My new laptop is supposed to come today. By 4:30. So if I don't wait around at the house until then it will end up at the FedEx shipping facility and I'll have to go pick it up. This will be my first new computer since I started college seven years ago.
My sleeping pattern has been fairly irregular of late. I've had many late nights--some for good reason, others not--and many groggy mornings. Today was weird, though, since I was in bed before 12 but still did not want to get up at 8:30. I've got out of the habit of starting with breakfast each day, so maybe some dietary rectifications will help the situation.
Now that I've quit my job, I've joined the school football team. It's an informal, low-budget, female and male, flag-tackle team, and we have practice only once (twice?) a week. My first was on Tuesday--the first team sports practice I've had since I was thirteen. It was good to do something physical with other people for a change, since so much of my exercise this past year has been alone. And it turns out that if you're on the line you get to just stand there and keep the other guy from coming through--or, defensively, you can rush and scare the QB. It's fun to do something brute when you spend so much time being cerebral.
Other than football, I wish that I had more to report besides the goings on of chapel, class and community, but that's all that's really going on right now. This has the effect that most of the developments I'm experiencing are internal, whether intellectual, emotional or spiritual--except maybe to reaffirm that I am making friends quickly up here and am putting down roots in at least 2 different social niches.
One thing that is cool about classes is that, at least a couple of times now, there are deep congruences between the subject material. For example, on Monday I both read Dallas Willard's The Spirit of the Disciplines and read about the crucial role monasticism has played in church history (these were readings for Spiritual Formation and Church History, respectively). So Willard provided a strong theology of grace, the body and discipline, while the monastics demonstrated the saving influence that disciplined lives can have on the world and history. After Monday, I decided that I would like to read something about St. Francis, and it turns out that Chesterton's book on him is one of the possible readings for Spiritual Formation. On another front, a Greek vocabulary word I've been having a hard time remembering showed up in an article for my Introduction to Mission to class. Not as cool as the monastic thing, but helpful nonetheless.
I've been asking people to pray for me to grow in discipline. And I've been asking God to grant me both his spiritual gifts and the fruit of the spirit (of which self-control is one).
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Mea Culpa
"The death we die as sinners in confession gives rise to new life. Something in fact has died--our social saint (more pernicious in some than others) as well as the power of the sin itself. But we become alive to Christ and his church as never before. We arise in Christ with the family of Christ. In the light of his resurrection, veils of shame, guilt and deception fall away, demons flee and sin's power begins to dissipate.
Forgiveness is the first expression of this resurrection power. Upon appearing to his disciples, the resurrected Christ sent out his disciples with the command to forgive sins. 'He breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven"' (Jn 20:22-23). We as his disciples are thus imbued with his Spirit to proclaim forgiveness to those who confess sins. This is resurrection power, since the proclamation 'You are forgiven, in Jesus' name' resurrects a person from the death of the sin.
Assurance of forgiveness results from a priestly proclamation. The brother or sister who has heard our confession speaks the word of forgiveness. Without such a witness, we are prone to mumbling admissions of sin and absolving ourselves, neither of which can impart the power of new life to us. Only the forgiveness of God can. And this occurs with certainty through the priestly word of our brother or sister.
Bonhoeffer wrote, 'Who can give us the certainty that, in the confession and the forgiveness of our sins, we are not dealing with ourselves but with the living God? God gives us this certainty through our brother... The assurance of forgiveness becomes fully certain to me only when it is spoken by a brother in the name of God. Mutual, brotherly confession is given to us by God in order that we may be sure of divine forgiveness.'"
~Andrew Comiskey, Strength in Weakness: Overcoming Sexual and Relational Brokenness (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2003), 101.
Quotation from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, trans. John W. Doberstein (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1954), 116-117.
Forgiveness is the first expression of this resurrection power. Upon appearing to his disciples, the resurrected Christ sent out his disciples with the command to forgive sins. 'He breathed on them and said, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven"' (Jn 20:22-23). We as his disciples are thus imbued with his Spirit to proclaim forgiveness to those who confess sins. This is resurrection power, since the proclamation 'You are forgiven, in Jesus' name' resurrects a person from the death of the sin.
