I'm not really sure how to answer these questions.
Because yes, I do miss church life.
I miss putting on a robe on Sunday morning with the wind of courage behind me, filled with something to say to eager listeners.
I miss people calling me to say "I just needed to talk to my pastor."
I miss the privilege of walking an adult through a baptismal process and seeing the light come to their eyes just before the water touches them.
I miss Sunday potlucks-- you know the meal that is best served at a church where you really never know what exactly you are eating . . .
(But, no I don't miss anything with the description "cranky" in it. And no, I most certainly don't miss long committee meetings).
However, all this to say, as much as I miss these things, I know I'm in the right place. I know this season of life as a non-traditional work-er, minister type in the world is where I am to learn.
Sometimes, in life, I believe, we are asked to give up what is most comfortable, what we most know, or even what makes the most sense to us and our educated friends around us. We are asked by God to seek out the new.
I was having a conversation with a colleague a couple of weeks ago. It was a colleague I'd worked with in denominational life connected to my most recent pastorate, a colleague I hadn't seen in six months. It was fun to see her happy face again.
Yet, personally, it was a sad day for me when we ran into each other. A day when I was thinking a lot about what I had lost and how much I missed about my former life. But this colleague surprised me with the first words coming out of her mouth were, "Girl, you are looking so good!"
How could she say that I wondered? I had just been crying in fact.
She went on to explain was that my posture seemed more relaxed, more at ease, that their was light in my eyes she hadn't seen in me when I was going about the business of keeping a particular church in good order. I thought, well, now that's interesting . . .
This colleague then asked me more about my future plans and what came out of my mouth was, "I feel called to create something that is yet to exist."
Well, then. That was news to even my own ears. Called to create something that doesn't exist . . .
Upon further reflection of this moment, I realized maybe this was why she said I was looking well. As much as I do miss the familiar or even the simple joy of putting on a robe and saying, "Thanks be to God" every Sunday-- there's something about this season of re-evaluating, of re-grouping, of renaming that suits my soul quite well.
I am more myself. I am more at ease. There's light pointing me in new directions I might have been scared to death of years ago, but now I'm here. There's no turning back now.
It doesn't mean the path to get to this unknown place is easy though. It might suit my soul. But, my body doesn't like it very much at all.
My days are often filled with self-doubt, loneliness and lots of prayers of "Why can't I be like everyone else?"
I want to work normal hours. I want my work to be respected and acknowledged-- even paid for from time to time. I want to not feel so alone as I usually do between the hours of 8-6 pm every day.
But in the meantime, I try to see the progress I'm making along this path of what I know not of, and what does not exist yet.
I eagerly look forward to any opportunities to connect with other like-minded thinkers and doers-- even if I have to travel to another state to find them.
I eagerly look forward to moments when my ministerial identity gets to be expressed in an life-giving and affirming way (such is hard to come by in Oklahoma, but that's another story for another day).
I eagerly look forward to the day-- whenever that may be-- when my eyes get to see the dreams come to pass that my heart has had a long-standing commitment to.
And on that day, I'm sure I'll probably say that the journey, no matter how long or hard it has been was worth it.
But until then, all I can say is this kind of creative work is harder than I could have ever imagined.
There seems to be nothing profound about this statement. If you know anything about my background, you know that I graduated from seminary and I served two particular churches as a full-time pastor for 6 years. I blog all the time about religious centric topics. Duh, of course, my faith is essential to who I am. Case closed.
But, something about stating this as fact at this juncture of my life feels different. Maybe even scares me a little.
I don't feel I'm not the kind of person who just comes out and says such so bluntly. And I really hate being lumped with these kinds of Christians who might come from these camps and start conversation with judgment before love . . .
I think actions speak for themselves. Do I love? Do I forgive? Do I consider someone's needs before my own? Words are not always necessary.
But then this weekend, as I worked on another draft of the book proposal for my upcoming memoir about grief, I realized something I'd never thought of in such a strong way. And that is: my faith is essential to who I am.
As I wrote the words on the page of this proposal, it felt like I had invited myself into my own coming out party.
For, there was no way I could describe the book I've written without talking about the interwoven themes of God's provisions, God's love and God's direction within my story.
I just couldn't.
