church

All Saints’ Day

November 1, 2011 By heather 5 Comments

Yesterday I read my friend’s post, “Alone” about her experience at Relevant, an annual woman’s conference. More to the point, it’s about many of her experiences wrapped up into one experience of loneliness.

Even more to the point, it’s about all of our experiences. For who among us has never felt alone? Extroverts and introverts, the centerpieces and the fringers, the admired and the dejected, we all struggle with this, for this is language of the Fall. They realized they were naked and they made coverings for themselves and they hid.

They hid in work and in the Internet. They hid in TV and in books. They hid in vacation homes and in parties. They hid in their homes. They hid in their art. They hid in their churches. They hid and were alone, and the nakedness of knowing one another completely became shame.

But this, too, God redeems, and he does so in the Church, this beautiful organism that spans history and culture, embracing all believers everywhere, one body and one Spirit just as you were called to one hope.

Today we celebrate that we are not alone but are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses. They testify that though alone in prisons, lions’ dens, deserts and mountains, though mistreated and rejected and despised, God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Together made perfect–whole, complete, beautiful.

So I celebrate the faithful who went before, known and unknown, famous and ordinary. We continue God’s kingdom work on earth while they rest from their labors, and one day we’ll see the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. One day God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.

And we’ll belong and we won’t be alone.

Filed Under: church Tagged With: all saints day, church, community, saints

September's Glimpses (and other zine related events)

August 30, 2008 By heather 4 Comments

Here we are, approaching the beginning of a new month.

(Some of us are still in mourning from the end of the Olympics.)

But we all know what the beginning of a new month means.

Glimpses!

This month, I have an interview with, story of, and art by Makoto Fujimura. I also have a blurb on worshipping creatively in your Church. You can sign up on the sidebar.

Also, ready for the big announcement?

(No, Mom, I’m not pregnant.)

I’m moving from a Religion/Philosophy channel editor at Blog Nosh to a Fiction/Poetry editor. So here’s what I’m looking for (in this order):

1. Posts with short fiction or poetry

2. Posts about the craft of creative writing

When you email me your blog posts for consideration, remember:

1. The posts need to have fallen off your first page.

2. Send me your blog URL, the post URL, and your RSS feed URL.

Email them to me!

Filed Under: art, Blog Nosh, church, ecclesiology, fiction, Glimpses, Makoto Fujimura, worship, worshipping creatively

Glimpses ezine

May 17, 2008 By heather Leave a Comment

Glimpses ezine features Christianity in art and life. Each quarter, subscribers receive in their email an issue that contains a feature on a person or group, a work of art, such as visual art, poetry, and flash fiction, and a devotional on what it means to live as the Church creatively and artistically.

What others are saying about Glimpses:

Glimpses ezine merges social consciousness, the arts, and solid Biblical theology to deliver a monthly conversation that draws me out of the role of "armchair Christian" and into the challenge of active devotion with the gifts the Lord has given me for right here, right now.

Erin Teske, Artist and Cofounder of Soul Per Suit

As a bi-vo pastor and business owner I have a
very tight schedule and have little time to read all that is sent my
way via email. However, I look forward to receiving
Glimpses for its rich content on a single page. I’m challenged and encouraged.

Brent Dix, Pastor

Trying to take time out for personal thought and reflection doesn’t always happen. When I get my Glimpses ezine ‘s a good time to do that. I sit and immediately travel to In Her Art, move to In Her Story then on to As the Church. Remembering how others work in the Body of Christ changes my day and my outlook.

Christina Kieffer, Visual Artist

Glimpses ezine provides a bridge between art and theology by showing
the impact the two have on my everyday life. Through personal
interviews, devotions, and the fine arts, Glimpses provides
extraordinary encouragement for my Christian walk. As a visual artist
it provides a source of information and inspiration. It’s a must read
every month.

Ryan Holmes, Digital Artist at Dallas Theological Seminary

Past issues have included interviews with David Taylor, Barbara Nicolosi, Andy Crouch, along with other artists, writers, and theologians, and art by Makoto Fujimura, L.L. Barkat, and others. Samples of past issues.