Assurance of forgiveness results from a priestly proclamation. The brother or sister who has heard our confession speaks the word of forgiveness. Without such a witness, we are prone to mumbling admissions of sin and absolving ourselves, neither of which can impart the power of new life to us. Only the forgiveness of God can. And this occurs with certainty through the priestly word of our brother or sister.
Bonhoeffer wrote, 'Who can give us the certainty that, in the confession and the forgiveness of our sins, we are not dealing with ourselves but with the living God? God gives us this certainty through our brother... The assurance of forgiveness becomes fully certain to me only when it is spoken by a brother in the name of God. Mutual, brotherly confession is given to us by God in order that we may be sure of divine forgiveness.'"
~Andrew Comiskey, Strength in Weakness: Overcoming Sexual and Relational Brokenness (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2003), 101.
Quotation from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, trans. John W. Doberstein (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1954), 116-117.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Venite
I have been wandering all my adult life. From atheism to repentance, the university and Intervarsity, the International House of Prayer, my History degree, moving to Tallahassee--I've been making reactive decisions. Not one of these choices began with my initiative or of "seeking the Lord." It's a miracle I've come this far. Through these years I've flirted with the gospel yet never fully embraced the path of death to life, the cost of discipleship.
Trinity marks the first time I have followed clear direction from God. Perhaps it is not that I have gone "into the wild" (see my second August post), but rather that I have discovered YHWH's "way in the wilderness" (Isaiah 43). It is the years of wandering that have the character of wilderness, not this most recent venture. Though risky, this step of following has begun to bring order to my personal chaos.
This past Sunday an intercessor at Ascension shared an image she had while praying for me after Eucharist: sheep being scattered in the absence of a shepherd, cared for in one's presence. She told me to stay close to the shepherd's heart. Given the busyness of the previous week, she was speaking to where I was at. It suggests I must keep the habit that led me here: listen, obey.*
Psalm 95 offers jubilant praise of YHWH's supremacy and genuflected reverence before his humble shepherding as training for the heart to listen and obey. Its audience: the stubborn-hearted people of God. In a word, us. Me. After time spent analyzing it in class yesterday and contemplating its personal implications during our quiet day today, I feel drawn to learn its lesson.
*or, summarizing the shema, "Hear... love."
Trinity marks the first time I have followed clear direction from God. Perhaps it is not that I have gone "into the wild" (see my second August post), but rather that I have discovered YHWH's "way in the wilderness" (Isaiah 43). It is the years of wandering that have the character of wilderness, not this most recent venture. Though risky, this step of following has begun to bring order to my personal chaos.
This past Sunday an intercessor at Ascension shared an image she had while praying for me after Eucharist: sheep being scattered in the absence of a shepherd, cared for in one's presence. She told me to stay close to the shepherd's heart. Given the busyness of the previous week, she was speaking to where I was at. It suggests I must keep the habit that led me here: listen, obey.*
Psalm 95 offers jubilant praise of YHWH's supremacy and genuflected reverence before his humble shepherding as training for the heart to listen and obey. Its audience: the stubborn-hearted people of God. In a word, us. Me. After time spent analyzing it in class yesterday and contemplating its personal implications during our quiet day today, I feel drawn to learn its lesson.
*or, summarizing the shema, "Hear... love."
Monday, September 28, 2009
Off Schedule
I am up too late and staring with trepidation at the "Submit Order" button on the HP Direct website. I am nervous about using my loan funds to purchase a new laptop, but my old one is falling apart (after 7 years of loyal service, I don't blame it) and I do need a computer for school.
This past week was my first week of combined work and education responsibilities. Disaster. Turns out that the guy I've been assigned to work with four days per week lives 25 miles away--fifty miles roundtrip each workday on top of whatever driving I do taking him around. I can't complain at all about him--he's sharp, funny, happy, energetic--but the extra time spent driving and the wear on my tired car are killer. The compensation is simply to meager to account for the driving and inconvenience to my school schedule, so I've decided to quit; end of story.
You can maybe see why I wrote no new posts last week; I'm taking this next week off as well. I really want to keep this twice-weekly habit; both so my curious friends and family can keep up with my happenings and so my penchant for theological soapboxing can have a release valve.
