Home » communion

Category: communion

Behind the Scenes A Theology of Scarcity

I have this voice in my head that whispers a repeating line, “It’s not enough. It’s not enough.” Most of this time this repeating line enters my consciousness on Wednesday mornings as I am walking back to my car after leading the chapel service at Transitions Homeless Shelter. I have walked with the homeless community in Columbia since our son was born almost four years ago.

This ever-changing, diverse congregation is the congregation that has challenged and taught me the most. In the midst of some of the most difficult circumstances, they hold onto hope. In the midst of what most people would consider scarcity, they are incredibly generous. Their faith has asked me to look deeply at some of my foundational, theological views. As I have reflected, I realize I have clung tightly to a theology of scarcity.

When I was growing up, I often heard that I was not good enough or generous enough to make it to God. Not only was I not good enough, I was born not good enough. The very essence of who I was, was sinful. This is why accepting Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior was so essential. In seminary, I learned that this theological concept was called total depravity of the soul. I also learned that while I was raised baptist this theological concept was most often found in reformed theology.

What I hadn’t put together until now is that this theological concept actually crept into my very being and bloomed into a theology of scarcity. It starts by believing that you can’t be good enough and turns into you are not enough and that leads to you are not good. It starts by believing there is nothing we can do to reach God and turns into there is nothing we can do to change unjust systems and unfair treatment of God’s people. It starts by believing there’s a limited amount of money and blessings for a chosen few and turns into making and keeping money and resources away from other people.

I heard this all the time as I entered into the process of pastor search as a woman preacher.

“We wish there were more churches, but there just aren’t that many who will even consider a woman pastor and even fewer who will actually call a woman pastor.”

“We wish we could offer you more money, but there just isn’t enough right now.”

“We wish that we could offer you benefits, but that just isn’t in the budget.”

“We wish that we could offer you a raise, but we have to grow first.”

All of this speaks from a theology of scarcity. A theology of scarcity allows us to limit what God can do to what we can imagine. If there is anything I have learned from my journey into ministry, it’s that God is much, much bigger than anything we can imagine.

A theology of scarcity limits the kingdom of God to a capitalistic market that profits off the back of the underpaid and undervalued workers rather than working together towards a greater good. A theology of scarcity purports that the meaning of life is gaining more through rapid and vapid consumerism rather than giving generously every time we have more than we need. A theology of scarcity excludes people because of their sexual identity, gender, or race believing that God’s people are limited rather than believing that ALL humans are created in the image of God and hold the Divine breath within their very beings.

Most importantly, a theology of scarcity allows churches, denominations, and minister the excuse that this is “just the way it is” thereby never having to change their beliefs or their actions.

Slowly, but surely, I am operating from a theology of abundance.

There is more than enough room at the table for everyone. There is more than enough food, clothing, and shoes for everyone. We have more than enough and so we share with those who do have enough so they too know the right and abundant life the Spirit of God is offering.

This theology of abundance opens the heart and mind to welcome and include everyone. A theology of abundance gives without thinking or wondering if there will be enough because there is always enough. A theology of abundance worries not about what I am going to put on my plate, but whether there are enough plates for all who are gathered at the table to fellowship and commune together.

As I am renewing my mental patterns, I find my words and my actions changing each week at Transitions. Rather than worrying about whether I am doing enough or trying hard enough, I find myself whispering the words, “You are enough. You are enough. You are enough.” to God’s people gathered around the table to encounter a God who always offers more and more and more.

 

Bread Enough for All

Yesterday, I was working at the church sorting generous donations we have received from church members. I was elbow-deep in little girls’ clothes when I heard the news of the father and 23-month-old daughter who drowned attempting to find sanctuary. As I sorted and folded and sorted and folded, I tried to understand the desperation of this family as they sought something better. What must they have been leaving and running from in order to risk everything?

As I continued the work of sorting donations to go to our partners who work with the homeless and our neighbors in need, I heard that the facility in Clint, Texas refused donations of diapers, soap, and clothes after the report that some children being detained has not changed clothes in three weeks. I was surrounded by clothes that were donated to our church in order to go to someone in need and yet those who most desperately are in need in our country can’t receive donations of any kind.

It is easy for us to make political claims about what is right and wrong. It easy for us to process these reports and these stories by claiming that we know what we would should we find ourselves in such desperation. Our privilege is clouding our view. Our political party affiliations are clouding our sight.

After feeding the 4,000 in the gospel of Mark 8, Jesus says to his disciples:

Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember? 19 When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” They said to him, “Twelve.” 20 “And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” And they said to him, “Seven.” 21 Then he said to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

Jesus fed all. Jesus gave bread to all.

