Sunday, November 11, 2012

Baby Name Madness (part 1)

Welcome to the tournament of a lifetime!  From this list of sixty-four names will come a reveal of the final name we have picked for our soon-to-come baby boy.  On the left, thirty-two names that will be narrowed down to a first name.  On the right, thirty-two names that will be narrowed down to a middle name.

Over the next few weeks, we'll be whittling down to the final selections.  In the meantime, let us know your favorite parings!  Argue for one name to win over another!  Feeling adventurous?  Fill out a complete bracket if you like and send it in: prize for the winner!

Come with us on the journey as we take our final steps into parenthood.


Wednesday, April 11, 2012

And Now For Something Completely Different

When I started seminary, I thought of how I spent my college years.  Really, I didn't have any frame of reference of what graduate school was going to be like, especially considering the expedited manner in which I chose to head back to school, applied, was accepted, and moved in (all that happened in about a month an a half, with much of it happening in the last week) before starting school again.  So all I could count on was a recollection of my four years at Doane, what I did while I was there, and how I spent my time.

My first resolution was to be better in my classes.  I didn't apply myself in college as much as I could have, and my grades reflected it.  I wanted to be better in seminary, and as I finally thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life, it might be easier (or at least make more sense) to apply myself.  With that came more of a time commitment to my classes and homework, and less time commitment to fun stuff.

The first two semesters of the process were hard.  I mean it was adjusting to being back in school full time after a six year absence, and settling in to a new place, and meeting new people, and learning new things.  And then time for my relationship, which was somewhat long-distance-like for the first month or two.  And then time for myself.  As part of the process of all these changes, I wanted to keep track of myself, and so I started this blog.  For a while, it was good.  I was keeping up with my classes well enough and taking care of what I needed to take care of, and keeping up with writing here.  I felt like I could handle what I was doing, but I also felt like adding more would lead to overload.

Then second year started.  And all that I thought I couldn't be busier led me to see how much free time I had in my first year.  Classes, still, but now harder, and add internship hours, and home church responsibilities, and denominational requirements, and what I could be involved with at school.  Then second semester started, and I added more responsibilities for myself without taking others away.  Essentially, combined with my somewhat lengthy process of studying or writing, it leaves little time for the things I really enjoy.  So the blog went to the side for a bit, explaining my lack of posts for a while.

But then there are things that need to be said, things that need to be done.  I've been distracted over the last week by a number of different things coming together at once, all in the middle of Holy Week.  I spoke about new beginnings during the Easter Sunrise Service because that is what was weighing on my mind so much.  In the midst of the end of Jesus' life, the end of The End, I thought only of new life.

That's because in the middle of last week, we learned that Kelse is pregnant.

Just as the three women at the tomb were terrified and amazed into silence after knowing the Resurrection, I was terrified and amazed of this new chapter of our lives, and didn't want to speak of it.  Are we sure the tests are right?  What do we need to do?  What do we need to plan for?  Who do we tell?  Who do we ask for help?  When is everything happening?  How do we need to change what we eat, or how we sleep, or what we buy?  Sure, plenty of experts exist on the subject, including in my family, but every pregnancy is different, as every child and every family is different.

From the start, I didn't want to talk to people about it.  I didn't want to talk to people about even the idea that we might have something like that happen in the future, or that we might be trying.  I think part of that is the fear of something going wrong, and then having to relive that pain every time someone asks about it.  And I think part of it is that very superstitious part of me (multiple baseball reference alert!): as soon as you start talking about the no-hitter, it disappears.  As soon as you start talking about the hitting streak, it goes away.  As soon as you acknowledge that which is good, it leaves you.  I didn't want to talk about it and then not have anything happen, and then have to keep talking about it.  You can't talk your way out of a slump, but you can make it worse.

