Dreaming Dreams

            In preparation for a preschool chapel session on courage, I’m re-reading the full story of Daniel.  It’s funny that the stories we knew best as little kids are often the ones we look at the least as adults.  Maybe because we think we already know those stories.  But man, the Bible is so rarely PG!  There is just a spectacular amount of intrigue, courtly mind games, fire-walking, and alliance-shifting in this story.  And if anyone is looking for a good motivator for kids to eat their veggies, that’s in there too.

            Amidst the royal temper tantrums and the threats of limb-from-limb tearing, we have yet another instance of that which happens all the time in the Bible – people dreaming dreams.

As a frequent somnambulist, I am fascinated by what exactly happens when we switch off for the night.  I often find myself waking up mid-sentence, or in a different room than the one in which I went to sleep, or absolutely convinced that there is something important and urgent I am in a rush to take care of, only to realize after a few moments of confusion (and occasional arguing with roommates) that the world is just as it was when I went to sleep. 

            While I have a dream life spotted with some pretty terrifying nightmares, I generally see dreams as a gift.  Sometimes nonsense, but sometimes a chance to connect with those we have lost, with those we miss, with places and times we have forgotten or never got to know.  We dream about what might be, and what couldn’t be except there, in that mix of imagination, memory, hope, faith, and possibility.  I can’t think that we would all spend this much of our lives engaged in this crazy alternative life of dreams if it were nothing more than keeping us from getting too bored when we sleep.   I think it’s worth paying attention to how much we all dream, and how much we all (from Nebuchadnezzar to now) crave understanding of our dreams.

While we may lack Daniel’s interpretive super powers, we have all been gifted with vision, with dreams, and with the capacity to be open to what God might be up to in this bit of mystery in each head.

Getting Excited about Church

Aaaaaaaand I'm back.  Hello all (or few, or some, or whatever)!  It's taken nearly two weeks to feel like I've truly got my feet back under me, back home near Chicago, but it feels great to be home.  Stepping back into the pulpit for prayers this Sunday was the same terrifying butterflies in the stomach adventure it was before I left -- a bit like being at home and in an Escher-esque dreamworld all at the same time.

Of course things are not as they were before I left.  My colleagues and the congregation I serve continued to grow and change in my absence, and so did I.  The anti-trafficking work I did this summer did a lot to shape my thinking about the relationship between the church and social justice, and the time I spent with a wide variety of church and un-church types did too.

A few examples...

The Arena warehouse space I lived for three months taught me how to relish the making of art.  I'm a die-hard museum freak and I love appreciating finished works, but there is something so visceral, so spectacularly human about watching people paint, write songs, collaborate, and explore their art, and my housemates demonstrated this act of love over and over again.  What would happen if we treated sermon writing more like art and less like a science or work?  What if every prayer became a loving act of creation, an offering?

The energy I saw at Greenbelt festival and gained from conversations with small and large church communities, local and international celebrities in the world of theology, vicars, pastors, preachers, and innovators.  Peter Rollins posed the question - what are we offering in Jesus that is any different than the quick fix of Coca-cola, Cadbury, or cigarettes?  Shane Claiborne pushed us to think about the radical inclusiveness of the church.  Nadia Bolz-Weber and Phyllis Tickle (who has, in fact, the best name ever) invited us to really think about the emerging church, and how it is different, deeper than trendiness.  To say I have a few new theological crushes is a serious understatement.

So I'm thinking about where all this fits into my personal ministry and into the life of the church as it grows, stretches, dies and is reborn -- the phoenix-like resurrection of the church on fire with spirit.  Looking forward to exploring this with anyone and everyone.

In the meantime, I'm reading and loving the following:

How (Not) to Speak of God - Peter Rollins

http://www.sarcasticlutheran.com/ - Nadia Bolz-Weber of House for All Sinners and Saints

http://achurchforstarvingartists.wordpress.com/

Please send any favorites my way, and happy exploring!

Homeward Bound

For the friends and family who follow this blog, I apologize for the radio silence these last few weeks.  Between festivals, wrapping up projects, and saying farewells, things have been a delightful kind of chaos!

Amongst many thrilling experiences (including getting to help out on a UK bill of rights for kids), I went to Greenbelt Festival - four days of camping, making new friends, listening to music, hearing speakers (like the theologically dreamy Shane Claiborne and Pete Rollins), and, in my case, helping to promote and refine a design for Stop the Traffik's latest project, which will be unveiled across London leading up to the Olympics.  (Sidenote:  They're building a festival similar to Greenbelt for the states in North Carolina called Wild Goose Festival and, if it's anything like Greenbelt, I highly recommend getting there.  If I can get back to the UK for Greenbelt next year, I definitely will!)

I couldn't begin to capture everything that this summer has been, but I want to take this opportunity to say thank you.  Thank you to everyone who supported me emotionally, spiritually, and financially that I might have this amazing opportunity.  Thank you to ACT London and Stop the Traffik for allowing me to learn, share what I know, and be a part of their stunning team. 

I will miss a great deal about London -- primarily the great people I've met this summer (and the scones. And the casual existence of buildings that are many centuries old), but I'm also quite excited to get back to the states.  Back to family, friends, and another kind of ministry. 

As I think is completely normal in trips like this one, I'm walking (flying) away feeling like I've gained so much more than I've given.  This summer has been a real blessing, so thank you for helping me get here!

On Hope

When my plans changed from a service trip to Cape Town to one in London, most of my nearest and dearest breathed a sigh of relief at the compared relative safety of the two places.  And London is indeed incredibly safe.  Maybe that's why the riots of the last few days have people especially on edge.
A word of comfort - my daily routine has been completely unchanged.  The routes I take to and from various volunteer commitments are fine, and while it is pretty scary that the shops near my walking-distance grocery store were smashed and looted last night, it does appear that these riots are mainly targeting shops, not people or homes.  My house is tucked back in a residential neighborhood, so I'll exercise reasonable caution and all should be fine.