There is enough here in America and in our churches for all to have food, clean clothes, and a safe place to live. There is enough for us all.

May our eyes be opened and our ears hear the cries of the children.

From Behind the Table

From behind the table, I see hands being washed.

From behind the table, I see the veil lifted –

the body and the blood revealed.

 

From behind the table, I see the bread broken –

crumbs falling down.

From behind the table, I see the cup lifted –

the smell of fruit wafting in the air.

 

From behind the table, I see

the mystery,

the wonder,

of sacrifice

all over

again.

‘member that, Mommy?

As our son nears three, he is beginning to understand the passing of time. Terms like tomorrow and yesterday are starting to enter his vocabulary. Tomorrow usually pops up as the time when he doesn’t want to do something like clip his fingernails or go to the doctor. Yesterday usually appears when he is certain there is something we are about to do that we have already done like go to the store or going to school.

With these terms comes the question, “‘member that, Mommy?” especially when there was a particularly fun adventure like going to a baseball game. And every time I hear the question, I can’t help but smile and answer, “I do buddy, that was really fun, wasn’t it?” We are entering the stage where his memories are beginning to make lasting impressions. He understands what it means to be scared and he remembers when he found that spider on the ground. He understands what it means to hurt and he remembers when he got that splinter in his toe. He understands what it means to be happy and he remembers that time we all piled into the daddy’s truck and drove to the beach. He understands what it means to be loved and he remembers the times we turn the music up and dance around the living room.

As I watch this all unfold within him, I wonder if we remember. Do we remember what it feels like to be scared, to hurt, to be happy, to be loved? The words I overhear and the words I read are so often filled with emptiness, filling space with nothingness at best and hurt and pain at worst. Because we don’t want to remember.

We don’t want to remember the times we were scared and so we inflict fear on other people. We don’t want to remember that times we were in pain and so we inflict hurt on other people. We don’t want to remember the times we were happy because what if something happens and that disappears. We don’t want to remember the times we were truly and completely loved because that would ask us to truly and deeply love other people.

Remembering causes us to reflection, compassion, and empathy. Remembering asks us to recognize within us what is within all humans: fear, hurt, loneliness, joy, and love. Remembering asks us to recall the story of God who sent God’s only son to the world not to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. Remembering is a radical spiritual discipline that recalls that we are ash and to ash we shall return. Remembering is a revolutionary call to honor the Divine breath that dwells in each and every human being.

Do this in remembrance of me.

Unexpected Turns

Last week, I found myself back in the classroom after two and a half years. Part of my position at Lutheran was to process applications for the Spiritual Direction Certification Program: a program and certification I had never heard of. Spiritual Direction has been a part of the Catholic tradition as well as central to Eastern faith traditions. While there are similarities between these faith traditions, “Christian spiritual direction is help given by one believer to another that enables the latter to pay attention to God’s personal communication to him or her, to respond to this personally communicating God, to grow intimacy with this God and to live out the consequences of the relationship.” (The Practice of Spiritual Direction, William A. Barry &William J. Connolly)

The more I learned about the certification program, the more drawn I was to the idea that one could train to help people to hear and find God’s voice in his or her own life. In a world that is so full of words and noise, there is great confusion. We can’t tell the difference between God’s voice and the voices of power and privilege. We can’t tell the difference between God’s voice and the voices of greed and oppression. We can’t tell the difference between God’s voice and the voices of religious leaders who misuse and abuse their positions of leadership.

Our listening skills have been overshadowed by our quick responses and heated defenses. We speak over people wanting only to be heard, rather than to hear. In our desire to be heard, we miss the opportunity to commune with Creator God who has always been willing to listen and converse with us. We seek affirmation from likes and comments and retweets because we can’t hear God whispering around us, inviting us to something deeper and more meaningful.

Perhaps what we’ve been desperately striving for is alive and well in listening and responding to the Divine at work among us. Emmanuel, God is with us, if we but open our hearts and minds.

That’s not a compliment. That’s sexual harassment.

It was not long after Ben was born that I was attending a minister’s conference. Ben was in tow, but it was still wonderful to be able to speak about the changing dynamics of church and congregations and to feel like a professional again.

I was riding high on conversations with good ministers when someone stopped in one our conversation and said, “Wow, look at you, you’ve lost all the baby weight. Good for you.” I forced a smile on my face and made my way to a different part of the room.

There was no part of the conversation I had been in that he had joined that had to do with weight loss or post-partum recovery. The conversation this male colleague joined just long enough to make “an unwanted or obscene sexual remark” was about that how to rethink giving patterns as ministers.