But here we are now, new life growing.  I have no idea what to expect of the future.  At least when I started school again, I had a frame of reference from college to fall back on.  This is some whole other universe.  There are still so many questions, and I don't know what to do.  But I suppose I am not unique in that feeling in a situation like this.  What parent knows all the right answers from the get go?  So each day is a new day, each step is a new step, and each moment is something new to learn.  We've had one appointment at the doctor, and another coming up on Friday, and then more will come after that.  We'll most assuredly get help along the way, and people will recommend things, and we'll make our own decisions on what to do.  And we'll be busy.  After all, the classes don't stop.  The work responsibilities don't stop.  The bills don't stop coming in.  The need to care for each other and care for ourselves never stops.

And I guess that's the super long story on why my blog posts might be sporadic for a while still.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Brief thought from Taiwan...

I see bubbling stars.
I hear shining water.
Flashing lights and unknown language pierce the beauty
With peace.
The long, hard day rolls away into warm air and cricket chirps.
This is night in Taiwan.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

A three month tour

Is the new year really only days away?  Seems like I was writing my last post only a week ago, not three months ago!

What a busy three months it has been.  The semester has come and gone.  In the meantime, a lot has happened to keep me busy and short on blog writing time.  In fact, I was so busy I barely had time to watch movies.  Only yesterday did I finally find three hours in which to watch Spartacus, a movie we've had from Netflix since September.  Anna and I have also been watching NewsRadio over the last week or so, and I think we'll complete the series tonight before moving on to Futurama.  But what happened over the last three months to keep me so busy?

Well, for starters, there were classes.  I worked particularly hard on my classes this semester, which, of course, required plenty of studying and homework time.  In reflecting back on this semester, I found it incredibly formative in my theological thought processes as well as better understanding different points of view.  Grades aren't in yet, though I know I did pretty well.  However, even if I didn't, I feel like I learned more this semester than all of last year put together.  It was an amazing journey.

In addition to my class work, I also had my internship.  I started at the beginning of September, had an official welcome in the middle of September, and my first sermon at the beginning of October.  I've also been a part of making dinner for the Wednesday night Arts Program, and once a month hosted a movie afternoon.  I've also preached three other times, including on Christmas day.  Part of my journey this semester was discovering how much I enjoy preaching, and how I can also preach well.

In November, I was accepted as a member in discernment with the Northern California Nevada Conference of the United Church of Christ.  It was great to have Diandra and Jim with me for that part of the journey.  Another step towards ordination!

In December, I was voted as a member of the Board of Directors at New Spirit Community Church.  I've never done anything like this before, but I wanted to join to give me experience in church administration as well as have a hand in continuing the efforts of New Spirit to keep it a vibrant church that will continue to grow.  Though I won't be in church for the next five months because of my internship, I'm looking forward to taking part in church life in this level of service.

Finally, I am heading to Taiwan in a week and a half for my intercession class.  This will be the first time I've ever left the United States.  It's an incredible opportunity, and I'm very excited about it.  I have no idea what to expect while we are there for two weeks, but I'm open to learning whatever I can in my time there.

So, bland blog post, I know, but it's something to help get me back on track.  I'm going to try to write more about my Taiwan trip, but I'm not sure about internet availability while I'm there, so it may all be on paper with the good bits posted later.  I'm also preaching again the Sunday after I get back, so there might be some great insights to be had there.  As for next semester, if it's anything like this past one, there won't be much time for updates either.  But I'll strive to do what I can, and hopefully that'll work out.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

This is not the end. This is not the beginning.

God save us everyone
Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns
For the sins of our hands
The sins of our tongues
The sins of our fathers
The sins of our young

-Linkin Park, "The Catalyst"

If execution is a proper deterrent, why do we still have to use it?  One might think the possibility of losing one's life as retribution for actions taken would serve enough to keep people from committing said actions.  That said actions continue to occur, I can only conclude that it does not serve as a deterrent, and if it doesn't, then why are we killing people?