Filed Under: art, Christianity, church, culture, ecclesiology, ezine, Glimpses, social justice, theology

Creativity in the Sanctuary

April 24, 2008 By heather 6 Comments

Back to my thoughts on the Transforming Culture symposium…

I debated skipping one of the sessions put on by John Witvliet (mostly because I have no idea how to say his last name). After being called by Andy Crouch to be Beautifully Unuseful to God, after given guidance by Eugene Peterson as to what it means to Live Vocationally, John Witvliet brought us to the beginning of our journey. We’ve crossed the threshold, and, fittingly both historically and spiritually, we looked at art within the church (or public assembly).

I was going to skip this session because I felt like I didn’t have much to say about it. John Witvliet spoke deeply and thoughtfully about what it means to bring art into public worship, to use it liturgically. (His definition of liturgy: "the set of patterned expectations that emerge in communities and congregations of all kinds, styles, and denominations." In other words, if you have a general idea of what goes on at your Sunday morning service, you have a liturgy.) I felt that because I don’t feel called to primarily do art for public worship services (although I have in the past and look forward to hopefully again doing a drama ministry), this was not my area. It’s more the area of my friend, Amy, under whose graces I attended the conference, whose ear must still be recovering from my constant chatter to, at, and from the conference, and who (here’s the important part) is focusing on liturgical art at our Church. And let me tell you folks, I’m glad she is because not only is she talented, not only does she have great ideas, but she’s organized. Yes! Organization! I’d heard of it somewhere, but to see it in action. You should see it, really. (Secretly, bragging about her is my way of nudging her to start her own blog to share her brilliance with the world.)

But back to me. Because this is my blog, and it’s about me.

I’m not skipping his session (which I’m sure with your amazing analytical powers you’ve deduced from the fact that I’ve blabbered on this much about it). But I’m not really going to talk about what he talked about (to see more, you can go to Calvin Institute’s Worship page). I couldn’t come close to communicating what he did through music, video, and art. I’ll give you his main points and my thoughts (that’s what you’re paying for, folks).

Here’s why I decided not to skip it: the church is integral to the arts. Historically, the foundations of Western art are the church–Gregorian Chant, passion plays, triptychs. Globally, much of art is tied to religion–totem poles, religious songs and chants, headdress. Think of it: if the Church became the epi-center of art, where the greatest art in the world could be found and could be created, imagine how that would change the face of art. I’m not talking art with better morals. I’m talking better art. As beautiful as art is now, infused with the truth, love, and beauty of Christ, guided by His Body (i.e. the Church) could you imagine? No limits!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I wanted to say a note about the beginning of my artistic journey being grounded in my spiritual life. I’ve discovered that my art directly relates to my spiritual formation. For example, my writing–yes, even (I’d venture to say moreso) my fiction writing–emmerged from my growth in seminary. Now, mind you, I don’t think everyone who is called to be an artist should attend seminary (although some are called to attend). What I’m saying is that if every artist seeks truth, and the most complete, whole, and harmonious truth is found in Jesus Christ, than the better I know Jesus Christ, the better I create art. This is why I’m passionate about spiritual formation–both because it draws me to the Creator, Sustainer, and Redeemer of all things beautiful, but also because the outpouring of His love in me becomes art. Art is my expression of Christ.

Already this is getting too long, and I haven’t begin to touch on John Witvliet’s topic of liturgical art. I’ve only said why I think liturgical art is important! Not only does liturgical art guide us in beautiful worship of God using all the God-given senses, but it guides us as we create outside the public assembly. Let me give you three points about liturgical art from his talk:

