Clergy + Woman

This year, I am serving as the co-convener (i.e. vice chair) of our conference clergywomen’s group. It is quite an honor for me since this was one of the key groups that helped me through seminary and the ordination process simply by their presence. I was invited to a lunch when I was still a candidate and found the wisdom, courage, and faithfulness of the women in the room extraordinary and inspiring. I felt like I could do because they had done it.

So here I am, miles down the road, helping to lead the very group which was such a means of grace to me. This year we’ve done a few new things – we’ve devised a purpose statement and a logo. The purpose of the North Texas Conference Clergywomen is to advocate for and build relationship with other clergy women. And this is our logo:

There are a few significant things about it to me. There is a deacon and an elder/local pastor represented by the stoles, signifying that both are ways that clergywomen live out God’s calling in their lives. The stoles are red, which is the same color given and worn during an ordination or Pentecost service, symbolizing the outpouring of God’s Spirit upon the individual. The shoes are red, too, in fond remembrance of many clergywomen who have had the courage and audacity to be women in the pulpit, all the way down to their shoes. Finally, one hand is reaching up while one is reaching back, signifying how we are always in a mentoring relationship, receiving wisdom from those who have gone before us and offering it to those coming after us.

This year, we’ve also informally decided to have a “red shoe Monday” at Annual Conference to bring our logo to life, as one of my clergy sisters put it. They don’t have to be heels, they don’t have to be high, they can just be red. A statement of solidarity and support with and for one another. And I couldn’t be more excited. Because, in all truth and honesty, I am both clergy and woman.

I am clergy because I have been called by God to be set apart for this responsibility of leading in word, order, sacrament, and service. I am clergy because other brothers and sisters in faith, from the SPRC that first approved of my candidacy to the Board of Ordained Ministry that recommended my ordination, have agreed that I am called by God. I am clergy in my church, where I preach, teach, laugh, hug, cry, plan, advocate, lead, and serve. I am clergy in my community where I advocate for others and partner with others of various stripes and hues. I am clergy even when folks of other churches say I’m not.

And, even in the midst of all these ways I am clergy, I am a woman. There’s no denying or getting around it, and I don’t want to! From the bra snaps in middle school, to the arguments with my mom about what I could and should wear in high school, to the adventures of college, to the awakening to the femininity of God in seminary – I am a woman. It’s challenging and wonderful and simply the hand that I’ve been dealt. I embrace who I am as a woman, all the curves and power of my body, all the ways my embodied experience informs my knowing and theology, and how my presence and leadership can be different (in a good way) from my male colleagues. I know great prices have been paid by others so that I can stand to preach today; like my right to vote, I acknowledge the sacrifice of others.

Now, just because you get a body, doesn’t mean you get a typical personality. I don’t like stereotypes. But I have talked with a couple of clergywomen colleagues who have either forgotten or want to dismiss that they are women. It baffled me, so I dug to find out more. For the one who had forgotten, she didn’t think of being a woman as a key part of her identity. I can understand that; we all build our identities from the various roles we assume. For me, being a woman is key to my understanding because of my relationships as wife and mother. I love those relationships, although they are probably far from what some would consider traditional, so I embrace who I am in them. For the one who would dismiss, she said that she wanted her embodiment to be secondary to the presence of God through her. And while I appreciate her humility and understand the motivations, I don’t know that we can ever get around this embodied experience of life.

God put us in these bodies! We are created male and female. And while there are layers upon layers of stuff – perversions and traditions and stereotypes and God alone knows what else – there is something to be learned and cherished from life in a body. It is in bathing bodies, our own and those who are dependent upon us – that we can learn to appreciate the gift of baptism. It is in feeding bodies, our own and those who are dependent upon us – that we can learn to appreciate the gift of communion. We have a God so great and so amazing that humbled God’s self to the experience of human life – from birth to death and all the great messiness in between.

So, while I will never imago Christi as my Catholic brothers explained is key to their understanding of priesthood when we spoke as chaplain candidates years ago, I know I am created imago Dei. I bear the image of God, from my blow-dried hair to my polished toe nails in high heels in church. I bear the image of God, from my ponytail to my sneakers on mission trips and playgrounds. I bear the image of God, from my tangled hair to my bare feet when I comfort my son in the middle of the night. I am clergy + woman, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Do you think about your embodied life? Where are the challenges and joys? Where is God in the midst of it?

