Privileged

What does it REALLY mean?

My recent experience with my young friend at my temp job in Norristown has gotten me thinking about what it means to be privileged. "Being able to do what you really feel called to do in life," she told me, "Is a privilege and not a right." 

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Kugel Ball in Railroad Plaza
Lansdale, PA



I often get the impression from people in my church social circles that I have led a pretty privileged life. Among my local colleagues, the main reason for this seems to be that I have served at Trinity Lutheran Church in Lansdale, PA. It was my first call, and I am only 32. I was the youngest person on staff the entire time I was there. Having done that at my age and level of experience is not an honor everyone can attain. I should feel pretty damn special.

On the other hand, I also sometimes get the impression that in the eyes of some of my colleagues, I now have nothing left to live for professionally. Around here, once you've been at Trinity, you've kind of made it. I have heard people ask, "Is there life after Trinity?" Of course there is, don't be silly. I have also had my time spent at Trinity thrown in my face in random unrelated conversations. I think people want me to be angry or bitter about whatever they think might have happened to me there. Perhaps they want me to affirm their own pre-conceived notions about the place. I had a colleague approach me recently and ask me out of the blue, "Don't you feel like you got shafted?" Would it make you feel better if I said yes? Then you will probably be disappointed.

The truth of the matter is, when it comes down to the things in my life that have impacted me the most deeply, that I feel the most privileged to have been able to be a part of, I must be different than most people I know. Because when I make my list, when I think about the things that bring me to tears because I feel so honored to have been able to be a part of them, "Being at Trinity" is not on the list. Don't get me wrong--I am not talking smack about Trinity. It is a lovely place filled with lovely people, it was an important experience, I learned a lot and I will never regret it. It was a time of great growth and learning for me. At the same time, I never really wanted to go there, and although it was an exciting and challenging time in my life, I am not now sorry I am gone. It did, however, provide me the opportunity for something else that does make the list.

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Evening at the Petit Marche
Ngaoundere, Cameroon

There are two things in my life that I feel more privileged to have been able to be a part of than anything else. The first one was living and serving in Cameroon, in Africa. That was truly two years spent on holy ground. To be welcomed into the homes of my students, to hear their stories, to teach them and learn from them, to eat together, to love them and be loved by them--that was truly an honor. To know that I have formed lasting relationships with Nafissatou and Rifkatou and all of those beautiful girls who taught me so much more than I could ever teach them... that is truly an honor. I feel privileged to have even been welcomed into their midst.

The other one is spending my nights in a homeless shelter last winter. What an honor to get to know these men who came to us seeking a warm place to sleep. What courage they had. What a privilege to see volunteers from the congregation and community have their eyes opened and to begin building relationships with people who before this experience were just "those people," un-named others who we could just throw our money at and who we didn't really need to care about. What an honor to be summoned to the hospital bed of a sick, dying, drug-addicted man who had spent his life on the streets, and for whom those volunteers and the other guests at the shelter had become his only family. What a gift, to be called to give your life in service to others... Those nights I was truly in the presence of God, and walking on holy ground.

Many of the things that this world values, and that many of the people in my church value, do not make my list. Trinity is a very privileged place, and yet it does not make my list. Perhaps my idea of what it means to be privileged is messed up. I feel privileged to have been welcomed into the midst of the outcasts, the poor, the forgotten. I feel honored to have known them by name, to have met them on their terms, to have shown them the light of Christ. If this isn't true privilege, then I don't know what is.

And Where Should I Go?

The Assistant to the Bishop of the Southeastern Synod (ELCA) at the time, Amy Onstad, sent me this quote in early May 2007, the week after the Candidacy Committee approved me for consecration as a Diaconal Minister. It accurately expresses what I told that committee that I felt about the church (and they still approved me!), and what I still feel even more poignantly now. I didn't write it, but I find it meaningful. Perhaps it will also help someone else who seeks understand their own struggle.

How baffling you are, oh Church, and yet how I love you!
How you have made me suffer, and yet how much I owe you!
I should like to see you destroyed, and yet I need your presence.
You have given me so much scandal and yet you have made me understand sanctity.
I have seen nothing in the world more devoted to obscurity, more compromised, more false, and I have touched nothing more pure, more generous, more beautiful.
How often I have wanted to shut the doors of my soul in your face, and how often I have prayed to die in the safety of your arms.
No, I cannot free myself from you, because I am you, although not completely.
And where should I go?

Taken from The God Who Comes by Carlo Carretto

Living It...

Let's Talk.

She came and stood behind me at the edge of my cubicle, just on the other side of the filing cabinet. I didn't notice her at first, as entrenched as I was in my email. Eventually, I felt her presence and swiveled around in my chair. I looked at her, but before I could even open my mouth to ask what she wanted, she was already talking.

"You know, Rebecca, being able to do what you really feel called to do in life is a privilege, and not a right."

I kept looking at her. Where did that come from? I wondered. When she didn't say anything else, I put on my young adult ministry hat and I said, "That's an interesting statement. What do you mean when you say that? Please, tell me more."

She sat down on my desk. "I just mean... well, I mean it would be easier to do what I really want to do if I didn't have to worry about money all the time." And with that she hopped off my desk and disappeared around the corner to answer her phone.

And that was the end of the conversation for the time being. Later other little bits of information about this 24-year-old young woman would be peppered in--about how her mother committed suicide, about how her sister is a drug addict, and why her live-in boyfriend converted to Mormonism while he was in prison...

Last weekend at a retreat with leaders and future leaders of the ELCA, my church, someone asked me what I have been doing since I got laid off from my job in a congregation almost 8 months ago. I told her I have been working in the customer service end of a warehouse in Norristown.

"I'm sorry. That must be awful," was the response I got.

"Actually, it's not," I replied. "There is nothing to be sorry about."

