Slow to See

I’m on vacation right now. But for my spring vacation, I chose to attend the Festival of Faith & Writing at Calvin College. Yes, it’s a conference, and perhaps not the first place others might choose to spend their vacation.  But it’s truly feeling like a vacation for me, not least because the theme of rest keeps coming up.

Yesterday, I attended a workshop by novelist Carey Wallace about the connection between rest and creativity. Then this morning, I went to hear Ann Voskamp, who spoke also about the importance of slowing down in order to be creative. Both Wallace and Voskamp identified fear as an obstacle to rest and to creativity. As I contemplated these things this afternoon, a poem emerged. It’s the first poem I’ve written in months, partially because I haven’t slowed down enough until now. Here it is:

Slow to See

For those who slow to see, all this globe is glass to God. - Ann Voskamp

we are slow to see,
slow to perceive, so
seeing we do not see
and hearing we do not hear.
slow.
and dumb.
muted by the speedy rush
hustle, chatter, and noise,
we are wordless
when called upon
to speak words or Word.
all too quick to look
to ten thousand distractions
and not to one truth
immediately present.

we must rest.
rest to hear the unforced thought
to receive grace which grasping cannot grab
we must slow to see
slow down, pause, linger.
fear not the quiet
fear not the stillness
fear not the Stranger
who approaches, who speaks, who shines
to those who slow to see.

A Review of “Introverts in the Church”

While Thomas Merton was in college at Cambridge, he grew interested in psychoanalysis.  In particular, this led him to the realization that he was an introvert: ”I came to the conclusion that one of my biggest crimes in this world was introversion, and, in my efforts to become an extrovert, I entered upon a course of reflections and constant self-examinations, studying all my responses and analyzing the quality of all my emotions and reactions in such a way that I could not help becoming just what I did not want to be: an introvert” (Seven Storey Mountain, p. 137[Harcourt 1998]).

Is introversion really a crime? Sadly, many Christians (at least in Protestant and evangelical circles) have felt the same way Merton did then, but within the Church.  In churches where committment is measured by relational connections, being drained by interaction rather than energized is treated as a disorder, even a failure to live into Christian ”community”.   

Adam McHugh has written an excellent book about this called Introverts in the Church.  I’ve been following and recommending his blog Introverted Church for a long time, and I’m grateful to have read it.  Not only is the book a healing-experience for introverts who’ve felt misunderstood or excluded by the churches they’ve attended, it’s also a call to introverts to stand up and assert their unique gifts and calling within the church.  The first chapter ends with McHugh writing: 

“I am convinced that introverts are an important ingredient in the antidote to what ails evangelicalism. Our slower pace of life, our thoughtfulness, our spiritual and intellectual depth, and our listening abilities are prophetic qualities for the evangelical community, calling us to a renewed understanding of God and a fresh reading on the abundant life Jesus came to give us.” (page 31)

Rather than fighting our introverted natures to fit into the extroverted mold which evangelical culture privileges, McHugh encourages and empowers introverts to use the gifts God has given them to serve the Church. 

One place he does very well is in the chapter on evangelism.  As an introverted pastor in the highly extroverted world of church-planting, I was especially interested in this portion of the book.  Is an introverted evangelist an oxymoron?  No.  In fact, if sharing one’s faith is an essential part of discipleship, then introverts are called to evangelism as much as any other Christian.  The problem lies not in personality, but in the stereotyped styles of evangelism.   He writes, “I do not think that introverts are ill-suited for evangelism; I think that our prevailing evangelistic methods are ill-suited for introverts” (p. 172).  Rather than the obnoxious and confrontational methods of evangelism pushed in many churches, he proposes an appropriate method of evangelism for introverts is to come alongside others in spiritual friendships and “explore mystery together.”  An authentic friendship where listening, prayer, and lifestyle proclaim the gospel is both much more natural for introverts and powerful in relating to a post-modern world.  As I read this chapter, I felt like he was describing the method of relationship-building, prayer, and contextual witness that comes most naturally to me and which I seek to practice at the cafe where I work.  (McHugh also draws in this chapter on Rick Richardson’s book Reimagining Evangelism - the best evangelism book I’ve ever read.) 