"In an age of profound isolation and individualism, the liturgical artist has the joyful privilege of helping local congregations realize what it means to be the body of Christ: a corporate identity, crossing cultural, geographical, and chronological boundaries, in active communion with Christ." As an artist, it’s easy to hide inside myself. Liturgical art reminds me that it’s about God’s vision, and that vision is global and communal, therefore my art should reflect that.
"Liturgical artworks promise to deepen a congregation’s participation in the profoundly relational and covenantal acts of public worship, provided that artists and congregations actively resist both the temptation to make artworks the end in themselves, and the temptation to soften the covenantal dimensions of worship into some sentimental substitute." Can I highlight "sentimental substitute"? Pay attention to that phrase, "sentimental substitute." There was a big emphasis at the conference about the dangers of sentimentality and a lot of amens from the attendees! The Church, rather than falling into some feel-good sentimentality, has more power than anyone else in the world to resist it, because we know the truth of the cross, which is the epitome of pain and healing.
"Liturgical artworks offer remarkable opportunities to perceive the glory and beauty of the triune God. This stunning claim means that ‘resisting idolatry’ is one of the leading callings for every aspiring liturgical artist. Every one of us needs to wake up every morning eager to name which idol of imagination we are eager to resist and which aspects of divine beauty we are eager to highlight (and adore!)."

For someone who thought she didn’t have much to say, she sure did talk enough! Shutting up now…

Filed Under: art, Calvin Institute, church, creativity, ecclesiology, John Witvliet, liturgical art, liturgy

Sometimes Misfits Belong

December 12, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

In September 2006, I introduced the concept about being a misfit. I told you that Rudolph was one of my favorite Christmas shows because I could relate.
I’m a misfit.
A
dentist elf, a toy bird who swims instead of flies, a prospector
searching for a peppermint mine, a reindeer with a shiny, red nose.
Why don’t I fit it in?
This past Sunday night, we watched Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer again. The old sympathies arose for Rudolph and Hermey, who, "even among misfits you’re a misfit!" (another truism for me!)
But
I caught something else. In the end, after the Abomidable has been
conquered and Rudolph’s family saved, after Santa asks, "Rudolph, with
your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?" there’s
another line I’d missed before.
"Sometimes even misfits belong."
Because I belong now.
I
like what’s said in that statement: you may still be a misfit, a
dentist elf, a reindeer with a shiny nose, a Charlie-in-the-Box, but
you can belong too.
Back in April, Chris and I started visiting this
church. It’s an Anglican church. Chris and I both came from years of
Bible church communities, so why an Anglican church?
We visited because good friends of ours go there.
We kept visiting because we liked what we saw.
We
liked the evangelical theology and the liturgy with the weekly emphasis
on the Eucharist and the focus on serving both the community and the
world.
In September, we became members. I cried. I cried because for
the first time in a long time I could say, "I love my church." I cried
because I belonged.
I have friends here. I’m involved here–I
started a book club and I’ll be teaching a Bible study in the spring
and I’ll be serving a local community orphanage with my church. On
Sunday mornings, I want to get up and go to church. I can’t wait to
worship God, to see friends.
I’m sharing this because it’s come full circle. This blog is not just about my struggles. It’s about my joys.
And sometimes even misfits belong.

Filed Under: church, community, ecclesiology, Misfits

In the Name of Love

August 31, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

"You’re singing to your audience, aren’t you?" my friend said to me in the car.

I blinked.

"I can tell when you get into the music because you look like you’re singing on stage looking out to your audience. Or conducting. Or playing piano. Whichever."

Caught.

You know that scene in An American in Paris where the grouchy too-old child prodigy conducts the piece he wrote and plays every instrument (in his dream, I should add)? To someone who doesn’t understand, this may seem egotistical, but it’s actually passion, passion for something beautiful and bigger than self, passion to be a part of it.

You know how people critique music at churches that feels more like a concert than a worship experience? (I’ve said the same thing many a time.) Truth is, I wish the congregation would be as involved as the audience at a concert (pop, not classical). I’m listening to a Metallica concert right now, and the audience is almost as loud as the amped singers. In fact, when the band stops singing, the audience fills in the lyrcs.