She looked surprised. I went on, "I'm living the priesthood of all believers."

This is the life that most of the people in our congregations live. Gritty, real stuff. We preach it, and we tell others to live it, yet we have no idea ourselves what that means. We tell people to go out into the world and be little Christs in all of their contexts, shining their lights into all the dark places--at work, at school, at home. And yet we rarely leave the confines of the church ourselves. And those of us who do are often marginalized by the very church we serve.

And our congregation members have come to believe, perhaps because of who we are and what we do as leaders, that the church is what happens inside the "circle." Many Christians have no room in their hearts for those who are different than they are--Muslim, gay, hispanic, homeless, whatever. It is much easier to remain inside the walls of the "church" where it is safe, than it is to discover the priesthood of all believers, the Church, on the outside.

I always suspected this, but never realized how much it was true until there was no "church" to shelter me anymore. Cast out into the world, I'm living it.

What We Built

When I was in missionary orientation 10 years ago (or, as I like to jokingly call it, missionary "dis-" orientation), our keynote speaker was a guy by the name of Tony Gittins. Tony wrote a book called Gifts and Strangers: Meeting the Challenge of Inculturation. He is a professor at the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, and was also a missionary in Sierra Leone for many, many years. Tony came to speak to us, as fledgling missionaries, about the things we could expect as we embarked on our new adventures in the name of Christ in the world.

Tony served in Sierra Leone before the decade-long civil war that ravaged the countryside, killing thousands and turning children into soldiers during the 1990's. He spent much of his time there building much-needed infrastructure--hospital and school buildings that were eventually destroyed during the years of civil war. Tony related to us that many people, in the years following his return from the mission field, would approach him and ask him if he regretted going to Sierra Leone. He had invested so much of his time and energy there, only to see everything that he built later destroyed by war. People would look at him and ask him if he felt bad, because it was all for nothing.

"What they didn't understand," Tony told us, "and what you must understand, is that the work that we do is not about the physical things that we build. The work that we do is about the one thing that neither civil war nor anything else can ever destroy. Everything that we do as missionaries--everything--comes down to building relationships. Relationships between ourselves and others, and relationships between God and God's people. That is all that matters."

I think about this idea all the time. It seems especially pertinent to me now, as I sit looking ahead to a winter where I will be unable to be a part of something very important to me that I helped build. When Code Blue comes around this winter, someone else will be running Trinity's homeless shelter. I have to remind myself that it is not "what we built" that is important, as much as the relationships we knit together through the building of it. Those relationships will continue to exist for me, even when I am no longer a part of what is being built.

I hear school teachers talk about how you never know what effect you might have on a child's life--that years later they might remember how you changed their lives, without you even knowing that you did anything. That's how I am trying to think about the Code Blue Shelter--that lives were changed because of the relationships we formed... changed in many ways that we may never know about. It wasn't as much about "what we built," as it is about who we were... and in whose Name we came. "What we built" only facilitated the relationship-building process. When "what we built" is either gone, or we are gone from it, the relationships and the life-changing effects of those relationships remain.

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Incarnation as Revolution

It is with much fear and longing that I have been visiting my blog in the last few months. I come here and haunt it, needing to write, but not knowing what to say. And then I end up saying nothing. As someone who tends to bare all when I write (and speak), I have known these last few months that the things I am thinking about are not things that I could write down in a blog without raising some eyebrows. I also don't know what to say--when your feelings get so jumbled up inside that you can't even explain them, then how do you go about sharing them?

Six months ago, I wrote a blog called "Breaking Up and Breaking Out" about my difficulty with a church that struggles to affirm my gifts for ministry as a Child of God, much less in my role as Diaconal Minister. I came to understand that the only way I was going to be able to come to terms with God's call as deacon was to be willing to forsake everything to follow the call--even if it meant forsaking the church. I came right to the edge of that place. I stood at the precipice and looked over the edge. I was ready to jump. I knew I would always be a deacon. I knew that God had called me into God's service and had so many wonderful things in store for me as a part of our great love affair. I just didn't think the church was ready for me and what that call might mean. And I wasn't at all sure that I was ready to fight for it. God was calling me to serve and not fight, right? I didn't need the church in order to be able to serve. Maybe it was just better to leave.

And then, all of a sudden, perhaps because I was finally able to say I would leave, it became OK not to. Maybe I needed to be willing to walk away, forsaking all others--including even the church--for God to really be able to use me. There is Biblical precedent for that: "Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.'" (Matthew 16:24-25).

One of the things that I have come to realize in these last few months is that the call is still the same. It is a call to service. And, the call to service, and actually living into that call as a member of the Body of Christ, is one of the most radical ways in which transformation occurs within us, and outside of us. I don't have to "fight." The Holy Spirit is blowing in this church, and in my life and in the lives of the people around me. The Holy Spirit is reforming the church and reforming me, in all the wonderful and scary ways that happens. All we have to do is be "in the flesh." We have to be real to those people around us. Loving them. Hurting for them and with them. Rejoicing with them. Being the face of Christ to each other. It does make me wonder if being "incarnate" will ever be anything less than revolutionary.

One of my friends recently asked me how we go about changing the injustices in the world. He was particularly referencing racism, but it could have been anything. I told him the only answer I know--which is to lead by example. Revolution happens when instead of fighting, we serve. Revolution happens because through service, we fight for something worthwhile.

And there is more. So, so much more. But, I think I'll hold on to that a while longer, until I can get it sorted out enough to write it down.

Breaking Up and Breaking Out

I almost dropped out of seminary.

The reason for my "almost break-up" with the church, the "straw that broke the camel's back" is, at this point, mostly unimportant. I credit a good friend of mine for convincing me to stay. He told me I only had two options: I could leave and let the church stay the way it was (break up), or I could stay, and exact change from the inside (break out). I chose to stay, because at that time I could never see myself as being anything other than a Lutheran. Maybe the idealist in me really believed that this is still a "reforming" church, and not just the "reformed" church of Martin Luther's Reformation.

