I don't often 'play' Friday Five, but given
my own current state of transition, and my own recent thoughts about
"What Might Have Been," this "fork in the road" Friday Five caught my attention. Over at
RevGalBlogPals, Singing Owl writes:
I am at a life-changing juncture. I do not know which way I will go, but I have been thinking about the times, people and events that changed my life (for good or ill) in significant ways. For today's Friday Five, share with us five "fork-in-the-road" events, or persons, or choices. And how did life change after these forks in the road?
1. My path into ordained ministry was like my own faith journey - marked not by a 'conversion' moment, but by what I would describe more as a 'strainer' experience. The jumbled pieces of what I thought constituted a call from God into first camping ministry and then youth ministry were all poured into a strainer, and what was left behind was a clear calling into pastoral ministry. That's the best why I can describe it. A critical decision for ordained ministry happened in my college-search process. I just couldn't find a school that fit my hope: to major in youth ministry. The schools I looked at were all Christian colleges with an orientation that was much too conservative theologically for me, even in my high-school days. I finally visited and applied to Gordon College. My visit was awful. I attended chapel, and found myself so upset by what I was hearing in worship that I sobbed as soon as it was over. I had no idea where to go or what to do. My pastor suggested some UMC-affiliated schools, including Ohio Wesleyan, which seemed the best fit of the four he mentioned. I applied without visiting (although I visited later,) and found out they had a pre-theology major. Somehow, by the time I started my first semester, I was planning on ordained ministry, without even realizing how it quite happened.
2. Like my friend Amy, I strayed from the 'typical' pattern of education. I didn't skip a year in elementary school - I graduated a year early from Ohio Wesleyan, completing my BA in three instead of four years. I'm not really sure what even started me on this path - I had the plan to try it before I even arrived for my first semester. I looked at the course catalog and the requirements, and I realized how easy it would be to do, with my semester of credits I would start with thanks to high-school/college level classes. Just before my third year, I began to have doubts about my decision. I was really enjoying my time at OWU, and I knew I would miss my friends. If I stuck around a fourth year, I could add a second major. It was actually at Exploration '98 that I wrestled with a lot of these questions thanks to a workshop on discernment I almost didn't go to. Ultimately, I think I made the right decision - I was ready to move on from OWU. But I still wonder sometimes!
3. Choosing my seminary was another fork-in-the-road decision. I visited Drew, Wesley, and Boston. I loved the city of Boston. I loved the emphasis on religion and the arts at Wesley, and their program with religion and politics. But as soon as I visited Drew, I knew I would go there. It didn't have any particular program that compelled me. It was just a feeling. A widow of a pastor in my home congregation said to me, after I told her I was going to Drew, "I prophesied you would go there." She'd never said this kind of thing to me before, and never did after, but if there's anyone I would totally believe, it was her. I knew I'd made the right choice, and never wished I'd gone elsewhere.
4. In my last year of seminary, my childhood pastor invited me to commute to Drew and serve as his assistant pastor at his new(ish) appointment. We'd worked together with me as an intern when I was in college, and we worked well together. I agreed to take the position. And then - it just didn't sit right with me. I did not have any peace in my decision. So I sheepishly changed my mind. That spring, the then-pastor at my childhood church fell very ill. Because I wasn't working elsewhere, I was able to fill in at my home church almost every Sunday, preaching, teaching, visiting, etc., during an extremely difficult time for the congregation. I was so thankful I was available, and knew my difficult decision had been the right one.
5. Both coming to this appointment in New Jersey and leaving it are fork-in-the-road times. I struggled with the decision to come here, and I struggled with the decision to move back to NCNY. For me, making appointment decisions is so complicated because you ask questions not just about how the transition will affect yourself, but about how it will affect entire congregations, the one you serve and the one you might begin to serve. I've been blessed with congregations that have been particularly supportive and affirming in the midst of transition.
The United Methodist Publishing House is experiencing its greatest sales decline in 20 years, causing it to slow down its work on revising
The United Methodist Hymnal and take other cost-saving measures. From UMNS.
(Sermon 2/25/09, Mark 8:27-38)
Who Do You Say that I Am?
Today, Lent begins with this service of Ashes, as we pause to think about our own mortality, our own finite nature, and as we consider what it means to repent and turn back towards God. This year, we’ll use music from Jesus Christ Superstar at our 10am service to help us think about this Lenten journey, to help us think about how and why and if we are willing to follow Jesus on the path to the cross. You know already that Superstar is my favorite musical. I started going to see a local annual production of Superstar when I was in seventh grade, and since then, I have seen Superstar on stage in various settings about 30 times. I’ve worn out multiple cassette tapes and CDs from overuse. I could probably perform a one-woman version of the show all by myself. And when I wrote my senior religion paper in undergrad, Jesus Christ Superstar figured heavily into my project. So you know I love Superstar. But you don’t know why I love it. I’ll tell you more about it on Sunday when we focus in on Judas in particular. But the main thing is this: Jesus Christ Superstar makes me want to be part of the story. Watching and listening, I just want to be part of it. As a teenager, nothing drew me in to the gospel story quite like Superstar. I wanted to know what made each character tick – what motivated them and what did they see in Jesus, I wondered? I asked myself where I would be in the story. Would I be a disciple? Would I be on the sideline? Would I be one who wanted Jesus put to death? Superstar simply drew me in, and my fascination with the musical led me to a love of the season of Lent, a curiosity about the passion story, and a deeper faith. I hope, through the next several weeks, to convey some of that to you.
