Words.

I love words.

And they're pretty powerful things. More so, I think, than we give them credit.

I was recently given the opportunity to write my autobiography for my Spiritual Autobiography in the Wesleyan Tradition class. Upon initially hearing about this final project at the beginning of the semester, I felt nothing short of daunted and had no clue about what to say or how to begin telling my own story (Trust me, it's harder than you'd think!). 

As time passed and my classmates and I learned more and more about the power of stories, the themes throughout them, and the words with which they're told, I slowly began to get excited about the countless possibilities for transcribing my own autobiography. 

I've now finished writing, and I can honestly say that it has been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. Cathartic and nostalgic, the writing process opened parts of my brain that I promise hadn't been used since the memories I was typing onto the page originally took place. I loved thinking back that far, recalling stories I had been told about myself and reliving memories I actually remembered for myself.

My Mum was the only one with which I shared my entire autobiography after it had been edited and submitted to my professor. It's fitting, really, that she be the person I share it with because she knew almost all (if not all) of the stories and memories that I included within it. There were a few specific people  mentioned throughout the vast amount of pages who were very influential during my formative years, and Mom suggested copying and pasting the parts about these women to them in a Facebook message. (Because, yes, I'm Facebook friends with my childhood babysitter, choir director, and first grade teacher. Technology is pretty cool, I guess. :) ) A little reluctant at first, I asked these amazing women if they would like to read their parts in my story. Each of them agreed and, after reading, conveyed to me how much they appreciated me taking the time to share it (such a seemingly simple thing) with them.

This project not only taught me the significance of personal story, sharing these stories with one another and learning from them. It also reemphasized the notions that it's important to "say what you mean and mean what you say" and to tell people what they mean to you whenever you can.

I can only speak for myself, but, being the loudmouth that I am, I often forget to consider how my words actually come across when they're delivered. I also forget that what I say can hurt others, and such a lack of consideration for words simultaneously devalues the very beauty that they have the ability to provide. I also think we should take every opportunity to tell the ones who've impacted our lives that they have done just that...because chances are, whether we realize it or not, they're still impacting our lives today and will probably continue to do so in the future. 

It matters.
Words matter.

I say, let's choose them wisely--using them to give life and love in any way we can.

[[This meme is what fueled the fire for this post. In my opinion, it screams condescension, and thus, creates a barrier for making anyone interested in what we have to say about God.]] 

Thanks to my evangelism class this semester, I've begun to reconsider how I understand Christianity and the ways that it's perceived in the world. Sometimes I think Christians get defensive before there's anything for us to get defensive about where our faith, faith practices, etc. are concerned. We think that anyone who doesn't profess to be a Christian--or heck, just doesn't think the same way we do within Christianity itself--is somehow the enemy. Now, we may not consciously articulate such a thing, but I do believe that many of us (including myself) are very capable of securing such a mindset if we're not careful.

 I found, through my professor, the resources for his class and the assignments we were given to do outside of class, that people--for the most part--are totally cool with you believing whatever it is you want to believe.....as long as you do so in a way that's respectful. This doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about our faith (that's a whole other issue--not sharing our faith for fear of offending someone who thinks differently than we do); however, I think it does mean we have a responsibility to share our faith in a way that invites others to voice their own perspective and in a way that creates a space for dialogue--rather than one-sided conversation. 

It's pretty fascinating, really--to hear how others come to their conclusions about the Divine.

I think if we focus more on listening, rather than defending, that faith sharing is something that can be more easily accomplished without giving Christians a bad rap. And we might (and should, if we're doing it genuinely) just learn a thing or two as well! We might even spark someone's interest to come to church with us or get involved in community outreach. And our own interest will probably be sparked in some way to become more involved in the life of God's Kingdom as a result of such conversations as well. 

God is always seeking and always finding ways to extend invitations to those who don't know God. We can either be a part of that invitation process or we can become a barrier. The choice is ours for the making.

Okay, so this isn't about either of the two things I said I would post about over the next two weeks, but when the Spirit prompts, I gotta write.

I can't speak for others, but for me, I think when things get hectic I forget just how big God is. I often get lost under stacks of papers or assignments or responsibilities and I forget that...right beside me, as I'm trapped under whatever seems to be trying to take over my sanity at the time, sits God. And it's when my brain stops long enough to stop feeling overwhelmed and sorry for myself that I notice God's presence has been there all along.

Notice God's presence. When I stop and think about it, that's a pretty ridiculous thing to say. What am I so busy doing that I'm not experiencing the presence of the God who is present in everything, all the time? In the cup of coffee my husband makes me before I go to work...in friends who are just as freaked out about an assignment as I am...in the midst of the grief that people are suffering around me...

God. Is. Everywhere. Speaking to us. Calling us from death to life.

Though seminary is a place that most assume only brings its participants closer to God (and it does in many ways!), it is easier than most would think to lose sight of purpose and to begrudge the everyday routine of interacting with people whose minds work differently than yours, forcing you to challenge yourself--theology included. It's no piece of cake, but it is also an incredible, incredible gift. A time of growth in a number of ways and an experience that allows me to understand the critical importance of diversity within the community of Christ. Every person in my degree program will take the same core classes; however, we won't all have the same experience. And because of that, we learn! We learn from other perspectives and life experiences, and in so doing learn more about the very essence of God, as it should be within the Christian community, praxis, and life.