My blog has been silent for a long time. The last few months have been filled with wonderings and wanderings as I struggle with a church that falls so short of my expectations, and a call to ministry that even I don't entirely understand.

My struggle is with a larger church (i.e., not a specific congregation, but the wider church) that preaches the "priesthood of all believers" but doesn't live it. My struggle is with a church that doesn't know how to affirm my gifts for ministry not only as a church leader but also simply as a Child of God. I struggle with my own ability to be a diaconal minister (deacon, or servant) in this world and in a church that I feel has let me down. It has told me my service is important and then turned its back on my call in so many ways. In the semantics it plays between "ordination" and "consecration" and in the inequality in pay and responsibility between clergy and deacons, the church has made its stand. My call did not come out on top. I wasn't really hoping it would--equality would have been nice.

I could go on, but I won't. I am writing this blog so that others who struggle with questions of faith might know that you are not alone, and so that you know that even the people who "work in the church" are often plagued with doubt and misgiving. I also wish for something better for my church, and for myself.

The question that faces me today is the same one that has faced me for months, perhaps even years. It was 2003 when I almost dropped out of seminary.... in many ways my questions today are still the same....

Should I "break up" with the church, or "break out"? Is my role the role of a leaver or a reformer? I know that I want something better, but I'm not sure I have the heart to make it happen. I'm not sure I'm a reformer. All I want to do is be a diaconal minister (deacon, servant) in the truest sense of the word. I just want to serve... I don't want to spend my time convincing people it's a good idea. I'm not sure the church knows what this call to diaconal service really means. What about the preisthood of all believers? If we're all priests, then who says diaconal service needs to happen within the context of a "call" or a "consecration"? Isn't God bigger than even the church's box?

Early Easter Trivia

As we enter Holy Week, I have been thinking about how crunched this season of Lent has seemed. Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, and Easter Sunday are all happening in the course of a little under 3 months! This is quite unusual. Below you will find some interesting facts about this year's early Easter. This information was researched and compiled by Eric Gombert, Trinity's Director for Music.

As you may know, Easter is always the 1st Sunday after the 1st full moon after the Spring Equinox (which is March 20).

This dating of Easter is based on the lunar calendar that Hebrew people used to identify Passover, which is why it moves around on our Roman calendar.

Based on the above, Easter can actually be one day earlier (March 22), but that is pretty rare. This year is the earliest Easter any of us will ever see the rest of our lives! And only the most elderly of our population have ever seen it this early before (95 years old or above!). None of us have ever, or will ever, see it a day earlier.

Here are the facts:

The next time Easter will be this early (March 23) will be the year 2228 (220 years from now). The last time it was this early was 1913 (so if you're 95 or older, you are the only ones that were around for that!).

The next time it will be a day earlier, March 22, will be in the year 2285 (277 years from now). The last time it was on March 22 was 1818. So, no one alive today has or will ever see it any earlier than this year!

The Summer of 1999

Or, How I Came to Africa: A Love Affair

It kind of surprised me as I looked back over almost a year of posts that I have hardly blogged at all about Africa, something which is so central to my identity and ministry. I guess as time marches on and Africa disappears farther and farther into my past, the reality of my present situation outweighs any experience I had there. Do you think the uniqueness of who I have become because of that place will eventually disappear altogether? Sometimes I ask myself that question. And, as much as sometimes I don't like being different from everyone else, I also don't want what makes me unique to disappear.

The other question I always ask myself is if I will ever make it back to Africa. I am afraid to answer that question. I am afraid the answer might be no, and I don't know if I can accept that. I don't want to always be on this side of the Atlantic looking out across it at great distance, as if it were a lover I abandoned a long, long time ago.

I was last on the African continent in July of 2003. That was a month-long visit to Cameroon, the primary purpose of which was to help my husband Pierre emigrate to the United States. Prior to that, I lived and served as a missionary in Ngaoundere, Cameroon, from August of 2000 to July of 2002.

The first time I was in Africa, though, was for a trip to Tanzania in the summer of 1999.

I would really like to be able to express to you in words how that trip changed my life; I'm just not sure if it is possible.

Have you ever had a moment in your life that was so magical and wonderful that it seemed surreal? That was the way the entire summer of 1999 was for me. The best way that I can describe that time in my life is that I fell in love; everything around me after that summer had this magical, wonderful, shimmering glow. My perspectives on the world and education and religion and what really matters all changed. Some of my problems didn't seem so important anymore. Other things seemed more important than ever.

One of my really personal memories happened after I returned from Tanzania. I was walking down Main Street in Salem, Virginia, right up the street from my college, and this girl walked by. She was talking on her cell phone. Blah, blah, blah... I don't really remember what she was talking about. What I do remember is what I thought: The whole world had been turned upside down, and it seemed like I was the only person on the planet who knew it or even gave a damn.

It seems virtually impossible for me to explain to you what it was that so shook me up, got inside me and turned me upside down and inside out. Maybe an example will suffice.

Part of what I was doing that summer at Roanoke College was writing an honors paper on the Lutheran Church in Tanzania and the process of inculturation, which is basically the phenomenon of the gospel message taking on certain attributes, symbols, and traditions of the local culture. An example of this would be illustrating Jesus as a black man in Africa or an Arab in the Middle East. Another example would be offering... in Africa, it is often less about passing the plate and more about your first fruits: grain from your harvest, a goat from your field, a live chicken. Try sitting through a worship service while two live chickens with their legs tied together flap around on top of the altar!

