August Rest...

The English word august comes from the Latin word augustus which means consecrated and venerable. How fitting. This particular month, in this particular year, proves to be quite sacred for me. On Sunday, August 1, 2010, I was consecrated—set apart by the laying on of hands—for the Gospel ministry. It was a beautiful worship celebration, the final kick off what is indeed a new season in my life. I am now a wife and ordained minister, entrusted by God with a new set of responsibilities.

You can imagine that this has been a beautiful, blessed, and crazy time. With so much going on, I have had little time to rest and care for myself (which I believe is part and parcel for being a good steward in the kingdom of God). With that in mind, this month is also consecrated in that it is the time set apart to relax in the arms of God, be renewed in His strength, and to establish new routines of self-care. In a way, this is my sabbatical month. While I will be working, I will be intentional about the way in which the remainder of my time is spent.

I need rest. Duh, you might say....you just graduated from school, got married, moved, started your work as Assistant to the Pastor at Bethesda, and went before the ordination council. Admittedly, I am a woman who thrives on doing stuff. Needless to say, it difficult for me to relax. In fact, I spent Tuesday afternoon trying to figure out and list reason why I was so exhausted until I finally realized that I am simply tired and that I should honor my exhaustion by submitting my mind, body, and soul to rest. So I rested. And I plan to rest for the remainder of this month. This is a holy endeavor so that I may be a renewed vessel for the work of ministry.

Let's be clear. Many of us believe that when we rest that we are being lazy or doing nothing. Not so. When we rest, we are indeed doing something. When we rest, we are acknowledging that we are human beings who cannot do it all. When we rest, we demonstrate our faith in God who is Sovereign and Able. When we rest, we are asking God to revive us afresh. When we rest, we are being still and knowing that He is God. When we rest, we are pausing to hear a fresh word from God.

And so, I will end this post rather abruptly. I must close my computer and make my way to Aiken, massage therapist extraordinaire, who will work out the kinks and knots that have been building up in my neck and shoulders.

Today, on his table, I will find rest...

Think on These Things...

Jeremiah 1:1-10

The words of Jeremiah the son of Hilkiah, of the priests who were in Anathoth in the land of Benjamin, to whom the word of the LORD came in the days of Josiah the son of Amon, king of Judah, in the thirteenth year of his reign. It came also in the days of Jehoiakim the son of Josiah, king of Judah, until the end of the eleventh year of Zedekiah the son of Josiah, king of Judah, until the carrying away of Jerusalem captive in the fifth month.

Then the word of the LORD came to me, saying:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;

Before you were born I sanctified you;

I ordained you a prophet to the nations.”

Then said I:

“Ah, Lord GOD!

Behold, I cannot speak, for I am a youth.”

But the LORD said to me:

“Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’

For you shall go to all to whom I send you,

And whatever I command you, you shall speak.

Do not be afraid of their faces,

For I am with you to deliver you,” says the LORD.

Then the LORD put forth His hand and touched my mouth, and the LORD said to me:

“Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.

See, I have this day set you over the nations and over the kingdoms,

To root out and to pull down,

To destroy and to throw down,

To build and to plant.”

Psalm 119:129-136

Your testimonies are wonderful;

Therefore my soul keeps them.

The entrance of Your words gives light;

It gives understanding to the simple.

I opened my mouth and panted,

For I longed for Your commandments.

Look upon me and be merciful to me,

As Your custom is toward those who love Your name.

Direct my steps by Your word,

And let no iniquity have dominion over me.

Redeem me from the oppression of man,

That I may keep Your precepts.

Make Your face shine upon Your servant,

And teach me Your statutes.

Rivers of water run down from my eyes,

Because men do not keep Your law.

1 Timothy 4:4-16

For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be refused if it is received with thanksgiving; for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer. If you instruct the brethren in these things, you will be a good minister of Jesus Christ, nourished in the words of faith and of the good doctrine which you have carefully followed. But reject profane and old wives’ fables, and exercise yourself toward godliness. For bodily exercise profits a little, but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life that now is and of that which is to come. This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance. For to this end we both labor and suffer reproach, because we trust in the living God, who is the Savior of all men, especially of those who believe. Let no one despise your youth, but be an example to the believers in word, in conduct, in love, in spirit, in faith, in purity. Till I come, give attention to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine. Do not neglect the gift that is in you, which was given to you by prophecy with the laying on of the hands of the eldership. Meditate on these things; give yourself entirely to them, that your progress may be evident to all. Take heed to yourself and to the doctrine. Continue in them, for in doing this you will save both yourself and those who hear you.

