Brett's Discernment

I love this poem Dr. Swain shared with us last semester, and I offer it here as a prayer and devotion. I hope to revisit this poem more often.

If you had stayed

Tightfisted in the sky

And watched us thrash

With all the patience of a pipe smoker,

I would pray

Like a golden bullet

Aimed at your heart.

But the story says

You cried

And so heavy was the tear

You fell with it to earth

Where like a baritone in a bar

It is never time to go home.

So you move among us

Twisting every straight line into Picasso,

Stealing kisses from pinched lips,

Holding our hand in the dark.

So now when I pray

I sit and turn my mind

Like a television knob

Till you are there

With your large, open hands

Spreading my life before me

Like a Sunday table cloth

And pulling up a chair yourself

For by now

The secret is out.

You are home.

John Shea, The God Who Fell From Heaven

This is a picture of me leading worship drawn by a young congregation member today during the first service. So adorable. When I took a good look at this picture after she gave it to me, I felt affirmed and like that is where I am called to be - leading worship as who I am. I know this is just a silly little drawing by a precocious kid, but it is sweet, and it was just what I needed. In general, I felt affirmed today at church. I am enjoying getting to know the people at CLC, and loving the relationship and ministry there. I will continue to make little mistakes and be critical of myself, but the Spirit works.

The first couple weeks of the semester I was feeling out of balance. I was not taking things one at a time or being prayerful as I like about the use of my time and my general priorities.

A week ago, at the ordination, as I wrote about in my previous post, I started to feel a shift back to the center. Which for me, that center is breathing, a feeling of calm, that Christ is at the center and I can relax.
So this week I have reconnected with my pastors, friends, and things I like to do to relax (getting back into a schedule of working out, reading poetry, being easier on myself. . .)

I had a little pity party for myself when I got my seminary bill for almost $11,000 the other day (my scholarships and other monies hadn't been applied yet, so I won't owe that whole amount! but still!). I am about to take on debt (of some kind) for the first time, at twenty-six years old. I am blessed and I recognize that even the ability to have debt is a privilege that most people in the world cannot afford. Yet I admittedly, selfishly, mourn my salary and the privileges that gave me - being able to give to my church, balance my spending, and yes of course, spend money. Ironically I feel like sometimes I spent less when I had my salary - somehow it feels like I had less expenses (like I had good insurance from my employer instead of crappy, crappy insurance I pay for).

But I am over this now. This seems to be the latest theme in my recent discernment - that right now, being a seminary student is my call. Even if I could make some more money and (try to) make ends meet by working lots of hours, would that be best? I feel prayerfully called to be a student, to take things one at a time, to focus on my life as a seminarian. I'm not saying working is wrong during seminary - hardly - and I will continue to work. But I am feeling my own boundaries and the intentionality of leaving space and feeling that being a student, taking breaks, and spending time on things is valid. I thank God for the opportunity to study, and all of the nudges and swift kicks in the right direction through the Spirit I have been given in my discernment toward call and clarity.

God is good . . . all the time.

Peace+

The last two weeks or so have been among the most tiring in recent memory. For scale, that means that I am actually longing to be back in CPE! (But actually I miss CPE for more than just this.)

I have picked up two (soon to be three or four maybe) families that I tutor for regularly. Though I am taking less classes than ever, I am TA for one and also chair of a committee.

This is all not to illustrate my own tiredness or gripes but to make a simple point. Amidst all my distractions, God finds me and gives me space to really feel at peace to pray and worship. I know, as most of my recorded thoughts, this one is pretty simple. But, I find it important that when I get up earlier than usual (which is early!) to study, I find prayerful moments and am able to feel peaceful. Compline tonight was one of those times.

One of my roommates (C, I think) put up over the summer this quote on our bathroom mirror - which I have bolded - as in searching for it again I have found it is a part of a larger prayer of Kirkegard's:

Father in Heaven! You have loved us first, help us never to forget that You are love so that this sure conviction might triumph in our hearts
over the seduction of the world,
over the inquietude of the soul,
over the anxiety for the future,
over the fright of the past,
over the distress of the moment.
But grant also that this conviction might discipline our soul so that our heart might remain faithful and sincere in the love which we bear to all those whom You have commanded us to love as we love ourselves.

You have loved us first, O God, alas! We speak of it in terms of history as if You have only loved us first but a single time, rather than that without ceasing.
You have loved us first many times and every day and our whole life through.
When we wake up in the morning and turn our soul toward You- You are the first- You have loved us first;
if I rise at dawn and at the same second turn my soul toward You in prayer, You are there ahead of me, You have loved me first.
When I withdraw from the distractions of the day and turn my soul toward You, You are the first and thus forever.
And yet we always speak ungratefully as if You have loved us first only once.

What an amazing prayer. Again, I like how the agency is on God here. God acts - loving us first - over and over - it's a fact - the can and possibility language is taken out. I would like to share this poetic prayer and keep it with me.

God loves me first in a lot of new ways lately. I am doing my field education at Christ Lutheran Church in Kulpsville, PA. Perhaps because I grew up not really ever hearing a lot of language (or even preaching, maybe) of people claiming God and the Spirit working in them or being open about their faith, but this is a new way God has been surprising and loving me. The people are extremely warm and welcoming, and it is a very lay-empowered congregation. I give great thanks for this congregation and their warmth toward me.

So the last two Sundays I have officially "started" at CLC, which means leading parts of the liturgy each Sunday (basically the apostolic greeting, prayer of the day, creed, Lord's prayer (sometimes), intercessory prayers, peace, etc). Some of these parts of the liturgy had never before been my words to say. Honestly, the first Sunday I did feel a slight butterfly or two, but especially this second time and overall I have felt so comfortable, so called to this, so loving the liturgy because God loved me first, and I am excited to proclaim, teach, and serve. Oh my gosh am I ever cheesy. But that is why I am here, right? Because I am being formed, I love this stuff, and I am not afraid to talk about it.

The picture in this post is tied to this next thought though, and a beautiful experience I do not soon want to forget. I love and miss my CPE group and supervisor. There were five us in our group - two Presbyterians (one male, one female), one Roman Catholic male, one Ukrainian Catholic male - Ruslan Romanyuk, and me, all seeking ordination as priests or pastors in our denominations. We have our differences, but we found big parallels also. Well, Ruslan, who is married to the lovely Lesia (sp?) and is father to the beautiful baby boy David, was ordained on Sunday at the Ukrainian Catholic Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception (pictured). The entire service, which I think was the "divine liturgy" plus some rites of ordination, was beautifully breathtaking. With only a few exceptions including the gospel reading, the sermon, and a prayer or two, the entire two and a half hours of liturgy were non-stop singing/chanting. The interchange between the congregation, choir, bishop, priests, and Ruslan, the one to be ordained, were beautiful in and of itself. In some ways it was like being in another country and a part of something very sacred and intimate.

In coming to that day and praying for Ruslan, I naturally reflected on my own call and ordination. What will it be like? I realized that this is the first ordination I have ever attended. I have a feeling there will be plenty more, however. Our whole CPE group and supervisor were able to make it, and I felt it was powerfully emotional but also fitting to be all sitting in the pew together, teary-eyed at points, as our dear friend who grew so much with us, was being ordained.

After settling into the gilded, gorgeous space and into the liturgy of which the words I could not understand, I began to breathe more deeply. I always think of how my dad has always told me when I am stressed or if I have a big day ahead to - "take deep breaths, and say the Lord's prayer." So the whole liturgy was a prayer for me, like a long period of meditative prayer and chant, while I watched the large party of priests and Ruslan intently.

The only word of the liturgy that I understood was after the bishop had laid hands over Rusland and prayed over him to ordain him a priest. The bishop rose Ruslan to his feet and they took off his outer robe - just his black cassock beneath. They then ceremoniously dressed him in his new alb, stole, and many other pieces. For each one, the bishop sang out - "Axios" - and then Ruslan kissed the piece about to be put on and the congregation would sing/chant "axios" in response through the ceremonious dressing of that piece. "Axios" means "he is worthy" - it was beautiful and hard to describe.