And even though I so desperately don't want an expression of my faith to be lumped together with the kind of Christian paths that I've seen hurt people and that (in my humble opinion) don't seem to be grounded in the teachings of Jesus, I couldn't tell my story without it being a FAITH story.
As I wrote the marketing plan for the book that I hope one day soon with convince a publisher to want to print my narrative (hopefully a non-religious publisher!), I couldn't help but think that the reason why I believe my spiritual memoir will sell is because search of something, or someone greater than ourselves IS what deep down we're ALL looking for. Search for spiritual connection to the Divine and one another is essential to the human experience.
And with all of this true, we crave stories of faith in all shapes and sizes.
We crave stories that will tell us how others made movement in their lives when all seemed lost.
We craves stories that tell us how messy weaves of relationships can survive deep wounds.
We crave stories that tell us how hope born in our hearts rides the waves of the most turbulent storms.
And, though at first glance my book might seem off-putting to the very people I want to reach with my story--
those on the edge of a religious tradition
those who are in the throws of deep grief without a faith community
or those who have only experienced people of faith as obnoxious
I can't tell my story any other way than: faith is essential to who I am.
What about you? How do you talk about the spiritual part of you? Or do you talk about it at all?
Over the past several months, I found myself with more silent and uninterrupted time than I've ever experienced before in my life.
After a couple of months of finding myself with more time than I expected, the temptation was to "just do something." To fill the space with more books to read, more coffees to have with new friends and old friends alike, and more trips to take. Maybe start or learn a new hobby? Maybe get a part-time job just for the fun of it? More of something to fill the void of time that used to be offered to the church.
Sure there were things to do like finish my book manuscript which would fulfill my commitment to the Louisville institute, events to attend connected to my husband's job and the usual of keeping up with house chores and the never-ending pile of mail that always seems to need attention on my desk.
But, still even with all of this "doing" there was plenty of silence left. Still there was quiet. Still even with all of the coffee dates and lunches I could muster energy up to attend, there has been just me. Alone. In quiet. Making friends with this state of being called solitude.
There have been days when I've loved it, savoring every minute.
There have been days I counted the minutes until I could go to bed at night.
There have been days when all I wanted was a friend to call and rescue me from the void that is life in my living room alone.
But the silent beat has gone on.
And this is what I've learned: silence, even as much as we all fight it, is not going to kill us. Nope. It hasn't killed me. Well sometimes it might have felt like it would, but it didn't. And I don't think it will.
Silence has been God's great transformational gift that my busybody soul has needed.
One of the authors I read in seminary but have become fascinated with again the past couple of months is Roberta Bondi. I've loved reading her again because of her focus the desert fathers and mothers of the 4th century who retreated to find solitude. And Bondi writes about what made them tick, how they related to their fellow silent pilgrims, and most of all what they learned about prayer as a result.
As I've stuck close to her book, To Pray and To Love again, I've been reminded that the Spirit often does the best work in us when we surrender to the quiet.
Bondi makes a case for such by saying that when the distractions of our lives are stripped away we have no one or no thing to blame for our laziness, our moodiness, our impulses, or our addictions than the brokenness that is within us. In solitude we realize that life is not about our jobs, our families or even our own ambitions for the future.
Rather, life is about us and God. Life is about all of life flowing out of God's great love for us. Life is dance card full of great opportunities designed just for us to soar.
But only in silence would we know this.
Only in silence would we have eyes to see these things.
And, only when we say no to the temptation of adding just one more thing to our plate do we make room for God.
Life filled with God is worth fighting for even as the hours of silence continue on. At least for now.
I imagine I'm coming to emerge from this season with insights I could have not gained any other way!
On my ongoing relationship with the part of myself I call "a writer" I think about a lot about things like this:
--What is good dialogue and how to construct it authentically
--What are strong verbs and how avoiding adverbs as much as possible.
--What does life smell like and how to describe such without using worn out similes.
But, most of all I think a lot about what makes writing good?
Like most writers, I have that fear in the back of my head that says, "What if I am not good enough at this?" As much as I love the challenge of constructing beauty, what if I am never accepted as a writer. What if I never get published? (Because of course, as much as many of us say that publishing doesn't matter, it does).
And I know I'm not alone.
