The God I Know

I am deeply troubled by what I have been hearing from those who call themselves Christians. 

I am a cradle Christian, a follower of Jesus, and an Episcopal priest.

When I worked in professional theatre, I encountered a number of people whom I call "refugees from religion."  Many had once been religious and most were spiritual.  But they had been hurt in the name of Christ, taught about an angry God who would condemn them for any of a number of sins, including, for some of them, being who they were.  The Gospel was not good news for them but had been used to scold, to criticize, and to shame.  In some cases - to destroy fragile spirits.  How deeply sad I was to learn that my beloved religion had treated such good and dear people in ways that drove them out rather than inviting them in.

I will never forget one friend telling me how much he had loved the church as a boy. He then turned to me with anguish in his eyes and asked me how he could continue to be part of something that told him that he would go to hell because of who he loved.  It didn't make sense to him.  It doesn't make sense to me. 

The God I know is very different from the ones my friends had been taught to know.  I did my best to show them the God I knew, not by preaching to them or trying to convert them but by demonstrating that not all Christians worship the Angry Hall Monitor in the Sky.  I talked about going to church and what I had heard in the sermon that week, not for their benefit but because I was excited about it.  Sometimes my friends and I engaged in conversations late at night about what we thought and believed about God.  A few asked if they could come to church with me.  One said he felt connected to church because on Sundays I always came to rehearsal dressed in my church clothes and it reminded him of his childhood.

Some of my friends were quite angry.  They would talk about how hateful Christianity is.  I would always defend my religion.  One friend and I got into a mild argument one day when he said something derogatory and I responded that not all Christians were like that.  He mentioned a Christian leader in our area, and I said, "He doesn't speak for me."  My friend demanded to know why the Christians who did not agree with Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell or other Christian leaders of their ilk were not more visible.  He told me that we needed to speak up.  I have never forgotten that conversation. 

When I went to Israel in 2000, the trip that led me to pursue ordination to the priesthood, our tour visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem.  I had a powerful experience at the children's museum there.  At one point we entered a room so dark that we had to hold onto a handrail to keep from stumbling.  Overhead a voice read out the names of children, their countries, and their ages - children who had been lost in the Holocaust.  Inside the dark room were candles reflected in mirrors.  When you looked at them straight on, you could see columns of individual candles stacked from floor to ceiling, about a foot from each other on all sides.  If you shifted your gaze a little to the side, however, the candles reflected into infinity, merging with the reflections of the candles in the next column, giving the illusion of millions of tiny flickering lights.  All those voices silenced.  All that potential lost forever.

I later wrote about that experience, "I could not take a picture of the tiny flames surrounded by all that darkness, but instead I had to memorize it, to etch it into the backs of my eyelids and into my heart so that I might never forget.  So that if I ever live in a time like that of the Holocaust, I will see those tiny flames, and I will stand up and say NO.  I will raise my voice against those who would snuff out the flames."

I don't own a TV station, and I am not the President of a university.  I do not have the power and influence of some of the more visible Christian leaders in this country.  But I do have a voice, and I can say that they do not speak for me.  Any Christian who is preaching violence against other children of God does not speak for me.  And let me be clear that all human beings are children of God.  

The God I know is the God of love.  

The Jesus I know came "to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor." 

The Jesus I know said, "Blessed are the peacemakers" and told Peter to put down his sword.

The God I know gave up power to dwell among us and to die as one of us, loving us and forgiving us.

The Jesus I know endured death by crucifixion rather than lift a hand in violence.

The men who are proclaiming violence in the name of God do not speak for me, and they do not speak of the God that I know.  I pray that they will come to know the God I know.  I pray that Christians everywhere will be known for how well they love, not how well they defend themselves.  

I pray for peace for all of God's children.