Tonight, Facebook is inundated with statements from friends regarding the execution of Troy Davis in Georgia.  Many of my seminary and clergy friends are weighing in on the injustice of everything this evening, while none of my friends beyond that sphere seem to have noticed.  The general sentiment is that the state of Georgia has just murdered an innocent man, as serious doubt emerged that he actually killed and off-duty police officer in 1989, but I'm not here to argue his guilt or innocence.  I didn't read the news at the time of the supposed crime, I didn't sit in the courtroom as the evidence was presented against him, and I did not sit on the jury to convict him.  In fact, before the last 24 hours, I'm not sure I knew anything about Troy Davis.

I wonder which of my friends did know something about him.

Glaringly absent from the commentary on the death of Troy Davis was commentary on the death of Lawrence Brewer.  While I didn't know his name before today, either, I did know his story, and you might too.  Lawrence Brewer was convicted for killing James Byrd, a name I didn't have to look up.  Byrd was chained to the back of a pick-up truck and dragged to his death in 1998 by Brewer and two accomplices.  I clearly remember it because it was a very high-profile case of modern racism by a white supremacist.

As I read about the stories of Brewer and Davis earlier today, I felt a sense of loss for both of them, but I must confess I felt more compassion for Brewer.  So many voices rose to the defense of a possibly innocent man to prevent an atrocity, with hardly a whisper of concern for a clearly guilty man facing the same atrocity.

Of course, the atrocity isn't that an innocent man would die.  The atrocity is that any person might be murdered by the government.  And, of course, as we are a government of the people, by the people, for the people, what we mean to say is that we are the murderers.  It's tough to stomach the thought that I had a hand  in someone's death.  Just because I didn't agree with it or didn't support it doesn't change the fact that I have, as have you, had a hand in numerous state deaths.

So I mourn for Davis.  And I mourn for Brewer.  And I mourn that Brewer death slid past us almost unnoticed.  Outside my window I can clearly hear the chimes of the clock tower on Cal campus every hour, on the hour, and when I heard the bell toll tonight I felt it was convicting me.  Who am I to recognize one death as more or less important than another?  But, more importantly, who am I to focus on this for the day of death for both men, and claim ignorance every other day?  How can I argue for an injustice when I only do so at my convience?  I'm pretty sure that's not how it works, or at least how it is supposed to work.

Did you know there are three more executions scheduled across the country this month?  Did you know there is one scheduled in Alabama tomorrow?  As I considered what I felt was my own failure to recognize the need for equal compassion to all condemned to die by the hands of the state, I found a desire to not let it happen again.  So I found a website that will give you all kinds of information concerning capital punishment in the United States, including a schedule for upcoming executions.  I hope to be more aware of these events moving forward.  Do with it what you will, but I feel the least we can do is pray for peace and compassion for the victims of those convicted of crimes resulting in the death penalty, as well as peace and compassion for the convicted.  For it is not up to me to say who lives and who dies, not matter what the cause.

I found solace tonight in music, as I often do.  While Linkin Park was a heavy dose for the evening, I also held on to a song I heard coming home from my internship tonight, a thought that surely echoes those of many affected families tonight:

Why can't we pantomime, just close our eyes
And sleep sweet dreams
Me and you with wings on our feet

-R.E.M., "The Great Beyond"

I'm left wondering about the divide between those that oppose the death penalty and those that support it.  I wonder how a roomful of humans can applaud a statistic that place Texas at the forefront of state killings.  I wonder how to start a dialogue with those people, to see what kind of injustice it is for any person to lose their life at the hands of another.  I wonder what kind of action we might consider as justice to soothe the pain caused by violent crimes.  I wonder a lot about how to make things better, and I'm no closer to an answer than I was when I started, but I feel as though I'm starting down some other unknown path.

Tonight, I pray for Troy Davis.  Tonight, I pray for Lawrence Brewer.  Tonight, I pray for Derrick Mason. Tonight, I pray for the day when I no longer need to pray these prayers.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A (brief) reflection of the last decade.