The chapter on spirituality  was also a joy for me to read.  It explained why the so-called retreats my college ministry took years ago often felt more like endless dance parties than genuine retreats.  Introverts are wired for deep, contemplative forms of spirituality – forms which, while present in other manifestations of the Church, have until recently been ignored in American evangelical circles.  While introverts are naturally attracted to the monastic life (where Merton eventually thrived), we don’t all need to become monks to practice contemplative spirituality.  The discussions of disciplines like examen, sabbath, and solitude can be practiced by anyone, and give introverts the permission to pursue God in ways that suit our personalities and provide genuine rest and renewal.  Best of all, the chapter contains practical advice and helpful questions to guide the reader think through the structure of his or her day, and perhaps even create a “rule of life” that will provide appropriate balance. 

I can’t say how grateful I am for this book: parts of it resonated deeply with my own story and life in the Church.  It’s my prayer that this book will be not only helpful for other introverts wading through the extroverted waters of church-life, but will also make churches evaluate themselves and provide more balanced approaches to ministry.  Thanks Adam for this gift to the Church!

Empty Tanks and Rhythms of Life

I had to fill up my car’s gas tank today.  With all of the errands we’ve run for Upper Room’s new space over the past few weeks, plus several trips to the airport, it seems I’ve been stopping to get gas a lot recently. 

My dad told me once that one should never let the gas gauge stay below half-a-talk.  We were filling up his Toyota at Bruton’s Conoco station in Delta – a frequent occurence since he lived miles outside of town.  I had asked why he always filled up when he didn’t really need to: the tank wasn’t on empty yet.  I don’t remember the exact answer he gave, but I remember the advice.  Now, I see how the wisdom of that advice applies to other areas of life.

Having a new church move to a new space ran our tanks down to near empty last week.  By the time this past Monday rolled around, I was exhausted, and a couple folks on our steering team had nearly burned themselves out getting the space ready.  A lot of us worked more hours than we should have, didn’t take time to rest or nourish ourselves spiritually, and did not pace ourselves wisely. 

The rhythms of sabbath and daily office have been two ways I’ve learned to fill up my tank before it gets empty.  Taking one day per week to avoid all church work and do things that are restorative and life-giving has kept me alive over the past year.  The daily office (short times of liturgical prayer at a few fixed times of the day) is a practice I’ve slid in and out of, sometimes keeping it regularly, other times not. (It’s becoming easier, though, since I discovered the online version of Phyllis Tickle’s The Divine Hours.) Not surprisingly, the times when my tank stays full are the times when I maintain these practices.  Also not surprisingly, I’ve found both more difficult to keep with all of the busy-ness of Upper Room’s move.

There are many ways sabbath and daily times of prayer are beneficial, but what I realized today is that much of the benefit simply comes from the rhythm.  Drivers are less likely to look at the gas gauge and see it on empty if they fill up regularly (like my dad tried to teach me). Likewise, we’re less likely to find ourselves spiritually drained when we embrace rhythms of work and rest, action and prayer, community and solitude.  The trick is convincing ourselves that it’s necessary to fill up even if we don’t see the warning light.  Rhythms help us fill up even if we don’t think we need it.

Spiritual Disciplines and Creation-Care

A few posts ago, I wrote that ”spiritual disciplines are also a means of caring for creation” and asked, “What if Sabbath, simplicity, and fasting were the starting points of a Christian ethic of caring for the earth?”  I really think that spiritual disciplines are where we should begin in talking about how Christians should practice environmental stewardship.  There are two reasons why: (1) Spiritual disciplines are means of changing our hearts.  This is how we cultivate an attitude of reverence for the Creator that leads to protection of creation.  (2) Practicing spiritual disciplines in themselves yield simple benefits for the environment. 