Rainbows and Labyrinths - Advent Hope

God is so good.  I find this time of year hard, when the days are so short.  I thrive in the warm sun.  Ever since Advent last year I have also been struggling with some anxiety/depression that is made worse every time I turn on the news and every time I scroll through Facebook.  I despair of there being any wisdom or love in the world when I see over and over how badly we human beings treat each other.  And I find that even my to-do list can be overwhelming some days.  It has been recommended to me that when I feel one of these anxious "episodes" coming on that I get outside and walk.  When I complained to my therapist one day last January that I couldn't take a walk because it might rain, he said, "The worst thing that will happen is that you get wet."  I didn't appreciate the comment at the time, but I've come to see his point.

Today was one of those days when I was too whiny to walk.  It was chilly and so overcast that it felt like twilight inside my house all day.  I had run errands and done some house chores and was starting to move around the house aimlessly while craving sugar.  I kept telling myself that I needed to go out and walk.  When I went out for the mail, it had started to rain, and I just couldn't bring myself to be out in it.  At about 4:20 I looked outside and saw a glimmer of sunlight.  Just go, I told myself.

Out I went, bundled up, Ipod in pocket, hood up, scarf wrapped warmly around my neck.  As I walked out of my neighborhood, I could hear the sound of raindrops hitting my hood.  The air smelled of wet leaves and smoke from a wood fire.  As I turned the corner out of my neighborhood, I looked over the trees to the east and saw a rainbow.  I started laughing with delight.  "Thanks God!" I said out loud.  I took out my phone to take a few pictures.  The further I went, the brighter the rainbow got.  It lasted all the way until I got to the labyrinth.  I kept turning to look at it.  For awhile there was a double rainbow.  The bow went from horizon to horizon, arcing across the sky as the sun sank down. 

When I got to the labyrinth, I could see the sun setting in the west and the rainbow in the east.  Raindrops continued to fall on my head.  I've never walked the labyrinth when there was a rainbow before.  I walked on behalf of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry who is in the hospital with a subdural hematoma today.  I also walked for a young friend who is having a challenging experience today and for Randy, my old theatre colleague, who lost someone dear to him.  I walked for those killed in San Bernadino and for those struggling in Chicago.  I prayed for all who are in the darkness.  In the center, I offered a blessing to Eastern State Hospital as I often do.  Peace.  Healing.  Wholeness.  Compassion and patience for the caregivers.  Bless this place as a place of healing.

I know I'm an idealist and probably naive.  But the good news of the Gospel tells me that God's going to win in the end.  The rainbow is the symbol of God's promise to us.  Whenever I see one I'm filled with hope.  I don't believe I've seen one in Advent before.  It was such a wonderful reminder to me not to give in to despair.  It may suck right now in many ways.  But that is not the end.  There is always hope.  Thanks, God.

How Do You See God?

On my way to Newport News this morning I saw a sign saying there were wind restrictions on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.  Not a problem for me since I wasn't going that far, but it was an indication of weather conditions in the area.  50 degrees with 15-20 mile an hour winds makes for very chilly outdoor sitting.  Brrr...  When I first arrived at CNU I considered sitting inside, but I ran into one of the staff who booed me when I said I thought it was too cold to be outside.  So I decided to give it a try.  I was bundled up in a base layer, clergy shirt and CNU sweatshirt with my down coat, scarf, gloves, and a prayer shawl for a lap blanket.  The blanket made all the difference in keeping my legs warm. 

Breathe in peace.  Breathe out love.  I started the new breathing exercise that my therapist has taught me.  Breathe in peace.  Breathe out love.  As I began praying for the campus, a young woman walked up to me with two beverages in her hand.  "Would you like a hot chocolate?" she said and held out one of the cups.  "Yes, I would," I told her.  "Thank you."  Gratefully I wrapped my gloved hands around the warm drink.  "I heard you say you were cold," she said as she headed off to class.  Wow.  These students are so thoughtful and generous.  I wonder if they are on all campuses, or if there's something special here at CNU.  I certainly wasn't that thoughtful when I was in college.

One of the Canterbury students brought her lunch out to eat with me, and we had a good conversation.  Tonight the group is having dinner together at Scott Baker's house.  When he's not busy priesting, he loves to cook.  I've heard rumors of tortellini soup and lasagna, and I made pumpkin and pecan pies.  It should be a fun evening, and 8 students are coming with me!  We're fortifying them for their exams next week.

