In ministry, the Messiah Complex is the silly notion we get into our heads as pastors that we are not simply acting on behalf of Jesus, but that somehow we have become the Messiah ourselves, in the flesh, preaching, teaching, and healing in our churches.

I tell students that this is an easy complex to contract. People tell us all the time how important we are, how needed we are, how spiritual we are. We begin to believe we are called to our positions because we are somehow better, stronger, faster (the bionic pastor… insert your own sound effects if you grew up in the 80’s). People are not satisfied until they have heard from the pastor, been visited by the pastor, had the pastor lay hands on them. As a result, pastors begin to act like they are God, working 80 hour weeks, neglecting their spiritual life (God doesn’t need to have a quiet time… ), neglecting their need for friends and family, acting like lone rangers and supermen/wonder women. We begin to do ministry as if we don’t need God, for God is already present in human form…

Honestly, I have never struggled that much with this complex. Perhaps it is some great humility on my part, or perhaps insecurity. This past week, though, I realized that even I am susceptible to this disease. I have recently announced that this will be my last semester as the dean of students at North Park Theological Seminary. I am planning on going to school full time in the fall to complete my doctoral studies at Garrett Evangelical Theological School in Evanston, just north of Chicago. As I have shared this news, I have received really positive affirmation and feedback from people. While this is all very much appreciated, I realized that I was starting to believe some of the things people were saying!

“They’ll never be able to replace you.” “How can anyone else be the dean of students?” “You were the best dean of students in the whole world!” (okay, no one actually said that… but you get the idea) And I started to wonder if perhaps I was the only one who could do this job. Perhaps I was the only person in the whole world uniquely gifted to be the dean of students at North Park Theological Seminary! Now you see where this kind of thinking can leave you… convincing yourself that you are the savior of your church, your community, your family, or… your seminary.

While the affirmation has been very much appreciated, it has been important for me to remember a few things…

• North Park Theological Seminary existed long before I did and will continue to exist long after I am gone. Institutions tend to live longer than individuals.
• God existed long before I did and will continue to exist long after I am gone. God’s work in this world began long before I came along and God provides the resources necessary to accomplish God’s mission… including a new dean of students when needed.
• No one will do the job like I have. Some people will be extremely grateful for that. We are all limited in our gifts, abilities, and insights. Someone else will be able accomplish things that I have not been able to accomplish.
• I never did this job alone. My work was always in the context of faculty, students, staff, and administrators who worked to make North Park a community of formation and reflection. We did this work together and that community will continue after I am gone. I would much rather be part of the body of Christ than Christ himself!

A Defining Word

I’ve been reading a book by Elizabeth Gilbert called Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia. (Thank you to my roommate, Johnna, for giving it to me for Christmas!) While her search heads in quite different directions than mine, it is the search itself that I connect with. In one section she writes of the different words that capture the heart of various cities… “sex” for Rome, “fight” for Naples, “power” for the Vatican, “achieve” for New York, “succeed” for Los Angeles, “conform” for Stockholm. She then considers the word that might define her family and herself. I think “quest” might describe mine. Or perhaps the word is “contentment” or “truth” expressed in the quest. And not truth in the sense of various absolute truths or provable facts, but rather “the truth,” some concept of truth in the whole that makes this world and my place in it make sense. Perhaps, as so eloquently put by my pastor, Paul Corner, this morning… “the truth” in the sense of “the way, the truth, and the life,” a truth that can only be embodied in a living being, in the living God, in Jesus Christ.

I love the quest, but the restlessness is driving me crazy. Forever searching. Forever seeking. Eyes always forward.

Interestingly, for me, the quest also involves a clear sense of the now. I am always seeking something better, but always in light of a very realistic assessment of the present. It is amazing how little we truly see of the now. How much we resist or deny the realities around us. To be truly attentive to the reality of the here and now is to allow the pain of this world to touch us, the poverty and illness, the war and violence, the greed and entitlement. Yet I cannot look away. I do, on a regular basis, look away. I can’t deny that. But the quest involves trying to keep my eyes open wider and longer… The whole truth… the way, the truth, and the life.

I wish I could say that my word was “Jesus” who is the way, the truth, and the life, but I think that would be claiming too much. Rather, I am grateful that our gracious God has allowed the word that defines me to be the pilgrimage that draws me closer to the divine.

My Excuse

I am so sorry! I know I haven’t written in months! I have a really good excuse for missing September and October. November and December I have an excuse for, but it would be just that… an excuse.

My last post was at the end of August. The following Monday, Labor Day, my really good excuse took place….

Every Monday evening during Daylight Savings (or is it when we are not in Daylight Savings? I am never sure. I just know we start in the Spring the Monday after we change our clocks forward an hour and we finish in the Fall when we change our clocks back again.) a group of us gather in Peterson Park to play Ultimate Frisbee. Apparently some amalgamation of this group has been gathering at this time in this particular park for about 15 years. I think it began with a group from North Park University, but it has expanded and shifted over the years including people from North Park University, North Park Theological Seminary, North Park Covenant Church, Covenant Offices, friends, family, and those who simply saw us in the park and asked to join in. Much like an amoeba, the main body of the group shifts each year enveloping new people while others move away or on to other responsibilities.

This particular year the main body of the group was composed of faculty and students from North Park Theological Seminary as well as their friends and families. For the first time in became a truly intergenerational group with many their children to join in the game. One of the things I loved about this summer’s Frisbee was the attitude of the game. It has always been a fairly competitive group, but also a very inclusive group. Our play is marked by respect for one another and the sheer joy of the game. A joy that we want everyone on the field to share. This means teaching good sportsmanship, helping younger players develop their Frisbee skills, and helping growing bodies learn to play in a way that is safe for all.

We didn’t do so well with this last lesson on Labor Day of 2006. The game had started off fairly aggressively with two North Park University soccer players leading the way. And while I am generally extremely attentive to other people on the field, I can also get a little aggressive in my play. In a moment of weakness, I went for a Frisbee that I should have left alone and ended up flat on my back in the middle of the field.

I remember it vividly and, of course, in slow motion. The other team had made a bad pass. I thought I could block it. I started across the field. The moment I committed, I saw the receiver to my left out of the corner of my eye. He was a young guy who plays in a pretty competitive city Frisbee league and he was focused on catching this Frisbee. So focused that he came at it at full speed and didn’t even see me. I saw him, but there was nothing I could do. Momentum had taken over.

I didn’t feel anything when we hit. It seemed as if we collided and then I just laid down on the field. I didn’t move for a few minutes. Just laid there taking it all in. I knew I was hurt, but didn’t know how bad. Finally, I reached up and touched my shoulder. No pain, but a familiar bump. I realize now that it was the same bump I always felt on my dad’s shoulders, the shoulders he had separated when he was in his twenties and early thirties.

The ER doctor confirmed the diagnosis and a few days later an orthopedic surgeon provided the details. I had completely separated my left shoulder. I would spend the next six weeks in a sling and two months in physical therapy. So, no typing for quite a while. There… my excuse for having abandoned my blog back in September. There is a lot more to say about the experience, but perhaps I’ll just stop here for now. And promise to try to write again soon.