Prepare to Repent - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Matthew 3:1-12 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

The Proclamation of John the Baptist

3 In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 3 This is the one of whom the prophet Isaiah spoke when he said,

“The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:

‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”
x

4 Now John wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, 6 and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

7 But when he saw many Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Bear fruit worthy of repentance. 9 Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. 10 Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

11 “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

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This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, at Redeemer Episcopal Church in Jacksonville, Florida on December 8, 2019. You can read the manuscript below, and/or you can listen to the sermon (with infusions from the Spirit) at this link. 

Are you ready? It’s December 8th already. We only have 17 days until Christmas. Panicking yet? 

Even if the weather does not quite show it, it appears that Christmas time is here. Christmas music is playing on the radio, all the displays are out, I saw last Sunday night that Santa is at the mall waiting for his picture to be taken. 

For our college students at UNF and JU, it means finals week is upon us, some of them are graduating, other are gearing up for the seasonal holiday hours at their job. 

For others it means finishing up projects at work or bracing yourself for your children to be out for Christmas break. 

There always seems to be an abundance of things to do to prepare for Christmas: Making lists, checking them twice, if you’re my mother, you’re running around making sure everyone has the exact same number of gifts under the Christmas tree. Lots of other people are still decorating, baking, cooking, and traveling. 

Preparing for Christmas seems a bit more like a sprint than a marathon and, as a pastor, by the end of it, I’m winded and ready to never do it again… until next year. 

But preparing for Christmas seems to look very different than preparing for the coming of Jesus. 

In the text this morning, we hear the words of John the Baptizer, the man who was called and sent to prepare people for the coming of Jesus. Like a prologue of a book, or a prelude in our worship service, John tells the people what is about to happen. He preps them for something that is better and more important than himself. But it doesn’t sound much like shopping and baking and decorating. 

“Repent,” John says, “for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

He continues, “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

So what does it mean to John to prepare for Christmas? Well, it means preparing for the coming of Jesus, and he says we won’t be ready for that until we repent and recognize that a Jesus’ birth marks a new age— something wild and new and wonderful that we could never even dream of. 

Repentance is not necessarily the word we would immediately associate with Advent and Christmas preparation. For one thing, here in this Episcopal church, as well as many others across the country, we use the hopeful and anticipatory color blue for Advent instead of the repentant and penitential purple that other congregations might use, the same color we use for Lent in the spring. 

But it seems that repentance is of utmost importance to John, and throughout the gospel according to Matthew, we will see this liturgical year, that it is also very important to Jesus. 

It is important that we prepare our hearts and our minds and our attitudes for Jesus. We are reminded to do this figuratively throughout Advent, but what we will celebrate on Christmas Day is not only the miracle of Jesus coming to be with us in the form of a tiny baby, marking the beginning of the coming of the Kingdom of God, but also looking forward to the day when he will return to us, at the end of time, when Isaiah’s prophecy will be completely fulfilled in God’s promise. 

Repentance, at its core, means to change direction, to pick a different course, to turn around. And that is what John is asking the listeners— and us— to do. John’s sole calling is to alert people to the fact that what they are doing is out of step with God’s purpose and desire for their lives and for all of creation. “You brood of vipers,” John accuses, something new is happening and you’d better be ready for it. And that newness is what Isaiah describes: a time when there will be no predator and prey, no fear or hatred, no anger or rebellion. There will be peace, reconciliation, equity, and grace. Paths that are straight and lives that are full. 

Repentance, John says, turning toward this peace, reconciliation, equity, and grace, is the first step in joining Jesus in this new world and in this new kingdom. 

That is my favorite thing about John the Baptizer. He minimizes himself in order to glorify the one who will come after him. All that he does and all that he is points to the one who will save us with baptism in the spirit, with his birth, life, death, and resurrection. John points to the one who embodies what it looks like for us to repent. 

So how do we prepare for the coming of Jesus? How do we prepare for Christmas? Repent. Be transformed by this age-old story and change direction. Turn from idolatry, violence, injustice, exploitation, slavery, and scarcity— and turn toward devotion, peace, justice, equity, freedom, and abundance— turn toward God and the one whom we await on Christmas morning and on the last day, Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Relationship Through Prayer - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Trinity icon by Andrei Rublev
There is a place at the table for you.

Luke 11:1-13

He was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” ²He said to them, “When you pray, say: Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. ³Give us each day our daily bread. ⁴And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.” 

⁵And he said to them, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; ⁶for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’ ⁷And he answers from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.’ 

⁸I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence (shamelessness) he will get up and give him whatever he needs. 

⁹“So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. ¹⁰For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. 

¹¹Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? ¹²Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? ¹³If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”

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If you would like to listen to this sermon (with infusions from the Spirit), you can find it at the link here. This sermon was originally preached by me, Rev. Sarah Locke, on July 28, 2019 at Redeemer Episcopal Church. 

Grace and peace to you from God, our Father, who is so radical to invite us into relationship through prayer and allows us to be present in all of our human messiness. Amen. 

On Thursday evening this past week, I hosted a young adult gathering centered around the weird faith questions you sometimes feel too ashamed or silly to ask your priest.

In preparation for that gathering, I opened up my social media about a month ago to friends and my college students to ask me any religious or faith questions they’ve been wondering. It was anonymous and I was amazed by how many questions people had that they’ve never felt comfortable asking before!

I answered the questions as openly and honestly as I could and explained a little bit about why people might ask questions like that. Conversations like these are some of my favorites. It’s what we do with our college students in campus ministry every week— we ask big questions and we help one another sort them out. It is some of my favorite ministry.

After a few days, another question came in.  

“I don’t understand prayer,” it said, “I pray, but I feel like God already has a plan or answer so what’s the point? How am I supposed to pray?” 

And I let that question sit in my inbox for two days before I finally replied and said, “I promise to answer this question. But… I just don’t have a good answer. I don’t know.” 

And then I let that question sit there for a month. And I never replied to my friend. But I’ve been thinking about that question for an entire month until I opened up the gospel reading for this Sunday and I sighed with frustration, thinking, “Well great, now I’m going to have to try to answer this question.”

So that’s what I’ll do this morning with you all. I’ll attempt to answer this question about prayer that has been asked since the beginning of time, and a couple of other burning questions about prayer, like the ones the disciples had for Jesus in the gospel text this morning: How do we pray? Why do we pray? What’s the point? 

Do you ever think that the disciples got tired of Jesus never giving them a straight answer for anything? They ask him seemingly important and direct questions and he says, “let me tell you a story…” I imagine the disciples turning to one another after most of Jesus’ stories and going, “did you understand any of that? No? Okay great, me either.” 