One of the students from another campus ministry came over and brought me some more hot chocolate.  The CRU (Campus Crusade) students had a hot chocolate station in the Plaza today, while they were doing an evangelism experience.  My young friend invited me to go over so he could introduce me to the CRU team.  As people sipped hot chocolate, they were invited into conversation about some images that had been attached to a posterboard.  I understand that the images came from mysoularium.com.  The CRU students asked a series of questions about the images including:
Which three images would you choose to describe your life right now?
Which three images describe what you wish were in your life right now?
Which image would you choose to describe God?
and a few more. 
We had a fun time picking our images and saying why we had chosen them.  It was a great way to get conversation going, and I may use it with the Canterbury students or at SpiritWorks.  I talked for awhile with the student who asked me the questions and ended up saying a prayer with him, too.  He and his girlfriend want to be medical missionaries one day.  When I was in college I just wanted to get through exams!

Later on another student I know came up, clearly feeling the stress of the end of the semester.  He didn't have time to linger, so I offered him a hug.  Someone who I think is a professor rode by on a bicycle and asked for prayers for a person suffering with cancer.  For awhile I watched some men in a cherry-picker lift thingy putting up the big Christmas tree in the middle of the Great Lawn and fixing a giant star on the top - it will be lit Sunday night.  I had to keep shifting the station to stay in the sun but the shade rapidly overtook me, and finally I gave up and retreated to the campus coffee shop.  I had made it my full time, though, with a brief break inside for a pit stop and my usual visit to the OSA office.  The student aid there will be studying abroad in London next semester, so I was glad to get a chance to say good-bye to her and offer blessings for her next adventure. 

It may have been chilly and windy at the prayer station today, but the warmth of the students more than made up for it.  Whatever else it may be, Advent is the Season of Hope.  Spending time with the CNU students fills me with hope.

Acapella Thursday

Too much rain today - I had to move inside.  My usual indoor spot in the David Student Union was taken by a Christmas tree in the process of being decorated, so I shared the rotunda area with the ROTC recruiters.  It was a fun lunch because we were treated to a performance by the acapella group University Sounds.  I didn't even know that acapella groups were a thing until I saw the movie, Pitch Perfect, a few years ago.  There are at least 6 groups here at CNU.  One of the Canterbury students brought her lunch and sat in my extra chair, and I decided to pull out my lunch while she was eating hers.  We had barely started munching when the USounds began their three song set.  We had front row seats.  Students lined the walls of the rotunda to listen to the impromptu concert.  The group announced that they have a CD coming out in February.  I love being in a place where at any moment I can hear spontaneous singing!  If I'd been outside, I would have missed it.  At one point today I had four Canterbury students surrounding the prayer station as we listened to the mini-concert.  It felt like I was in the cool place.

My extra chair was full most of the time I was at the prayer station.  Several lengthy conversations
and a few prayer requests.  It's such a privilege to be a companion to students as they grow deeper in their relationships with God. It's getting to that time in the semester when tests, papers, and presentations are piling up.  Stress is building and sleep is hard to come by.  I pray for peace and endurance and patience and strength.  I pray for God to remove fears and give wisdom.  I pray for good humor.  Most of all I pray that students will remember that they are God's beloved children no matter how the grades turn out. 

Last week I didn't get to come to CNU because I was driving to Knoxville on my way to Sewanee for the 25th reunion of the class ahead of mine.  It was such a joy to get to see dear old friends and to join with them in a singalong 25th anniversary celebration of our production of Godspell.  CNU isn't the only place where singing breaks out spontaneously!  Because I went on the trip, I missed being here last Thursday, and it felt like I had been gone a long time.  Tonight is our last regular Canterbury meeting before the end of the semester.  Next Thursday is Thanksgiving, and the Thursday after that we will have dinner at Scott Baker's house.  He is a wonderful cook and treats the students to a home-cooked meal at the end of each semester.  Sustenance to get them through exams. 