Why I can’t believe everything happens for a reason…

Recently there has been a pile up of grief and sadness in my extended family. Marriages in crisis, impending deaths (yes, plural), relationships fractured, persons feeling lost, hurt, isolated, strained, etc. Being who I am, I am simultaneously a member of the family and the pastor for the family. To me, it’s no different than the lawyer in the family who gives legal counsel for free or the nurse in the family who listens, pokes, and prods to see if someone really needs to go to the doctor. I am a pastor and I might as well put my training to good use whenever and wherever I can, especially for the persons I love most.

So here we are, walking through this valley of the shadow of death (see Psalm 23), and I’m having deep conversations with loved ones – on the phone, in person, via text message and Facebook and e-mail. One of these beloved family members talks about how he deals with all of this is because he knows everything happens for a reason. He shares his experience of another family member who should have died a few times, but didn’t, and here we all are today.

I understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t agree. There are many days when I would like the world to be straight-forward, trusting that God’s purposes are being worked out according to God’s plan. But I just can’t. So I’ll write here, with a little more context, what I shared with my family member.

I just can’t believe that everything happens for a reason. Out of my experience, in my line of work, I get to walk alongside pain and death because those are often the places where people remember they need God the most. So I’ve seen the family that has nearly nothing because the system is broken. I’ve seen the children who have lost their parents because someone else chose to drink and drive. I’ve seen the baby who dies for no known reason. I’ve seen the child, parent, grandparent with cancer. And I can’t – don’t – WON’T believe that this is what God had in mind.

I believe God had in mind an idyllic paradise, something like what’s written in Genesis, a garden where we walked with God and talked with God, where the food was so bountiful that you just had to reach out your hand to take it, and we all lived in harmony – the people and the animals and the earth.

But I also believe that God gave us a generous portion of the imago Dei, and for me that looks like creativity and free will. So we used our free will, we made choices and screwed it up (sorry for not being gentler with that), and now here we all are – daughters and sons many generations removed dealing with the great snowball of corporate sin – the bad decisions and the hurtful actions and all the greater evils of leaving the right things left undone. So no one starts at 0 in life when it comes to good and evil; we all start in negative numbers because we all own this evil that is.

But I also believe that God is working mightily to bring about God’s purpose for creation. I don’t know why God created all this; I only know that the God I come to know through the Spirit as I read scripture is a God who will bear all kinds of pain to be in relationship with us. Jesus tells a story, a parable, about a father who forgives his sons who do all kinds of stupid stuff – one squandering his inheritance and distancing himself from his family, the other failing to really be in relationship even when he’s at home and then refusing to forgive his brother (see Luke 15). The father in the story runs to his son. He runs, rejoicing that there is the opportunity to be in relationship, to love one another again.

So God bears with us in our decision-making, even when it is obviously not what God would want for us. It’s like when my son decides to run full speed down the driveway and I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t fall and split his lip or worse. I imagine God watching all of creation with bated breath, wanting to reach out to steady us, but at times holding back, knowing that we are created imago Dei, we have to make our own choices, our own mistakes, so that we can enter into the love of God of our own free will. That is how it means something.

And when we line up our lives with God’s hope for our lives, it doesn’t mean there won’t be pain and suffering. As Westley says in The Princess Bride, “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.” Even as good and faithful people, we are still going to be impacted by other people’s bad choices. We get to deal with that, too. But for us, as persons who believe in the love and grace of God through Jesus Christ and stand in the power of the Holy Spirit, we are those who are built on a solid foundation (see Luke 6). The winds come and howl about our ears, the rains come and we sway with the mighty current, the earth trembles and shakes everything we’ve built our life upon, but this one thing, this one relationship, can endure and never disappoint.

I feel all of this because I’m in the boat with my family, too. Even as I struggle to stand apart just a little bit, offering a listening ear, a loving heart, and very little advice, I feel every bit of it. And it’s so much harder, dearer, and awe-full because it is my own family. I tremble, shake, and cry, but keep leaning on the grace of God. While I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, I know God will make the best of it all, working with creation, with each and every one of us, until we are reconciled and made new (see Revelation 21:5). Glory be to God.