“But he was offering you a compliment.”

No, that’s not a compliment. That’s sexual harassment.

His comment revealed that not only had he checked out my body in that professional conference, but he had enough knowledge of the way my body looked before I had our baby to compare before and after. I had not made public any goals for weight loss on social media. I had not been discussing post-partum weight loss in that setting or in the conversation he joined. He didn’t see me as a colleague in ministry nor did he, in that moment, treat me as a colleague in ministry.

Why didn’t I say something? Because as a young minister just getting started in what purports to be a welcoming and affirming Baptist world, I didn’t want to cause waves. This is where reporting sexual harassment is difficult for those who experience it. Inevitably, there are ramifications for the person who reports sexual harassment and because sexual harassment occurs in a professional setting, those ramifications directly have to do with job security and income.

Sexual harassment won’t stop occurring until those with power and privilege step up and take a stand for those who have little power in the systems and networks of professionalism. Sexual harassment won’t stop occurring until we come to an understanding that sexual harassment happens everywhere: in churches, at minister’s conferences, in doctor’s offices, in business offices, in Hollywood, and in the tech industry.

Will we have eyes to see? Will we have ears to hear the stories? Will we have mouths that say enough is enough?

This is the Day the Lord has Made?

Part of our morning routine includes singing:

This is the day, this is the day.

That the Lord has made, that the Lord has made.

We will rejoice, we will rejoice

and be glad in it, and be glad in it.

This is the day that the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad in it.

In the middle of our singing this song this morning, I heard the news that over 50 people had been killed and over 400 injured and that those numbers would climb throughout the day. I read accounts and listened to interviews knowing that the people who experienced the horrific tragedy in Las Vegas last night would never, never be the same because The Body Keeps the Score of trauma.

This is the day the Lord has made? Certainly not.

This is the day we have made. We have made this day by insisting, demanding, and defending on protecting and preserving our own rights without reflecting or acknowledging how those rights can be transformed into massacre and madness in the hands of certain people; not willing to sacrifice our rights and our privilege for the sake of the common good so people can enjoy an outdoor concert, so kindergarteners can go to school to learn and teachers can go to school to teach, and ministers and congregants can have Bible study on a Wednesday night without losing their lives.

What most of us don’t understand about privilege is that we also can give up or sacrifice our own privilege for the sake of someone else. It isn’t that we lose our own voices, not that we speak on behalf of people whose experiences we haven’t had, but rather that we sacrifice what we think we deserve knowing that by sacrificing we, in turn, give someone else an opportunity, a chance, and indeed hope.

Most of us aren’t willing to do this.

Most of us aren’t willing to give up our privilege for the sake of other people’s safety or other people’s well-being because we’ve been taught in this individualistic culture that is America to stand up for ourselves, our beliefs, and our rights, which requires competing and ultimately trampling other people.

I have a right to bear arms as an American, but I give up that right.

I give up that right out of respect for the families who lost their children at Sandy Hook Elementary School and the ones who survived and relive that trauma in their dreams and in their flashbacks for the rest of their lives.

I give up that right out of respect for the families who lost their loved at Bible Study and the ones who survived and relive that trauma in their dreams and in their flashbacks for the rest of their lives.

I give up that right out of respect for the 59 people killed last night and over 500 people injured, fighting for their lives, and for the ones who survived and relive that trauma in their dreams and in their flashbacks for the rest of their lives.

I give up that right to try to solve the problem of gun violence and the fear and division it causes in our country.

What will you do with your right?

On Teaching Communication

Having a 15 month old is….busy might be the best adjective to describe our lives right now. Just as soon as you have one sock on and are trying to remember where you’ve placed the other sock, you have to interrupt your search in order to remove the hair dryer from your son’s hands and close the cabinet from which the hair dryer was taken. You look down at your feet, trying to remember what you are looking for only to hear something banging into the bathtub, which you hope isn’t that borrowed book from your friend that you now have to air dry out. And as you go to investigate that banging sounds, you realize you still haven’t found your other sock, not to mention your shoes.

In the midst of all the quick, moment-to-moment decisions, you also look in awe at the way this little mini human who used to be so easy to contain is exploring and discovering the world. You look for opportunities to introduce him to words and objects as he points at things and calls, “da ba ma.”

“Yes, that’s right, that’s a dog with a ball,” hoping that you are encouraging the development of language in a whole and healthy way. When he looks at you and mimics the same number of syllables, you realize that he is listening and learning in a way that he never has before.