Jesus does answer the disciples at the very beginning of this passage though. They say, “teach us to pray” and he recites a prayer for them to use each time they talk to God. And it’s the same prayer, more or less, that the church has been using for thousands of years. 

So, good for Jesus for finally giving them a straight answer. But then, because of course he can’t just stop with a simple answer, Jesus goes on to tell this story of a man and his sleeping neighbor. And the reason Jesus tells this story is that when the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, they weren’t really asking for a prayer they could recite. What they wanted to know was about their relationship with God. 

Before then, if a person had the good fortune to encounter God, they were known to drop dead immediately. But somehow Jesus had this sort of normal, casual relationship with God and the disciples were curious about it. And as Jesus tells this story, he invites the disciples into an intimate relationship with their creator— that must have sounded blasphemous at best and downright ridiculous at worst.  

In this text, Jesus tells the story of a visitor has just arrived at a man’s house and he has nothing to feed him. So this man walks over to his neighbor’s house in the middle of the night, wake him up, and asks him for some bread. The text we read says that because of his persistence, the man gets up and gives him whatever he needs. But a better translation would be shamelessness. Because this man is so shameless in coming to ask for bread in the middle of the night, the neighbor gets up and gives him whatever he needs. 

And it *is* shameless isn’t it? Imagine the kind of relationship you must have with your neighbor to go pounding on their door in the middle of the night? I know people who have been living in the same house their entire lives and they don’t have that kind of relationship with their neighbors. It’s shameless and vulnerable to go to a person in the middle of the night and ask for bread. 

You see, I don’t think Jesus is teaching his disciples about what kind of prayers to pray, or even the frequency or urgency with which to pray. Jesus is telling a story about the kind of relationship we are invited into by the Holy Spirit. Unlike ever before, the disciples were invited to be vulnerable and shameless before God. 

When the disciples say, “Lord, teach us to pray,” what they are really saying it, “tell us about our relationship with God.” And Jesus gives them the most well-known prayer in all of Christianity, a prayer that begins with “Father.” Not “Lord,” or “Almighty” or any other number of names for the our most holy and ever gracious God, but Jesus invites his disciples and invites us to call God “Father,” “Abba,” “Dad.”  

We are called into a relationship with God that is more than an almighty ruler and servants. Even more than creator and created. We are invited into a relationship so intimate that Jesus says we can ask anything of God. And God says that this relationship is so good and wonderful that God will not only gives us everything we need in this life, our daily bread, but God will also give to us the Holy Spirit. 

You see, prayer is not about how, or why, or when we pray. The invitation to prayer is an invitation into a relationship with the Trinity, an invitation into a relationship with God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 

It is the same invitation that allows us to come to this table and eat the body and blood of Christ Jesus. It is the same invitation that dips us into the waters of baptism and renews our spirit. And God in Christ has already accepted this invitation for us, we don’t even *have* to respond. 

But we get to. We have the incredible privilege of reaching out to our creator, the one who was, and is, and will be forever more, the one who created the interstellar workings of the entire universe. And more than that, God listens. God wants to be in relationship with us and even more, the only reason we are able to reach out to God and be in this relationship is because God first began this relationship with us. In the very beginning. And continued that relationship despite our nonsense, when God sent God’s very self in Christ Jesus to be with us, journey with us, die on the cross, and be raised again for the forgiveness of our sins. That God— our God— as ridiculous as it sounds, wants us to be in relationship, to talk, and listen, and converse with us. That’s wild and full of grace and mercy and it truly doesn’t make much sense, but it is true. 

God created you and adores you and wants to be in relationship with you. 

So I’m sure I didn’t answer the question of prayer any better or more clearly than Jesus did, but I hope that you hear prayer as an invitation into a vulnerable, shameless, and holy relationship with our God, who created the entire expanse of the universe and cares enough about you to call you beloved and be present with you in all things through the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

A Different Way

This is the sermon I wrote the day after the Freddie Gray's funeral in Baltimore. I wrote it with tears in my eyes, with an aching heart. I wrote it because it is what I needed to hear. I preached it yesterday morning. I was terrified to be preaching about something so controversial and I was so blessed by the reception I received...

A few weeks ago when I began writing this sermon, I turned to my friend in the midst of sermon prep and said, “I just don’t have anything new to say about ‘love one another.’”  Now, it seems, I have too much to say, but no way of saying it.  It is with sighs too deep for words that I come before you this morning.  

What are we supposed to do in this world?  I feel helpless.  I feel angry and sad.  As I struggle to get my words on paper, I feel my whole soul sighing in desperation for this world.  “Come, Lord Jesus,” I pray, not really expecting an answer.  

What are we supposed to do in this world?  I am overwhelmed.  I am overwhelmed by the unjustified police violence throughout our country.  I am overwhelmed by the riots in Baltimore.  I am overwhelmed by the hatred I see in Facebook posts and comments from people who I have known to be loving and caring.  I am overwhelmed by the cries of the thousands who are denied their basic rights because of their sexual orientation.  I am overwhelmed by the despair and death in Nepal.  

What are we supposed to do in this world?  We are constantly told that violence is the answer - even when we have ignored the question.  This world tells us that the only way to be heard is to yell louder than our opponent.  We are told that the only way to make it to the top is to lie, cheat, and steal our way there.  This world continues to say that “justice” only applies if you are a part of the majority.  This world is telling us that only some lives matter. 

We cannot believe this world.  In fact, as Christians we DO not believe this world.  We have been baptized into the Body of Christ and we KNOW the truth.  It is not violence that triumphs.  It is not anger and vengeance that prevails.  Hate is not the answer.  

The lies of this world are just that - lies.  We cannot believe them.  No matter how true they feel in this week, in this time, in this place, we must cling to the real truth.  

And the real truth is this: Strength is in weakness.  Triumph is in death on a cross.  The gospel declares that Jesus’ death is the first pivotal moment - the moment where God’s reign breaks into this world.  And God’s reign does not look like this world at all.  The kingdom of God declares that love is the answer, that the way to be heard is to lay yourself down for another.  The kingdom of God calls us to be compassionate, careful, and righteous with our words and our actions.  

Jesus’ life shows us that even when it looks like hatred and violence wins, God is stronger, God prevails, God conquers death and the devil in order to restore the world.  We must not let this world overwhelm us, we must be overcome with Christ’s love.  

When we are overcome with Christ’s love, we see the world in a different way.  When we have the faith to abide in Jesus and he in us, our perspective becomes more holy, more heartbroken.  

I used to pray a very simple prayer when I was in college, “Lord, break my heart for the things that break your heart.”  What I realized was, that is way too hard.  There are too many things that break my heart now.  I am bogged down with the tragedies of this world.  But it gave me new eyes.  And when we become overwhelmed with Christ’s love for the world, we will have new eyes in Christ.  Now I pray that whole world’s heart would break for the things that break God’s heart. 