Leaving Las Vegas, or Sex and the Pastor

Recently my husband and I took a few days and headed to the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas to celebrate 10 years of marriage. I booked the trip since we take turns planning anniversary celebrations and I have to confess that I was giggling as I thought about the possibility of renewing our vows in a drive thru.

We arrived, picked up a little red Hyundai rental, and opted to drive down the Strip to our hotel to enjoy all the famous neon sights. After checking in, we decided to walk down to the Bellagio to see the fountains which were highly recommended and free. It was a longer walk than we thought and gave us time to see a number of things:

·         people dressed up as creepy, off-brand children’s characters who pose for pictures (for tips)

·         people handing out playing card-sized ads for female escorts

·         scantily dressed women (bachelorettes, bridesmaids, etc.) stumbling down the street

·         very drunk men (bachelors, groomsmen, etc.) stumbling down the street

·         families taking in the sights with their infants, toddlers, and preschoolers

It was the last one that really bothered me. Las Vegas is something to see – a wonderland carved out of the desert with neon, water, steel, concrete, and a lot of performing talent. But it’s not for children. It’s an adult playground, with all the temptations that includes – drinking, gambling, and sex are all available in exchange for money. There’s a lot of smoke in the casinos, there’s a lot of danger in the streets. And I worried every time I saw a child whose parents were trying to take in the sights while exposing them to the same.

Anyway, I’ll get off that soapbox. On the way back, a friendly, off-duty flight attendant sitting near us tried to make small talk with me to take my mind off how my stomach was not being a good flyer. She noticed the book in my hands, a romantic piece of fluff perfect for flying, and she asked about it. I replied, “It’s pretty hot.” She said, “Is it explicit?” “Yes...” And for a moment I think I blushed. I wondered why. Why am I ashamed for reading someone’s imaginative rendering of intimacy between consenting adults?

I am convinced that our embodied existence is a good gift from God. We are dirt creatures, made from dust and God-breath, yet just a little lower than angels. What is it that God is mindful of us? We are indelibly the image of God, yet broken and fallen.

In Las Vegas, my stomach turned as I realized the ways in which women and men are seeking to earn a living. I don’t condemn them, knowing that if there were no demand for it, there would be no supply. And in Las Vegas, it’s just that it’s obvious – the city makes no apology for what it is, incorporating rules and regulations designed to keep persons safer and healthier.

When the Super Bowl came to North Texas, where I live, I was shocked to hear about the underground sex trade that would come with it. This is the sin that lies beneath, secret, taboo, and horrific. As faithful people, we are called to do better – not by passing laws that are simply evaded, but by encouraging one another to hold to higher standards and kicking the legs out from under these trades.

But I continue to wonder why I was embarrassed by my reading material. These were just words on a page, not objectifying a living, breathing child of God. And, in my reflection, I think it’s because discussion of sexuality finds no safe haven in the church. We try not to allow our faith to inform our embodied existence in its totality. We like to tell God, “Ok, you can reign here and here in my life, but not over here - this part is for me.”

As we drove home from Love Field, leaving Las Vegas behind us, my eyes rested as they gazed on the subdued landscape, mostly flat, still paved and developed, but different. Less neon, no showgirls, but still the reality of silence and shame.

So, sisters and brothers, I invite you to find your voice. Speak for those who have been taken captive in the sex trade. Speak to those who have been taken captive by addiction to sex, drugs, alcohol, or pornography. Speak to your brothers and sisters in Christ about how it is we can live faithfully in and through our bodies, enjoying all the good pleasures God has given us in ways that respect the other. It might feel strange, but God has gifted us with so many things, including our bodies and sexuality. Lived out well, it is a great gift indeed.

4th grade theology

A couple of weeks ago, I got the children’s ministry newsletter in my inbox. At the top was a desperate plea for teachers. Our children’s ministry does a very cool rotation model for elementary Sunday school. The children learn a story for 6 weeks, reinforced through different ways of engaging – cooking, drama, art, music, etc.