And now, a word on hope.  I'm not going to comment on the exact motivations of the (mostly young) people doing this rioting, because I haven't spoken to a single one in person and I don't think it's helpful to speculate in situations like these.  I do think it is important that things like this happen frequently when people feel fearful or hopeless.  You take a society where things look grim (either from dictatorial leadership, or just a bad slump in the economy, or distrust of the leadership), you fuel that fire by having high unemployment rates, and boom.  A whole lot of bored, angry people will try to gain control over their lives by any means necessary.  I am grateful we haven't seen this in the states recently and I hope people (particularly in democratic nations) everywhere can find a way of articulating their outrage without turning to violence.

There is an upside to this (stay with me here).  These riots and any similarly violent, seemingly pointless outburst are atrocious.  People's livelihood and in some cases lives are being put at risk and that's simply not okay.  But the upside is that it is a reminder (albeit a negative one) that we are creatures of hope.  In times and places where people have reasonable hope - young people have the promise of not only a good education, but confidence that they will be able to actively pursue a future after receiving that education -- I believe that instances like this are much more rare.  Of course they happen, and they can be instigated by myriad things.  But we are creatures who crave hope, direction, and futures.  We're creatures of Life.

Here's hoping order and, much more importantly, hope are restored to the streets of London and soon.

Redemption

So I know that redemption isn't mine to give, achieve, etc.  And I know that reconciliation isn't something that can be forced.  And I am aware that my every impulse is to minister to and protect survivors of trafficking.  But just a question I'd like wiser minds than mine to mull over ... when is it our responsibility to minister to perpetrators of these crimes?  I absolutely believe that people convicted of trafficking in the lives of others need to be punished for it.  But.. then what?

A purely punitive justice system doesn't leave much room for the Holy Spirit (or whatever Divine Other one chooses to name), for redemption, for reclamation of humanity.  Some people will always be angry, violent, and cruel, whatever happens.   But others are reacting to a brokenness that was caused by circumstances beyond their control, or are living out the consequences of terrible choices in earlier days.  This in no way excuses their behavior or serves to justify it.  But it does beg the question.. how can we, as a faith community, help address the larger broken systems?  How can we most effectively live out our faith in the lives of those who suffer, and those who cause suffering to others?  How does this re-framing of justice potentially impact the way we minister and live in practical, day-to-day ways?  In short, where is God in in justice on this scale?

Thoughts?

St. Luke's in Holloway

After a week of amazing conversations with Anglicans, Quakers, Unitarian Universalists, non-denoms, and people of any and all theological persuasion (or none at all), I feel like I'm making real headway in talking to total strangers about slavery and what we can be doing to stop it.  I am constantly humbled by the creative and passionate responses of people from all across the spectrum, and the support I keep finding replenished!  Thanks to one and all for the love and encouragement.

This morning, I sought church as a place of solace and comfort rather than a potential conversation partner in the challenging fight against trafficking.  I went to St. Luke's in Holloway, London (having already been intrigued after hearing Dave Tomlinson, their Vicar, lecture the week before).  It was phenomenal -- ancient space but with an eye on what the spirit is doing today.  Vibrant liturgy.  Diverse and affirming community.  Hymns that feel like slipping on an old, comfy hoodie (Be Thou My Vision), and revelatory interpretations (treating God's church as the fifth gospel and including a story of a member of the congregation's own life in with the Gospel reading).  I was touched by all the thoughtful participation in worship by lay leaders and clergy alike, and appreciated the stark honesty they seemed to have with one another.  Shouldn't church be a place where we feel confident we'll be loved, even if we bring our less-than-shiniest-selves?  I think part of living out the Christian story is knowing that we've all got stories - glorious and painful and dull and astounding -- and our lives are more complete when we share them.

Part of what left me the most touched was the deft handling of prayer this morning - prayer for the people of Norway in such sorrow and shock, and for those who feel so lost as to think such violence is a good idea.  Prayer for Amy Winehouse (no joke, they mentioned her in the prayers) and acknowledging the tragedy that is the loss of any young life, and the loss of talent, and prayers for all those who have to witness loved ones struggle with addiction.  Prayers for those who feel their love is unaccepted by the church, and prayers for those in the church who struggle to accept love in a variety of forms.  It was like all those things for which I sought solace and wisdom found their wording in the mouth of a stranger.  Church is pretty great like that.

WPC, I miss and love you all tremendously.  In the meantime, it's good to have found a church home away from home for the summer.

Don't Take Any Risks

This is a direct quote from London's tube, which is fast becoming a second home to me.  It's on a placard about what to do in the case of emergency - staying put, waiting for authorities, etc.  This strikes me as completely legit advice and exactly what I plan to do should an emergency strike, but it made me giggle right out loud when I first read it out of context.  As if some supernatural, overbearing fairy godmother were issuing a shrill reminder -- Ok, you're here.  That's fine.  But don't take any risks!

And that's just nonsense.  The world isn't a safe place.  There are safer and riskier places to be, obviously, but by and large you never know what's going to happen.  You could be in Calcutta for months and be just fine (yep), and you can be back home in the suburbs and find yourself on the wrong end of a storm (hope everyone's got power back at home now!).  Life just isn't safe.  Neither is God.  And you can worry your years away trying to make life feel safe, but you'll only be frustrated, and you'll experience so much less.

Taking risks for the sake of taking risks is a little silly and juvenile.  But taking risks for the sake of doing what needs to be done?  That's called living.  Go do it in abundance.