Because when that happens, when we begin using “God lenses,” we will see a new world.  We will see new answers.  When we see tragedies in this world, such as the earthquake in Nepal, the avalanche on Mt Everest, and the police violence throughout our cities, we will feel them deep within us as personal tragedies.  For they are not just the people of Nepal.  They are not just homosexual and transgender people in cities, they are not just African American people in Baltimore or North Charleston.  Jesus tells us that these people are our brothers and sisters.  And we are called to love them.  In fact, more than that - something that seems quite scandalous - we are called to love them so much that we would lay our lives down for them.  We skip over that line and dismiss it as a metaphor because it seems too hard, the stakes are too high if we say we must die.  

But the stakes are too high.  Our brothers and sisters are dying. They are being beaten to death, abused, denied basic human rights.  Whether the violence of the killing of an unarmed black man, or the violence of rioting in response to it - we are told that this is normal.  Our world tells us that this is okay.  Sin declares that this is how we bring about change.  But I promise you, my sisters and brothers, what the world says is normal is not normal at all.  Violence and hatred are not from God.  They are satanic, they are parasitic to the world that God created for wholeness, peace, shalom.  

We are called to throw away our tribal allegiances - whatever they might be. Jesus tells us in this very passage that there is a different way.  There is a the way of unity, righteousness, and peace.  God’s way is the way of love.  

The redemption of this world will not come from violence.  It will not come from hatred and abuse.  The reign of God does not come in anger and vengeance.  The kingdom of God breaks into this world when despite everything - despite the world telling us that violence is the only answer, that death will continue forever, that hatred is stronger - the kingdom of God breaks into this world when we decide to love. In this world that will continue to tell us we must kill one another, God says that we must die for another.  We are all brothers and sisters in Christ.  There is no “us” and “them.”  

And in this time of overwhelming violence, hatred, pointing fingers, and laying blame - we must remember that God says there is a different way and that it starts with us.  

It starts with this community.  It starts on a small scale - a relationship scale.  This new way of living, the kingdom of God in this world starts when people like you and me decide to love.  Instead of hating, instead of holding a grudge, instead of disregarding people because they look different, love different, or act different from us, we can decide to love.  

God works in small ways.  God is working the hearts of the thousands of volunteers who have gone to Nepal to help in recovery.  God was working through the hands of the people who came out the next morning in Baltimore to clean up the streets.  God is working in the Lutheran church as we continue to work to make our sanctuaries safe places for people of different sexual orientations, races, and backgrounds.  God is working. There is no denying that.  So let us offer up our own hands and feet, our own hearts and souls, in order to live into the love that God has so graciously and freely given us.  The Kingdom of God starts here. In this community.  Loving one another starts with us. 

Generational Love

Ruth 1:1-18

Psalm 146

Hebrews 9:11-14

Mark 12: 28-34

There are 4,200 different religions in the world.  There are 5,000 ethnic groups in the world.  There are 318 MILLION people in the United States alone.  But we aren’t just diverse as a people, we are diverse as generations.  There are more people over 50 living in the United States than any other time in all of history.  That’s pretty awesome.  But it just shows how completely different and spread out people are throughout the country, but also throughout the Church.  If you look around this morning, there are all sort of different people who come from completely different places and live such different lives.  And we are all different ages and grew up in different generations. 

Things are different than they were five, ten, twenty years ago.  I see you smiling.  You know what I’m talking about. Everything has changed - how we communicate has changed from hand-written letters to telegrams to phone calls and text messages.  How we raise our children has changed with electronics and schools transforming.  Even the way we worship has changed.  My parents had no idea what “contemporary worship” meant when they were growing up.  

And let’s be honest, it divides us.  There are many people who love traditional worship, many people who love contemporary.  There are a lot of people who say no cell phones for kids until they are fifteen years old and some who will give in around 8 years old.  Generations are different and I think it’s a good thing.  It is certainly a natural change.  

But there is something that unifies us.  And I think Jesus and Ruth both get to it in these passages.  You heard most of the backstory with Ruth - her husband dies and there is no other relative to take as her husband.  Naomi does such a noble thing there with Ruth - she tells her to go back to her people and find a husband so that she might not have to live a lonely life and a life of poverty.  Naomi didn’t have to give Ruth that blessing... and Ruth certainly could have taken that blessing and left.  But she did something different.  She, because she felt connected to Naomi in a deeper way than just being her daughter-in-law, stays with Naomi and loves her like her own mother.  I think as a church, we can really learn from that.  

They weren’t from the same tribe of people, they didn’t have the same friends.   But something connected them.  Somehow, during their time together, Naomi was able to pass down something so incredibly vital for Ruth, that Ruth wasn’t willing to part from her.  She knew she would live in poverty and that she could never marry another man and have children.  This meant shame and complete loneliness during that time.  But there was a love and connection that kept Ruth from following her sister-in-law back to her old life.  Naomi had instilled in Ruth the traditions of her people and the value of her religion.  

“Do not press me to leave you
    or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
    where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
    and your God my God.

Where you die, I will die—
    there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
    and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”

That is beautiful. 

It was the unity of God and the unity of kinship that kept those women together, even through the most difficult time in their lives.  But it wasn’t just the kinship and unity of God, it was love.  Naomi loved Ruth enough to allow her to go back to her family and find another husband and live a fruitful life.  And we know how much Ruth loved her mother-in-law - enough to stay with her and live a life of poverty.  

In the gospel, Jesus tells us that the two most important commandments are to  “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” and  "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

Naomi was able to pass down both of these commandments to Ruth.  

One of the most incredible things we are able to pass down to young people is love.  I believe, as a child of two wonderful parents that the most important thing they taught me was how to love.  They were good at it, after all.  They love each other and they love my brother and me.  I can’t think of a single time growing up that I didn’t feel my parents’ love for me.  And I don’t think that they just woke up on the morning of becoming parents and decided to learn how to love.  It’s something that their parents taught them and their grandparents passed down as well.  Love is something that is almost necessarily passed down from generation to generation.  It is love that we have in common with all of the generations before us and all of the generation after us.  It was the love of God and the love of one another that kept Ruth and Naomi together.  

We have that same type of love that keeps us together as a church body.  We have the love of Christ.  We have a unity of spirit that is able to hold us together through space and time - through the generations and through the diversity of the world.  We have unity because of the Trinitarian God.  God so loved this world and Jesus Christ died for the love of the world.  The Holy Spirit was given to the church to remain and nurture the church.  It was given in order to be a comforter, a guide, and a way to keep the church unified.  