Ruslan's emotion was palatable, as was that of the congregation for this new priest. Apparently it is a special thing to receive a priestly blessing from a newly ordained priest, and so we all did, as Ruslan let out a beaming smile now and then and radiated joy and peace. Yesterday was the international day of prayer, and I give thanks for the beauty that God has given us in the deep, rich variety of denominations and practices in God's church. Thanks be to God for Father Ruslan Romanyuk and days where things, though insanely busy all around us and taking us from place to place are just this simple - that we can breathe and pray with space for peacefulness. Again this comes back to one of Pastor B's favorite concepts - being intentional about doing one thing at a time and focusing on it. There is worship. And every now and again, even on my busiest days, God gives me space to really worship.

Peace+

Yesterday I finished CPE. It has not yet sunk in that I no longer have to go to the hospital, write verbatims, or knock on doors/curtains/tables, saying: "Hi, my name's Brett, I'm a chaplain here. Do you mind if I come in?"

I have learned a whole lot. I will take away a lot that I don't know how to fully put into words. Of course, we have to try - with our self-evaluations, endorsement essays, etc. Another way I've reflected is through my theology of ministry paper/reflection, which I've pasted below. I'll probably borrow a lot of it for my endorsement essay.

My supervisor, Ann, was a part of the growth and gain of pastoral identity/authority that I felt this summer. My group was good as well, and I was thankful for the program.
Katy, one of my group colleagues made a list of Ann-isms, including: How does God interrupt God's people? Ministry is where the action is. Questions lead to deeper faith. Feelings are what they are. Vulnerability is the universal connector. You are the prayer - you may not need words. Lamenting is a beautiful thing - what I loved is gone. Tears will teach you. Embrace the growing edges. Your gut always tells you what to say - then we wrestle with it. A pastoral challenge is an invitation for someone to think differently. Security is an illusion, yet all of humanity seeks it. Doctors are mythical people who patients are always waiting for. Beware capturing people in sermons or in worship the way you capture people in a hospital bed! Agendas can block your own ability to listen, communicate, and be pastoral. If you can laugh at yourself, you're going to be a great minister. God is in the surprises.



To think that I made it through, conquering at least for now my phobias of blood/hospitals/needles, etc., and offering good care - amazes me. Thanks be to God for a great summer of learning.

Here's my theology of ministry paper/reflection:

At the core of my theology of ministry is the understanding that all people are God's people, and that we are all described in Romans 3:22-25, “For there is no distinction, ²³since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; ²⁴they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, ²⁵whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith.” A pastor or a pastoral minister is not exempt from this brokenness by sin and lack of distinction, but is set apart by a call to minister to the terror created by this brokenness with the only things that she authentically can bring – her honest self and God's word, embodied and present. The word, the message, the ministry is contained in the richness of verses 24 and 25 above. This theology has a very concrete, visceral feel for me, and it goes more personal in 1 Corinthians 15:3-10¹, what I would describe as Paul's statement of faith. As a minister, the context of Paul understanding grace through his own brokenness and the fact that Jesus Christ came down to him, all the way to the cross, all the way to him on the road, to him the “least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle.” (1 Cor. 15:9) My theology lives through these verses, that authentic ministry means to me that we claim our identities here in this scripture - “But by the grace of God I am who I am.” To be a minister then, the minister must be true and authentic to this identity, gifted to her in her baptism, and sustained by the gift of faith, by living daily to be who she is – fully sinner, fully justified, called to share God's word.

Flowing from this theology, during this unit of CPE I have felt called to reflect on and truly embrace what it means and feels like to be a “non-solution-based” minister. I realized in this unit of CPE that one of my strengths is being able to sit with, (at least metaphorically) embrace, and listen to suffering without trying to “fix” something. I do not look for a solution or an end to tears, because sometimes opening oneself up to authentic sadness., anger, or confusion is just the pastoral care one needs There are comforting words to give from God, but I am learning that some of the most comforting words are those which open up a person's story, giving them space to find their own voice of personal creedal Christianity as Paul proclaimed in the Corinthians text noted below. Parker Palmer describes this type of ministry: “It is a love in which we represent God's love to a suffering person, a God who does not 'fix' us but gives us strength by suffering with us. By standing respectfully and faithfully at the borders of another's solitude, we may mediate the love of God to a person who needs something deeper than any human being can give.”²

At this point I feel empowered that my “strengths” for ministry are not as much the gifted talents I came in with so much as they are the edges in which I feel I have experienced the most growth. My edge which I have felt the greatest growth is in claiming my theology of ministry itself, and coming to an authentic understanding and living of my pastoral identity. This is also something that I believe I have brought to the group in this CPE unit. My growth in realizing and getting to know my own pastoral identity is hard to put into a few short phrases or sentences, but overall I have felt affirmed, challenged, blessed, prayerful, and balanced through this growing process in the CPE unit. I have come to intimately know and deeply trust my pastoral instincts, or as my CPE supervisor referred to it more aptly, my “gut.” It is as simple and rich as to say that I simply know myself better, my baptismal self because there is no other self, called to a specific yoke perfectly fitted to my authentic identity.

Another strength I have grown with this CPE summer is learning how I act among new experiences, stories, or peoples. Because I feel called, I was able in this CPE unit to live with the unknowns (e.g.: the elderly, various illnesses, how I would handle my blood/needles/medical phobias), to feel balanced, calm, and open to whatever might come my way. Befriending my anxiety about essentially cold-calling on people in hospital rooms was hard and I experienced a lot of growth in confidence. This confidence has pushed me to ask hard questions, offer to pray with people, and to feel emotions with people as I walk the road with them. But I was also gifted with (and surprised by) my calmness to not have that anxiety directed or triggered by people who were different, suffering, confused, angry, or unwilling to talk to me. A strength that really surprised me and enriched my CPE experience was that at the end of each clinical day I was able to get into the car and tell myself honestly that I had had a good day, I had done the best I could, and I felt happy and unburdened. While especially in those first few days I felt anxious knocking on doors, I did not have a theology which would make me feel anxious exiting doors – I did not wonder that I had not done enough, said the right thing, or approached a situation correctly. After all, why should I if I believe, “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain” (1 Cor. 15:10).

In the last third of my CPE unit, I have actually felt most enriched by the things which still challenge me, those “growing edges.” By knowing my growing edges, pushing them, but also knowing my true weaknesses and limits, I am a more authentic and whole minister, just as the vulnerable people I minister to. I have discovered that a very specific growing edge for me is handling how to minister to people who are supremely devout (of any religion, but usually conservative). I think this weakness has also given me growth in my ability to not argue with people who think they have it all figured out but to be pastorally available and get to know what it means to offer a pastoral challenge. Another growing edge I have discovered is that sometimes my relative good health and inexperience with medical language makes me miss things hidden in people's language. Working in a Catholic environment has challenged me in a positive way, but also at times deeply saddened or frustrated me. I have come to experience my own limits and weaknesses and love them as a part of me. I have reflected often in recent days on the images in Isaiah 49 – of God calling us from our mothers' wombs, of God who will never forget us, with our names inscribed on God's hands. I feel that in these weeks of CPE I have gotten to know my own hands of pastoral ministry, and seen God's name inscribed on them. But ultimately I am sustained not by my own strength, willpower, or abilities, but by the knowledge that this is God's doing, that God is present, and after all, this is just God's work, my hands.

Mason Jennings is hands down my favorite singer/songwriter/artist. This fall he will come out with his next album, which is a little darker and focused on his understanding of the world and its issues - global warming, war, etc. This video is my favorite new song of his, called The Field. (The song starts about 2:30 through.) It is powerful, about a family that had lost a child in the war. Some of the lyrics that particularly strike me -

If I was the president, if I was that man,
I would walk out with those kids out across the sand.
If I was the president, if I was that brave,
I would take a shovel, then dig each child their grave.
If I was the president, and my world turned back.
I wouldn't want no victory, I'd just want you back.
I don't want no victory, I'd just want you back.
I don't want no victory, I'd just want you back.
I don't want no victory, I'd just want you back.

This piercing words also make me think about a God who put God's very self on the cross in Christ, just to get us "back" - the ultimate act of love, getting someone back.

I have been very upset lately with what all is going on the world - wars, desolation, and yet in America we have been fixated on the death of a once-ridiculed singer.