One of the things that I learned very quickly during my time in Tanzania (and later in Cameroon) is that a lot of the Christian theology, doctrine, and tradition that I learned in college (and later in seminary) are very entitled. What I mean is that it is very convenient to believe certain things and practice your religion in a certain way and have a sense of entitlement about it, until you go somewhere else where the same rules just don't apply. The people in my current congregation would have a cow if someone brought chickens into the sanctuary! They have enough problems if the poinsettias aren't all lined up properly or the Christ candle is in the wrong spot. They have enough problems because we have switched our communion practices to intinction. We all complain about things that don't really matter a whole lot, when you think about it (Oh, they matter to us... they just don't matter much in the grand scheme of things).

The summer of 1999 showed me that I am NOT the center of the universe.
My theology is NOT the center of the universe.
My tradition is NOT the center of the universe.
My church is NOT the center of the universe.
My GOD is the center of the universe.

God made us all so unique and beautiful. God gave us minds to think, hearts to feel, and ears to hear. God gave us a message that is so universal that it can be practiced and believed in so many different ways. The only thing that remains the same is that Jesus Christ died and rose again to save us. Whether that Jesus was black or white, whether we offer him chickens or $20 bills, whether we take communion on our knees or in passing by dipping in a cup, it doesn't really matter. The only thing that really matters is that the Christians in America and Tanzania and Cameroon and the Middle East and Costa Rica and everywhere else worship the same Jesus Christ.

What was so special about the summer of 1999? In some ways, it was realizing my own obscurity. I am so small, and the world is so big and cruel and hard. So much of what I do doesn't matter to anyone but me. It was in learning of my obscurity that I gained the greatest gift... I gained a peek into what it truly means to be a Child of God.

I am wonderfully and beautifully made.
The same God who made me also made the dusty streets of Africa.
The same God who made me also made the tall Maasai and the towering Baobab.
The same God who made me also made those chickens on that altar.
The same God who made me also made a planet where America and Tanzania can co-exist.
So different, and yet so similar. So far apart, and yet so strangely near to one another.

Our God is an awesome God.

Warm Deacon Fuzzies

A lot of people have asked me if I feel different now that I am a diaconal minister. I don't really. Am I supposed to have warm deacon fuzzies or something? I am glad I have finally accomplished this thing, though--it took me 5 whole years! I had 2 years of seminary, 2 years of contextual education, diaconal ministry projects, spiritual direction, and at least a year doing a lot of spiritual wrestling trying to figure it all out. Lots of people complete this process in a lot less time than it took me!

Anyways, here are some pictures from my big day:


This is Trinity Lutheran Church, where I am serving. The sanctuary was decorated for All Saints' Day, which was the day I was consecrated.


That's Bishop Claire Burkat, me, and my husband Pierre. At the beginning of the consecration, the bishop called up members of my family, staff, and council to stand with me.


During the service (that's Pastor Becky Eisenhart on the right).


My sister Tina is presenting me with my basin, pitcher, and diaconal stole.


All done! Do I look like I have warm deacon fuzzies?

I am really thankful to have finished this process, to be serving in such a wonderful synod and congregation, and to have such great friends, family, and colleagues surrounding me!

**If you want to know more about diaconal ministry, consecrations, or any of that sort of stuff, read my post from September 25, 2007**

At the Font...

This week one of the pillars of our church community passed away. She was 82 years old, and beloved, not only by her family, but also by so many others whose life she touched. She died in a hard way, sick and in pain at the end. The good news of the resurrection speaks especially loudly now--the pain of this earth has passed away, and all things are new. She will rise up again in Christ Jesus, who loves her and calls her and all of us by name.

I came to church this morning, the morning of the funeral, to help teach a part of our pre-marital seminar. People who will be getting married at Trinity in the next few months come to this seminar as a part of their pre-marital work. Most of our group this morning are young, fresh-faced twenty-somethings, expectant about the new life stage they are entering, giddy and excited about love and their futures.

The stark contrast between these two very real moments has grabbed my attention. One family at the graveside, mourning an ending here on earth, but also celebrating, in some way, the beautiful gift of eternal life. And several soon-to-be young married people celebrating what is for them a new beginning in life. The death and the life, the freshness and the sorrow--they bookend each other.

This weekend we are baptizing TWELVE babies at worship (you read that right--12!). All of these things--the death, the weddings, the endings and new beginnings, all converge here... at the font. Here God is working. God is claiming us as God's own. We don't have to do anything--we don't even have to decide! God is in control and grace is poured out abundantly. It washes over us and cleans us. We are a new creation. God has chosen us and loves us with utter abandon.

What a wonderful Promise!

Thoughts on Grace--A Mission Theology Primer

Part 1

I have been thinking a lot about grace recently.

Grace has a lot to do with the issues I had with the mission theology of Pura Vida Missions when I travelled to Costa Rica. I have kind of been thinking that I need to explain myself a little bit. I complained a lot about poor mission theology in some of my most recent posts, and then I never said why I think it was poor theology, or what good theology looks like. The other week my friend Chris asked me, "Becca, why was it so bad? What exactly was it?" So, I am going to tell you what I think. Now, I know who some of my readers are, and I know that not all of you will be comfortable with my take on things. Please understand that this is an expression of who I am deep in my theological being more than it is a condemnation of what you may believe. I have to be true to myself--in the words of Martin Luther, "Here I stand. I can not do otherwise. God help me, Amen!"

I think I need to start this blog with a story from my past. I grew up in Huntsville, Alabama, in the middle of the Bible Belt. Alabama tends to be very religiously conservative. They are also almost always a "red state" during presidential elections. Most of the people who I went to high school with were from the Southern Baptist tradition. Those who weren't were generally non-denominational, evangelical, or Pentecostal Christians (this is based on my observation and personal experience, not on data I researched). As a more liberal Lutheran person, I was in the minority religiously, and I therefore had to think hard about what I believed at a very early stage in my life. I often saw the incongruities between my faith and the way I practiced it and the religious habits and beliefs of the people around me.