Our response to this gift of love and commitment that our God has given us so freely is these two commandments.  Love God with all of your heart and all of your mind and all of your soul.  And love your neighbor as yourself.  This response is meant to keep the church together and provide real relationship within the church and outside of the church.

We celebrate this unity and this relationship in two sacred ways in the Lutheran church - the waters of baptism and Holy Communion.  Baptism is a reminder that we belong in God’s family.  Communion is a celebration and remembrance that we are in this together.  And the really cool part is that it’s not just this church that is unified in Christ.  We are together with all of the saints and sinners throughout all of time and space.  Our grandparents and great-grandparents.  People who have yet to be born.  Every generation and throughout the entire world, we are all of one spirit in Christ Jesus.  

Things are going to keep changing.  Generations will continue to feel further and further apart.  The world will continue to expand and diversify.  But if we are able to teach people of all ages that the two greatest commandments are to love God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and to love your neighbor as yourself, the unity of the spirit in Jesus Christ cannot be broken.  

Biblical Women I'd Rather Be than the Proverbs 31 Woman

You have probably all heard of the Proverbs 31 woman. I have seen so many young men claim that they wish they could find a Proverbs 31 woman to marry. Or others who claim to have found a Proverbs 31 woman and just can't wait to make her their wife! Woohoo!

She is a capable wife.
She imports her food from far away.
She makes all her own clothes.
She gets up really early and cooks for her husband.
She works out.
Her husband is super popular.
She has her own business.
Her husband praises her.
She is submissive.
She lives for the will of her husband.
Oh yeah, and God too.

I don't have a huge problem with all of these things. Fearing God is cool. Owning your own business is pretty swell. But it doesn't say things like "sometimes she does things for herself because she's worth that."  It doesn't say that her husband helps her cook and clean because he recognizes the fact that being a mother and wife is actually pretty difficult work.  It doesn't say that she is independent and courageous.

She lives for her husband and for God.  And probably her children (although they are barely mentioned).

I guess there are worse things to live for.

But I would rather be one of these women of the Bible.

Sarah... obviously Sarah has to be one of my favorite women of the Bible.  I wish I had her faith, her humor, her love for Abraham.  She hears what God promises and she wants to do everything she can to make that come true so  that the nations might be blessed through the offspring of her husband. Even if it means she has to suck it up and give Abraham her servant Hagar.  So maybe her efforts were a little misguided.  She didn't give up and she loved God.

Achsah of Joshua, Judges, and 1 Chronicles... When her father promised her to a man in marriage, she told her father to up the dowry. Basically "I'm worth more than just a few acres of land." What a badass.

Deborah... the only female Judge of Israel in the Old Testament. Need I say more? People used to beg her to be a part of their battles because they were too afraid to fight on their own. She was pretty freaking cool.

Hogla of Numbers and Joshua... she was one of the five daughters of Zelophehad who fought and won the right to inhereit their deceased father's property.  Back then, women were basically considered property, so the fact that she could own her father's property (it would typically go to her brothers or uncles or some distant relative) is really awesome.

Jael of Judges... she is my favorite.  Jael tricked Sisera into coming to sleep in her tent and then she drove a tent spike through his head.  This delivered the Israelites from the troops of king Jabin.  I imagine her looking around at all the chaos and death going and and thinking, "well if all these men can't handle it, then I'm going to do this myself!"  She is pretty much the coolest.

Junia... one of the outstanding woman apostles.  She was a colleague of Paul and he apparently thought very highly of her.  Reason #975 why I don't think Paul wrote mean things about women in his letters.  Anyone who is able to hang with Paul and tolerate his incessant preaching and obsession with Jesus is worth a place on this list.

Ruth... she stayed with her mother Naomi because she knew that Naomi would need comfort and guidance after the death of all of her sons and husband.  Ruth is one of the most selfless, beautiful women in the Bible.  She is also the only one who has a whole book about her.  Not only that, but Naomi is kind of an awesome trickster and tricked a man into marrying Ruth and giving her a life. I love cunning women.  Sometimes I like to pretend I'm that clever.

Mary... I basically love all of the Marys in the Bible, but I especially like Mary, the sister of Martha. She sat at the feet of Jesus and listened to him teach while other people were probably looking at her like she was a freak.  You see, she wasn't doing the social norm of that time... she should have been up hosting with her sister Martha.  Martha even calls her on it!  But Mary is just perfectly content being with her Savior, no matter what is going on around her.

Rebekah... a lot of people don't really like Rebekah because she had a favorite son. But she is so smart! She dresses her favorite son up and makes sure he gets the blessing from their dying father.  So maybe she's not super honest, but she is killer smart.  

I like women who take things into their own hands. Women who stand up for what they believe in. Women who know what they want and are out to get it.  The Proverbs 31 woman sounds nice for a while, but her obedience to her husband and mundane days of making garments and planting vineyards sounds like a drag.

So here's hoping my future husband likes more of a Jael-type of girl!

In preparation for Haiti

Most of you know this, but I went to Honduras for eleven days in January.  I haven't been able to go more than about 20 hours without thinking about that experience and how much I want to go back.  I might not get the opportunity to go back to Honduras, but I'm hoping to travel again this January.

The professor with whom I traveled takes a group to Haiti on the years he doesn't go to Honduras.

I am elated about Haiti.

I loved my experience in Honduras so much that I cannot even imagine how much fun I'll have in Haiti.  I just want to hang out with kids again.  Sweat in the sweet heat and giggle with some kids on the front porch of a school.  I've been Googling things about Haiti for the last week in anticipation. 34% of the population is younger than fourteen.  I couldn't be more excited.

Haiti intimidates me.

I don't know how to speak even a tiny bit of French.  And French Creole sounds even more exhausting.  How am I going to connect with people when I can't understand anything? When I can't speak anything?  But if I learned anything while I was in Honduras, it's that laughter and silliness are languages without distinctions.  I might be alright.

My heart breaks for Haiti.

Haiti was the first post-colonial black-led nation in the world.  They endured so much persecution by the Spanish and French over the years that their government has been pretty unstable for its entire existence.  It is currently the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Poorer than Honduras? I think to myself. How my heart breaks for the people there.

Haiti is hurting.

In 2010, an earthquake struck Haiti, killing over 300,000 people and leaving over 1.5 million people homeless.  Four years later, they still haven't recovered.  They may never fully recover.  Their environment is subject to extensive deforestation and soil erosion.  And there is barely enough potable water to provide everyone with enough throughout the year.

Haiti can teach me so much.

Over 95% of Haitian citizens are black.  Over half of the population practices voodoo (although the census says that they are 80% Roman Catholic).  I am so incredibly interested in the culture there.  Not as a specimen of study, but as people I'd love to have relationships with.