On the day of Michael Jackson's memorial, when the regular broadcast news was crowded with news of this one person's death and the thousands mourning, I watched NewsHour with Jim Lehrer on PBS. At the end of the program, as he generally does, they had a moment of silence for each American soldier reported dead that day. It is powerful to see these young faces - and for the television to have no sound for even those few minutes. But where are their memorials broadcast on t.v.? In the hospital people die every day, some completely alone like the 100 year old Lutheran woman I had on my floor a couple weeks ago, who had outlived her family and all her friends, and didn't have a soul in the world to come and sit bedside with her and listen or just be there, celebrating her life. Except me, I suppose, that is part of my job.

And so, I am really enjoying CPE. It is hard, hard work, and I am exhausted at the end of each day. Just introducing myself to so many new people a day and trying to be open to them to forge supportive relationships is hard work. But when it comes down to it, I love it. I have been privy to some very sacred moments and trying times, at death and with families and people questioning their faith in the face of illness or hardships piled on top of each other. I have not done a perfect job, but I have done the best I could. I know more than ever some of my "growing edges" or weaknesses, but CPE is a good time to meet them head on and challenge myself.

Most of all, I feel very affirmed and confident in God's call of me to ministry and thankful for my opportunities. Some days are more challenging than others but I feel comforted that my faith and the theology I personally hold gives me peace and comfort for meeting people where they are. I am really thankful that I had pastoral care class right before starting CPE, as well as Lutheran Confessions.

I am wrestling with applying for a part time job teaching Latin online. Maybe I will apply, maybe not. I'm not sure about making time commitments and how many hours I could devote to a job this fall. We'll see. As with everything else, I'm still discerning. I guess that's a good way to think about everything.

Peace+

I am done one week of CPE. It was tiring. Two days of general orientation to CPE, a day of orientation to the hospital and the spiritual care department there, and then yesterday most of the day on my assigned floor. I have a supervisor, a mentor, and many other wonderful people at St. Mary who are helpful and supportive. I am really glad I found a program that is very well organized and has great people behind it. At right is a picture of the hospital. I was going to take a picture of my hospital badge, beeper, and other accoutrements but I am still on my sad old Toshiba as the HP has been down since the day before my confessions exam (and when I can get it working again it will show me all my confessions notes and outlines I couldn't access right before the exam. ugh).

Some things that I have been contemplating the last few days . . .
- This is a wake-up to my sensibilities to be more sensitive to all denominations but specifically Catholicism. I work in a Roman Catholic hospital, and all of the staff (except maybe 1) of the spiritual care dept. is Catholic. There is mass daily, which I have been to both days we had opportunity. I'm not sure how I feel about making mass a daily part of my prayer/spiritual practice. It is always good to hear scripture and be in a congregation to worship, but there are parts of it that I just really disagree with and make it somewhat uncomfortable (maybe that is too strong - perhaps "distracting" is better) for me. Just to give some context to that statement, those things include not offering communion in both kinds to the laity. Only the priest drinks the wine. I thought Vatican II had happened . . .
- If I were in the hospital, ailing from something somewhat serious, what would I do if a chaplain knocked and came into my room?
- I feel really ok with knocking and visiting patients who are alert/awake. But what about people who are on respirators and/or cannot speak to me? I have many thoughts about this. I know that some of the chaplains will just say a little prayer for the people who are sleeping or unconscious, and I am ok with that. Also something that I've found hard is that all the rooms on my floor have the possibility of having two beds in them, one you cannot see if the curtain is drawn. I think patients have a need for privacy sometimes, though nurses and doctors cannot, as necessitated by their duties, always respect that. I feel like the two beds/curtain situation makes me feel awkward. Plus, if I have a conversation with a patient with a roommate, how private is that conversation? This whole line of thinking is definitely one of my "growing edges." Maybe I will just get more used to it by the end of the summer.
- I enjoy listening. I actually do. So I feel very comfortable keeping people company by talking to them and hopefully comforting them, maybe making them smile. I do not think I am not doing my job if I do not pray with each patient, but am I being mindful enought that I am there as more than just a secular companion? Nevertheless, I had probably my best conversation of the day yesterday with a patient who told me he has no religion at all.

In other (old) news:

• the semester is over! I wish I had all my grades, but oh well, they will come eventually. I did my best. I learned a lot.
  
• I am taking a German class all June on Monday and Wednesday nights. So hopefully by July I'll be able to (at least) read German!
• This last semester was rough for me in a lot of ways, but finally both my feet are healing. Now only if I could get my stupid HP fixed again. I'm on month five now of this not working. It's a long story. My complaint letter to HP Corporate HQ is like 8 or 9 pages long.
  
• I went to visit Cosby when I was home in VA last week. It was great to see all my former colleagues/friends. I really miss them and the amazing work they do and we used to do together. I also got to see a bunch of my amazing former students, so that was really awesome. I felt very loved. They are great kids and I wish them all the best. The one day this summer I would most like to be in VA would be next Friday for their graduation, but I cannot miss a weekday of CPE and it is in the middle of a 12-day stretch of working CPE. I will be praying for them on that day, though.

Peace+

So I really appreciate NPR (I am a member!), and sometimes stories on a program just hit you really surprisingly.

Today driving back from church there was a story brilliantly told about a bull, named Chance, and the remarkable story of his life, death . . . and more. It is act two of the link above, you can access it in the player. I leave it here so I can come back to it and some of the poignant truths therein.

Some realizations I am very, very, very slowly coming to:
In a week and a half Kate will move out and Jason will move in . . .
In a week and a couple days I will be done with my first year of seminary and on my way to Virginia . . .
I realize I don't "really" have a home anymore - I deeply feel Virginia is my home, and my parents' house is, but will I end up living there again? I hope so. But who knows.
I start CPE in 16 days. Am I ready?
I used to think coming back and being a student again would be hard. Not so much. I am glad I took the time off and worked in the "real world," but the negative is it gives me even less patience with my classmates who complain constantly about waking up at totally reasonable (I think, I realize this is a matter of opinion) hour of the morning.
I hate group work. I thought this would change. . . I mean, I have been in good groups, but I especially do not do well in "groups" where the information is divided and handed out and then shared. I cannot handle it. I prefer either simple dialogue or working alone.
Most of all, this first year of seminary has greatly affirmed many of my strengths for ministry, some which I didn't know I had. Conversely, it has also given me a much clearer and longer list of "growing edges" I need to work on, and I feel confident that I can articulate those going into CPE.

What a whirlwind this semester has been! What a blessing it has been! At times it has been humbling, frustrating, envigorating, affirming, thought-provoking, tiring, refreshing . . .

I don't know that anyone reads it, but just to remind myself, perhaps here are some things I have been blessed and joyed to experience in the recent past (going in chronological order backward from today)

• I was assigned a field education church for next year, Christ Lutheran in Kulpsville, PA. Yesterday I worshipped there for the first time. If I have learned one thing on rotation, it's that one visit or one service does not any perspective make. I am very excited to get to know this congregation and serve there! Seems like a great place!
  
• I served as sacristan for the three days retreat this past Saturday at Trappe, PA ("Shrine of American Lutheranism"). It was great to experience the three days with my classmates, especially the climax of the vigil. In other news, I feel that being a sacristan next year (if I am chosen) would be a great use of my gifts and something I am really interested in. It was a good amount of work (esp. unpacking everything by myself) but I realized how prayerful it truly was to me, the preparation, the silence in the sanctuary getting things ready, the thoughtfulness that goes into worship . . .
  
• I heard/participated in the last of three discussions about our seminary becoming Reconciling in Christ. All three were well done and taught me new things. Then, this past Thursday, our student body at the student body meeting voted to recommend to the faculty to become a Reconciling in Christ seminary. On 4/26 or something, PLTS became the first ELCA seminary to gain this designation.
  
• I went to hear Bishop Gene Robinson speak as a part of the Equality Forum here in Philly. It was facilitated by this woman who was the first out lesbian Rabbi. It was an amazing discussion I hope to remember and maybe blog about later so I can record some of those thoughts/discussion points.
• I participated in the annual Trialogue held here at LTSP, a conversation/mini-seminar on a specific topic shared between Christian, Muslim, and Jewish presenters and participants. What an amazing experience!! The topic this year was just war, and how each religion approaches the concept of war in general, and when it is "just" or "moral" or not a sin. I am definitely going again next year, and encouraging more students to go as there were only three of us there.
  