John 14:23-31

Jesus answered and said to him, “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him. He who does not love Me does not keep My words; and the word which you hear is not Mine but the Father’s who sent Me. “These things I have spoken to you while being present with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you. Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. You have heard Me say to you, ‘I am going away and coming back to you.’ If you loved Me, you would rejoice because I said, ‘I am going to the Father,’ for My Father is greater than I. “And now I have told you before it comes, that when it does come to pass, you may believe. I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming, and he has nothing in Me. But that the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father gave Me commandment, so I do. Arise, let us go from here.

Word: Scriptures read during the "Convocation of Ordination to the Christian Ministry and A Special Service of Investiture as Assistant to the Pastor" on Sunday August 1, 2010

Image: "The Laying on of Hands" shot by Nikki G.

When I Grow Up...

...I want to be just like—no, more brilliant and fabulous than—Nancy Lynne Westfield and Heather Murray Elkins. If that is humanly possible. But they continue to teach me, just like Mother Mary, with God all things are possible.

These two women are beautifully bold, beautifully creative, beautifully brilliant, and beautifully beautiful. It is beautiful to be in their presence—to watch and listen. They know things that I want to know. They be in the world in ways that I want to be in the world. They are Master Teachers. They embody what they teach. They are my teachers, in and out of the classroom. They make me think. They make me laugh. They sometimes even make me cry. They trust my voice. They trust my wisdom. They push me, hard sometimes. They do things like teach classes that do the work of mending the rupture that has been created between body, mind, and spirit. They have helped me to heal my ruptures so that I may usher others into spaces of healing. They write books that matter. They make me want to write books that matter. They are radically different, it seems, yet they—in spirit and in truth—are kin folk. They are cut from the same cloth—some beautifully woven tapestry with reds and purples and blues.

Lynne is a radical in the best sense of the word. She brings brilliant Black folk to Drew to engage us in the work of God-Talk with Black Thinkers. She is brilliant Black folk herself. She brings artists and healers to Drew to engage us in the work of Spirituality and Imagination. She is an artist and healer herself.

Heather Elkins is a storyteller. She not only writes and speaks poetry; She is a poem. She moves in verse. She is a collector of all things holy and can find the holy in all things.

So, when I grow up—rather, as I am growing into my self—I want to be just like them: brilliant and bold and free...

Image of N. Lynne Westfield shot by Jameel Morrison (taken from http://depts.drew.edu/tsfac/westfield/)

Image of Heather Elkins sketched by Bon Jeong Koo (taken from http://depts.drew.edu/tsfac/helkins/)

No Promises...

So, there was a reason that I refused to make promises on this new Blog--I knew I wouldn't have the time to blog as often as I'd like. In my perfect world, I'd wake early, pray, put on a pot of tea, read the newspaper, and then blog. Gardner Taylor said that a good preacher prepares with a Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Well, I've got my Bible, but waking to read the paper hasn't happened just yet. I'm barely waking in time to eat breakfast.

So, what's keeping me so busy? In addition to my classes, work at the church, my position as Chapel Steward, and being president of the Black Ministerial Caucus, I am working as the research assistant for the God-Talk with Black Thinkers class at Drew. In just two days, we will be blessed by Dr. Charles H. Long and Dr. Carolyn Jones Medine, who will be presenting a DuBoisian look at politics and civil religion. Working with my shero, Dr. N. Lynne Westfield, on the project has reminded me how much I love academia.

Lest you think I'm running away from the church, I must tell you that my work at Imani Baptist Church in East Orange has reminded me how much I love being part of church worship and growth. So, as I discern the specifics of my call to ministry, I am pretty sure that I'll have one foot in both places.