I am so excited to meet my brothers and sisters in Haiti.  I'm going to be hitting everyone up for money soon.  It makes me ill to ask for money like this, but these trips are formational and completely priceless to the ministry for which God is calling me.

Give to everyone who asks

Give to everyone who asks.
Emphasis on the ask. 

I must confess, this particular post was conceived after reading another seminarian's blog post from about a week ago.  His point (which is obviously a very valid point) is that we are to give to everyone who asks.  Period.  The end.  Not "give to everyone who asks and seems to have need," not "give to everyone who asks and is willing to repay you," not "give to everyone who asks and seems like they're telling the truth."  We are called to give to everyone who asks.

Luke 6:30 says, "Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back."

Matthew 5:42 says, "Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you."

But what if we are only called to give to those who ask.  Not the people we see as having a need.  Not the people we hope we can fix or help in order to get something out of it ourselves.  Not the people who are high profile and the world presents as "needy."

One of my biggest flaws is that I think I can fix things that I simply cannot fix.  Actually, I think I can and should fix things that people have no intention of fixing or don't want help in fixing.  I'm a chronic fixer.  A codependent fixer.  I want people to fix me too.

But I rarely wait for people to ask.  I never wait for "what do you think?" before giving my opinion.  I rarely wait for "how should I do it?" before letting them know how I would do it.  I barely ever wait for "can you help?" before I've offered three or four solutions to a problem.

What if this phrase is a commentary on our mission as a church?  What if the author intentionally didn't write, "give to everyone?"  What if we aren't supposed to walk into the impoverished part of town and declare their needs and hold out our hands for the "needy?"

I think it is especially an important self-care issue for caregivers.  We aren't going to be able to help all of the people who we think need help.  We aren't going to be able to help all of the people who we think deserve help or would benefit from help.  But we are able to help the people who ask for help.

Think about it: how many times did Jesus roll up, diagnose people, and decide to solve their problems?  Not too many times. In fact, in most of the time people are flocking to Jesus and asking for his help.  Of course, he responds appropriately to every single person- he helps them.  Even when he's in the middle of helping someone else.  Then after he helps people, he oftentimes retreats to the mountainside, the lake, or the wilderness to take care of himself.

Maybe this blog post isn't really going anywhere. (Did it go anywhere?) But I'll leave you with this:

Give to everyone who asks you.

My Restlessness

Restless (adj.) - unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or the heart; unceasingly active; averse to quiet or inaction, as persons.

I think my restlessness started when I was very young. We moved around a lot when I was a child and once you are accustomed to something for 14 years, it becomes a part of who you are. Every two years (sometimes sooner) I feel a type of tugging- a want for less routine, more spontaneity, something new, a purging of all that is old.

My restlessness has led me to do some silly things. I begged my mom to redecorate my bedroom while I was in high school because we had no plans of moving. When I was in college I cut off all of my hair in the quest for something new and different. Sometimes I try out a new style of clothing for a while. It's like a midlife crisis every two years.

My restlessness has also led me to do some other mildly crazier things. Like draining my bank account on a ticket to Hawaii for ten days. And writing an entrance essay for seminary.

Sometimes it's a combination of restlessness, anger, sorrow, the need for freedom - the realization of something small - for me to do the big things that need to be done. Breaking off an engagement. Ending a relationship of almost five years.

I'm afraid my restlessness will leave me alone in this life. If not alone, it certainly has the potential to leave me lonely. In my need for change, I pick everything up and move. I leave the people I love in the search for something to stop my restlessness.

I used to be afraid I would never find the cure to my restlessness.

Then I went to Honduras.

Honduras seemed to settle me. I never felt more physically healthy than when I was in Honduras. Even the things you'd expect from international travel (exhaustion, stomach issues, soreness from more physical work I'm used to) didn't bother me at all.  I have had neck and shoulder issues from being a student for 17 years and sleeping on a thin mat on a concrete floor didn't leave me aching in the morning.

I also couldn't have been happier than I was in Honduras.  I missed talking to my parents and friends, sure; but I don't think I've ever laughed for ten days straight and I was filled with so much joy while I was there.

I felt filled with the Holy Spirit on a moment to moment basis in a way I've never felt before. I could see God in every child's face and every evening worship service.  I felt God's touch every time a six year old held my hand and in the mornings when the weigh of the mist in the mountains was heavy.

I wasn't restless there.

It took me about 4 hours in the country before I felt as if I belonged there. I've never felt so at home. We had something to do every single day and there was a new adventure around the corner of every dirt road. If I ever got bored in Honduras, I was doing something wrong.  There were endless things for me to learn there.

I miss it every day.

I'm no longer afraid that I will never find a cure for my restlessness. I know that God will lead me back to a place like Honduras. I feel the workings of that every day as I sit in class and as I talk to professors and pastors about international mission.

But it's really hard to wait. I'm doing everything I can to convince myself to stay in seminary and finish my degree. But it's so hard when I'm restless here. Especially restless here. I'm comfortable here and I hate being comfortable.

I long for poverty and adventure and challenge and love. I long for the faces of children and laughter surrounding me every day. And I don't know what that means for my future or where I'll be in the world, but I know I won't settle until my life is consumed by it.

Ιδου!

I've heard a lot of really funny things since I have been on campus:

"It's no wonder pastors seem to be alcoholics. It must start with summer Greek."

"Did you know that clergy have the highest suicide rate of any other vocation? That doesn't surprise me anymore..." (That is actually not accurate according to the data I have found- doctors are most likely to commit suicide.) 

"We are at the point where we can't even speak English correctly anymore... Was that a real sentence?"

"I don't even know what it is like to not think about Greek. A week ago I never thought about Greek. Now it's my life and I don't know what to do about it."

Greek was rough on all of us. 

If you are just catching up with me, I was in an intensive ten-day Greek class. Basically they crammed 117 hours of a whole semester into ten days because they thought it would be funny. 

Greek is a very foreign language. First you have to learn a whole different alphabet from English. Then you have to put those letters together and memorize those combinations into some sort of vocabulary word. Then you completely change the vocabulary word into something that looks nothing like you first learned it and you are supposed to know the case/gender/number/voice/mood for everything. 

No thanks. 

It has pretty much been more work than I did in all of my undergrad in every class combined. And this class is ten days long. Graduate school is real life hard. 

But, as we learn through reading the Bible (in whatever language), the dead end is not actually the end. When we think everything is going wrong and nothing good could ever come out of this, God surprises us. 

SHAZAM! (ιδου!) RESURRECTION!

Greek was heinous. I barely slept and mostly only thought about Greek. But God did something in that time that was so profound and moving that I would do it all over again if I needed to. He brought a miracle out of the mess.