Because the more I have conversations with folks who are considering writing for the first time or more frequently the one concern that seems to be raised every time is: "What if I'm not good enough? What if no one cares about what I have to say?"
And, what I most want to say to this excuse in myself and others is: "Stop listening to that crap in your head and just write! If you want to write, write!"
I want to say this because I believe we as artists (musicians, painters, dancers, etc. alike) waste so much time that we could spend producing our craft by judging ourselves before we even get out of the gate. And by doing that, we miss out on the best contributions we might have to offer. Anne Lammott, of course has a lot to say about this.
Because what I think makes writing (and of course, this is my humble opinion) good is: writing that tells us the truth. And it doesn't take special skills to tell the truth. You just speak it!
Sure, in the writing world, grammar and proper use of metaphors and paragraph structure within a chapter are all important-- and without the best possible setting for words to flow they simply won't have the chance to leap in reader's hearts as they did in the writer's-- but "good writing" is not all about technical details.
It's about the soul of the piece. Is the writer telling their truth?
I read a lot. And I can usually tell pretty quickly if I am going to stick with a book or discard it from the pile of books on my nightstand or in my Kindle.
I am easily annoyed by writers who try to sound like someone else or use words that aren't a part of everyday language of anyone I've ever met or who are so full of ego they don't admit what is really troubling them.
I love stories: stories that make me feel less alone, wise stories that speak truth on the page that I'm not ready to say aloud, but want to, stories that give me new insight into those I love and those I hate, and stories that leave me convicted about how much more I need to learn on this journey of life we're all on.
Writing like this take courage.
It takes time to know yourself well enough to bring truth to the page.
It takes hope in the human condition-- that when you risk the potential disappointment of putting yourself out there-- others hungry for the truth will hold your work with the reverence it deserves.
So, what makes writing good? For today, I say, it is YOU who makes YOUR writing good. And ME, MINE-- even the parts of me that are anxious, fearful, scared, unforgiving or absent-minded. When I do the work of bringing more of ME to my work, then I think not only do you call it "good" but my Creator looks at my creation and smiles.
Yesterday I hit a huge milestone in my writing life, I finished the first full draft of my manuscript of a book that will soon be looking for a publishing home (anyone want to talk to me about it?). When I hit the print button and saw the huge stack of papers that I'd produced (yes, me! I did that!) a wave of shock came over me. One leg of the marathon is over. I just couldn't believe I'd made it this far! Sure, there will be revisions after revisions left to make, but over 80,000 words on a page is a great start-- especially as I wrote most of it while having another full-time job and of course keeping up with the demands of regular life.
All of this is to say, I'm in awe of the art of writing and others who are with me on this journey.
I'm thankful as always for the support and editorial feedback of the WritingRevs-- some amazing pastoral ladies who are also working on projects of their own. Have you read Sabbath in the Suburbs or Chasing the Divine in the Holy Land? You should.
And, I'm also grateful for the larger writing community that I'm a part of-- friends who I've met on twitter who sign their tweets #iamwriting or #writing who help me remember this solitary work is most of all a community building exercise.
I'm grateful for colleagues I've made in others phases of my life who have gone before me as authors. Knowing them and watching their process helps me know that I could do it too.
One of these colleagues is Alan Rudnick. Alan and I were in a clergy group together back in our associate pastor days in Maryland. I worked at Alan's home church while he served at nearby Methodist congregation. Then, we both started solo pastorates at the same time and it has been fun to watch the progression of his ministry. He's recently completed his book with Judson Press called The Work of the Associate Pastor. It's a comprehensive collection of essays and helpful suggestions for both churches and pastors about how the ministry of an associate fits into the larger vision of the church. Looking for a book about church staff dynamics? Check it out.
Another one of these colleagues is J. Dana Trent. Dana and I were in the same class at Duke Divinity School, as part of the Baptist House of Studies program. Now, Dana is married to Fred, a former Hindu monk. She recently completed her first book called Saffron Cross: The Unlikely Story of How a Christian Minister Married a Hindu Monk which will come out in October 2013 through Upper Room Books. Dana lives the kind of life of writing, spiritual direction, teaching and ministering that inspires me on this non-traditional path I'm on, and I'm so excited to see where this publication takes her in the future. I know you will too-- I mean, who would have thought: a Baptist and an Hindu? I'm sure it will be a page turner!