• I saw Mason Jennings, my favorite singer/musician/artist in the world, for the second time this year, at World Cafe Live in Philly. AMAZING! Possibly the best concert I've been to. And I've seen quite a number . . .
• I got to go home for Easter :) and worship at my home church, Christ the King! I love my home church! I also got to go to the vigil, do a reading, worshipping at St. Stephen Williamsburg! I love that church too!
• And a long time ago, I bought my first clerical collar. See?
  

God is good! All the time!

So between conversations at breakfast and lunch about having a campus pastor, occasionally heated, there was something else.

As we do every Wednesday at 11:30, we celebrated communion together as a community. It was nice to celebrate feeling a part of the body of Christ in the chapel today. What a blessing to be focused on the centrality of baptism and the table. A blessing to hear the preaching of Dr. Sebastian within the Church of South India's order for holy communion. Blessing is in the sharing there, hearing the reminder of God's promise.

That promise also comes at the table. Today a neat thing for me - Every other time we have had worship in the chapel, we have bread, usually baked by a student volunteer. But today, we had wafers, which the ministers broke in our open hands in giving them to us . . . That little symbol and taking the wafer in my mouth (as opposed to the bread I am so used to) really brought me back. It made me think of the church I grew up in, Messiah Lutheran, which has used wafers at least since my first communion, when I was in fifth grade. This wafer seemed so different that it reminded me of my first communion, of what it felt like, the mystery. It made me think of how lucky I am to have had parents that took me to church and have worshiped faithfully all their lives. It made me think of others, like Mrs. Gray who taught me in my first communion classes and was also a loving Sunday school teacher. She found me recently and reconnected after probably 14 years since she moved away. Baptized child of God, I am. I don't know how I feel still about the post I wrote earlier, at least 100%, but I will leave it up. I do know about these promises, and how God has shown me some little blessings today.

I am feeling lately that my discernment and faith life in general perhaps isn't as much about the answers as the questions. I am okay with that.

We need a campus pastor/chaplain whose responsibility is for the spiritual health of the students here at LTSP. I have been saying this since I arrived, spreading the word, talking to people about this. I almost went to LTSS because this is an area in which they are very strong and their pastor is very insightful and would teach me a lot, I think. How can we model positive pastoral care and the importance of a pastoral relationship for spiritual growth if that isn't a forthright intent here on campus?

But when I think about this and having talked about it to people a lot, more questions bubble up in me. This is what Pastor Bell is for, and I think she does a good job. But people don't utilize her enough. Why is that? If we had a campus pastor, would people utilize him/her? Or is this really about clear/clearer definition of roles?

Other students largely and vocally agree with this need on campus. And yet, why is it that last fall when I tried to start a bible study/prayer group of my peers, the idea of that met lukewarm reception at best? Maybe I will try again today. I feel self-convicted in this. There is no reason why I or anyone else cannot seek out and build up community and care for our spiritual lives.

If we need spiritual care so badly for seminarians, why is it that attendance in chapel is so low? Aren't we here because we confess and witness to the importance of a healthy church for the building up of the body of Christ? Not to mention matins and compline, offered every weekday. Would having a campus pastor help? How could this be helped that we could be a community that gathers around our liturgy of life to worship as one body, joyfully, finding nourishment at the font, table, word?*

Why is it that over December break and January term some of my classmates only attended church once or twice? Aren't we here because we are leaders called into service who love God and love worshipping him? Are we, too stuck in wanting to worship the way or the time that we are most used to or fits us best? In this community which should be obviously intentionally Christian, shouldn't this be the easiest place to find spiritual nourishment?

This is not to say that there are many avenues of spiritual care and nourishment offered to us here. Quite the opposite. Many people see spiritual directors, counselors, share relationships with local pastors, worship regularly outside campus or field ed, and of course pray, read and study on their own, et cetera.

This proclaims to me the importance of several things in my own self:

• I and many others get a lot out of chapel services, praying at matins and compline, and having prayerful conversations with friends
• I am going to try again with more deliberate direction to start a bible study/prayer group.
• I am going to encourage others to come to chapel with me more and try to be better about my attendance at compline because some nights I am really tired, but God always meets me there in prayer if I can just put on my shoes and walk there.
• I will continue to try daily to see my studies as a prayerful thing. In some of my classes, this is extremely easy and joyful this semester, so that is good. But I need to remind myself that I don't have to like, enjoy, or agree with everything, but everything is formative and relevant in some way.
• I am going to try to continue to be intentional about doing one thing at a time, doing quality work, and not stressing out.

After all, I know God always comes down.


*This is not to say that spiritual life in chapel is lacking at LTSP. I think chapel worship and the dynamic services, sermons preached, and experiences shared therein have been well realized. LTSP is a great worshipping community with a great number of the student body involved. A prospective student asked me last week in chapel if it was mandatory and seemed very surprised when I said that it wasn't, and he remarked on how great it was that everyone came to worship together.

Watching the news today . . . I think viewership in general is much higher whenever "winter storm" is on the weatherpeople's (look I used inclusive language) lips! Ironically, watching the news made me start thinking. But it wasn't the broadcasted news that was thought provoking in and of itself.

You know how, when it snows heavily, especially at night it seems to me, the snow blocks out the sound of life that usually pulses through wherever you are? But when it snows and you're outside of it, there is this silence, here I notice not hearing the road noises and finding my mind somehow more open. The world seems to move differently when it snows (more so than the obvious complications), and people seem to act quieter. I am thankful for the couple good snows we have had here this winter in Philly. (Though I must say I am jealous that CCPS finally got a snow day after I worked there for three years without!)

I like silence a whole lot. This snow is reminding me how I need to be more vigilant about practicing silence as a part of my daily life. I think I take it for granted. I mean, I go to weekday chapel services, plus matins and compline pretty much every weekday, and silence is always at least a small part of those. But there is more to it. There is something to be found in the silence. As the snowflakes fell fast and furious as if angrily, I thought about breathing. I have had a very bad cold the last few days, and the silence, snow, and sharply cold air feels especially oppressive at times. . . Silence is hard, but one thing I've felt I'm here to learn is how to breathe in silence. It's not always comfortable, but that's ok. Leading more silently is also something I'm slowly learning.

This made me think about how God breathes for us in and through the silence. So walking in the snow, I thought about these verses in 1 Kings, when the LORD comes, in the silence:

1 Kings 19:9 - 20:1 9
At that place he came to a cave, and spent the night there. Then the word of the LORD came to him, saying, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" 10 He answered, "I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away." 11 He said, "Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13 When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" 14 He answered, "I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away." 15 Then the LORD said to him, "Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. 16 Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place. 17 Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill; and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill. 18 Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him."
19 So he set out from there, and found Elisha son of Shaphat, who was plowing. There were twelve yoke of oxen ahead of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and threw his mantle over him. 20 He left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, "Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you." Then Elijah said to him, "Go back again; for what have I done to you?" 21 He returned from following him, took the yoke of oxen, and slaughtered them; using the equipment from the oxen, he boiled their flesh, and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out and followed Elijah, and became his servant.

Sheer silence. So powerful. Elijah's plea he repeats here is one of lonliness, of seeking God as true refuge. And God comes in the sheer silence. God's words to Elijah are here first a question - one that I feel is extremely central to us in our lives of faith - "What are you doing here?"

I am excited to study the Hebrew Scriptures in more depth and learn about this passage. So what comes to me about this passage is my own reflection, not that out of learning. The word of the Lord directs Elijah to witness the Lord passing by, and then there are a handful of natural events. Then, the sheer silence. How perfect in its completeness that must be! The silence of snow here doesn't match it but maybe in a lone meadow somewhere where the snow is so full. . . I think we are most honest with ourselves in the silence - in feeling our emotions there. Think about it. When a movie is at a tense/climactic point and there is a pause or a hold of silence, we feel. When we are in a deep conversation with a loved one or get a phone call or tragic news and the words stop, we feel most fully. That is where at least I feel my heart and mind resound and push me. I want to experience and practice this silence more. To be more present.

