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?
Showing posts with label Lutherans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lutherans. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Homecoming
Have you ever noticed how love songs on the radio could just as easily be about God as about a lover (or maybe God is your lover)? They could also just as easily be about something or some place you love, instead of someone.
There's a song out recently by Chris Daughtry called "Home." I know you've probably heard it. The chorus goes like this:
"I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you've got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home."
It is difficult to adequately explain to someone who has never had the experience what it was like for me to return to the African continent this month after FIVE years away. The last time I was in Africa, I was unmarried, was living in Minnesota, and hadn't yet graduated from seminary. My grandfather was still alive, and a life in Pennsylvania with my future husband was something I hadn't yet conceived of.
The last time I was in Africa (Cameroon) was five years ago, but the last time I was in Tanzania was NINE years ago. That was the first time I was ever in Africa. That was the trip that changed everything. At that time, I was still in college. My best friend Yulia, a summer fling, and a research project I was working on were the most important things in my life at that time.
Life has changed. Nine years ago I never would have imagined that today I would be in Lansdale, Pennsylvania, married to a Cameroonian, and working for one of the largest Lutheran churches east of the Mississippi River. Like the song says, I don't regret this life I chose for me (much of the time that's true, anyways).
Yet one thing has remained constant. A little less than three weeks ago, on August 7, when those airplane doors opened and I stepped out into the cool, evening Tanzanian breeze, I knew I had come home. The smell of wood smoke and sweat and history came into my nostrils and I kissed the ground. I had come home.
I was surprised this time around by how normal it all seemed. It seems like every other time I have ever been in Africa, there has been so much wonder associated with the experience. Naturally, every time you go somewhere new, there is discovery and wonder to be had. This time, the wonder was still there, but it was more an experience of experience. I had reactions like "I've been here before," and "That doesn't surprise me." Not that I knew everything or learned nothing... I was just surprised by how un-new everything seemed to me. For example:
- When we arrived in Moshi, Albert, the diocese driver from my trip nine years ago, was still working at the hostel where we stayed.
- On our way to Lushoto our car broke down and we had to disembark in the middle of nowhere while the driver and mechanic pieced things back together.
- The police stopped us for vehicle inspections in hope of some extra cash.
- The voices of children on the side of the road singing "Wazungu" ("white people" or "foreigners") were strangely reminiscent of my time as a "Nazara" in Cameroon.
- Even the school where we stayed in Mlalo, the students and the teachers, reminded me in so many ways of our dear College Protestant in Ngaoundere, Cameroon.
There were many differences, too, and I would be the last person on earth to tell you that all of Africa is the same or that all Africans are the same. That is just not true! But I was amazed by how at home I felt. In many ways, it was as though I had never left. It truly was a homecoming.
This whispers to me about my future. Our future--Pierre's and mine together. Although we have returned to Lansdale, Tanzania, Cameroon, and Africa are not our past. They are not just some places we visited that we will look back at in photographs and say, "What a nice time we had," never to return again. This is not a Roman Holiday. This is our life. God is calling us onward in a direction that is ultimately pointing back across the ocean. Eventually, we hope to be home for good.
P.S. You can view photos from my trip to Tanzania by clicking here.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
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:
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:
- What's a Diaconal Minister?
- 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!
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