Bottom line: if you want to write a book, you must make friends with people who are doing the same.
Yesterday, the Associated Baptist Press published a commentary I wrote called, "I Left the Church. But Don't Hate Me." You can read it here.
In this piece, I described that one of the reasons I left my pastorate stemmed from a new professional opportunity given to my husband at Feed The Children. It's something I've blogged about a lot in the past. You can read one such post here.
So, you might wonder how? How do you merge your vocational identity with that of your business oriented husband? How do you support him and this ministry when you aren't employed by this organization? How do you make it work?
Well, the answers to these questions are an ongoing conversation in our household. We aren't quite sure.
Never do I want to be unhelpful or in the way of Kevin's work. But never do I want to shrink down from the opportunity this position has given our family to be a voice of the voiceless, to be a hospitable presence to those in whom have been given to us to care for. Kevin and I have different leadership styles, but styles in which I think push us both to think about situations in ways we'd never would. And, at the end of the day, I know we're each other's biggest fans. I want to love Feed The Children because Kevin loves it and want to do whatever I can to further it mission under his leadership tenure.
So in the meantime of trial and error of what works and what doesn't-- this is what the calling looks like for now.
In the summer and the fall, I traveled both to Africa and the Philippines to learn about and encourage the field work overseas. I wanted to see the field for myself, bringing stories back so that I could better tell the Feed The Children story to all of you who might just be moved to lend a helping hand as well. I want to go on other such trips in the future.
Several weeks ago, I planned and led a Valentine's Party for the entire staff which including a letter writing activity for the staff-- sending love notes to all of the orphans in Feed The Children's care around the world. I made heart-shaped cookies on a stick for the 260+ Oklahoma based employees. I created this event (which now folks I think are expecting every year) to encourage this hard-working staff, letting them know how much they are appreciated especially by us.
And just last week, I made a point to spend as much time as I could with the country directors in to the Oklahoma City office who traveled to Middle America for a week of training. I wanted to honor them as they've honored us during our visits to their countries.
I wish there were some roadmap or even guidebook for this calling. Because I'm often walking in territory new and uncharted (doing and being place I'd never thought I'd be), but in the meantime I'm thankful for the grace to learn a little more about myself in the process every day. And to know that Kevin and I are in this journey together.
Writing is a ministry. It's ministry as much as as preaching or pastoral care or any other of the serving tasks.
While in the parish I would often spend afternoons working on articles for publication or blogging. Sometimes I'd feel guilty as I typed away.
Maybe I should have been visiting one more person?
Maybe I should have been a better administrator by filing away paperwork sooner?
Maybe I should have started sermon research earlier in the week? Or maybe not. As my friend, Beth would say, I was "shoulding" all over myself.
Yet, there was always something in me that said writing was important.
So, now and in the immediate future I am claiming the time that I spend writing as my primary ministry. I'm done with the guilt. I'm just going to do it.
And, I'm falling in love as I learn things like:
1. You can't be afraid, as Anne Lamott would say to write a shitty first draft.
I would covet to be the kind of writer who can pour out her soul in perfectly constructed paragraphs and completely interested sentences the first time. But, I just can't. I can't tell you how many boring, throw away sentences I construct on any given day. Writing is always as much about a process than it is about the destination.
2. The more you write, the more it clicks and clicks faster.
It has been amazing to me to start reading like a writer. For example, now, if someone asks me to read a piece of theirs, I can more easily say things like, "You need to cut out the first two paragraphs. You don't make a point til 3/4 down on the first page." Why? Because when you spend your days editing your own work, you begin to see all collections of words of others in a more precise edge. You know a good piece of prose when you see it (and when you don't) and you're ok if others disagree with you.
3. The more you commit to learn the craft of writing, the more you begin to look at the world like a writer.
A big change in me has happened over the past couple of weeks. I walk into a room and think about how I would describe its smell, its texture, or its sounds. Why? Because as I'm trying to narrate a series of past events in book form right now, I realize that in real-time I never really noticed details of settings. I am a big picture girl who does not like to focus on the blades of grass. But, in the future, I want to know. I want to know what it felt like to walk through a crowded bus. Or what it smelled like stepping off an airplane. Or what the countertop of my best friend's mom's kitchen feels like. If I am going to keep writing, then I need to pay closer attention to the blades.