First, much of the environmental destruction present in the world today is due to the effects of human greed, violence, or other sin.  Through spiritual disciplines such as simplicity, we learn to  live within limits, not taking more than we need.  The fourth century monk St. Evagrios the Solitary taught that one should “Keep to a sparse and plain diet . . .” and “with regard to clothes, be content with what is sufficient for the needs of the body” (Philokalia p. 32).   On a spiritual level, a disciplined diet helps one overcome the other desires of the body.  Fasting from food was prescribed by early monks as a way of training the body to avoid other sensual desires (i.e. lust).  Similarly, St. Evagrios goes on to say that being content with what we need for clothing in the same way helps us spiritually tame our pride and our worry.  Now think about this: if through spiritual disciplines we train ourselves to limit our desires and to humble ourselves, are we not also recognizing our creatureliness that helps us to honor the Creator?

But the importance of spiritual disciplines for creation-care extends beyond the spiritual into the concrete realities of daily life.  Returning to the practice of fasting, we rarely think about the way our diet affects the environment.  A simple diet is not only better for our health and for training ourselves spiritually – it also protects the earth by reducing the polluting side-effects of our consumption.  (No, I’m not saying we all have to go vegetarian, but what if we practiced fasting in a way that took the food industry’s effect on the environment into account?  The Orthodox tradition of a vegan fast during parts of Advent and Lent is an example.  Fair Trade and Organic/Local foods are other examples.) 

The same could be said of the practice of Sabbath.  On this topic, I strongly recommend the chapter on Sabbath Environmentalism in Norman Wirzba’s book Living the Sabbath (Brazos 2006).  On a spiritual level, Sabbath reminds us of our creatureliness by forcing us to stop and trust in the Creator’s providence for our sustenance.  This reinforces the lessons of fasting and simplicity that teach us to limit our desires, or at least not to trust in human ability to fulfill our desires.  On a practical level, imagine the decrease in greenhouse gas emissions or other pollutants that would come from a disciplined practice of Sabbath?  What if Sabbath meant walking instead of driving, or eating simple meals at home rather than going out, or not turning on high energy appliances or electronics one day per week? A practice like this not only would shape us spiritually to be less harmful to creation, but would have an immediate tangible impact.

Awaiting in Rest

This morning in chapel at the seminary, I was struck by one of the hymns we sang.  It’s “Rejoice! Rejoice, Believers”, an Advent hymn which makes reference to the Parable of the Ten Virgins in Matthew 25.  The second verse of the song begins “See that your lamps are burning, replenish them with oil.”  As we sang, I realized that replenishing, restocking, is an essential part of waiting in expectation for the coming of Christ’s reign.  While we are called to be busy going about the work and mission of Christ, we are also called to take time to replenish the oil of our lamps, that we may burn brightly, and not burn out. 

Similarly, in this morning’s lectionary readings, Titus 1:7 jumped out at me because it says that church leaders are not to be “self-willed” (NASB95).  The Greek is authades, and other translations render it “arrogant” or “overbearing”.  Self-willed is an accurate translation, though, because the word refers to the action of seeking what pleases oneself, by implication at the expense of others.  How often do pastors and other church leaders burn out because we are too authades? To be a “self-starter” may be a good characteristic in other jobs, but it always becomes dangerous when we are motivated by our own desires.  What more appropriate remedy to both self-motivation and burn-out than sabbath rest – the deliberate cessation of all self-willed activity?  I want to take this Advent season (and Christmas break) to dwell on this because I’m constantly growing more aware of the places where I operate out of my own desires and where I ignore my need for rest.  Thank God that there’s freedom to rest in trusting that Christ is coming.

“Our hope and expectation, O Jesus, now appear!
Arise, Thou Sun so longed for, over this benighted sphere!
With hearts and hands uplifted, we plead, O Lord, to see
The day of earth’s redemption that brings us unto Thee.”

-Laurentinus Laurenti 1700, trans. Sarah Findlater -

Slowing Down with Poetry Before Ordination Exams . . .