One of the things that made me very uncomfortable as a Lutheran growing up in Alabama (I always used to joke that there were only 3 Lutherans in all of Alabama, and they were all in my family) were the questions. I remember one of my friends asking me once, "Are you Christian?" I told her yes--I am a Lutheran. "But, are you CHRISTIAN?" she asked. Another time someone asked me if I had been "saved," i.e., if I had decided to give Jesus my heart and asked him to be my personal Lord and Savior. Lutherans just don't talk like that! So, I gave what I still believe to be a very correct answer--I said that I had been baptized as a baby and that Jesus died and rose for me. I said that God loves me and all of His children, and His grace has set me free from the bondage of sin and death. I am proud that as a young person I was able to articulate my beliefs and stand up for my faith. I owe that in no small part to my parents, Sunday School teachers, youth leaders, and pastor.

My experiences as a youth growing up in Alabama led me to develop a strong mission theology while I was still in high school. The questions people asked about my faith made me uncomfortable mainly because I felt like they were trying to evangelize me. ME!? A good Christian girl? I knew that some people felt that I needed to convert from my sinful Lutheran ways and join the Southern religious status-quo. I found that offensive. I still struggle with prejudices against conservative and evangelical Christians because I know how horrible their evangelism tactics made me feel at the time. The basic sense of their argument (in my eyes) was that God couldn't save me unless I conformed to their belief system.

When I was a junior in high school I had an amazing, transforming, spiritual experience at the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) National Youth Gathering. If I had to pinpoint a moment in my life when God finally got to me and transformed me, that would be it. Following that experience, I really began feeling the call to ministry. More specifically, I began feeling the call to MISSION.

My view of mission at that time was what I had been shown by the Christians around me--something that made me feel icky, as if God couldn't grant me salvation unless I was like them, "born again," "saved," or whatever. The idea that I could be called to mission made me feel, well, icky. I didn't want to make others feel as disrespected and unloved as others' Christian evangelism tactics had made ME feel. No one had ever bothered to ask me what I believed. No one had bothered to find out WHO I was or WHAT I was all about. They didn't care much about who I was at all. They just wanted me on their side. They wanted me on the "right" side (both figuratively and politically).

I recently met a man from Africa who married a Pennsylvania Dutch girl from Lancaster County. My husband Pierre and I met them because of the reason we often meet people like them--we look like them and have a demographic similar to theirs. White American woman marries black African man and vice versa. We had dinner together. I will never forget the first two things that man wanted to know about me when we met for the very first time. He knew I worked in the church. And yet, what did he want to know? 1. Was I "born again"? and 2. What did I think about "gay people"? Seriously? That's it?

Bad mission theology is bad specifically because it does not seek to discover others' stories. It does not respect who they are or seek to know more about them. Bad mission theology only has ONE goal: to "save" poor, lost souls. Bad mission theology's general definition of poor, lost souls is anybody who does not believe and practice the same thing you do. Bad mission theology does not take into account that it is GOD who does the saving, and not over-zealous Christians.

The other thing that really frustrates me about bad mission theology is that it assumes that God is somehow limited in God's power to save humanity. It puts God in a box. It says, "Hey, look. If you are Lutheran, gay, Muslim, liberal, an adulterer, thief, or a hippie (or something else we don't like), God just can't save you. Sorry. But, there is hope for you--become like us, and God will love you like God loves us." Bad mission theology claims that the only truth that exists is the truth these people are perpetuating.

Now, I'm sorry, but exactly what kind of God do these people believe in, anyways? Didn't Jesus come to save HUMANITY? Didn't Jesus eat with prostitutes and tax collectors? Aren't we all as sinful as that Lutheran liberal gay hippie who is cheating on his wife sitting next to us on the bus? Don't say you're not! I know I am, and you are, too. The good news is, God loves us ALL anyways!

That's what grace is all about. God CAN and DOES meet us where we are, love us as we are, and transform us into the people God calls us to be. GOOD mission theology understands that, respects that, and yet also challenges us to become more closely aligned with who God wants us to be.

In Part 2 I promise I will stop ranting and get to the heart of who we are as Christians--despite my early aversion to the call, I now fully believe that ALL Christians are called to mission. I want to talk more about good mission theology and the work that all Christians are called to do.

Diaconal Ministry

What the HECK is it?

As I continue preparations for my consecration on November 4, I am getting a lot of questions about Diaconal Ministry. People receive my consecration announcements, and they inevitably have 2 questions:

1. What's a Diaconal Minister?
2. What's a Consecration?

So, I am off to "God's Country" for the next two weeks (My grandfather was from Minnesota, and he always swore it was "God's Country" - that and "The Land of the Sky Blue Waters"), and I thought it might be nice to answer those questions before I leave.

NOTE: This is not the "controversial" post I have been working on; it's just a little something to tide you over until I get a chance to write again.

First of all: If you are reading this post, then you are welcome to attend my consecration. So, before I tell you what a consecration is, let me officially invite you to one! Here is the invitation:

Now the word of the Lord came to me saying,
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
and before you were born I consecrated you;
I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”
--Jeremiah 1:4-5

You are cordially invited to the Rite of Consecration of

Rebecca Hanson Kolowé

to the Ministry of Word and Service as a Diaconal Minister in the
Evangelical Lutheran Church of America

November 4, 2007 at 4:00 P.M.

Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church
1000 West Main Street, Lansdale, Pennsylvania 19446
(Corner of Routes 63 and 363)

Reception immediately following
Rostered leaders are invited to vest and process. The color of the day is white.

Please come! I hope to see you there!

***

Now, to answer those two questions! Here is an excerpt of an article that was originally published in Trinity's Lansdale Lutheran. It should answer all of your questions about Diaconal Ministry, consecrations, and perhaps some other things! I wrote it, and have made some changes here to better suit my blog.