4. The delete button is your best friend.
I don't know about others of you, but I can so easily become attached to sentences. I love them like they are birthed children or the finnest meals ever cooked on silver platters. In love, ignore the run-ons, out-of-place fragments or passive tense verbs. And, because I love them, I never want them to go. But, this can't be! Though painful at first, the crispness of my narrative seems to thank me later (and so does my writing group when they read my drafts!).
5. You can love through words.
Words to me are tools of art. Just as a painter needs brushes or a sculptor needs clay to create what stirs the hearts of any who behold their creation, I need words. I need words to say thank you. I need words to show kindness. I need words to give hope. And in making art-- stories, essays or even sometimes poems, I love. I love myself by creating the space of a sentence to say what is most real. I love those whom I know by paying attention to details which can be later shared back with them. I love those I do not yet know by selecting universal words so my words can be an offering of our common experience.
Other writers what are you learning?
In the spirit of this season of reflection, I wanted to share my top twelve posts of 2012. These posts may or may not have gotten a lot of interest at the time I wrote them, but for me each of these blogs represent a shift in some way in my life or ministry. Thanks for reading. . . . and the happiest of New Year to you all!
1. January 2012- "God Calls You to See What Others Don't." This was a sermon I preached during our "spiritual gifts" series at WPBC. My dear friend, Beth came up from Chattanooga to lead this retreat for the church. I saw so many lightbulb moments go on in the congregation as a result. In our household, too we had so many important discussions after this such as about Kevin's spiritual gift of leadership and my prophetic spiritual gifts. I will be forever grateful for this special time for us all.
2. February 2012- "From the Preacher's Chair." I was asked to preach the 30th anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr. Christian Church. It was not only an honor to be asked to preach this service but to bring along WPBC congregation members with me too. It was diversity building at its best. And to be worshiping alongside my dear friends, the Rev. Caseys was a blessing.
3. March 2012- "I Know How You Feel." I went on a delegation to the White House with other Baptist leaders. Though it wasn't really at the White House itself, it was cool nonetheless especially to see all colleagues from around the country.
4. April 2012- "Letting Go." This was a post that really seemed to resonate with people for worry is something that we all seem to do, a lot. But what is God's other plan for our lives? Maybe it is surrender.
5. May 2012- "When We Met the Divide." This has been a year of boycotts over chicken sandwiches, votes that have divided our nation and shouting matches about everything under the sun as a Christian community. What is the solution? Some thoughts here.
6. June 2012- "Let's Feed the Children." Kevin begins his work at Feed The Children as CEO and President. Our lives are forever changed.
7. July 2012- "Hagans on the Hill." I was the Senate Chaplain for the day. Wow!
8. August 2012- "Who is Really Poor?" I traveled with Kevin to Malawi and Kenya to see first hand the sites of the work of Feed The Children. I reflected on the spiritual poverty came to see in my own life as I returned. The Africans are truly the rich ones!
9. September 2012- "I'm a Defect." This was one of my favorite sermons in my "Excuses" series of sermons. We all thing in some way or another that we are made with imperfections. This was my way to seek to dispell this belief about ourselves that holds us back.
10. October 2012- "Why Do You Pray?" Some honest thoughts about my own prayer life that took some courage to admit.
11. November 2012- "A Life That Counts." My sermon reflection in response to our 10 days spent in the Philippines. I wrestled with poverty here at a level I'd never had before.
12. December 2012- "One Last Love Letter." My parting words to my beloved congregation of Washington Plaza. I will always love you.
Recently a friend and I were having the conversation about the fact that women (of course some men too) do a really crappy job of telling people what they need. We're really good at saying, "What can I do for you?" or giving a passive aggressive piece of advice to our partners or friends, but when it comes down to saying, "I'd really like you to do ___ for me" we stink. We hold back what is true about us. We just don't know how to ask for what we need. We often just go on doing and doing for others hoping that one day they'll return the favor by reading our minds.