And yet back to the news. Local news spent more than 2 minutes in a half-hour broadcast showing a man in a green spandex bodysuit sledding and being goofy. The snow brings forth these newscasts focused on it as if it is the only thing. The silence of the snow falling brings the central focus of the news being these very simple, joyous, non-earth-shattering things: sledding, people getting their cars stuck, which sleds/hills are the best, school closings/delays. And I know that there is joy is this. (I know as I felt it crushed in those many days I didn't have snow cancellations of school as a teacher.) But I also feel the silence. There is some kind of deafening silence in the news reports, even the national news, that talk about not-so-atypical weather and continue their silence on the sadness and tragic state of much of the aspects of our world. I admit that I do not always daily go out looking for the hard news, the sad news of the world.

I guess overall it comes down to this. I thank God for a world in which snow can seem so amazing that joy flows and we are so blessed as to only think and talk about that. But I also thank God for the prayerful silences when I am called to consider everything but those simple joys, but in that silence the suffering and struggles of myself and others. In those silences, we ask ourselves naturally what God asked Elijah - "What are you doing here?"

So, what are you doing here?

It is such an understatement to say that I am enjoying the semester thus far. I feel busier and invigorated by what I am studying. Through a lot of thinking, experiences, and praying lately I've felt really affirmed to be who I am, stand up for things I think are important, and not be sucked into negativity that can sometimes surround being students. I love learning the things I am, and I am especially loving confessions class and pastoral care (and am in that class excitedly looking ahead to the challenge of CPE this summer).

Confessions with Dr. Wengert is powerful to me every day. I have had my Book of Concord for a few years now, but never really cracked it open for serious reading on my own outside the Catechisms. But I am really enjoying reading it. I am taking notes while I read, and each week we have these questions to kind of guide our reading and of which we have to choose five to write a paper on distilling a clear answer. The first topic was "What does justification mean?" Last week it was "According to Lutherans, why preach?" I wrote that one and by the end felt very refreshed and convicted of and in what I read and wrote. I am enjoying the practice of reading and writing for these questions which I think are central and practical for my/our future ministry. Also practical are the things which I am and will learn in liturgy class this semester. So far we are reading and writing on Gordon Lathrop's Holy Things - I have learned a lot from it including new ways to explain things about our life in liturgy/worship.

Tonight, I am writing again for confessions, this one is "why is there something wrong with the papacy?" But here follows my paper on "why preach?" which I got back today. (All the quotes are from the BoC.)

According to Lutherans, Why Preach?

We preach the gospel, in the pulpit or in proclaiming Christ in our daily lives, because God works through us in our preaching by the Holy Spirit to explain the mystery of faith, draw us into closer relationship, and so that all hear a word of grace which may comfort and make alive. So we preach because of what God did first and what God does through our preaching. We preach because we each are witness to the power of the gospel made alive and how it can work in our lives.

God's action and work in our preaching has primacy and thus ought be discussed first as groundwork for what is done in that work, the fruits of preaching. We preach because God gave us the Word, the holiest gift given to us above all others (LC 399.91). Whenever “God's Word is taught, preached, heard, read, or pondered, there the person, the day, and the work is hallowed, not on account of the external work but on account of the Word that makes us all saints.”(LC 399.92) So we preach because through the Word and the grace therein, God makes us holy; we are justified in the confident trust we take from the words of gospel spoken to us. This is so because of the work of the Holy Spirit, which “preaches to us and brings us to Christ.” (LC 436.37) God in the Holy Spirit draws us into Christian community for worship and hearing the word preached, which Luther makes clear in the Large Catechism is inseparable from our identity. That identity is as Christians who proclaim Christ crucified and risen, for us, that we might have confidence in his promise of merciful salvation. Yet this identity would be lost without the hearing and speaking the Word of God's grace, as the Holy Spirit works in us. Luther writes: “Neither you nor I could ever know anything about Christ, or believe in him and receive him as Lord, unless these were offered to us and bestowed on our hearts through the preaching of the gospel by the Holy Spirit.” (LC 436.38) Therefore, according to Lutherans, it is understood that we preach because we cannot help but to confess our confidence in God and that when we open our mouths to do so, it is God who speaks through us, for us.

The fruit of preaching is faith, confidence and comfort in the mercy of God, given by the Holy Spirit. This is enacted through preaching by the Holy Spirit and itself begs analysis and witness of how the spoken Word can transform our lives. When we preach as the scriptures do, words of honest law and gospel in community with other believers, the Holy Spirit “creates and increases holiness, causing it daily to grow and become strong in the faith and its fruits, which the Spirit produces.” (LC 438.53) Preaching, especially as Luther prescribes preaching on the catechism, ought to be simple, brief, and direct, so that it penetrates our hearts and minds and is remembered. (LC 386.27) When a sermon is preached so that the grace in it is simple enough to be remembered and pondered later, this gives the body of Christ a language by which to speak faith to one another. Furthermore, when we open ourselves as hearers of preaching and the Word, “we keep that Word holy and gladly hear and learn it.” (SC 352.6) Melanchthon brings clarity here – we preach, citing Galatians 3:[14b] “So that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.”

Because God acts through our preaching and we witness to the power of preaching to impact our trust and relationship with God, we preach to give a specific message to all those that will listen. That message is the same as in the scripture itself – an honest declaration of the law that convicts as well as the joyful proclamation of the good news of God's promise. “In this way, Scripture makes a practice of joining these two things, terrors and consolation, in order to teach that these are the chief parts of repentence: contrition and faith that consoles and justifies.” (Ap 195.52) We as Lutherans preach a specific message, that which we define as gospel, that convicts us through the Holy Spirit as sinners and makes us alive through the promise of Christ. Not every message given from a pulpit or with a bible in hand fits these qualifications. But we witness to faith being effected in those who hear God in preaching, never on account of anything we do or choose, but on Christ's merit. (CA V.3) We know that we only come to relationship and understanding of our faith through the Holy spirit, so we are called to preach to explain and help our brothers and sisters in Christ. Luther writes in the Large Catechism that our entire gospel and preaching is dependent on our understanding of the second article of the Apostle's Creed, “so rich and broad that we can never learn it fully.” (LC 435.33) As Lutherans we preach and hear to learn and retain words spoken to us that are endlessly able to be examined, explained, and embraced, as part of our daily relationship with God.

So what begins with God ends with God here – we preach because God acts in, through, and for us, but also because we are commanded. We are called as Christians through the scriptures and by Luther and other witnesses to the faith to preach forgiveness and mercy, as we are all equal sinners, to the whole world. “We now want to return to the gospel, because God is extravagantly rich in his grace: first, through the spoken word, in which forgiveness of sins is preached to the whole world (which is the proper function of the gospels).” (SA 319.4:)

I worshiped the past two weeks at Mother Bethel A.M.E. church in Philadelphia, pictured here. What follows below is my reflection for rotation group about this experience. What a good, relaxing time worshiping God. I felt right at home, though I wouldn't have thought it before. As I get ready to write my ecumenism paper later this week, I think about how much the theological differences at the A.M.E. church didn't bother me because the people were so ready to welcome and embrace me, so exuberant to worship together. Maybe if we all were a little more unafraid and welcoming, ecumenism wouldn't seem such a laborious task.

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Mother Bethel is the second church we have attended so far on rotation which I would like to go back to this summer. I did not expect to think this before worshiping at Mother Bethel. It is so far from my typical “comfort zone.” I had never worshiped where I was one of only three white persons (the other two were my classmates), worshiping in/with a denomination not my own and which I knew little about, in a place so viscerally tied to a culture not at all my own. But it was just what I needed. Especially the first Sunday I attended, I felt that this congregation was more welcoming than almost any I had attended this year. Even though I was a visitor, I felt completely relaxed in the sanctuary.

I could pick up on some differences in theology that were present in the sermons that I heard at Mother Bethel, but, these were not even such huge things that most lifetime Lutherans might not pick up on them. There was definitely some theology of glory and decision theology preached and prayed for, but I have heard those ideas preached at ELCA churches more than a few times also. I suppose I felt a balance still because the grace came to me in the words of the hymns sung (all ones that I have sung out of Lutheran hymnals in Lutheran churches). Grace and God's mercy was in a community that welcomes everyone with hugs and handshakes, in the faith shared, the choir's notes hit, words of God's love in the sermon, and the way that people in worship can be moved to clap, say “amen,” stand up, and each a little differently. It is times like that, worshiping in a place I never would have before, that I am really thankful for the rotation program.