So much gratitude for this ministry and the students whom God brings my way.  Especially in a time when most of the news is so disturbing - it's a blessing to spend time with all these young people.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Gum Wall

When Jan and I were in Seattle for the Recovery Ministries of the Episcopal Church Conference, we went to see the famous Gum Wall.  It's located in an alley below the Pike Street Marketplace.  A friend had recommended we see it, and since the Market was closed by the time we got there, we decided to look for this marvel of stickiness.  How grateful I am that we were there in October and not July.  I read that when it's hot the gum gives off a sweet, strong aroma and the pavement becomes sticky.  What surprised me most was the length of the walls on both sides that were covered.  So. Much. Gum.  It's really gross.

When I was a kid I liked to chew gum.  My mother bought my brother and me Trident sugarless gum, but we preferred Bubble Yum, Hubba Bubba, or Bubblicious.  I was also partial to Freshen Up gum, the kind with the liquid gel in the center that squirted flavor into your mouth when you bit down on the little square.  My mom liked to make her gum snap and pop when she chewed it, and I spent years trying to make the same crackling sound that she did.  She was also an expert on blowing bubbles, and with practice, I learned to do that too.  I'm not sure when my enjoyment of gum waned, but I know that I haven't liked chewing it in at least 20 years.  I find that the flavor lasts such a short time, and my jaw gets tired easily from chewing.  Plus, I get bored with it after a few minutes.

My high school drama teacher hated when students chewed gum in her class or onstage.  She would always make them spit it out.  I found a cross stitch pattern that I made for her one year as a Christmas present.  It had a picture of a cow on it and the following poem:
 
     "A gum-chewing student and a cud-chewing cow;
     Seem quite alike...
     but they're different somehow;
     The difference is clear...
     I see it all now;
     It's the intelligent look
     on the face of the cow."

My teacher loved it and hung it up in her room.  I can't imagine what she would think of the Gum Wall. 

The Gum Wall has been in existence for over 20 years, apparently started by patrons of the Market Theater while waiting in line.  I guess they began sticking their chewed up gum to the wall about the time I stopped chewing it at all.  A couple of days ago an announcement came out that later this month the wall will be scraped clean of the estimated million pieces of gum.  The sugar and chemicals in the gum are eroding the bricks, so a company is being brought in to blast it clean.  We will have been some of the last people to visit it in its current state.  After the gum from the past two decades has been scraped off, people will be allowed to put gum on it again, but I imagine it will take awhile to build back up.

Though I am glad I got to visit the Gum Wall (once), I did not feel a need to add to the strange artwork.  Hard to believe I've gone my whole life without knowing about it.  Seeing it did not entice me to buy a pack of gum.  In fact, it may have made sure that I never chew gum again!

Humans of CNU

Photo by Chris Shea, Humans of CNU

Today, right as I got to the prayer station, a student came up and asked if he could sit down.  He wondered if I was familiar with Humans of New York and said that he was doing Humans of CNU and that he'd like to take a picture of me and talk to me.  I said sure.  He asked me about the prayer station and why I was doing it.  He asked me what I was passionate about and what my hobbies were.  We had a lovely conversation, and he permitted me to say a prayer before he took my picture and went on his way.  I was honored to meet him and to be the subject of one of his posts.  You can see what he posted here. 

The interview was the beginning of an afternoon of conversations and prayer requests - it might have been the most I've had in one day.  My extra chair was filled most of the time, and people would come up for prayers even while I was conversing with someone else.  One student sat and ate his lunch with me and talked about the worship ministry he helps lead on Wednesday nights.  We mused on how worshiping in a place week after week for years soaks it in prayer.  It can become almost tangible - like a monastic community.  The place where they do their Wednesday night worship is right where I sit for the prayer station.  Pretty cool how all these different ministry groups overlap.
 

 Another treat of the day was getting to watch a group of male students sing "My Girl" to a giggling, blushing female student and then present her with roses and a t-shirt.  I asked someone what was going on and learned that a fraternity will go with a member who wants to ask someone to go with him to a formal.  They all sing to her a way of asking her to go.  I had seen a similar ritual on other occasions but hadn't known what it meant.  It didn't seem formal enough to be a marriage proposal, but it also didn't seem random.  The singers today did a particularly good job. 