Maybe it is part of the mothering complex that seems to come with the female personality or maybe it is just generational or parenting issues, but regardless, it has been a long time since I've heard a woman confidently say, "This__ makes me really happy."
It's a tell tell sign, I think of how out of touch we are when we simply don't know.
But, we think we do. We are a nation of consumerism after all. We can get loans for what we want like new granite countertops and stainless steel refrigerators, so our kitchens are as nice as our neighbors. And things get worse when we look at what we do to our bodies. In fact, if the stats were revealed, it is true we spend billions of dollars a day on beauty products, get skinny pills and new clothes which are the latest style. It's not that we aren't turning our attention inward-- it is just what kind of attention it is. We are shiny on the outside with no idea of who we are on the inside.
As my friend and I kept talking along these lines, we both agreed it is intentional act to be able to know what makes you happy and what you most need. It's not like you can wake up every morning and always know. "I'd like to do __ today." It's not always that we as women have this kind of freedom of exploration. We think we don't have time to know what makes us happy. Isn't it our job to make everyone else happy?
Yet, I think if ever are going to move past the plastic interactions with each other and find peace for our souls (that I think most of us really want), then we've got to take step back and simply be able to answer the question. Easier said than done of course. Sacrifices will be required.
To be able to know what makes you happy is a lifestyle of awareness. It's a lifestyle of paying attention. It's a lifestyle of trying new things, taking risks and being able to say "yes" when something brings you joy. And, we can't feel guilty about such a journey. The Divine blesses us when we love and respect the beloved creation that we were made to be. And a funny thing happens, I believe, when we begin to live this way: we have something leftover to give away.
Author Leo Buscaglia once said: “You can only give away what you have ... If you have love, you can give it. If you don't have it, you don't have it to give.” So why then are we so focused on filling ourselves up with what will not fulfill us or give us anything in the first place?
For me, one thing that makes me happy is blogging. It's something I do for myself. (And if any of you happen to enjoy it great). Blogging and other forms of writing are on my happy list along with long uninterrupted conversations with good friends, diet coke from the fountain with just the right fizz, pulling out my passport for a trip, tweeting during major world events, and being at home on the couch in the fall with a fuzzy blanket and a fire going.
I am a writer to my core, so having this place to share, learn the discipline and simply get out thoughts in my head is a gift. Though so many find blogging to be a chore and stop before they get going, for me it is something I eagerly look forward to doing. It makes me happy, but even more important, it brings me joy (the difference between happiness and joy is a conversation for another day).
But, I never would have known this if I hadn't pay attention or allowed others to pay attention to me in more intentional ways. People who say, "You've been writing, haven't you? . . . You look happy" have encouraged me to not let the fears of "I can't" get the best of me when it comes to creating prose. I need to keep writing on my good days and on my worst. It's a nonnegotiable.
So, today, what makes you happy? Go ahead and do it. Or make plans to do it soon. If you don't know what "it" is-- figure it out. You'll be glad you did.
For all of you faithful blog readers out there, I wanted to take this Tuesday morning to say thank you for reading! It means so much to me that you'd share some of your precious time with me and my musings. And second, I want to let you know that if you enjoy reading here, I also write in several other places on a regular basis.
It has been a gift over the past almost two years to write commentaries for the Associated Baptist Press and now also for the Associated Baptist Press blog.
I've recently published articles at each of these sources if you want to check them out. Since it's Pastor Appreciation Month, I thought I'd share along the lines of this theme in both places:
On the Main Site: "Re-thinking pastor appreciation."
On the blog: "Where pastors find support."
I've love to hear your feedback on this topic, both from clergy and non-clergy alike. What should we be doing to encourage our ministers? Or is this topic too over promoted and thus needs no more conversation at all?
Blessings to you all!
In my weekly schedule Friday is usually set aside as sermon writing day. It doesn't always happen (you know, there's always Saturday), but I try to honor the discipline of time it takes to write a thoughtful sermon by putting it as my only "do to" on Fridays. It is also a day I work from home.
With this being the case, you'd think I'd have it done by noon so I'd could have the rest of the day for leisure or one of those church administrative tasks that just has to be done before Sunday. But I don't. I almost never get my sermon written before 5 or 6 pm on Friday afternoon. And that is, if I am lucky.