When you get down to it, I wonder if too much time is spent talking about the music. No, that’s the wrong thing to say. The wrong type of conversation is spent on this. Often, it’s the make or break of the church. And, I must admit, it’s important. It’s important that we use music, coupled with lyrics that praise God in mystery, in awe and wonder, and without heresy (I’m speaking the traditional sense of heresy–going outside the boundaries of the orthodox church as defined in the creeds, not as defined in each local church’s statement). It’s important that we are excellent in our pursuit of it. It’s important that the entire church is involved without a self-conscious concern of how they sound. And I think it’s a good thing when the style reflects the personality of the church. But is it the only thing about a church? What about other arts? What about the family and community? What about the teaching and exhortation? Is God glorified by His creation through creative means and as they worship together?

But that wasn’t my point. My point is, why does a U2 concert get more singers who could care less how their voice sounds when they bellow so loudly that the veins in their neck pop out than a church service? Have we forgotten the passion, the beauty, the bigger than self?

Filed Under: church, music

Pumping the Prime and Priming the Pump

April 27, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

This post has been a long time coming. Today will just be some initial thoughts.
I’m talking about unity among the Church (with a capital C, meaning the universal church, which encompasses the local churches, of course).
I love Ephesians. I love all its growing togetherness and one body and one Lordness. I think one verse in particular has been sequestered from Ephesians, an arm chopped off from its body, mutilated, and waved at anyone I deem offending.
“Speaking the truth in love,” as most translations have it. And then we use it to say something to the effect of, “I’m telling you this for your own good,” and proceed to explain how we think they are horribly wrong. I’m not saying we should never practice church discipline. I think the Matthew passage and Paul’s use in I Corinthians (I think or is it I Thess? I’m too lazy to check) are excellent examples. This, however, I think refers to something else entirely.
Let’s look first at the context surrounding this phrase. It fits in a section, which begins, “4:1 I, therefore, the prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live worthily of the calling with which you have been called, 4:2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 4:3 making every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 4:4 There is one body and one Spirit, just as you too were called to the one hope of your calling, 4:5 one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 4:6 one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.” (NET)
Not only is all of Ephesians dedicated to the unity of all believers, but more specifically, this passage climaxes with the idea. After verse six, Paul goes on to describe the different gifts God gives to the body (teachers, evangelists, prophets, pastors, you know the drill). Why are these gifts given? To attain the unity of the faith and the knowledge of the Son of God. (Notice how these things work together, which makes me wonder: if we don’t have unity, do we not truly have the knowledge of the Son?)
What happens when we have these things? We are no longer deceived by schemes and tricks, but (and here’s where are verse comes in), we can truth in love (the Greek is a participle, so truthing in love—I like that, truthing in love).
Our phrase is a contrast to being deceived. It also leads to growing up—not individually (as we Westerners understand everything)—but as part of the body. The body grows together, and it grows in love.
Now, let me note that I’m not saying we just accept everything willy-nilly and cry “Unity!” But often, the phrase is used by one individual to another individual who has the same core beliefs, with a good finger shaking. “She was wrong, and I was speaking the truth in love.” Or “he did that wrong” (which, when we really look at it is, he did that in a way that I didn’t like).
Okay, back to some observations, than I have an example for you: a disgusting look at my life, to be specific.
The Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible) uses the verb in its participle form (as it is here) five times, never meaning speaking the truth, but living in a way that understands the reality of a situation.
Paul also uses it in Galatians 4, meaning he was speaking the truth (“by speaking the truth”) to them in a context where throughout the book he was correcting their theology when they entrapped themselves in practices inconsistent with the freedom of the gospel. The context is entirely different.
All these things considered, I think it is best to say “practicing the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into Christ, who is the head,” (NET) or, as the NLT has it, “we will hold to the truth in love.” The nuance here is not telling others what to do, but together practicing an ethic that transforms us more and more like Christ.
Fine print: I ascertained this information from my Greek class with Dr. Dan Wallace many years ago, from Harold Hoener’s commentary on Ephesians, and from the NET bible notes.
Personal story (sorry this is getting so long): There is a man that I often disagree with. The conversations center around modern v. postmodern situations and the nature of Christianity being outside of v. part of culture. We fought vehemently several times, and each time, we would both realize our guilt of acting unlovingly. We would ask each other for forgiveness. Then we would fight again. Eventually, I think we both realized the same thing. I saw that he is a man seeks first God’s kingdom, loving God and loving his neighbor (even if he did it in a way that I didn’t like). He has sacrificed to follow God. He ministers to people to whom I couldn’t, and I minister to people he could not reach. We both believe that Christ died and rose for us and has the victory over sin and death. This does not mean that I always agree with him. It does not mean that I have to stop believing what I believe. It just means that we can be around each other as fellow Christians knowing that we both love God. I do not have to “speak the truth in love” to him, and he doesn’t to me. In fact, we don’t have to talk about the sore subject at all. It’s not avoidance. We both know what the other thinks, but we can focus on commonalities and our joy in Christ.
I struggle with this, but I’m coming to believe that Christ, being the Truth, is seen more in my loving than in my speaking (although I like the speaking too much for my own good, especially when I’m right, which, let’s face it, we all think we’re right, which is why we believe what we do).
Jesus prayed for us, all believers every where at all times, right before he died. He prayed “they will all be one, just as you, Father, are in me and I am in you. I pray that they will be in us, so that the world will believe that you sent me.”
So that’s my deep (and long – hey, like the song: deep and wide, deep and wide, there’s a fountain flowing deep and wide) thinking for today.