I spent this morning listening to music to help me remember.

I didn't do it to remember 9/11.  I don't need any help remembering that.  Maybe I was far removed from the events of that morning geographically as I spent hours in class, but I distinctly remember the images of planes and  buildings that day, replayed over and over on television for us to try to understand and fail miserably.  I remember the hurt and anger and confusion I couldn't get a hold on, and eventually finding myself in a long hug from Abeth where I finally sobbed it all out as I tried wrap my head around the concept of "why."

Instead, I listened to remind myself that, despite the pain, fear, and hatred that has spouted from far corners of the globe as a response to both that days events and our country's own reaction, those ways are not my ways.  I also remember the darkness of October 2001, when I felt so conflicted as our country invaded Afghanistan.  I wanted to be able to stand in defense of our country, but I also felt that killing people in a far flung country felt more like revenge than justice.  The day the war started, I found the lyrics to a howie&scott song, "Mightier Than the Sword," and posted them on my dorm door as I still searched for my own voice in support of love and peace:

Our hands are
Our feet are
Our words are
Our lives are…
Mightier than the sword

In the days, months, and years following 9/11, there was so much talk about victory over the terrorists. As true to me as it is now, the only way I can understand victory over terrorism is not backing down from business as usual: living life without fear of the other, spending our time loving and helping each other, and building together all things new so that we as humans around the world stand together as one.  What would life be like if we did that instead of tearing each other down through our words and actions of violence?

Now a year into seminary and a different kind of life for myself, I stand for love.  That's what I wanted to remember this morning, and what I want to remember every morning.

Friday, September 2, 2011

How I Spent My Summer "Vacation" Q&A


After my last post, I received some ideas to address in a follow-up.  If you haven’t read that post, you might want to head over there first, as these responses make less sense without that context.  Thanks for all for your questions, and feel free to add more!

As my last post was a summary designed to engage the positive things I could learn from the experience, some of these topics didn’t really fit, but they were nonetheless often part of my original observations that I have expanded some upon reflection.  Often, the lack of mention of certain aspects of my journey in my original post meant that I didn’t feel a way to learn something new that I might be able to incorporate into something new, instead reflecting what I thought of as what not to do.  So, to the questions:

What are the signs of emotional connection?  I think to help with this I need to establish a baseline of connection in my normal worship experiences.  In the past, as I have attended UCC churches, there is a variety of expression from the congregation within the service.  That is in no way a comprehensive experience, and indeed due to the nature of the UCC, each UCC church is different from the last.  But the common sense I have gotten in a UCC service is a calm demeanor from the congregation, with limited interaction between congregants and/or pastors within the service.  At the most basic, the service involves a very short time of greeting between congregants, and all other movement is based on standing or sitting at the appropriate time (hymns, calls to worship, offerings, blessings, etc.) but not often extended to lateral movement.  Additionally, there may occasionally be a music selection that includes some clapping, but not as often as weekly, or sometimes even monthly.  There is little to no response to the actions of the pastor, particularly during the sermon.  My own church (New Spirit Community Church) is expanded much beyond that, incorporating lateral movement for longer periods at various points in the service, and more energy-inducing music that contains clapping or even dancing at multiple points during a service in a mostly weekly basis.  Both of those situations do not necessarily mark the amount of emotional connection within a service, as emotion can often be inwardly expressed, especially in a group where the norms are not an open to movement, but they are not as readily apparent to a visitor.