In my first two and a half weeks of seminary, I met more amazing people than I could have ever imagined congregated in one area. I have worshiped more fervently than I have ever thought possible. And I have prayed aloud more frequently than I have ever wanted.

I didn't think I needed anything to convince we that I was in the right place, doing the right thing. But from the minute I went to Pilgrim with Ronnie at 8am for the matins service on Sunday morning, I knew God was up to something. I needed this community and I needed this place in my life and I didn't even realize it. (Thanks, God.)

I can already tell that these (unlike undergrad or high school) are going to be some of the best years of my life. The people are so beautiful here. And it's not only the people here- I have been getting overwhelming support from both of my home churches and my family and friends. I am spoiled and I don't deserve it. It restores what I have always wanted to believe about humanity... God is within us and living among us today.

I am falling in love with Jesus over and over again every single time I meet someone new. And it brings so much joy to my heart. God brought a miracle out of the mess. 

"Committed monogamous relationship."

I'm going to go and be "one of those people." You know, the kind of person that spouts a bunch of "problems with the Church" and expects someone else to go solve them.

Okay, so you know me a little bit better than that. I might go spouting, but it is unlikely that I won't at least give you a solution or even try to solve it myself. So here it goes.

I have two problems with the Church. When I say "the Church," I mean either the ELCA as a whole or specifically the churches/congregations I have encountered in my (short) life. Also, these two problems are almost entirely unrelated. So there's that. I'll throw one out today and I'll leave the other one for another day.

The first one applies to the entire ELCA's policy on homosexual pastors, deacons, etc.

I know, you freaked out a little bit right? Chill. In the ELCA, they are trying really hard to be progressive and include as many people as possible into ministry (most likely because the Church is dying, but I'd like to think it is for more noble reasons). One of the policies for the "Visions and Expectations" of clergymen and women is that homosexuals are able to live together and are recognized as a family is they are in a committed monogamous relationship. I paraphrased the first part but "committed monogamous relationship" is a quote. Cool! Yay! Human rights!

Heterosexual couples are not to live with one another unless they are married.

Married.

Wait a second- why did the wording change? Why can't heterosexual couples be in "committed monogamous relationships" and live together? Well, you might think, because heterosexual couples are actually ABLE to be married, so they should  be in order to live with each other. But is this always the case? And in states were homosexual unions are legal, does the rule change? I'll give you a few examples:

My boyfriend and I are much too young (in our eyes) to be married at this point. Also, we have zero amounts of money to hold a wedding. Yet, when we move to South Carolina and I start seminary, we are unable to live in the family apartments. I have to live in a dorm and he will find a house or apartment to live in by himself. We will spend twice as much on housing and I will go into twice as much debt because we are not married. Even if we were engaged, we would not be permitted to live together, even though we have been in a "committed monogamous relationship" for four years.

A man and woman are so much in love and have committed to one another in their own way. They are unable to be married because the woman is a widow and if she remarries, her son with not be able to claim the money from his father's death. They are depending on that money for the son to go to college. The man and woman have been in a "committed monogamous relationship" for eight years. They would not be permitted to live together.

I understand what the ELCA is trying to do and I am proud of them for it. However, while they are inclusive to homosexuals, they must also realize that they are behind the times in other aspects of "untraditional marriage and relationships."

Beside the point that "it's not fair," which I understand is a pretty lame argument on any front, I don't think Jesus would have cared. Honestly. If we can go to sleep and night telling ourselves that love is love and what happens behind the closed doors of homosexuals is none of society's business, then why can't we say the same for heterosexuals? I'm a fan of tradition. But sometimes tradition just isn't how things work out. Sometimes you have to be a little progressive. After all, that's pretty much what Jesus preached the entire time He was on this earth. If we aren't moving forward we are moving back.

I am a twenty-one year old heterosexual female. I am in a committed monogamous relationship, and I should be allowed to live with my partner without being married. Darn it.

Hippies, Politics, & Rainbows - Oh My!

Dear Jesus, thank You for bringing people into our lives to change our minds. Thank You for bringing people into our lives to challenge our beliefs. Thank You for bringing change to a nation that has stood blind to oppression for so many years. Lord, please continue Your work. And please be with the people who wish to reverse the work of Your Holy Spirit. We pray for them now, Lord, that you may soften their hearts and show them love. And be with the people who have not yet seen the fruits of your work. Let me feel Your comforting embrace and know that You are with them. Amen

_________________________________________________

My general rule in politics is this: if it is not infringing upon my rights as an individual or business-- if it is giving more rights and freedoms to more people without infringing on mine, yippee!--, and as long as it is not threatening my safety or the safety of my fellow citizens of the world, I'm pretty okay with it. There's gray area of course. But in general, that's how I figure out if I am for or against an issue.

It seems a little bit hippie (so I've heard), but it is my own model. I can be hippie if I want.

So here is my reaction to the Supreme Court decision that homosexuals can marry in California:

Hooray! I'm so excited for people who are being granted more freedoms!
Hooray! States rights!

But, you protest, I am a Christian. How could I believe that gay marriage is okay? Nay, I say, I am a Jesus lover and follower of Christ, not a Christian (but that is neither here nor there). Well... I believe that love comes from God. And if God made it possible for two same-sex people to love one another so much that they want to get married, go for it.

Here's what I'm against:
Forcing heterosexual people to marry homosexuals. They're not doing that, right?
Forcing homosexuals to marry one another. They're not doing that, right?
Forcing heterosexuals to marry one another. They're not doing that, right?
Restricting the rights of heterosexuals to marry the person they love. They're not doing that, right?
Restricting the rights of homosexuals to marry the person they love. They're just starting to wrap their heads around that!

What is it hurting? Yeah yeah we, as a nation, are founded on Christian principles yadda yadda.

The same men who founded this country on Christian principles also owned slaves. Wanna go back to that?
The same men who founded this country on Christian principles also had children with those slaves. I'm pretty sure adultery is a sin.

Where do we draw the line? You want Christian principles back in this country? Let's stone women again. Let's outlaw anything that is an abomination in God's eyes.

Adultery = outlawed
Masturbation = outlawed
Women on their period in public = outlawed
Sex before marriage = outlawed
Using God's name in vain = outlawed
Disrespecting your parents = outlawed

What good would it do anyway? This nation used to outlaw black people from drinking at certain water fountains. Did that stop them from being black? This used to restrict Native Americans to a certain piece of land. Did that stop them from being Native Americans? We can outlaw gay marriage, but it will not stop people from being homosexual.

I know people who would change if they could. They have hurt enough. But it is not a decision, it is not a behavior- they were born homosexuals. It cannot be cured and it cannot be outlawed. If we can ease the pain for people who have been outcast and squash the stigma that homosexuality is some sort of disease or "issue" we need to fix, let's do it. Human beings should not suffer.