The history of Mother Bethel impacted me more than I thought it would, being the daughter who sometimes feels burnt out from her dad taking her to every local Civil War battlefield, historic home, et cetera. It was a blessing to be at Mother Bethel the first week, as they celebrated in grand style their Founder's day. That church was the first A.M.E. congregation, a site of famous abolitionist speeches, a stop and coordinator of the Underground Railroad, and the oldest piece of land in America continually owned by black people. These A.M.E. traditions founded on that site is a powerful, meaningful, and deserved part of this congregation's pride. The worship celebrating this, with the bishop preaching, the cathedral choir, and a lot of explanations and background, was the perfect Sunday to be a guest and get a sense of their identity at its fullest. It was probably also the first time I had been to a worship service that was over two hours and it didn't feel very long and I didn't find myself fidgeting to feel comfortable.

Today I chose to worship at the early (8:00) service, and saw a contrast, but not a break from the identity or feeling I had the first week. The early service I went to had maybe 1/3 of the people from the late service the previous week, no choir, much shorter service overall (about 1:15). Their head pastor preached and the (female!) associate pastor read and did prayers. The preaching was exuberant, highly relatable, and climactic as I have seen before with preachers in the black style. Yet the way that the pastor kept his rhetoric very much parallel with the biblical story, highlighting and explaining all the way to a central point/piece of grace, was unlike preaching in a similar style I have heard this year. The way the congregation responds to the preaching, and worship in general, as mentioned above, made me feel like this was a vibrant, faithful place. Honestly, a year ago I'm not sure I would've been as comfortable (and even joined in with the “amen”s and clapping) as response to worship, because I had never experienced worship in a culture that does so, or at least not enough to feel comfortable and not distracted.

As I've been reading for liturgy and confessions a lot this weekend, some other things have been coming to me as I think about Mother Bethel. I wish that I could've spoken with the pastors to hear their thoughts on these things, but I have been reading about the denomination's beliefs from their website. There was no communion in the order of service for either week we were there, either service, and no mention of it in preaching or symbols or table/altar made clear to me where it would be laid. But the denomination's website says that communion is a sacrament, it should be taken in both kinds, they do not believe in transubstantiation, and that “The body of Christ is given, taken and eaten in the Supper, only after a heavenly and spiritual manner. And the means whereby the body of Christ is received and eaten in the Supper, is faith.” (http://www.ame-church.com/about-us/beliefs.php) This website with the “articles of our faith” read a whole lot to me, at least in form and structure, like the Augsburg Confessions and the Small/Large Catechisms as I have been reading. I would like to hear what the pastors would have to say about the altar call that is done at the end. People who we saw go up were doing so to officially declare their intent to become members of Mother Bethel. They were asked if they “proclaim the Lord as their Savior” and if they have been baptized (all were adults). So I am left wondering what would happen if someone who wasn't baptized or hadn't ever before proclaimed Christ as their Savior went up. Furthermore, it is how an A.M.E. Pastor would explain the altar call, what it means to them theologically and practically in the congregation, that I'm interested in. The good thing is, hopefully I will continue to learn about all of these different ways to worship, denominations, beliefs, and languages of faith we speak that I am experiencing this year and that this is just the beginning.

For rotation group, we write reflections on our worship experiences. For Christmas and January we did not have assigned places to worship, so here are my reflections on my time. I had a great end of December and January and am reminded daily of how much God break into our daily lives and stresses to remind us He loves us. Pictured here is my Winter Celebration small group of 12th graders, from week 2. I like to try creative ways of praying, and one day they suggested we pray upside-down. We did, and they liked it so much they took a group picture that way.

First, after returning home to Virginia tired from exams, it was such a blessing to return to my home congregation. I worshiped at Christ the King Lutheran in Richmond, Virginia, my home congregation, for the fourth Sunday in advent, Christmas day, and the first Sunday of Christmas, when I did the children's sermon and served as assistant minister. Worship at CTK feels like home because of the music, my pastor's preaching, little traditions, but mostly the people and how they embrace me as a part of their family. It was beautiful and felt really right to worship (at CTK) on Christmas day, something I had never done before. It felt really meaningful that many families had paused their kids' gift opening and gotten everyone to church because this is who we are, this is why we worship Jesus born as a little baby. On Christmas eve I worshiped with my family at Messiah Lutheran in Mechanicsville, Virginia, the congregation I grew up in. This congregation has suffered and changed a lot since I grew up there, but it is good to see old friends and worship in the space of my first communion and confirmation. They have a first call pastor serving there, and this was his second Christmas at Messiah. I learn a lot from having the insight of listening to my parents and friends in the congregation and their perception of him as a first call pastor learning the ropes (or as any pastor in general).

Returning to Philadelphia for my January classes, a couple friends and I decided to take in some different, multi-cultural experiences. The Second Sunday after Christmas we went to the Quaker meeting on Mermaid Lane. Walking in the door, we were immediately greeted warmly and invited. I went and joined their hymn sing they have in a side room before the meeting begins. About eight or so others happily sang around a piano, hymnals in hand. I was struck by the theological differences and met my own assumptions head-on when singing “Holy, Holy, Holy” I sang what I had always heard, “God in three persons, blessed trinity.” However I quickly realized that I was the only one singing those words – printed in the hymnal was something like “God in each person, blessed friends. . .” The meeting itself was a wonderful meditative time of silence; perhaps four people rose to give a “message” as it is called. Their messages were scripturally based and interesting, but I found myself wondering at the end of the service wanting more – to get communion, share some words of faith as a community, something. I would like to return to a Quaker meeting sometime for its meditative value and how it makes me ask questions of myself and how I can best worship God.

Baptism of our Lord Sunday we went to Tabernacle which is a united PCUSA and UCC church. This was a very diverse, open and accepting community. The congregation as we saw that day was racially mixed, as well as including a variety of ages, sexual orientations, and general walks of life. TAB, as they call it, was a mix in this and a variety of ways of contrast and warm harmonization. For example, the worship space is an older, lofted space with balconies, dark wood, and dominant, colorful, abstract stained glass. Yet this contrasts the lack of some traditional symbols, a raised altar, or the idea of a chancel, especially when the congregation gathers in a large circle and holds hands. The liturgy was highly traditional, with a familiar order and parts, but leaving out communion and making specific deliberate changes to use inclusive, gender-neutral language. We happened to be there for the installation of some new deacons, which was interesting and different to me with the laying on of hands, et cetera. I did not feel particularly welcome at this congregation though, left with ears aching from a waning ear infection plus (over)use of their singing bowl, and feeling like the 45 minute service had been more like two hours.

The Second Sunday after Epiphany I went with a friend from college who lives in Philadelphia to her church, St. John's Melrose Park (ELCA). The congregation was friendly and helpful, and felt like a family together, especially in celebrating the first birthday of a little member together with cake after the service. Many in the congregation was decked out in their Eagles gear to root on their team later that day, and the pastor made a couple references to it in his welcome and sermon. I am not a fan (a pun!) of those kind of references or hooks made by pastors. The pastor's sermon was good, I felt that he preached the gospel. The service was rushed as the pastor was flying out of town immediately after the service; I am not sure whether this is why there was no communion or whether they don't always commune every Sunday anyway.

The last two weekends of January I spent in Lynchburg, Virginia, as a small group leader for t he Virginia synod's high school retreat, Winter Celebration. Each weekend I had a group of 12^th graders from all over Virginia. I used to attend these events as a participant, and have been a small group leader for many years. The experience is always good, I always learn things about myself and have a refreshing time with old friends, worship, and encountering the word with high schoolers. These were particularly powerful weekends though, for four main reasons. First, the love and witness of old friends, from my home congregation who I stayed with the first weekend, most of those kids I taught in Sunday school or something; the way people care for each other and open up to each other is really grace-filled to me. Second, the witness of strong faith of my small group members both weekends – and how sometimes, we can't make assumptions about people struggling with some aspects of faith – sometimes people just trust God and don't worry, and that's what faith is, after all. Third, the theological depth and general honesty of my entire group the second week. They were so honest in a way that I really felt the Holy Spirit through them and their conversations about God in their lives. They taught me a lot. Fourth, the sermon by Pastor Chris Bowen I heard both weekends. It was simple in its core message – God loves you and God tells you every day, and it is our job to tell others – but told in a way that was eloquent, captivating, deep, and going to stay with me in some detail for quite some time. This January was a great time for me for feeling rejuvenated and affirmed of the power and presence of God in my and our lives. This was especially seen for me through the experiences of Winter Celebration and three of the best sermons I have ever heard or read. One was Pastor Bowen's, the second was Dr. Wengert's Epiphany sermon for its conviction and confession of the gospel and its words of an accepting, inclusive God. The third was Pastor Andy Ballentine, my college pastor and great mentor's funeral sermon for a young woman named Samantha Trost, who died a couple weeks ago at 20 from cancer. Its honesty about grief and how exactly we can confess God to be with us in it brought some clarity to that topic and was very powerfully personal.