Since I’ve transitioned out of youth ministry, I no longer have a regular commitment during the Sunday school hour, so I e-mailed the children’s ministry coordinator to offer to sub. Sunday before last I had drama with the kindergartners, which was a blast, even though the Scripture we were covering was Peter’s denial of Christ. This week, same curriculum, but 4^th graders were coming to my room.

First, it was a very small class, what with this Sunday being at the beginning of spring break. No problem, I decided to myself that rather than break into two groups to act out pieces of Scripture, we’d do it all together. But my good intentions never came about.

In the midst of decorating crosses and drawing ocean scenes for a VBS t-shirt contest, some deep questions started to come out.

·         Why do we have a cross for Jesus? Isn’t that where he died? It doesn’t seem right.

·         Where is the devil? I heard someone say he’s in the middle of the earth since it’s hot down there.

·         Isn’t the devil a bad angel?

·         If someone doesn’t believe in God, but never does bad things, do they go to the devil?

·         Why do people think God is a boy?

I tried to take them as they came, seriously but in terms understandable for their age and stage. Here are my efforts (with their help in parentheses):

Why do we have a cross for Jesus? Isn’t that where he died? It doesn’t seem right.

I’ve wondered why we have a cross for Jesus, too. But here’s the thing, is Jesus still on the cross? (No) That reminds us how even death can’t stop God. Jesus died on the cross, which is a very painful death, and was buried in a tomb. But 3 days later – BOOM! – the rock rolled aside and Jesus was alive again, he was resurrected. And then he was seen by his disciples and taught them some more things before going back to God.

Where is the devil? I heard someone say he’s in the middle of the earth since it’s hot down there.

I think it’s hard to put a specific location on spiritual things. We tend to think heaven is up and hell is down, but our spaceships have never bumped into heaven. I think spiritual things work differently. I also think this is important when some people say hell is in the earth – who made the earth? (God!) That’s right. And what did God say after God had made everything? (It was good.) That’s right, too. So everything that is created, from you and me to the horse to the earth, starts out very, very good. So it would be weird to me to think that hell is somewhere inside the earth.

Isn’t the devil a bad angel?

From what I can remember this morning, there’s really not very much about the devil in our Bible. There’s much more in there about God and us and how we’re supposed to be in relationship. Some people have written a lot of other stories about the devil, since people always wonder about how things work, why bad things happen, etc. But one of the places I remember that is about the devil is in Job, when the hasatan, or the tester – someone who tests you, goes to God to talk about Job. Hasatan is a title, a role, but it is also where we get the word Satan. The hasatan’s job is to test people. So he asks God to test Job, to see if Job would still be faithful to God if he didn’t have his wife and children and camels, in other words, if he didn’t have everything a person could want. But that is a hard book, so let’s talk about that more later.

If someone doesn’t believe in God, but never does bad things, do they go to the devil?

Well, we all do some bad things, but you mean they haven’t killed anyone, they don’t steal – they’re not any better or worse than most of us. I get that. So there are lots of different thoughts on these things, but here is what Pastor Jessica thinks – I know God loves us. God loves us a lot. God wants to be in a relationship with us. And I can’t imagine God ever turning away from us or sending us somewhere away from God. It’s good to believe in God because it lets you enjoy a little bit of heaven now – you can have joy, peace, love, and incredible strength and comfort from knowing that God is with you. If you don’t believe in God, the world can be a lot scarier.

But if you don’t believe in God, I think when you die you go to work all that out with God. And, of course, you can keep choosing not to believe in God, which I think is what hell is like. Just because you choose not to believe in God, doesn’t mean God is not there. It’s like closing your eyes. Just because you can’t see the light, doesn’t mean it’s not there. But a lot of these things are a mystery. I don’t know exactly how they work, but I know that God does.

Why do people think God is a boy?

That is a good question! Back in the day, back in Bible times, who were really powerful people? (…pause…kings?) Right! Kings had lots of power and they were boys. Every once in a while there was a queen, but most of the time it was a king. Physically, boys are built to be stronger, so they were the ones who could get their way and make themselves the bosses. People wanted a strong king so he could protect the people from other people. So when they talked about God, it was natural to talk about God as a mighty king.