As a minister, I can’t help but wonder about the task and calling we have as proclaimers…that is one who speaks out the word. Isn’t our role the same as parents of toddlers learning to master the language heard everyday in his or her home? The great weight of bearing the responsibility of teaching a mini human to communicate weighs heavily on my shoulders as does the responsibility of teaching, or especially in our current political and social context, re-teaching the people of God how to communicate with each other and those with whom they disagree.

The examples of discourse we have heard and read in the midst of the political season we have just weathered have made it more difficult for those of us who are attempting to use language and the power of words to offer hope and healing. How can we offer love and peace when our conversations and feeds are full of hate and attack?

At times, I am tempted to repay hate-filled speech for hate-filled speech, and then the gospel lesson for the week is “You’ve heard it said, an eye for eye, but I say love your enemies.”

Love demonstrated in action. Love demonstrated in language. Love demonstrated in the frustration of trying to find your other sock. This love filtering through every word and deed will teach us how to communicate, but more importantly, how to commune with one another.

Thanks be to God for 15 month language learners who help us remember why learning to communicate with love is so very important.

“Do not resist an evildoer.”

This week’s gospel’s lesson is not an easy one:

5:38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’

5:39 But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also;

5:40 and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well;

5:41 and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.

5:42 Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

This is as an important lesson to us as modern day disciples as it was to Jesus’ disciples. Jesus was trying to prepare his disciples for the resistance they would certainly meet as they followed him. Bringing the kingdom of God here on earth was not going to be met without tension and conflict.

And as I read these words in preparation for our weekly chapel service at Transitions with ministrieslab, I knew I had no words, no divine inspiration to offer to a people group who had experienced so much systemic discrimination.

And so I didn’t.

I read God’s word, the word of Jesus to his disciples aloud, begging the Holy Spirit to let these words and truths find a home within my soul and mind and then I listened. I listened to story after story from this makeshift, ever-changing congregation who shared of the times they had encountered people at gun point and had not attacked or responded in kind. I listened to stories of domestic abuse and wondered with the person whether it was wrong to leave that relationship when the gospel says to turn the other cheek. I listened to stories of loved ones stuck in cycles of abuse and heard the hope for their future in the words of their significant others. I heard stories of regret and resurrection lives changed because they finally learned to turn the other cheek and love the very people they didn’t want to talk to, eat with, or be associated with.

I heard God’s voice again and again in the voices of God’s people. God’s people in a group room crowded with too many chairs in a homeless shelter on a rainy Wednesday morning singing “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine,” and I knew this is what we must do.

We must not resist evildoers, but love them, really and truly love them, not merely tolerate them.

We must give generously to anyone who begs from us without judging them for how they might use what we give.

We must turn the other cheek, again and again, as Jesus did, even unto death.

This is the word of the Lord to his disciples.

Seeds of Hope

Yesterday, I made butternut squash soup because sometimes when I don’t know what to do, I just have to create something, anything, participating in the creation process and begging Creator God to breathe life into the dustiness of humanity. It’s a recipe I’ve made over and over again over the past year fiddling and tweaking with just the right amount of half and half to add to make it creamy, but not so creamy it’s too rich.

As I went through the motions of peeling and chopping the butternut squash, I stopped myself from dumping the seeds into the trash because I remember one of my friends told me that she cleaned the seeds added a little olive oil, salt, and pepper and roasted the seeds to add to the top of the soup or a salad or just to have on hand for a little snack. So, I went through the messy process of cleaning the seeds, washing and rinsing the innards of the butternut squash off the seeds. I dried them off and then tried unsuccessful to hold onto the slippery seeds wondering why she had made it sound so easy when it was really requiring a lot of effort to get those seeds to the point of being able to put in the oven.

And I then I thought, this is exactly what I feel like right now in the midst of the last week, the first week in a reality that I’m finding it hard to gain footing in. I feel like I chasing down slippery seeds of hope, trying to grasp them and catch them before they go down the drain or onto the floor.

Because what I know is that these seeds of hope can be planted or roasted to provide sprouts of change or nourishment or fellowship or something transformative that can ground us to community and to love. I know this can happen because I’ve seen it. I’ve tasted these seeds of hope and change and fellowship and communion and I know they are good.

But it’s going to take some wrestling to get the innards of hate and dissension washed off from these seeds of hope. It’s going to take getting our hands dirty. It’s going to take planting those in dirt and watering and waiting for them to sprout them or dousing them in olive oil and salt and pepper and enjoying the sustenance they provide around the table.

It’s going to take work, time, and energy. Don’t lose heart. Seeds of hope lead to seeds of change and new life.