Here's my (other) issue with Christians:

We (heterosexual Christians) are not affected in ANY way by homosexuals being able to marry one another.

We are, however, being watched very closely for our reactions to changes like this. If Christians continue to be sticks in the mud about progress and change, we will die out faster than you can say a Hail Mary.

What good does it do for our Church to look at sinners and say, "God hates you for what you are doing and I do too?"

Our generation should be looking for new ways to show the same people- homosexuals, heterosexuals, Native Americans, foreign immigrants, the oppressed, the victimized- that God loves them no matter what. We are all sinners. No one is exempt from God's judgement. We have all been bought by the Blood of Christ Jesus.

I just think a lot of people would live happier lives if they were more concerned with loving their neighbor than hating anyone who sins. But then again, I'm probably just a hippie.

This I (sort of) Believe

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the difference between what we want to believe and what we actually do believe.

And it has been tearing me apart.


I want to believe a lot of things:

I want to believe that humanity is good at heart.
I want to believe that people who do cruel things are the exception, not the rule.
I want to believe that the government is going to protect our rights.
I want to believe that the God of today is more like the God of the New Testament and less like the God of the Old Testament.
I want to believe that when bad things happen it is not always because God is teaching us a lesson.
I want to believe that the financial insecurity of being a pastor will not interfere with my plans for a family and a future.
I want to believe that I can be without luxuries and not complain.
I want to believe that there are many more good people than hurtful people in the world.

I want to believe these things. I'm not sure I'm quite there yet. Social media and mainstream media hurts my beliefs in many ways. The news likes to reports all of the "oh no's" of the world, not the "oh yeses!"  I think it hurts a lot of people's faith, not just mine. It is hard being an upbeat Christian when much of the world around you seems to be saying that everything is going wrong and people are cruel.

With school shootings, kidnapping, and genocide, it is really hard to look at humanity and believe that it is really a nice group with which to be associated. I don't want to be a part of this fallen world, but the reality is that I am. And as a part of it, I am constantly searching for that small bit of hope in a world that is telling me there is none. I think many people in the older generation don't believe the children and grandchildren they raised can be joyful in a world of despair. I think it is hard for everyone in every generation. But I think our generation is more willing to look for what gives us hope. We won't take "despair" for an answer.

On this day, when I learned that one of my childhood best friends committed suicide... I'm looking for hope. I'm looking for something to cling to. I'm looking for joy in the midst of sorrow.

Jesus is my hope.

Jesus is what turns my "I want to believe" into "I really do believe" on a daily basis. My faith is small and still growing, so my hope is not always as well-developed as I would like it to be. But it is there. Jesus is the reason my psychological assessment reads, "she often views the world through rose-colored glasses." Jesus is my rose-colored glasses.

I DO believe that God has a plan for my life and for the lives of everyone in this world.
I DO believe that I can learn from the mistakes that I have made as well as the mistakes of others.
I DO believe that although we are fallen, God has given us new hope in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I DO believe that my gifts and my call has led me to seminary this fall, despite and because of everything that this life has put me through.
I DO believe that I am saved.
I DO believe that everyone in the entire world is saved.

That is what I cling to. Don't we deserve a little hope in a world that seems to be falling apart around us? Don't we deserve to be called "beloved?"

Women of Valor

I read A Year of Biblical Womanhood by Rachel Held Evans few months ago and completely fell in love with it. I never got around to writing a blog post about it because I finished it when I was in the middle of moving into my new place and I was spending an incredible amount of time with my boyfriend who is no longer long distance (for the next two months at least).

So a few days ago I decided I needed to buckle down and write something. I did what I almost always do before writing: I brainstormed. Then when nothing came up (I lose inspiration unbelievably quickly), I decided to Google Image "women of valor," one of Rachel's big themes in her book. 

I must say I was really disappointed by what Google turned up:

Here are two beautiful women (of today's standards) in medieval clothing, doing things that men usually do (playing with bows and arrows and knighting a man).  What?

Why do "women of valor" have to be "women who do what men do?"  Why can't women of valor be women who do housework exceptionally well (my mother) or women who pray relentlessly for people (my grandmother) or women who cook amazing meals for their families on a regular basis (my future sister-in-law) or women who live every day broken hearted by the world and wishing that the Kingdom of God was now (my best friend)?  

I'm not necessarily one for "feminism," at least not the way it seems to be used today. I'm a fan of men holding the door open for me and pulling out my chair. In a lot of ways, this idea of "biblical womanhood" sounded really nice to me. Yeah, maybe I don't want to make my own clothes, but I don't really have too much of a problem with cooking for my family every night or taking care of the finances.  

But I am a little put off by feminists who believe that to be a strong, independent woman you must do all the things men do and receive as much or more recognition for it. Why can't I be a strong woman who decided to raise a family and stay at home for the first twenty years of marriage instead of becoming a lawyer or a doctor? Doesn't it take just as much hutzpah to raise a few kids?

I don't believe in the feminist movement that is out to prove that women are the same as men. 

We aren't. Intellectually, motivationally, sexually, emotionally- we are not the same creatures.  God made us different. God made woman the man's helpmate. Meaning men rely on us as much as we rely on them. We cannot function or reproduce by ourselves. And we are not the same.

I'm not saying that men and women should not have equal opportunities in employment and education. But please don't try to tell me that I am a better woman of valor than my mother just because she decided to stay at home to raise two kids and I have a degree and I'm going into a "man's profession."  Just don't. 

In fact, most of the women of valor in my life are just like my mother- women who have sacrificed and lived in such a way to give more to their children and their husbands than they give to themselves. They have lived Christ-like lives with pain and sacrifice and love beyond measure. And nothing, in my opinion, seems more valorous than that.

"Woman of valor" in Hebrew is translated eschet chayil. 

With that being said, women who find their calling in being teachers: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being mothers: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being soldiers: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being followers of Christ: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being promoters of justice: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being wives: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being single and strong: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being single and broken: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves overcoming sickness of the heart, brain, or body: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves living exactly how they wish to live: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being brave despite the world: eschet chayil!

Women who find themselves being brave because of the world: eschet chayil!

Women who are going to grad school: eschet chayil!

Women who are bosses: eschet chayil!

Women who are their own bosses: eschet chayil!

Women who have suffered and still live to tell the story: eschet chayil! 

Women whose stories we continue to tell: eschet chayil!

Women whose stories we have forgotten: eschet chayil!

Women whose only Master is the Lord: eschet chayil!

Maybe I'll be Catholic

So this article about Pope Francis is getting quite a bit of press.