For me, the heart of the story of Superstar is an identity question in two parts. Who is Jesus? And who am I? Superstar focuses on the last week of Jesus’ life on earth, but it is less about the events and more about the people. Each song we will hear over the next weeks will give us an inside look at what the people closest to Jesus might have been thinking in the week leading up to the crucifixion. Why did some choose to become disciples? Why would some give up everything to follow him? Why would Judas betray Jesus? Why was Mary so devoted? Why did Peter’s faith waver? Why did the priests want him dead? Why did Pilate cede his authority? Why? These are the questions I wonder about when I read the scriptures, and for me, this music we’ll hear helps me discover, wonder, imagine. Tonight’s song is just a glimpse, as we see Mary and Judas both have vastly different reactions to who Jesus is and what Jesus is about.
Tonight we skip back in the gospel of Mark to the scene I mentioned on Sunday that happens just before the Transfiguration. Jesus has been travelling and teaching and healing, with his disciples accompanying him. And on their way to Caesarea Philippi, he asks them, “Who do people say that I am?” They answer “John the Baptist,” and “Elijah,” and “one of the prophets.” But Jesus asks them, “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter answers boldly, and for the first time, “You are the Messiah.” Then Jesus begins to tell them that the Son of Man will undergo suffering, rejection, and death, before a resurrection three days later. Peter, who has just made such a bold proclamation, rebukes Jesus for saying such things. Jesus responds, “Get behind me Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.” Peter could see who Jesus was – the Messiah. But he hadn’t yet learned what that meant – couldn’t see what being the Messiah would mean for Jesus – or perhaps, more accurately, couldn’t accept it.
Jesus calls the crowds together, along with the disciples, and makes things very clear: “If any want to become my followers, than let them deny themselves, and take up the cross, and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lost it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” Very simply, you can’t claim Jesus is the Messiah without knowing what that means, without consequences. For Jesus, it’s a simple if-then logic statement. If who Jesus is is the Messiah, then it follows that there will be a certain response from us. If we believe he is the Messiah, then we will deny ourselves, take up the cross, and follow him. And in reverse, if we aren’t denying ourselves, taking up the cross, and following Jesus, how can we claim him as the Messiah?
Who do you say that Jesus is? And what difference has that made in your life? Who are you? And how is who you are related to who Jesus is, or who you say he is? In the next weeks, we’ll look at Mary, and Peter, Judas and Simon, Pilate and the Priests. We’ll find out who they though they were. Did they change who they were because of who they thought Jesus was? Did who Jesus was change who they were? Some, we’ll see, try to make Jesus into who they wanted him to be. Some knew exactly who Jesus was, and feared him for it. Some were plagued by doubts and questions, and could never figure out who they were without understanding who Jesus was. Some knew who Jesus was, and learned how it had to change their lives, their very identities, knowing who Jesus was.
Who do you say that Jesus is? A prophet? A teacher? A healer? A miracle-worker? A work of fiction? A historical figure to admire? The Messiah? And who are you? A student? A skeptic? A believer? A questioner? An enemy? A child of God? A disciple? This Lent, this season, these forty days, the questions before us are the most important we can ask, about our very identity. Every day, we’re asked to define ourselves, to identify ourselves. We give proof in Driver’s Licenses and social security numbers and ID cards. We answer the question: I’m a mother. I’m a doctor. I’m his brother. I’m a banker. But this Lent, this season, these forty days, we only have one person to answer to. Jesus asks, “who do you say that I am?” And who do that make you?
Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” Jesus said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, and take up their cross and follow me.”
Amen.
I've been giving some consideration to what Lenten Discipline I might take up for the season, or what I might 'give up' for Lent. 'Giving up' something is not a task I always take. My most 'successful' year was the year I gave up
Diet Coke for Lent. Giving up soda provided, actually, some unexpected
theological reflections. Other years I've tried (and failed) to go vegan for the season, or just skipped giving something up at all. I've been successful in 'taking up' something like a more disciplined devotional time, etc. I have vivid memories of my friend Marianne in high-school who gave up chocolate for Lent. One day in Sunday School, we had Girl Scout cookies -
Tagalongs, the best of all Girl Scout cookies. She scraped off all the chocolate and ate the peanut butter inside. Dedication. Around the blogosphere/facebook this year, I've seen people giving up facebook (not gonna happen for me), eating out (intriguing - would be sadly tough for me to do,) blogging (I feel like it would be more of a discipline for me to blog more during Lent these days.) I'm just not quite sure what I want to do. I've also seen people try to combine some sort of weight loss program with Lenten Disciplines, and that just never seems quite right to me - like the order is wrong. Using Lent in order to lose weight, instead of doing something in order to deepen the Lenten experience.
Do you give something up, or take something up, for Lent? What? And why? What do you hope to get out of your discipline? What has deepened your Lenten experience in the past?
As the economy continues downward, attention narrows and becomes more local. Much of what I’ve been reading lately treats the financial crisis as a U.S. issue. In doing research recently I looked at several statements about the crisis by religious groups in the U.S. In each case they referred exclusively to conditions in the United [...]SHARETHIS.addEntry({ title: "Neglecting the Global Economic Crisis?", url: "http://Perspectives.larryhollon.com/?p=1046" });
Former prison chaplain Richmond Stoglin still has a passion for ministry, and recently co-edited
I Was in Prison, a book of essays published by the denomination’s General Board of Higher Education and Ministry. A Q&A with Bill Fentum.