Time to be Clean

While often times I feel that I am good at getting the “important” tasks in my life completed, it is often the “little” stuff that goes undone. While I often can find the time to prepare diligently for public speaking engagements and meet deadlines at school, or even remember to send a long lost friend a birthday card, I’m not so good at things like . . . keeping up with receipts from meals and transferring the amount into my checkbook (my wallet is always a disaster), remembering to keep up with yearly appointments (I would scare you if I said how long it is since I’ve been to the dentist), and being on a schedule for housework. Yeah, housework is just not my thing (sorry, Kevin if you were looking for a stay at home woman). Although clutter can drive me crazy, I’ve never been one to see the joy of spending all morning mopping the floor. Isn’t there someone who needs to talk to me? Or needs an email?

However, I grew up in a household where cleaning was never an option. My mom and I would get into our biggest arguments as I would refuse to joyfully do my share of the weekly Saturday chores. And when I was made to clean, I would often do them half-heartedly (which of course would get me into more trouble). While my sister, Emily would regularly win the “super star cleaning award” in the Evans home, I would brush off her enjoyment of this activity as completely absurd. And, it wouldn’t be until I lived on my own in college that I would discover that there are some corners in life that you can’t completely cut and cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen is not one of them. If you are going to live on your own, then you must learn to clean.

But as much as I would now like to have a clean house, time to do this never seems to be on my side. I put "clean the bathroom" on my to-do list and often find it not crossed off. There always seems to be a big project of sorts swarming around me and people I think I need to attend to. I’ve gotten so comfortable with my style that I’ll still invite people over, even if I know the house is not as clean as I would like it to be. I figure if they are good enough friends, they can take the mess. But, you can’t live in a mess forever….

So, enters the motivational tool coined: “Evangelical Cleaning.” This is a fun activity that my roommate and I conjured up this year to motivate us to take time out of our crazy schedules to attend to our living environment. Evangelical Cleaning means that we devote at least an hour to the kitchen, bathrooms and living room while listening to loud evangelical music of our childhood and teenaged years. Selections that are always high on the play-list include Michael W. Smith’s Change Your World album, Point of Grace’s Greatest Hits, and anything by Avalon or Carmen (I HATE Carmen, but Abby gets it out from time to time to torture me). Sometimes we substitute (as we did during yesterday’s version of Evangelical Cleaning) old school Christian music for an episode of Gilmore Girls playing in the background (Abby owns seasons 1-5 and it is never a bad time to watch Gilmore).

But, beyond viewing cleaning as game, I now have other motivation for taking the time to clean. It is in fact, a spiritual discipline. Reading Kathleen Norris’ book: The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and “Women’s Work” really helped me at this point last year (when it was assigned to me in Introduction to Pastoral Care two years ago). The thesis of the book revolves around the idea that women and men MUST do the small tasks of life, those like laundry, taking out the trash and the dishes because their repetitive nature reminds us of the rhythms of life. No matter how important we think we are, we stay grounded in having to do our dishes at night, just like everyone else around the world. And, house chores can also been seen as a means of prayer. In the spirit of Brother Lawrence, sometimes our most significant moments of communion with God can come as we walk up and down the isles of the grocery store, fold laundry, or rise dishes after supper. We must stop to consider God’s work in the little things. Kathleen says it better than I can. Hear this exhortation:

“I have come to believe that the true mystics of the quotidian are not those who contemplate holiness in isolation, reaching godlike illumination in serene silence, but those who manage to find God in a life filled with noise, the demands of other people and relentless daily routines that can consume the self” (70).

And, God knows there is a lot of noise in my life . . . so, yes, I need to stop some Monday mornings like I did this week and clean. Maybe my mother was right about her weekly Saturday dates with the broom. So, for now, I’ll keep up my Evangelical Cleaning dates with my roommate, hoping that somewhere in the midst of it I will be reminded once again of my dependence of on a God who lives in “little things” called today. The smell of bleach in the bathroom might just be a good thing….