Today was my second time attending Shepherd's Heart church, an Anglican, charismatic congregation of mostly homeless people in downtown Pittsburgh (which is different from the church I am regularly attending on Sunday mornings. SH meets @ 5:15 Sunday afternoons). All of my spirit-filled friends in Florida who love the poor (you know who you are), I have found a reason for you not to live so far away from me any more. I am excited about somehow being a part of what they're doing, even if my part is trivial at first.
This past week was my first week of combined work and education responsibilities. Disaster. Turns out that the guy I've been assigned to work with four days per week lives 25 miles away--fifty miles roundtrip each workday on top of whatever driving I do taking him around. I can't complain at all about him--he's sharp, funny, happy, energetic--but the extra time spent driving and the wear on my tired car are killer. The compensation is simply to meager to account for the driving and inconvenience to my school schedule, so I've decided to quit; end of story.
You can maybe see why I wrote no new posts last week; I'm taking this next week off as well. I really want to keep this twice-weekly habit; both so my curious friends and family can keep up with my happenings and so my penchant for theological soapboxing can have a release valve.
Today was my second time attending Shepherd's Heart church, an Anglican, charismatic congregation of mostly homeless people in downtown Pittsburgh (which is different from the church I am regularly attending on Sunday mornings. SH meets @ 5:15 Sunday afternoons). All of my spirit-filled friends in Florida who love the poor (you know who you are), I have found a reason for you not to live so far away from me any more. I am excited about somehow being a part of what they're doing, even if my part is trivial at first.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Double-barreled
"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." ~ Mark 9:37
One of the quirks of attending Anglican seminary during the week and Anglican worship on Sunday morning is the probability of hearing the same text preached on at least twice a week. I heard two sermons on Mark 9:30-37 this week (as did many of my fellow students, I assume), both of which exegeted the passage capably and reached the same conclusion: greatness in God's eyes comes from serving those neither celebrated nor important to society proper.
Rector Jonathan Millard of Church of the Ascension (where I have begun to attend) exhorted us starkly: "Be ambitious and serve God!" I take this as a framework for my current endeavor: I need ambition in order to have the energy to accomplish the task before me with excellence. But the task I'm undertaking ought to be done in complete service to God and neighbor, not for my own benefit. It is not their desire for greatness Jesus criticizes, but their definition of what it means to be great.
That this lectionary passage should coincide with the start of my new job is God's provision for me. At the end of last week, the obligations of employment rudely intruded upon my school schedule--the temptation to resent my job present at its beginning. The two sermons--Grant LeMarquand's at Trinity and Jonathan's at Ascension--sobered me, challenged me, reminded me that working with the developmentally disabled means an opportunity for greatness. They also challenged me not to shy away at all from my predisposition towards urban and homeless ministry.
I suppose the challenge at seminary, then, is to do this without allowing "[my] left hand [to] know what [my] right hand is doing" (Mt. 6:3). One thing at a time, Jesus!
One of the quirks of attending Anglican seminary during the week and Anglican worship on Sunday morning is the probability of hearing the same text preached on at least twice a week. I heard two sermons on Mark 9:30-37 this week (as did many of my fellow students, I assume), both of which exegeted the passage capably and reached the same conclusion: greatness in God's eyes comes from serving those neither celebrated nor important to society proper.
Rector Jonathan Millard of Church of the Ascension (where I have begun to attend) exhorted us starkly: "Be ambitious and serve God!" I take this as a framework for my current endeavor: I need ambition in order to have the energy to accomplish the task before me with excellence. But the task I'm undertaking ought to be done in complete service to God and neighbor, not for my own benefit. It is not their desire for greatness Jesus criticizes, but their definition of what it means to be great.
That this lectionary passage should coincide with the start of my new job is God's provision for me. At the end of last week, the obligations of employment rudely intruded upon my school schedule--the temptation to resent my job present at its beginning. The two sermons--Grant LeMarquand's at Trinity and Jonathan's at Ascension--sobered me, challenged me, reminded me that working with the developmentally disabled means an opportunity for greatness. They also challenged me not to shy away at all from my predisposition towards urban and homeless ministry.
I suppose the challenge at seminary, then, is to do this without allowing "[my] left hand [to] know what [my] right hand is doing" (Mt. 6:3). One thing at a time, Jesus!
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