Filed Under: church, theology, unity

Redirect to Unity

April 19, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

I’ve been thinking a lot about Christian unity lately (lately being the past year), and I think I’ll do a post on it soon (cuz you all need to hear my wisdom on it), but for now, go see what internet monk has to say about it here.

Filed Under: church

God Is Dead

October 17, 2006 By heather Leave a Comment

Because of those three little words, the church proclaimed Nietzsche her nemesis. Gladys, keep away from that Nietzsche. He’s bad news. Ptooey. Root of everything evil, including that postmodern devil thing.
While I don’t agree with all of Nietzsche’s conclusions, I can certainly understand his claustrophobia. Stuck. Trapped. What a nice, safe, little world you have there, Nietzsche would say. Everything wrapped up in neat boxes. What’s that you have there? The search for the historical Jesus? Huh. Some faith. Just put on a pair of clean clothes, stay out of the mud, and you’ll be happy. Except Nietzsche wasn’t happy. The little minister, as he was nicknamed as a child, went crazy instead.
The institution of the church, the empty virtue of her people, her reasonable faith that explained away all miracles, that did away the need for faith, all this disillusioned Nietzsche. So Nietzsche chunked it all.
Live, Nietzsche commanded. Live with the pain. Through away the medications. But live. Forget those rules and do nots. It doesn’t work. Find the standard in yourself. Just as long as you live.
And as far as all the reason mumbo-jumbo, who sees objectively on this earth, without the filters of their tradition and culture? The whole elephant story with the three blind men. Each described something disparate. Same elephant. So who’s perspective is correct? Maybe we don’t all have the whole perspective. So, Nietzsche said, experience becomes the priority. Your experience.
He’s right, you know. Mostly. The church he saw with her long list of rules and clean clothes and reason that cut the Bible to pieces (i.e. Jefferson) doesn’t work. She forgot how to live, forgot how to love. Kierkegaard saw that, too.
And the different perspectives: I don’t see God fully. In fact, you may see a different aspect of God that I has been in my blind spot. My understanding of the world and of God comes trickled down through filters and blinders. But Nietzsche didn’t account for the Holy Spirit, and he forgot about the universal church, this historical and global body that has the opportunity to learn from one another, to listen to one another. Where Nietzsche gave up, we can hope.
I pity Nietzsche. He struggled with the same frustrations of most Christians and non-Christians. I don’t care if you are modern or postmodern or black or white or Italian or African or North American or Taiwanese. If you have been involved in the Christian life with Christian people, at some point in time, you have encountered some form of Nietzsche’s doubts and hurts.
As far as the whole “God is dead” thing. Maybe it wasn’t this great ontological statement. Maybe he jeered at this empty church. You have killed God.
I can’t argue with him there.

Filed Under: church, philosophy

Lessons from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and the Dentist Elf

September 29, 2006 By heather 1 Comment

Long post today, guys. Sorry. I wrote this about a year ago. Something Michelle said Monday reminded me of this. I still feel this way.