For three weeks, I’ve been searching for time between traveling and visiting my family to study for my ordination exams. Tomorrow, a few dozen seminarians and candidates for ordination will meet in the Knox room at PTS to take the Theology and Worship ordination exams – six hours of testing, some of which is open book. The next day, we’ll take the church polity exam, and then be given a passage to exegete in a paper to be turned in next week. All of this to determine whether or not we are sufficiently educated to become Ministers of Word and Sacrament. I think it’s fair to say that it’s an intimidating process.

I spent most of today sitting in coffee shops and bookstores reading. Seeking refreshment during a study break, I wandered over to the poetry section of the bookstore I was in. One of my professors at CU used to talk about how we need poetry because it “slows us down.” When we are frantically running about, chasing after a hundred tasks at once, the blank space on a page or inverted syntax or clever turn of a poem somehow can calm, slow, and make peaceful our minds. It’s one reason why the biblical writers and prophets so often used poetry – it’s the natural vehicle of epiphanies. So I decided to slow down. First with a few poems from Wendell Berry’s Given and then with a few more from Czeslaw Milosz’s Second Space.

Both books struck me with the calm quiet faith that stands behind the writers. Berry’s book wrestles with tension between the mourning of death and the hope of resurrection. Milosz examines the process of growing old, naturally turning toward faith. And in the face of death, both writers words are filled with peace. Their lessons reminded me of the need to slow down, reflect, and savor life as a gift – a challenge when studying for the tests that impact the rest of my life. This week I’ve felt a need to be prepared spiritually as well as intellectually for these tests. I don’t know how possible this is, but I want to go into these tests with a worshipful and prayerful attitude. So, while I will study a bit more, prayer and now some poetry will also accompany my preparations, and I pray that God will settle the nervous hearts of everyone else who will be taking these tests tomorrow.

“May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us;
establish the work of our hands for us -
yes, establish the work of our hands.”
-Psalm 90:17 TNIV -

Thinking Aloud About Rest and Stress

For the very small number of people who have asked for an update on the youth group kid in my last blog, suffice it to say that nothing new has happened. Youth group stuff is still interesting, although I’ve lost the momentary passion I had during that blog post and have retreated to wishing I could just do the couple things I do well: preach and play guitar.

Stress seems to be taking over my life right now. Finals, papers, work, church, commuting, relationships, and the lack of time to adequately handle all of those have frankly left me feeling a bit depressed this week. Why do we work ourselves to death like this?

Monday morning I preached at our student-led contemporary worship service, talking about how a recent death in Eileen’s family had reminded me of my purpose for ministry: proclaiming the resurrection life that comes with following Jesus Christ. That’s a very broad purpose-statement, applicable supposedly to any Christian. Even so, in the midst of my more specific life situations and ministries in which I’m involved, I’m coming up short on motivation right now.

Dr. Son, my Christian Education professor, made a comment on Tuesday that caught my attention: “Rest is not the absence of labor. It is to rediscover the purpose of our labor.” I have a short period absent from labor every Friday night and Saturday morning – but that hasn’t been providing the rest I need this year. What I need is to reconnect with the very One whom I preached about as the purpose for ministry: Jesus.

I’m learning now that I need a Sabbath that is specifically focused toward God. I need to pray. I need to practice spiritual disciplines like fasting, silence, mediation and reflection. But my early mornings now are spent in Hebrew homework rather than in prayer. One solution might be “practicing the presence of God”, a la Brother Lawrence. The first time I read that book it changed my whole view of spirituality, yet it’s remarkably hard to follow through on, especially when you aren’t doing manual labor such as dish-washing or gardening the way he did. Lord God, please help me now – I need You alone to pull me through times like this.

“Strangely out of place
There’s a light filling this room
Where none would follow before.
I can’t deny it burns me up inside.
I fan the flames to melt away my pride.
Do I want shelter from the rain,
Or the rain to wash me way?

Face to the ground to hide the fatal cut.
I fight the weight; feel you lift me up.
Can’t deny it burns me up inside.
I fan the flames to melt away my pride.
Only had a second to spare
But all the time in the world
To know You’re there.
You are the shelter from the rain
And the rain to wash me away
I need You, I need You, I need You.”
-Jars of Clay-