What about my art, you ask? Okay, maybe you didn't ask it. I'm asking it. What about my art? That'll be wrapped up in there too. Since sharing with you that I must create or I will die, I have designed a poster and program for the lecture series AND designed my perfect worship space. It's a funny story, actually...

Dr. Elkins, my worship professor, gave us folders in the beginning of the class. She is this magical woman who knows so much it is scary and teaches in narrative. Everything is a story. She is so amazing that you could go on a field trip with her to Walmart and find God in the cereal aisle. Anyway, back to the folder. During the second week of class, she asked us to take our folders home and draw our perfect sanctuary or worship space on the inside of the folder. I must stop and mention that this was an ungraded assignment. UNGRADED. So, being the artist (and overachiever) that I am, I proceeded to cut open a shoe box, staple it to the inside of my folder, cut images and words from Essence magazine, and create a 3D model of my perfect sanctuary, complete with an ocean for baptistism, a communion table, jewels, flowers, women in the congregation, and a woman suspended gracefully in the air holding a Bible. Did I mention that this assignment was ungraded?

I don't have three feet, but I am convinced that I will end up in a place where all of my passions-art, education, and ministry-come together. Maybe it will be that worship space that I designed on the inside of my folder. I am a dreamer, you know...

It Could be a Mullet...

This morning I woke up a few minutes early to style my hair for church. Nothing new, right?

Wrong. This morning was different. Today was the first morning that I would sport my newly cut mohawk to church and I was feeling some kind of way.

I got my hair cut just a few weeks ago. If you know me, or you've seen me in the last few years, you know that I change my hair almost as often as I change the oil on my car. In fact, when I wasn't in the habit of taking better care of my car, I did change my hair more frequently than every 3 months or 3,000 miles. But I digress.

My hair is an extension of my creativity. Sometimes, like now with all of the reading that I have to do (the reading that I am avoiding as I write this), it is my only opportunity to create something visually beautiful. I was sharing with a friend just yesterday that if I don't make art that I will die. Literally. So for now, until I can carve out time again, my hair is my medium. 

Back to my mohawk. So, I took the punk route and cut it days after my last Sunday at my home church (it is bad enough that I am a minister who doesn't wear stockings) and days before leaving for Durham with Courtney. I have to admit, I love the cut! It is the best style I've had in over a year! It is funky, pretty, sassy, and present-just like me.

So, what is the big deal? I was totally feeling my mohawk until I returned to school. Although I had a good number of people give me props for my hair, I also had a number of folks look at me funny, question the response from those at my supervised ministry site, and ask me what made me cut it. I had a telephone conversation with one of my boys (when I was looking for a barber) who hadn't sen my hair and he gently mentioned the nature of the church I would be serving. They are an older and more traditional congregation, and he wasn't sure a mohawk would be welcomed. He changed his mind when he saw me a few days later, but still, anxiety clouded my joy and confidence. For a brief moment I was nervous about going to church and serving in ministry. Then I had to remember that God constantly reminds me,  “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; Before you were born I sanctified you; I ordained you a prophet to the nations" (Jeremiah 1:5). Even before Lois and John even knew each other's names, God had already created me. Not only did he make me, but he knew me. That means God created me to be a creative, courageous, funky, quirky, sensitive, nerdy,"know-it-all," girly-girl. And guess what? He still called me to the ministry.

Ministry isn't about conforming to anything except the example of Christ. My mohawk doesn't matter to God, my heart does. 

In case you were wondering, no one at the church even bat an eye at me today. They welcomed me with loving arms and spoke only of the work we would do together in the name of our Savior. Why, because that's what Jesus would do. I have a feeling that Jesus would like my mohawk, too.

Tonight I do not pose a question, but rather I want to encourage you. Below is a story from Tales of the Hasidism, written by Martin Buber, about a rabbi who encounters God upon his death:

A rabbi named Zusya died and went to stand before the judgment seat of God. As he waited for God to appear, he grew nervous thinking about his life and how little he had done. He began to imagine that God was going to ask him, "Why weren't you Moses or why weren't you Solomon or why weren't you David?" But when God appeared, the rabbi was surprised. God simply asked, "Why weren't you Zusya?"

Simply put, God wants us to be ourselves.