DIACONAL MINISTRY

Rebecca Kolowé, Trinity's Pastoral Assistant in charge of adult and young adult education, is about to become a consecrated Diaconal Minister.

What is Diaconal Ministry?

Diaconal Ministry is a ministry of Word and Service. One way to explain it is to compare the ministry of a Pastor with the ministry of a Diaconal Minister: Pastors are called to a ministry of Word and Sacrament. This means that Pastors preach the Word and administer the sacraments (Holy Communion and Baptism). Diaconal Ministers are called to a ministry of Word and Service. This means that Diaconal Ministers preach the Word and focus on serving others.

What is a Diaconal Minister?

A Diaconal Minister is someone who is consecrated (or “set apart”) by the church to perform ministries of Word and Service.

What is a consecration?

A consecration is a rite of the church in which Diaconal Ministers are set apart for their particular ministry. It is very similar to the way a pastor is ordained.

What do you mean by a ministry of service?

The church says that Diaconal Ministers are called into a ministry of service at the place where the church meets the world. This means that Diaconal Ministers are called to serve the poor, afflicted, unlovely, and anyone who lives at the fringes between church and world.

If your ministry is a ministry of service outside of the church, then what are you doing working in a congregation?

The official website of the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) Diaconal Ministry community (Please visit the ELCA Diaconal Ministry Community online at www.elca.org/diaconalministry) states, “Diaconal Ministers work to seek wholeness in the world and to help the people of God to live out the Gospel… [Diaconal Ministers work towards] equipping others for healing and justice in the world.” One aspect of service to others equipping the people of God, the people in the church, to be in service to others.

What kinds of jobs do Diaconal Ministers do?

Diaconal Ministers serve in a lot of different areas. Some of them, like me, work in congregations, encouraging and equipping others to serve. Other Diaconal Ministers may work for social service organizations, as chaplains, in campus or youth ministry, as counselors or spiritual directors, or in other areas.

How do you get to be a Diaconal Minister?

Diaconal Ministers must attend an ELCA seminary and complete the required degrees and requirements. Candidates for Diaconal Ministry also undergo a candidacy and call process before they are consecrated to service.

What is the difference between a deacon and a Diaconal Minister?

Diakonia is a Greek word taken out of the New Testament that means “service.” A deacon, therefore is a servant. Diaconal Ministers and deacons are both servants and are both the same thing. “Diaconal Minister” is the term that the ELCA has decided to use to designate its deacons.

As a Christian, I help serve others, too. What's the difference between me and a Diaconal Minister?

In many ways, we are ALL called to be deacons, and all of the various ways we minister to each other are important. All Christians should be in service to others. Jesus called us all to be deacons when he said, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). The difference between an ELCA Diaconal Minister and other lay people is that a Diaconal Minister has attended seminary, has gone through the church-wide call process, and has been consecrated (“set aside”) by God and the church to a specific ministry. It is similar to the way a Pastor is educated, called, and ordained to a specific ministry.

Aren’t you a deaconess?

I am not a deaconess. In the ELCA, deaconesses are women who are a part of a deaconess community. Although our call to service is very similar, only women who are a part of the deaconess community are to be called deaconesses. I am a Diaconal Minister, and you may call me a deacon.

Why have I never heard about Diaconal Ministers before?

Deacons have existed in the wider church for hundreds of years. However, the term “Diaconal Minister” and its recognition as a consecrated ministry of the ELCA only became official in 1993.

Why haven’t you told us earlier about you being a Diaconal Minister?

I am actually not a Diaconal Minister yet. I graduated from seminary in 2004, but was still working to complete the candidacy and call process when I began working at Trinity. I finished those final requirements in April. I will officially become a Diaconal Minister on November 4, 2007, when Bishop Burkat consecrates me as a Diaconal Minister. That service will be here at Trinity, and I would love for you to come and be a part of that special day!

What Gen Y Really Wants

There was an article in the July 16 issue of Time magazine called "Work-Life Balance: What Gen Y Really Wants". It speaks to certain aspects of the young-adult problem, and also addresses the need for businesses to adapt their way of thinking about hiring and employee retention or else risk losing the young, 20-something energy and brainpower.

Gen Y is a difficult group to define. There are differing ideas about who Generation Y is. For example, I was born right on the cusp between Generations X and Y. Most scholars define Generation X as ending and Generation Y as beginning sometime between 1975 and 1980. I think it is safe to say that if you are reading this blog in 2007 and you are a 20-something, then you are a member of Generation Y.

The article basically looks at trends in the 20-something workplace. 20-somethings value things that previous generations didn't when it comes to their jobs. "For these new 20-something workers, the line between work and home doesn't really exist. They just want to spend their time in meaningful and useful ways, no matter where they are." Young adults value things in the workplace such as friendships, being able to work remotely, and corporate support for volunteering. And, 20-somethings aren't afraid to take their skills elsewhere if a job is not fulfilling enough. The search for meaning and the huge amount of options they have provide them with the luxury of being choosy when it comes to work. They are in demand and they know it. The fact that so many 20-somethings move back home after college and take time to travel or dabble in entrepreneurship offers them the advantage of taking their time to find a job they really want.

When I read this article, I thought two things: first, I really see myself in this discussion about 20-somethings. You might, too. Statements like "It feels normal for Gen Y employees to check in by Blackberry all weekend as long as they have flexibility during the week" sound like me (I readily admit I am an email junkie and check my work email from home all the time). "Generation Y's search for meaning makes [employer] support for volunteering among the benefits it values most." This also sounds like me--I don't want to be stuck in a meaningless office job my entire life. I want to EXPERIENCE life while helping others experience it, too.