I hope everyone had as deep and refreshing term as I did. And the good news is, that today worshiping back on rotation at Mother Bethel AME, of course the walk only continues, as I reflect upon God's gifts for me lately in this new experience and enjoyed it very much.

Rev. Joseph E. Lowery quoted this verse in his emotional benediction at the end of the inauguration. It summarizes my feelings about this day. It is triumphant.

Let Justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream!
Amos 5:24

It was good to watch this with the LTSP community and see the crowds gathered all across the world. I know many of my friends abroad watched it live as well. Obama's speech was inspiring. The day is inspiring. I pray for our country and the fearful things in our future.



Obama's speech:

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often, the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land -- a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America: They will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the fainthearted -- for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long, rugged path toward prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again, these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions -- that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act -- not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions -- who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them -- that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works -- whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account -- to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day -- because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control -- and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: Know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort -- even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus -- and nonbelievers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West: Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment -- a moment that will define a generation -- it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence -- the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

• Why can't the Today show be more like NPR morning edition? Kate and I have been discussing this lately.
  
• My dad and I have been discussing lately the language that is used with cancer sufferers. People always say that someone is "fighting" or that he/she "won the battle against cancer." This implies human agency or control in this tragic event, and also implies that the people who lose are not as "strong." This is very interesting to me and something I am becoming more aware of and hope to continue to be as I do CPE, etc.
  
• Where do I want/should I/where would be more practical to do CPE? I am pursuing sites that I like in both Richmond and Philly area. I will be paying rent up here either way.
• Last week I took Lutheran Hymnody. This week and next I am taking ecumenism. We are talking a lot about the WCC, divisive issues between Christians, and the concept of unity. Do we want unity? On my Thinking about God (oral) final we had to discuss why the doctrine of the trinity is relevant for ministry today. I talked about that the doctrine of the trinity teaches complete diversity and complete unity, and how this is of paramount relevance as a teachable model for today. We should conceive of the trinity in the same way we should conceive of ourselves, completely equal, completely unique and respected for our differences, but completely united and willing to come together with our brothers and sisters in Christ. Some questions/random things I have thought about in class . . .
  
• my home church, CTK, is less than five minutes from another ELCA church, but the two would never think of joining.
• Where does sin enter into this? Are we judging each other when we label division as sin? How can we follow Christ to respect others yet work toward unity?
• Unity in mission, philanthropy, and general fraternity versus actually worshipping together. . .
  
• My brother moved to an Air Force base in Mississippi on Tues. to start his career as a 2nd Lieutenant pilot. I keep him in my prayers and pray for his discernment, fulfillment, and relationship with God.
• The inauguration should be interesting to watch. But I am more interested in how the country reacts in the months after, like children the days after Christmas . . . there is great work to be done.
• Why are we bailing out the auto industry when what we need is a perspective switch - that we as Americans do not need new cars every 3 years or whatever, and ought not judge ourselves by this status symbol. Perhaps this is an industry that should change, should streamline.
• I like stained glass when it has rich and not pastel colors.
• I would like to catch more concerts in 2009.
  

For my first J-term class, I took a one-week intensive this week, Lutheran Hymnody. I learned so much and am grateful for the class. Dr. Wengert and Mark Mummert co-taught it, and we also heard from Martin Seltz, lead publisher of the ELW. It was amazing to be taught by the best, on topics they are so passionate about and which are practical and important to everyone. There was also a whole lot of me singing the wrong notes/off key, so I apologize to those who sat near me. I realized many things that I did not know and many I have yet to learn (does that make sense?). Also, randomly, I am in the process of getting a CPE site - fingers crossed it works out for the best! (anyway,) Tonight we had due a short essay post on "what is a Lutheran hymn?" Here is mine:

In contemplating throughout the week, I realized that a Lutheran hymns are powerful and meaningful because they speak two languages fluently to the core of who we are and are, as a result, undeniably transformative.

First, Lutheran hymns speak the language of a theological text, of what we believe and how we proclaim it to be true and active in our context today. This language details our identity as created and loved totally by God, sustained by the Holy Spirit, and centered in Christ crucified and risen. This “Lutheran” language necessarily flows from the Word of God, in scripture and the human experience of Christ as living Word in our lives. To proclaim and speak this Lutheran language, it must be corporate in origin – that we as the body of Christ sing together, responding to and proclaiming the gospel. But this language of theology we also take individually from our corporate song, out the doors of our churches, because we are comfortable with it and it becomes a part of our words of faith – to teach, care, explain, support, and renew our relationships and actions as Lutheran Christians. Lutheran hymns are even Lutheran in their paradox, of being personal as to resonate with our most core intimate beliefs, but being accessible, corporate, and inclusive, inviting all into faith.

Second, a Lutheran hymn speaks the language of music. The language of music is powerful and evocative. A hymn is a poetic text centered in faith set in a musical melody and used to worship God. Hymns have power to evoke deep emotions, memories, and experiences and become so ingrained in a people as to seem permanently cemented by tradition. Yet hymns and their music are a living part of the people, and they are subject to actually change tradition and create new interpretations, especially with good teaching. The music of a hymn shapes and interprets the context in which it is used, and is hence of parallel importance to preaching in a meaningful liturgy.

An objectively constructed definition of a Lutheran hymn will never fit perfectly. As each person sings, the words take on meaning and life, breathing through the people of faith. Just as languages are inextricably tied to and ever-changing by the dialect and context of a people, so are the theology and music of songs. Lutheranism calls us to be inclusive; one ought not be born or act in a certain tradition, status, or mode to be Lutheran, thus neither are our hymns exclusive in this way. We retain a strong heritage as Lutherans, but as the body of Christ grows in new ways, so we seek to preach the gospel in song from honest, local cultural contexts. The body of Lutheran hymnody will and ought ever be up for revision, re-interpretation, and careful thought, as we are called by the songs we love and the beliefs we hold centrally to worship our God in a way that proclaims God honestly, living in our lives today.

The last two weeks I spent worshipping at Bridge of Peace Community Church (ELCA). It is located in Camden, NJ and has an interesting history. It was established in 1950 as a part of the shipyards in a planned (white) laborer community. However, when the neighborhood changed and started to bow under the economic and environmental pressure and decline of the area, in the 1990s the congregation had shrunk and refused to reach out to the community. So the ELCA closed the congregation. In 2000 or so it re-opened as a mission start. One year ago it became an established church and left its mission status.
This church is quite different than congregations I had visited before. Pastor Giselle is passionate and this call is a great fit for her gifts. Yesterday after worship they had lunch and had Dr. Wengert speak to them on the topic "Giving the Devil his Due." It was such a great gift to worship there, hear from the pastor, but especially to see Dr. Wengert teach in this context. He listened to them, spoke to explain everything fully without being condescending, and gave a powerful talk which the congregation members respond to. I felt very spiritually refreshed by all this.
Bridge of Peace needs $780.00 per week to make ends meet and pay its bills. Yet, weekly they are falling far short, more like around half of the monies needed.
Next Sunday I will worship and preach at my home congregation, pictured here. What a world of difference. I will be preaching at the WELCA Thankoffering service, for which the readings shall be - Gen 1:26-30, Psalm 112, Romans 12:1-11, and Mark 12:38-44. This is different from the lectionary readings for this Sunday, which would have the gospel be Matthew 25:31-55, the sheep and the goats. I did write my first exegetical paper on the latter, the Matthew text, which I might post here. It was really interesting to write about it and I really felt the Spirit in that work immersing deeply in the text.