When we take the time to learn from one another and listen to one another in this setting, we learn to do the same things outside the academy. We learn to put our own concerns aside and intentionally focus on the suffering of others in ways that help us to be vessels for the ever-present God who continuously seeks to give love and hope and comfort and peace to those who so desperately desire it.

Today, I'm getting a reality check about what it means to serve and love as Jesus taught us. In order to notice God, I've gotta loosen what grip I'm convinced I must have on every aspect of my life in order to survive....and refocus that energy on giving my life to God by extending my heart and time to other people, continually inviting the Spirit to take the reigns.

God is here. And God desires relationship with each of us. The only thing standing in our way is putting aside the things that we allow to cover us up, hiding the light of God moving within and without us. We must embrace with every breath we breathe God's being and activity in this life, in OUR lives...so that we may fully live into peaceful, rightly-related, and God-centered community with others.

Long time, no blog!

I've had three specific things I've wanted to write about but haven't had the time. So, my game plan has just been to repeat them to myself so that I wouldn't forget :) :

1. My new-found love of and connection with the Sacraments
2. A reviving Easter
3. The importance of youth in the church

There is no telling whether or not I will actually get around to writing about each of these things, but I would like to attempt to devote time to one post a week over the next three weeks in order to hold myself accountable to something besides schoolwork. :) The first topic happens to be the least recent yet one of the most exciting and affirming.

If you're not familiar with the Methodist Church, the Sacraments are a pret-ty big deal in our tradition. I'm not sure that laypeople as a whole are fully aware of their importance, but I'll get to that. In the United Methodist Church, we recognize Baptism and Holy Communion as the two sacraments of the Church.
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I got baptized when I was five alongside my then infant sister. I remember nothing of that day other than that the sun was shining through the stained glass windows and the preacher held my hand as he paraded me and my sister up one aisle of the sanctuary and down the other so folks could take a good look at the newly baptized babes.

Apart from vaguely remembering my baptism and watching the baptism of others, I had no real connection with baptism up until a few weeks ago. Same with Communion. If I'm honest, Communion Sundays were the Sundays I liked least growing up. My family went to the traditional service where ushers directed you when to go up front, kneel and take the little wafer and plastic cup as the pastor said a prayer over the group gathered. I disliked it because all I could focus on was the fact that I had to walk from the back of the sanctuary to the front and felt people's eyes watching me (or always thought I felt people's eyes watching me) as I made that seemingly never-ending stroll to the altar on the first Sunday of every month. I remember the stress that came with Communion Sunday--the typical middle and high school girl, worried about what she would wear because there was no way that anyone would miss what I was wearing on those particular Sundays. I was entirely too selfish back then, but I guess that's part of traveling through your pre-teen and teenage years.

Besides the fact that I was your typical teenager, I also was never really taught anything about Communion growing up in the Church that I concretely remember. This isn't a blast to my hometown congregation because I love my church family there and appreciate the many ways that they have nurtured and supported my faith throughout my spiritual journey. I think the Church has much to consider when it comes to Christian education: At what age do you start talking with little ones about Communion and the reasons we practice it? How do you talk to kids about Jesus' death and resurrection in a way that doesn't absolutely terrify them (ahh, the days of being literal 24/7...)?

I don't have the exact answers to such questions and others like them. What I do know is that if we want our youth to understand and invest in the important traditions and rituals that we uphold in the Church, it will require that we teach them and teach them well. Not give them some watered down cartoon version of the importance of Jesus' life, sacrifice, death and resurrection, but really brainstorm with other parents, leaders, and other kids who are old enough to help us understand what they would have liked to see, hear, or learn about at a younger age and what ways that those things could have been carried out effectively. It takes communication with one another in order for the collective community to make sense of the Church and the ways that it infuses spiritual vitality and reawakening into God's people.

I say all that to say that I now have a much better grasp about why the Sacraments matter and was actually given the opportunity lead a Baptism and part of Communion during my worship class about a month ago. Bo has always felt a call to preside over the Sacraments, and the Sacraments are a big part of his understanding of his call to be an elder in the Methodist Church. I, however, because I needed to better understand what the Sacraments were and why they were important did not have that connection to the Sacraments and somehow felt inadequate because of it.
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The class was frantic because the exercises were just sort of sprung on us, and many of my classmates are like me--perfectionists that want direction so as to complete assignments correctly. So, we muddled through the preparatory stages together and eventually it was time for us to lead. As I held the little baby doll in my arms and baptized her "...in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit," life re-flooded into me as I felt I understood how important my baptism was and is for the first time and how honored I would be to get to be a part of that crucial first step in the lives of people I baptized in the future. And as I read the words of The Great Thanksgiving and broke the bread and raised the cup, my spirit was renewed and connected to God in a way that had never previously occurred. In my mind, I was taken to "On the night in which he gave himself up for us..." and it struck me that Communion is so redemptive, so restorative, so healing and that I could not wait to lead my future congregations in this ritual in the future.

This call is a gift for which I am grateful. And in the midst of the difficult days, I am OVERJOYED when God opens my eyes and heart to understand why God has chosen me...little old Mary-Kate...for a responsibility that I could have never chosen for or be fit to carry out by myself. Thankful for the trust and faithfulness of God and for the many ways God blesses my life as I learn more about who I am and who I am called to be.