In all of the churches I visited this summer, there was no question in the heightened emotional connection of the congregation through physical movement and vocal expression, far more than any church I have regularly attended.  Though lateral movement was not often apparent, vertical movement was.  During opening music, everyone stood, often with arms raised as a praise motion to receive the inspiration of the Spirit.  Singing was a primary expression of emotion, with volume of voice and extent of physical movement and dance increasing with increasing awareness of emotional connection.  In one church, I was particularly amazed at the volume increase of the congregational singing after an emotional and energetic sermon over the level established before the sermon.  There was also encouragement of emotional expression from the congregation by the pastors.  For example, if the pastor noted a particular reaction from the congregation he thought of as positive of expressive (in terms of emotional release), there would be a kind of pause in the service as that moment was stretched to heighten the experience.  Music from the band or choir would increase in volume, as would the singing of the congregation.  From this, I could see more hands in the air in praise, more swaying or dancing from the congregation, and sometimes some form of speaking in tongues.

Other forms of emotional connection throughout the service included shouting and crying.  Both of these were very common in all the churches I attended.  Shouting would occur at any point in the service as response to the music or the sermon.  Sometimes it was in response to the encouragement of the preacher (“Can I get an amen?”), but there were also plenty of moments of improvisational, inspirational shouting of praise.  If the music or the sermon touched a particularly strong nerve, the ultimate response was crying.  Some churches offered tissues by passing them, or by stocking them in pews, showing recognition of the power of emotional connection within the church.  The avenue of connection for this expression varied from church to church based on the theology of the sermon or music, but it was prevalent throughout the churches as a whole.
In summary, the emotional connection had a wide range of expression, from more movement in a stationary position (swaying, dancing, arms raised) to increased volume (shouting, singing, music) to cathartic release (speaking in tongues, crying).

What is the make-up of the congregation?  This was certainly something that varied by church.  One church I visited was mostly African-American through historic tradition.  The rest seemed to be mostly Euro-American in make-up to varying degrees, some having much more diversity than others.  Some churches offered services in languages other than English.  However, I do not recollect any mention of race, even within the church predominantly African-American.  Every church had a wide range of age groups, but I particularly focused on the large amount of inclusion of families, children, and young adults.  There was a specific focus of engagement to many different age groups, especially youth and young adults.  I also had a sense of middle to upper class engagement in every church except the African-American church, reflecting the geographical location of the churches (downtown Oakland versus Bay Area suburbs).  No church engaged sexual orientation or gender identification as a positive way of inclusion, and some were, to me, offensive in their opposition to that inclusion.

I did not feel that any church truly reflected diversity in terms of percentages of population in the area across a number of different demographics, but I did feel the diversity of congregational make-up was greater than most of my previous church experiences, both outside and within the UCC.  However, this diversity of congregational make-up was not reflected in the church leadership.  Every pastor (except at the African-American church) was Euro-American.  Every pastor was male.  Every senior pastor was older, though some had guest preachers that were much younger.  Diversity was never a topic of music or sermon in any church.

How did the preacher use scripture?  This was one of the largest difficulties I had with the churches.  Most churches did not have a separate reading of the scripture; it was folded into the sermon.  Within those sermons came some different uses of scripture.  One church used John 11 as a scripture, with the sermon as first-person perspective from the viewpoint of the writer of John witnessing the events of raising Lazarus from the dead.  Another church had ten different scriptural references, one or two verses apiece, within the sermon from six different books of the New Testament and the Old Testament.  Another church had six scriptural references from six different Old Testament and New Testament books, one to seven verses apiece.  At no point in any church did I feel the sermon was used to critically examine scripture, instead the scripture was often picked out of context to serve the needs of the preacher, including sometimes skipping lines within the same pericope to only use the verses that served the preacher’s needs.

How did these churches address social justice?  Most of the churches had some sort of outreach to the poor.  This seemed to mostly come in a way to feed the hungry in the local community once a week or once a month.  There may have been more efforts beyond, but they were not advertised within the service or other media present.  The focus for most churches was on prosperity/personal liberation as well as salvation.  Therefore, there wasn’t much of a social justice aspect of the church or worship, which I found highly disappointing.  I considered what one might be able to accomplish with so many people working towards one goal, and realized there are certainly very positive and very negative results that can come from that.  I would have been very interested to see what social justice might look like in a mega-church setting, but it just wasn’t there.