Second, the search for meaning really seems key to defining 20-somethings, and it is not just the church that is getting that. When I first started working in young adult ministry, I thought that the church seemed like such a natural place for 20-somethings to end up because we can provide so many things they are looking for! Jesus Christ provides an ending to that endless search for meaning. However, it appears that the world is also catching on. Employers who are hoping to hold on to their 20-something workers are having to provide them with meaning. I'm sure there are a lot of 20-somethings reading this blog who have quit a job because it seemed meaningless, stupid, degrading, or whatever (I know I have!). Well, employers are starting to catch on and are changing the way they think about the workplace in order to hold on to their young potential-filled new-hires. That just proves that... the church is going to have to make some changes, too, if we want to attract and keep 20-somethings involved.

One way for the church to do that is through the three things I mentioned earlier that 20-somethings value: friendships, being able to work remotely, and support for volunteerism. Here is what I propose as a start:

1. Building friendships with people our own age who have similar interests as us may bring us to church if our friends value it, too. Gen Y is big on trust, and you have to earn it--but once you do, we are willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Building non-threatening relationships on neutral ground around Christ-centered themes will encourage interest in the church. Even if they never physically ENTER a church building, groups like this are still a part of the greater CHURCH ("Where 2 or 3 are gathered in my name, I am there among them", Matthew 18:20), and are being successful with young adults. How do we do this? Think "Starbucks Bible Study," "Theology Pub," or "Happy Hour Fellowship" for starters.



2. Being able to work remotely means having access to your community and what's important to you from somewhere else. It means doing outreach via email, blogs, instant messaging, and other virtual means. We are doing it right now. I've seen news reports recently on Virtual Church. This is a new trend that is becoming important to people that we should not ignore (I personally feel that there needs to be a personal, relational aspect to Virtual Church in order for it to really be the Body of Christ, but that is another blog).



3. Volunteering is HUGE among Generation Y. This ties into our search for meaning and our desire for something MORE. Any successful church program for 20-somethings is going to provide opportunities for service. Gen Y wants to feel like we are making a difference, and we aren't likely to stick around for real long if we think something is meaningless.

This is a really interesting article that I suggest you read. Even though it is an article about the business world, I think we need to pay attention to what it can tell the church about how to reach Gen Y. You can access the article here.

Lutefisk and the Decline of the Mainline Denominations

A few weeks ago I attended the ELCA's first "large congregations" event. This was an event for staff and select members of ELCA congregations that worship 500 people or more on a Sunday morning. At Trinity, we worship around 1,200 people on average. We are the only congregation in our synod that is that large, and we are also one of the only Lutheran congregations on the east coast that is that large. I have been told that we are the largest Lutheran church east of the Mississippi River and the 11th largest in the country.

Because of this, one of the frustrations that the staff at Trinity faces is that we are not like other people. We have a hard time relating to many of the problems found in smaller parishes. We don't consider ourselves to be better, just different. It is also sometimes difficult to relate to our colleagues who work in smaller parishes, because our needs and challenges are often different. Granted, some of our problems are the SAME (attendance and accountability issues, for example), but many of them are just on a different scale and need to be handled in a different way than they would be in a smaller congregation.

So, this "large congregations" event was an opportunity for us to network with other congregations who are similar to us in size and makeup. It was also an opportunity to learn about ministries in other congregations, brainstorm new ideas, hear amazing speakers, and be challenged to grow, change, and try new things. In many ways, that is exactly what happened. I think I can speak for most of the folks on my staff when I say that we were challenged, refreshed, and ready to try new things by the time the event was over. The worship was amazing (for the most part), the music was uplifting, and the speakers and workshops were all very helpful.

I want to share with you one thing that I learned at this conference, however, that is rather alarming to me.

Lutherans have known for a long time that our membership numbers, along with the membership numbers of other Mainline Protestant denominations (Methodists, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, etc.) are declining. The Evangelical and Non-Denominational churches are growing in leaps and bounds, while the Mainline Protestant denominations, at least in the U.S., are shrinking.

Now, I know there are a lot of reasons for this. I have heard a lot of theories about why this might be. There have been LOTS of books written about why this might be, not all of them flattering to the Lutherans, and not all of them very nice to the Evangelicals, either. I'm not going to go into all of that here. I'm sure I don't even know all of the reasons for this phenomenon. The reason that became terribly clear to me over the course of this conference, however, can be summed up in one word: Lutefisk!

Now, I know you are probably wondering, "What the HECK is lutefisk?" If you are asking that question, then you OBVIOUSLY don't have a Norwegian heritage. My Norwegian ancestors are probably rolling over in their graves right now. Wikipedia defines lutefisk this way: "a traditional dish of the Nordic countries made from air-dried whitefish and soda lye." Wikipedia also defines soda lye as "a caustic solution which is made from ashes and is used for glass, soap making, and certain food preparations." All in all, lutefisk is some pretty nasty stuff. That having been said, however, it is considered a delicacy among Norwegian-Americans and is often eaten during the weeks approaching Christmas.

Needless to say, lutefisk lovers everywhere get a lot of flack for liking the stuff. It has kind of become a thing of legends, though. When I attended seminary in Minnesota, they honored lutefisk once a year by serving it, along with other traditional Norwegian dishes like lefse (which is not nearly as offensive). Minnesota is the Norwegian capital of the U.S. It is also the Lutheran capital of the U.S. Southwest Minnesota has the highest concentration of Lutherans per square mile in the WORLD. So, there are a lot of Lutherans there. There are a lot of Norwegians (and other Scandinavians), and there is a lot of lutefisk. These three things have pretty much become synonymous in that part of the world--Norwegian, Lutheran, lutefisk-eater.

I'm sure by now you are probably wondering why I think lutefisk has anything to do with the decline of Lutheranism (as if lutefisk alone isn't enough to scare people away!). Lutefisk itself is not so much the problem. The problem is what lutefisk represents.