Such a fact drives my husband crazy because he knows my mind is never at peace until at least something is drafted. He also knows that I won't be ready to go out to date night (what we do on Fridays when we're both in town) until it's finished.
But the thing is-- I can't help myself. As much as I wish a sermon would flow like an English term paper I used to write in college, it doesn't. And, I don't think it ever will.
Sermons to me are sacred acts. Sermon writing is a conversation between God and me and whatever text I happen to have before me in a given week.
And because this is true, I can't just "Sit down and write a sermon" the way some do. No, it really does take me the whole day to write. And I'm not just saying this because my head is buried in commentaries all day.
Rather, sermon writing for me is active. I have to do something to find meaning, to collect my words and to be in a mental space to allow it all to flow together.
So when "I'm not writing my sermon" what you might find me doing is:
- baking bread
-folding the laundry
-making myself a sandwich for lunch
-straightening up the living room
-filing the mail
- serving the web
Though many might call this procrastination, the longer I've been a regular preacher the more I've come to give myself the grace that "this is my process." Mind you, all of these activities I do alone. This may be the key to it all: solitude (what we in our culture have so little of these days).
Getting my house in order, or baking bread for Saturday morning breakfast or even catching up with the latest news on Facebook can indeed be just what gets the holy juices flowing. Sure, there comes a point when I have to do as my fellow writing Rev friend, Ruth says, "put butt in chair and write" but until the time comes, it's good to do other things. (I will always be thankful for the wisdom in particular of Kathleen Norris' book, The Qutoritian Mysteries that helped me down this track back in seminary). These others things may indeed be my work.
For after all, aren't I preaching about a God who first said I'll met you every time you break bread? I'll keep baking it and cleaning my house as I keep learning how to preach week after week after week.
In my journey toward becoming an author, I've found it important to build community with other writers. Not only because these are the type of folks whom I really want to read my own work (because they provide such helpful feedback), but for the sake of having encouragers for the journey. Other writers, for me, really do know what makes me tick in ways others don't. I am spurred on by their love of our shared craft.
Several months ago now, I was invited to join a group of fellow Writing Revs who live in the DC region. This group meets a couple of times a month to read each other's stuff and talk about writing. Of course, I was intimidated at first, but after spending a week at Collegeville Institute last summer, I knew it would be good for me. And, I'd have to just get over any insecurities I might have. I'd experienced the gift (and the terror too) of a writing workshop for the first time. And, while it is incredibly vulnerable to put yourself out there like that-- "Here, be the first eyes to my work. Tell me what you think"-- I learned my readers would thank me later. And, it has been fun to regular meet with other pastors who feel the same way.
Two of the group members of this Writing Rev group are soon to publish their first book. Excitement has been all the buzz with us lately and I couldn't help but take this opportunity for a shameless promotion for these friends. The church needs thoughtful thinkers and MaryAnn and Ruth are two bright lights with some really great stuff to say on Sabbath and pilgrimage. I've read their books and I'm thrilled about you reading them too.
Sabbath in the Subburbs: A Family's Experiment with Holy Time by MaryAnn McKibben Dana is available for pre-release on Amazon right now. It officially comes out on September 30th.
Books on Sabbath are easier to find these days. For, slowing down, stopping and finding ways to get out of the rat race seems to be a topic that we all want to talk about. But how many of us actually do it? This book is a journey alongside a family with two working parents, three kids in a very overcommited region of the country to find such rest on a weekly basis. You'll find thoughtful theological reflections over the course of this family's year-long journey with practical ideas about how they put their faith into practice.
Chasing the Divine in the Holy Land by Ruth Everhart is also available for pre-order right now. It comes out on November 30th.
Many pastors or other serious faith seekers come to the Holy Land in search of something. But what happens when such an adventure begins to shake the foundations of your faith? What happens when you begin to see the life experiences of others in a way that you didn't expect? What happens when you wrestle with such deep life questions that you come home from the Holy Land with new vision for the world? Ruth explores these questions and more as she takes you a long for the journey that she a several colleagues made to Israel several years ago. Join her for the spiritual journey.
Both books will ready and available for spring study groups of all kinds. Order yours today and support these wonderful writing Rev friends of mine! You can thank me later.