Salvation On the Roadside

Welcome to a part of my drive to Goldsboro every week. When I see these signs, I am not only 10 minutes away from the church, but about to be asked about the eternal state of my soul. While I've seen some really good Jesus bilboards in my day, I think these are some of the most creative witnessing efforts I've ever seen. My favorite part are the red flags. It is like a construction zone for Jesus. While I took these pictures in the daytime, the view is actually better at night because there are spotlights shinning on the signs. I never have to fear because the lights are so bright you can't miss them! So, join me on the tour. . .
So, are you saved yet?

I don’t mean to be overly sarcastic, but something about the whole scene really bothers me. Now, I know that God can use anything for good, but I worry about people who bank so much of their Christian witness on what is in their yard.

My concern, I believe, stems from my understanding that a relationship with Jesus is more than just choosing heaven and hell. It is more than just considering where you will stand on judgment day. It is more than having right belief. It is more than saying a prayer one day at church or even after seeing signs such as these.

It is a total life engagement with the fullness of the Christian story that comes as we embody the gospel message. Salvation comes as we live our lives together as people who come to be aware of the Spirit’s work in the world. It comes as we come to know God through God’s pursuit of us which is made real to us through other people. Salvation is a process of discipleship that we are shaped by our entire lives. I still think I’m “getting saved” in fact.

But, I would be remise if I didn’t explain the perspective from which my criticism comes. I used to be a super-evangelical Christian. I had a dear friend in college who lovingly called me a Bible-beater.

As proof of this, I knew the Roman Road backward and forward. I had a list of my friends who I thought needed converting and I looked for appropriate opportunities to share the salvation plan with them. I had a poster of the unreached people groups above my bed in my dorm room. And, if this is not proof enough of my super-evangelical status, I was also trained in F.A.I.T.H evangelism my junior year of college. (I'm a church dork, through and through).

(This evangelism program began by Bobby Welch, current President of the Southern Baptist convention. In level one which I passed, you memorize their unique salvation pep talk and then go door-to-door to witness to random people you’ve never met. I do have to say that I had alternative motives… my witnessing partner was a boy who I had a huge crush on. So, it was a good excuse to spend weekly time with him . . . but it never worked out between us, thank goodness).

But, then one day I woke up and asked myself, "What I am doing??" My obsessive gospel presentations no longer made much sense. As a part of this, while in my first year of seminary, I resolved to quit talking about Jesus for a while until I could explain the Christian jargon in which I spoke. Over the last year, I have begun to have some clarity.

And while, I’m not saying that talking about Jesus is bad, I am saying that the ways in which we do it need to be under close scrutiny.

We need to see people as human beings just like us, no matter what their story has been. We need to stop thinking that formulated evangelism plans are one-size fits all. We need to consider what kind of Christian community our churches are forming, so that when people do find their way to us they are welcomed openly no matter where they are in their salvation journey. And, we need to be Christians and churches that show through our embodiment of Christ a new way of existing in the world which is full of God’s love and grace.

So, for now, I’ll continue to giggle a little when I pass these signs every week, being encouraged by the earnestness of my fellow Christians. But at the same time, continue to teach and preach that the gospel in which our faith is based upon is so much more than anything that could be written on a sign.

Ode to Moms

In my 25th year of life (soon to be 26 tomorrow), I have to say that my appreciation of my mom is growing by the year. I know that not everyone feels favorably about their mothers as mother/ daughter relationships can be among the most strange in the world, but no matter the dynamics, I feel strongly that we need to appreciate our mothers more often. So what it is not anywhere near Mother’s Day! I declare whenever you are reading this blog, a time to appreciate your mom. [My mom is pictured here beside my sister and I]

Why? Well, I believe that they know you better often times than anyone else in the world. Most have instincts of service and care that are unbelievable. And no matter how you feel about them now, they’ve followed you from your first steps, to your first day of school, through the awkwardness of the teenaged years, to the first transitions of adulthood and maybe even beyond this… and all the way, they’ve been cheering you on, hoping for you to become your best person—a gift only a few people in the world can give us.