While I was sitting, one of the CNU employees who drives the golf carts/Gators to pick up trash, drove up behind me and walked over to hand me a sprig of bush with a perfect white blossom at the end.  I buried my nose in it and inhaled deeply - can't mistake that fragrance. 
"Do you know what it is?" she asked. 
"I do!" I said.  "It's a gardenia." 
I held it out to my lunch companion and he smelled it as well.  I thanked her, and she hopped back onto her vehicle and drove away.  I have no idea where she found a gardenia on Nov. 5, but I stuck it in my cup holder, and its scent wafted over the prayer station for the rest of the afternoon.

It was labyrinth day again, and I had feared we would be rained out.  A terrible accident with a fatality had blocked I-64 this morning, so it took me over a hour to get down to Newport News.  When I arrived, it was pouring rain.  By the time I set up the prayer station, the rain was mostly over, but I had to wait to see if the Plaza would dry enough to put the labyrinth down.  It did.  More people came to walk it, a couple of whom brought headphones and listened to music while they walked.  What a great idea. 

The young man who had asked me to pray for the people who had stolen his bicycle rode by and told me that a friend had decided to give him his bicycle, so he was back on wheels.  He thanked me for the prayers.  These students blow me away. 

I got to have a nice long chat with a Canterbury student about writing and other fun things and another Canterbury student also came by for a bit.  Today was a day of rich conversations about future plans and prayer and if it's really God's plan when bad things happen to us and how to be present to those whose loved ones have died.  I also got to join United Campus Ministry and the new Lutheran Ministry group for a short evening service in the chapel before meeting with the Episcopal Campus Ministry students.  At the ECM meeting we watched part of Bishop Curry's sermon from his installation and talked about Moses and Prince of Egypt.  It was a most excellent day.

Whenever I'm asked to measure this ministry, I have trouble quantifying it.  Thanks to you, my readers, for being witnesses to the stories that are at the heart of it.

Telling Our Recovery Stories

Last week I went to the Gathering of Recovery Ministries of the Episcopal Church in Seattle.  I will post more about the conference later, but for this post I want to talk about the exercise we did on the first afternoon.  Jan Brown (newly elected VP of RMEC) and Shannon Tucker (current president of RMEC) led a session on "telling our recovery stories."  Shannon moved us by sharing his story of addiction and recovery with vulnerability and honesty and a good sprinkling of humor.  And then Jan asked him to share his story in 5 sentences.  The distilled version was equally as powerful as the longer version had been. 

After Shannon's story, Jan invited those who wanted to give it a try to come forward and share their stories in 5 sentences as a way to introduce themselves to the whole group.  It was also a way to bring many voices into the room, not just those of the presenters.  I was astonished by the courage of those who shared.  One of the goals of the afternoon was to learn a new way to talk about our stories – instead of saying, “Hi, I’m Lauren, I’m a co-dependent/addict/alcoholic,” we were taught to say, “Hi, I’m Lauren, and I’ve been in recovery from co-dependence for 4 ½ years, and what this means for me is …”   Earlier in the morning Becca Stevens had talked about how our stories need to be stories of good news.  Hearing so many stories of recovery was seriously good news to me.  We often hear about how hard it is to recover, and yet it happens all the time.

Try it.  What would your 5 sentence recovery story be?  Don’t opt out – we all need recovery from something.  

Here’s mine:

1.  After a lifetime of exhausting myself striving to please others, I have been in recovery from co-dependence for 4 ½ years. 

2.  I now work part-time as a recovery priest with a non-profit in Williamsburg, Virginia and part-time as a college chaplain. 

3.  Sometimes it seems like I will never be able to let go of all my co-dependent behaviors, but I remind myself that I am a work in progress. 

4.  I am grateful for the health and happiness that I have found on my recovery journey.   

5.  Most of all I am grateful to God for bringing me the help I needed and for putting me in places where I can be of help to others.

Your turn.