But there are also other images for God. God is described like a mother hen gathering her chicks under her wings. And there’s also this part in our Bible

Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.' So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

So, what does God look like? (…pause…like Jesus?) Yes, but who else…it says “male and female he created them.” (So, God looks like me? says a girl) Yes, we all look like God. All people are made to look like God. (God has a wife?) No, God doesn’t have a wife. God made us to look like God, boys and girls. (I don’t think God is a boy or a girl.) I think God is probably beyond things like that, too, but God is very creative and made us all a little different, but we all look like God. It may not be what we look like on the outside that’s most important, but how we love others that makes us look most like God.


By the end of the hour, we hadn't done very much of what I had planned. And it was completely and entirely good. I thanked the children for their questions and encouraged them to keep asking. I let them know that many times adults stop asking questions because they think they're supposed to have the answers already, which doesn't feel good. I was amazed and humbled by the children's good questions and willingness to dig around to uncover more about God. It was such a good morning. What a gift for a pastor to be a substitute elementary Sunday school teacher!

Redemption at the Kitchen Sink

Last night, I was washing dishes, which is my usual nightly chore after James goes to bed. We’re grateful dishwasher users, but with his birth, there were so many things that had to be washed by hand and often, that this became one of my chores. And usually I hate it. I often resent things that require my time and discipline when all I really want to is sit, rest, recover from the day, and maybe even spend some time with my husband.

But that was not the case last night. Last night, I tied an apron around my waist and laughed to myself. I had asked for aprons for Christmas and am delighting in the 2 cute ones my cousin got me – one white with black polka dots and the other a cupcake design. I laughed because as grateful as I am not to completely soak my clothes with the help of these aprons, it’s funny to think of myself – a strong, independent pastor, here in the kitchen in a frilly, pretty apron doing the dishes. It seems like a contradiction.

I felt peace settle over me as I reminded myself – “Mountain pose at the front of your mat” – in this case, the padded mat in front of the sink – “Stand up tall, feet parallel to one another, breathe.” When I stand this way, rooted into the floor, the ground, the earth, the chore becomes less painful on my back.

I considered all these things, because if there’s one thing washing dishes is good for, besides getting tiny bowls, spoons, and sippy cups clean, it’s giving me a chance to think. Maybe there’s not so much discord between who I am and what I’m doing as there might appear. In this small act, I serve my family. I get things clean that need to be clean. I take upon myself the dirt and grime and wash it all away. And I am nothing less for this act of love.

In that moment, the kitchen sink was redeemed as a beautiful glimpse of the self-giving love of God. God deigned it worthwhile to take on a human life in order to wash, to clean, to renew us all. And while some theologians have called this incarnation in Jesus Christ to be the humiliation of God and the exaltation of humanity, I question the former.

Is God disgraced by being among us? It sounds just like the kind of stuff God always does – whether it’s a walk in the garden looking for the two kids or passing a prophet by on a mountainside – God moves in creation, in loving relationship, and is nothing less for it. The incarnation was a surpassingly unique and powerful way of showing us, all of us thick-headed mud creatures, that God is always that close even as God is entirely transcendent. God’s inherent, magnificent, mysterious nature is no more stooped in the incarnation than my more ordinary life is debased by doing some dishes. We’re both in the business of creating order out of chaos and getting things clean.

I know some folks might think that this metaphor is silly. They might think that I think too much of myself or too little of God because I catch a glimpse of how my life story is caught up in the grand story of creation in something so mundane. But I think it’s important.

While serving as a chaplain candidate in the Air Force, I asked some of the young men training to be Catholic priests why women couldn’t do the same. It wasn’t rude – we’d already done countless runs and push-ups together, helped each other over brick walls and through truly boring classes and demanding memorization – so we were ready to ask real questions and understand each other more. The guys explained that it was because a woman could not be imago Christi, that is in the image of Christ. Literally because Christ was male and all women were, well, female.

I understand the literal nature of this interpretation, even as I detest the limits it sets for half of humanity. So, I rejoice that I’m able to see myself and all my sisters in God’s glorious work, fully embracing our imago Dei, even in the mundane workings of life, from birth to death and all the dishes in between.