Peace+

Thursday Night Amos 5:24

Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

Who here has been creekwalking this week? Who has had bible study in the creek? Did anyone sit by the creek this week? Did anyone look at the rocks when going over twin bridge and think about the water?

So apparently, we have some experts here. Amos compares God's justice to water. Have you ever thought about a creek or a river? How does it travel? Does it go in a straight line? NO! It curves, it winds its way – this does not make sense – but it doesn't have to! So – there is a difference here – between the wold's justice, where we say everything has to be “equal” and logical.

But tonight we do not ask for the world's justice – tonight we cry out – hence the “let” part of it – Let justice roll down like waters – and righteousness like an ever flowing stream!

So God's justice – what is it? It's the rolling, rushing ever-flowing stream. It rushes through the plains and creates curves – not where we think they should be, not in straight lines but where God sees that it is needed. Just like the creek, we may not understand why God's justice does or even see it how moves exactly, but it is there, changing the landscape. The stream changes the landscape forever, just like how in the waters of baptism we are changed forever and that God's justice is like the stream in how it cannot be stopped – only diverted – kind of like the amazing energy this week has been unstoppable – with random singing and dancing, adventures caving and excavating,

But one of my favorite camp activities becomes part of our discussion tonight. Many of you have done it. We could leave here this week and say – so what – so what about God's justice – so what about the lost, the little, the least, the lifeless, and the last. Until, we find ourselves in their shoes. Until one of your friends leaves you behind or says something behind your back or until you are sick. . . So how do we live in this world of God's justice? It's simple – all you have to do – is go creekwalking – we are baptized and forever changed by God's justice through grace, but then we go off in the world, where we can be hurt – unless – we go creekwalking – we can walk and live in the stream of God's justice. The stream will never run out, it is ever flowing. And while we are still in the world, there will still be a slip or a rock here and there, if we creekwalk in the stream of God's justice, we will see a different life, a different justice. So how do you do this? There are little ways to do it everyday, but big ones too. Maybe you could help someone find their way that feels lost. Maybe you could talk to someone who always seems to be included last. I'm sure you can think of many other ways to live in the stream, to creekwalk in God's justice.

So my challenge to you – tonight – tomorrow- and as you go home – is to creekwalk – walk and live in the living water of God's justice. Just as we stand on mountain sculpted by that creek, God's justice will change your landscape. God's justice will flow on, rushing by, forever. So get in, the water's like nothing else. Creekwalk.

I feel obliged to write about seminary, like you'd write about a date, a recipe, steps of a dance, a good conversation with friends. But I am having trouble encapsulating it. Overall, I feel affirmed - academically, pastorally, et cetera. Thankfully, I also feel a little challenged, and in ways I did not necessarily expect. I am challenged to continually grow in my patience, how I listen and relate to others, and learning how to be there for people as they struggle in ways that may be different (or opposite) from my own. I am learning a lot about myself as of course I learn through my books. That sounds corny. But I am learning and remembering about myself that I am not perfect (important! and I am quite aware!) and that I really love caring for people, praying, and engaging with the bible.
My CPE interview reminded me that I am scarred in some ways (no, I did not cry! but just in that sometimes these interviews shake you into being a little more self-realistic) but also that I feel so blessed to be gifted for ministry.
Speaking of blessings, it was such an honor to go to Chicago for the fund for leaders dinner/events. It was neat to hear about the church on a larger scale and all the good it is able to do. I needed some affirming of that, in all of our seminarian vigor sometimes I think we forget to recognize all the good that is done. On the same time as that was amazing to look at the forest of the churchwide ELCA and meet bishops from all over, it was humbling to think of the very personal connection for people to give the great and meaningful gift of my education. Conversations from that quick trip will stick with me, especially with the seminarians from around the country as we start to grapple with our new seminary careers. The picture in this post is from that trip and is on the elca.org front page today! :) Thanks to Leslie who alerted me to it, I'm not sure I would have caught it.

I got my first big grade back today in sem., this paper posted below. I was proud that I had done quite well and hopeful that the one in the previous post does as well. So here it is, I welcome any comments:

-And then I should go back to studying . . . I have an exam tomorrow -

Love Calling Justice

the Theology of Gustavo Gutierrez

Gutierrez's “love letter to God” reads as a visceral, necessary yearning for justice in the world in all forms. It is centered in that ajgavph love for and with God he holds so near. This type of love, ajgavph, meaningfully translated “charity” in KJV, not only means but necessitates justice, and Gutierrez's theology centers in justice serving as the church's central mission. I have reflected often on Walter Benton's poetic words about human love and how they apply so well to God's love for us, and I think they underscore Gutierrez's deep love for God and the parallel call for justice:

“Because hate is legislated . . . written into
the primer and the testament,
Because our day is of time, of hours --- and the clock-hand turns,
closes the circle upon us: and black timeless night
sucks us in like quicksand, receives us totally --
without a raincheck or a parachute, a key to heaven or the last long look
I need love more than ever now . . . I need your love,
I need love more than hope or money, wisdom or a drink
Because slow negative death withers the world . . .”¹

Justice is this love, the work of God, among and for the people, the central mission of the church which brings joy – the type of joy through love that is so necessary – as Jesus Christ, the prophets of the Hebrew scriptures, Benton, and Gutierrez all cry out for.

Justice is at its root balance, and not necessarily equality in the quid pro quo sense we consider it today. Gutierrez's writings often reflect on these careful balances which create justice in God's kingdom and church – between silence and dialogue, acceptance and “inculturation.” Ultimately, justice is a practice – the central practice of the church. Gutierrez writes, “discipleship of Jesus falls precisely in the realm of practice, upon which we are interested in reflecting the light of the Word of the Lord.”² Discipleship must be then practical and visible in its response, which causes us to open our eyes and look for those situations which most need our attention.

We as the people of God are called to discipleship of justice, through which we should open our eyes to be best aware of our world and its needs – and as we do, what will we see? “By deepening and broadening the link between faith and justice, we can more adequately and fruitfully grasp the incisive challenge of poverty.”³ Concern, action, and advocacy for the poor is central in Gutierrez's practice of theology. Raising up the poor is a theological action of God through people, and hopefully people as the body of Christ, to create joy. This is true joy – not only surface human joy because people are helped, but God's joy in having his creation uplifted and treated fairly. There is also an inherent, more subtle justice in the power of listening to the poor and disenfranchised, something Gutierrez holds as paramount. The interrelation between God, joy, and people (including the church) is inseparable. To love the poor is to be Christ to and for them, and to struggle with them is to listen to them, to intercede for them in prayer as the church on Earth, just as the Holy Spirit does for us.

Since theology, as Gutierrez upholds, is an “ecclesial function,”⁴ and theology is not carried out individually or in isolation, then justice must be the work of the church, as the body of Christ. Because we are as the church called to live out our theology, doing so creates fullness, and in that, joy. Therefore, Gutierrez's love letter to God, his life and writings of theology, reveals what some of what the letter says, of what it would look like to live out our theology, and strive for a divine justice. In addition to the high priority of the poor, this justice includes being more inwardly aware of the world and the Word around oneself in each moment. God's justice does not mean that everyone ought to have the exact same lot – rather, Gutierrez's theology is aware of the importance of identity, in people and the church. He acknowledges that it is a great danger that we as the church might, in the name of justice, try to assimilate and subjugate peoples, cultures, (and I would add forms of spirituality), “There is much to learn from this will to unification, which does not forget the difference among the various aspects involved, but which also keeps in mind both the common source and the one final destiny of those human dimensions.”⁵ Gutierrez ties here the four central elements of his theology: we are diverse people, who as the church are called to unification, to create and have peaceful joy, in response to the joy of being created and saved by God.

Justice is the defining message of the gospel, and it does not mean that everyone ought have what I, or my congregation, or the larger church might see as best or most divinely fair and fitting. As a Lutheran (and I think Gutierrez would not disagree), I see justice as integral as my response to the expansive grace which I am given and yet do not deserve. Thankfully, I am not alone, and we as the people of God, can do so much together, as one body of Christ, when we set justice at the core of our mission. Gutierrez's love for God, and his theology which professes it, is elemental and practical at its core – joy, people, church, and God, held together by the central mission of justice in God's kingdom.