So there I was, sitting in this "large congregations" conference in Minnesota, surrounded, for the most part, by good mid-western Lutherans of Scandinavian heritage, and the lutefisk references and jokes were just unbearable. And then it hit me! If you are not a Lutheran of Scandinavian heritage, if you have never lived in Minnesota and become familiar with the lutefisk phenomenon, then these references will mean absolutely nothing to you. My parishioners in Southeastern Pennsylvania are mostly of German, Irish, and/or Italian background and know nothing about lutefisk. To them, mid-western-lutefisk-eating-Norwegian-heritage Lutheranism is IRRELEVANT!

That is a big reason why the Mainline Denominations are failing. They have ceased to be relevant. We are preaching a message of lutefisk to a generation that eats sushi. Now, don't get me wrong--the gospel, the message of the saving grace of Jesus Christ, is NEVER irrelevant. What it ultimately comes down to, however, is getting that message to people in a way that is relevant to them. Using lutefisk lingo with a sushi crowd will do nothing but make them feel unwelcomed, not-in-the-loop, and will ultimately result in them writing you off.

There are lots of relevant ways for us to spread the message of Jesus Christ. I remember visiting a parish in downtown Minneapolis that in the 1950's and 60's worshiped more than 3,000 people each week. In 2004, when I was there, worship attendance had dwindled to around 200. Upon inquiring, I discovered the reason: the congregation was filled with Norwegian immigrants in the 1950's who joined this church because of the cultural and historical link with others in the congregation. The things that went on there were relevant to Norwegian-American immigrants of the day.

Over the years, however, the demographic of that neighborhood changed. This Lutheran church is situated one block off Lake Street. For those of you who don't know, Lake Street has become the home and place of business of many of Minneapolis' African, Asian, and Arab immigrants. Just like in the 1950's, that neighborhood is still a thriving place for immigrants. Unlike in the 1950's, however, now those immigrants are not Norwegian, are often not Christian, and are generally not white.

This congregation has been clinging to the past of its Norwegian heritage while the world outside has changed and grown. Being a white, middle-class, Norwegian church in that neighborhood is no longer relevant. If that congregation refuses to change its story, then it will eventually die.

There are so many things that that congregation could be doing to become relevant in that community. Offering free legal help, medical clinics, and English classes would be a great place to start. Building relationships with local shops and restaurants and inviting them into their church building to feed people and sell their goods would be another interesting way to go. I know that these things may not be easy. I understand the politics of congregations--many church members might object, and some might even leave. But is the ultimate price for ceasing to be relevant really worth it?

This congregation is, of course, just an example. I think that we all need to be thinking about how we as Christians can be relevant to the people of this world. It is a challenge that I face every day when I enter the doors of my church building to go to work. Trinity is a wonderful place to work and to be a part of the Christian community. I love being there. However, just because Trinity is big and has had incredible growth in the past doesn't mean that we've got it all figured out. In fact, I would say that we have a lot of work to do if we want to remain relevant. Our congregation is 98% white in a community that is now almost 11% southeast-Asian. Our congregation has a lot of money because we have a lot of very generous, well-off people who give to us, but the average person in Lansdale today is struggling financially. What can we be doing better so that we become relevant to those people who are living in Lansdale and who are not a part of our Christian community? As blessed as we are, we still have some work to do!

People are hurting. They have real problems and needs and the church has the answer that will help them. Jesus Christ loves them and wants to be a part of their lives. He died so that we may have eternal life. But if we use words of lutefisk to share this good news with a sushi world, then our message will not be heard.

People Who Ruin Church for Other People

I have a friend who really has a problem with the church. The thing is, I know that one of the main reasons she has a problem with the church is because somebody else ruined it for her. That other person happens to be a pastor. He made her feel as though she could not be a part of the church unless she behaved in a certain way and thought in a certain way. Now, I don't want to speak for her, but I think maybe because of that bad experience she had with that pastor, she feels as though she can't trust the church and the people in it. And that is just wrong. Why do people have to ruin church for other people?

Many times, in our short-sighted sinfulness, we think we know better than God does, and that ends up hurting people. Telling someone they are not welcome because they are gay, or poor, or ask too many questions, or belong to a different Christian denomination than we do, puts God and God's grace in a BOX. Who are we to say that God would not welcome these people, too? Didn't Jesus eat with society's "undesireables?" Wouldn't he also eat with the church's so-called "undesireables?"

All I'm saying is that if we REALLY believe in a Christ who died for EVERYBODY'S sins (including our own!), and if we REALLY believe in a God who is "gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love," then who are we to say who would or would not be loved by God? Who are we to ruin church for other people by telling them they are not welcome? Is not the call of the Christian to love one another, as Christ has loved us?

Grace is God's ultimate gift--God's love and forgiveness given freely for all. We cannot limit God's grace. It is not up to us to do so--it is not up to us to put it in a box. God's grace is wider and deeper and more profound than we could ever imagine with our limited human understanding. Didn't Jesus show this to us in the very way he lived and died and rose again FOR ALL OF US?

We really need to think hard about how we present ourselves and our faith to others, because, in everything we do, we are ambassadors for Christ. We are CALLED as Christians to model God's grace to everyone--especially to those who do not know God's love. Imagine how horrible it would be if because of our actions, someone decided that he or she did NOT want to know God or be a part of the church.

Someone else who is very close to me has left the church because, as he says, "If that's the way Christians are going to behave, then I don't want to be Christian!" This is not the legacy we want to leave. What a sin! I am ashamed of those Christians who ruin church for other people. I want to shout it from the mountaintops: "That's NOT who we are, and that's NOT the God I know! God loves you, and God wants to be in relationship with you! Come back and experience what it means to know God's grace and love!"