I feel like Rudolph and the dentist elf. They didn’t fit in because either they were born different or they strove to be something unexpected. Whoever heard of a red-nosed reindeer or an elf dentist? Even those who loved them most tried to change these anomalies, tried to hide them, or just flat out rejected them. So they ran away. To be honest, most days I want to runaway.
I grew up in a conservative church with strong, faithful parents. I grew up with Bible verses singing in my head, never knowing what it meant to not believe in Christ. And when I say I grew up in the church, I mean I grew up in the church. I lived and breathed the church. My closest friends were from my church. My family was the church.
Perhaps because of this strong foundation I have, I am free to question. Not question God or Who He is. Not question my salvation, my peace and joy, my hope in Christ. But I question how we understand this. How we understand the Bible. How we understand the world around us. How we are in the world but not of it. How we do this whole spirituality thing. And because of this questioning, sometimes I don’t feel accepted by my church family. Sometimes I feel pushed out. Sometimes I feel like this church family sees me as lost. Sometimes I feel unloved. Sometimes I feel like a misfit.
What do you do when you feel knocked down? Especially when the slaps and jeers come from the church, from your own “body”? Sometimes I feel beaten to a bloody pulp by the church – never mind the Levites and priests that pass by on the other side of the road. At least they don’t kick you while you’re down! Where do you go when you feel outside the wall? And if I, who grew up inside the wall, talking the language, laughing at the “why did the Christian cross the road” jokes, understanding the ritual, if I feel outside the wall, how much more so those who aren’t believers or who are new believers?
So most of the time I fight. But that is my community. I live one way. They live another way. Both of us are trying to live according to our understanding of God’s Story. Somehow both fit into that proverbial “gray area,” so perhaps it’s not about right v. wrong. Perhaps it is about love and acceptance, about trust and authenticity. I love U2. So many of their songs speak to me about Christian life and our hope. One tells me about the Christian community, the hopelessly-flawed but chosen by God Church. U2 says that we can’t live with or without each other. U2 says that we give, and we give, and we give ourselves away. That’s what being in community is. It means that struggle of frustration and love with the Church. It means giving ourselves away to the Church. These are my decisions. I may be constantly hurt by the Church. I may feel that my life is easier without the Church, but to act on those selfish – yes, selfish – feelings would be to go against God’s Truth told in the letter to the Ephesians. The Church should be about unity, love, compassion. Somehow, God wants me to be unified to a group of people I feel little to no natural inkling toward in order that together, we can incarnate God’s love in the world. For some reason, this is how God chose to do it. I don’t like it. Oh, I want authenticity, but I want it with my chosen people rather than God’s chosen people. How many times was Christ hurt by His intimate group of friends, even by the three that seemed to be His best friends? But He devoted His life to them. He gave Himself away. I’m to have the same attitude as Christ. Yuck. I want my time, my space, my choosing. But I have to love. I’m not called to seek acceptance in this Church that views some of me as borderline heretical. I’m to love.
I know how the story of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer ends. They find a whole Misfit Kingdom. They want to live in this misfit kingdom where they know they will be accepted, but the Misfit Lion King (is Jesus a misfit, too?) asks them to go back in the world to find a place for all of the misfits. They do. They risk their lives to go back. They found that a few who truly loved them went after them. They saved the day by pulling the teeth of a threatening enemy and breaking through a dark storm with the only reliable light. And they found a place for all of the other misfits. I know I have to go into the uncomfortable. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to fix some painful teeth when I ensconce myself in the world, in the church, in a seemingly meaningless job. Maybe I’ll find a loyal Cornelius in my travels who will understand me and accept me. Maybe I’ll find that those in the church do truly love me. Maybe even some of them need me, just as I need them. Maybe I’ll find other misfits looking for their place. Besides, I cannot hypocritically rant and rave diatribes against the church for creating their own alternate reality and then myself hide away with only those who like me.
I want to love, truly love and accept people without holding rules or my expectations over their head.

Filed Under: church, misfit