"Pope Francis Says Atheists Who Do Good Are Redeemed, Not Just Catholics"

Mostly posted by my Catholic friends, this article is all over Facebook. There seems to be a pretty stark contrast between people's reactions. They either really love the Pope's comments or they are freaking out.

Well, I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I'm not Catholic. So why am I commenting on anything the Catholic Pope says? Because Catholics are Christians and as my Christian brothers and sisters, I feel a compulsion to put my two cents into their business. Because their business is Christ's business. And pretty soon I'll be in that business too.

So my first issue is with the Huffington Post. Please do not call yourselves a legitimate piece of journalism. You make me sick to my stomach.

If you take the time to read the article, you will see that the headline of the article is a complete misquote.  Pope Francis says two things of consequence in his sermon and neither of them are "atheists who do good are redeemed, not just Catholics."

First and foremost, he is preaching about Mark 9:38-40 for those of you who want to look that up.

Here's what he says (I'll even use direct quotes):

"The Lord created us in His image and likeness, and we are the image of the Lord, and He does good and all of us have this commandment at heart: do good and do not do evil. All of us. 'But, Father, this is not Catholic! He cannot do good.' Yes, he can..."

Then he says later:

"The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! 'Father, the atheists?' Even the atheists! Everyone!"

So I'll sum it up:

1. Anyone can do good works. Even people who are not Catholic.
2. Atheists are saved by the death of Christ.

Don't combine those two.

So is Pope Francis really saying that everyone is saved by good works (which makes the Protestant in me cringe)?
Or is he saying that everyone is saved by the Grace of God, regardless of what you believe or do?

You can argue against me, but I think it is the latter. And by golly, that's something I can support!

The death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ redeems everyone. Period. Not everyone who does good works. Not everyone who believes in God or Christ. Everyone. Period. 

As you might know, "us Lutherans" believe that we are saved by the Grace of God through faith.

Well crap. Going into seminary, I'm probably not supposed to say that I believe this. I'm probably not supposed to say that this has been my personal belief for a few years now. Oops. Well, I'm not one to follow the rules, Southern so uh... nice to meet you?

If Jesus did not die for every single fallen human being, then it would not be considered salvation. If He only died for those with works, it is not a gift. We have to work for it. If He died only for those with faith, God is not forgiving enough to even have mercy on the best of people.  Jesus died for everyone: regardless of our beliefs or actions. He must have died for everyone or He died for no one.

I know, what about Mark 16:16?

[Jesus said,] "He who has believed and has been baptized shall be saved; but he who has disbelieved shall be condemned."

Well, right after that, He says that those who believe will cast out demons, speak in tongues, pick up serpents, and will not be poisoned.

Okay, I don't know about you, but I haven't been casting out any demons or picking up any serpents. So does that mean I don't believe? I haven't seen record of these feats since the first disciples went out to preach. So are we just doing it wrong?

Probably. Actually, let me change that to a resounding YES.

So what if I'm right? What if Pope Francis (if I'm not misquoting him as HuffPost did) is right? What if nothing NOTHING but the Grace of God and the death of Jesus Christ gives us eternal life? What is there to lose in that belief? Why do we recoil at that?

Is it because it takes away our purpose? Our goal of evangelism and saving souls? Would there be any point in a Church if everyone was completely and only saved by Grace?

We could spread the good news. We wouldn't have to save people. That's not really our purpose in life anyway, is it? We could let them know and help them understand that they have already been saved by Jesus' death. They could experience the joy that comes with knowing that we don't have to- we can't- do anything to be saved. We just are. Just because we breathe. Just because we are God's creatures.

What if everyone believed that they are saved by Grace? That they are so loved by God that He would sacrifice His only son to die so that we could live? No conditions.

What would that world look like?

Roots

When you're a freshman at a big school like Ohio State (or any college for that matter), people tend to ask you a few basic questions:

1. What's your major? (Which will almost definitely change by the time you graduate.)

2. Where are you living? (If they are upperclassmen and/or have older siblings at the school, they will almost certainly have an opinion about where you live.)

3. Where are you from? (The answer to this question will immediately make you interesting or realize common friends.)

My answers to the first two questions were always somewhat basic. I'm thinking of majoring in Political Science. I live in Nosker House on North Campus since I'm in the scholars program (humble brag).

The third question was where I always got tripped up. So I varied it.

"I'm from a small town in Virginia."
"I'm not really from anywhere... my dad was in the military."
"I was born in Hawaii, but I don't really claim a hometown."
"Where do I look like I'm from?"
"Here. Columbus. I've just been gone for a while."

I didn't have a good answer for anyone who asked where I'm from. My dad was in the Army, so we moved around every two or three years until we moved to Virginia in 7th grade. I spent the most time there, but it didn't feel like any more of a "hometown" than did Ft. Kobe, Panama or Ft. Riley, Kansas.

My family was a troupe of wanderers. And I was okay with that. In truth, the most accurate thing I could have said when people asked me where I'm from would have been, "I'm at home at the kitchen counter watching my mom make dinner with the hum of my dad watching football in the background."

Although some of that is still true. I love watching my mom make dinner. I love watching the latest Netflix movie with my parents on the couch with my feet stretched across them. I love following my mom around the house and annoying her by "being bored" while she cleans and does laundry. That will always be my home.

But something strange has happened in the past year. When I was a freshman in college, I was afraid of putting roots anywhere, lest it be an angle for people to judge me. It was better if I was a wanderer and I was convinced that I could not be a wanderer with roots.

"Wickedness never brings stability, but the godly have deep roots." -Proverbs 12:3 

As I started my long process of leaving Ohio in my rearview mirror about three weeks ago, I got to thinking about roots and wings. Was it possible for me to have both? And could I have roots in more than one place? I don't think I would be satisfied if I was anchored to one place my whole life.

I think God has a funny way of filling us in on exactly what we need to know at exactly the right moments. (Omnipotence, maybe?) But as I was saying goodbye on the night before my departure, I knew full well that I could have roots and wings. God had given me beautiful people to help shape me, challenge me, and love me in Ohio. He had done the same thing in Virginia (and apparently they weren't done!) and I have a feeling there will be amazing people waiting for me in South Carolina when I arrive at the end of July.

I want to be able to put down roots in different places. It's okay to. No, I think it is best to. Because no matter where you go, you'll always feel at home. You'll always be establishing new roots while expanding your wings.

Home isn't four walls and a door. It's not a sticker on a map or a destination on a GPS. Home is where you feel loved. Where you feel welcome. Where you want to come back to. Where you can cry and laugh and celebrate. Home is not a place, but a people and a community.

And no matter where I go, as long as I can talk to Jesus, I know I'm home.