Here in my apartment, we keep a wipe board in the kitchen to write down household items we are in need of so that the next person who heads to the grocery store can pick them up. Last Monday, we added a non-traditional item to the list: MOMS. Both my roommate and I had experienced particularly difficult weekends and realized that the only thing that would make us feel better was the presence of our mother to come and take care of us for a bit. We were tired of being adults. We wanted a break from all the stress. I was lucky enough that my mom did actually get to come… five days later.

And really, it was the simple things about her visit which proved to me once again that moms are irreplaceable people in life. I mean who can pop out with a “when you were six story” and it actually be meaningful? Who can enjoy doing your laundry? Who can make homemade beef stew for dinner in a large enough quantity so that you can enjoy leftovers for days? Who can relate your current life situations to similar times in the past?

So, for all of these wonderful reasons and many more, I am thankful to have a mother as wonderful as Becky is. She is a bedrock person in my life. She listens to me ramble and complain whenever I need to (if it is not past her bedtime) and I know that she prays for me and other important people in my life on a daily basis (a prayer routine that I still haven’t gotten the hang of). Plus, she even sees being a pastor’s wife a calling (something that I think is even more honorable than being a pastor because you are expected to go to as much of church as your spouse but don’t get paid!). I wish all of you could spend some quality time with Becky Evans… if you like me, you would most certainly like her too.

So, yea for those moms who come to visit their children after bad weeks… yea for those moms who know how to go from mothering mode to friend mode depending on your need… and yea for those moms who love their children in light of their different world perspectives. I don’t want to end this blog sounding like a mushy Hallmark card or a Lifetime movie, but I have to say it: I love my mom!

Preach It, Sister!

Though I do not regularly attend chapel services this year, I gladly go when I learn one of my classmates is to preach that morning. So, last Wednesday I arrived at school early to hear my former roommate of two years, Sarah proclaim the word. She preached from the lectionary passage of Mark 1. Above all, her gifts of proclamation were amazing to behold (although I had no doubt that they would be). Sarah has a voice that commands the attention of any who are around her, and delivers her prophetic messages with confidence and ease. But, more than just how she speaks, Sarah has insightful (and often hard) things to say as I know she has spent many hours sifting through a text trying to find its jewels to give to her audience.

Personally, I left the service awe inspired (and from what I could tell so did everyone else in the room) to consider how my life might be better attuned to Jesus’ message, presence and direction rather than my own, as Sarah exhorted us. There was just no wiggle room presented to us in her sermon.

Sarah was the first Duke friend I made when I first moved to Durham in August of 2003. We had been told by the admissions director at Duke that we would probably make good roommates and after speaking once on the phone, it was pretty obvious to both of us that Donna was right about us.

One of the blessings of living with anyone is the spontaneous conversations that transpire, often at the most unusual times. Sarah and I had many of these while watching endless hours of Law and Order, while one of us sat on the steps and the other one of us cooked dinner, or while laying prostate in the hallway upstairs after having a bad day. Of course, we talked about stupid and silly stuff sometimes, but often we conversed about the formation of our calls to ministry and how they were being shaped by what we were learning in our classes and internships. Very soon after I moved into the townhouse, Sarah recounted to me how she knew God had called her to preach when she was in 7th grade at a national Acteens convention. (For the non Southern Baptists reading here, Acteens is a missions actions group designed especially for high school girls. Sarah and I both grew up in strong an Acteens group, which was one of our immediate connections to each other).

Once I learned this about Sarah I was amazed at her vocational clarity from such an early age. But, now as I think about it, God does have God’s own timing with call in all of us. Some of us know from childhood exactly what we want to do, and for most of us, our career directions change over and over again for most of our lives. Not one approach is better than the other. I realize that God has different purposes for all our lives. But, I guess I have to think for those who receive such passion early on as happened to Sarah; God is up to something amazing. Even if Sarah doesn’t work on a traditional church staff, I am confident that she will always be preaching. I can’t wait to invite her to the first revival at my own church own day! She will surely tell it like it is and bring God’s Spirit in a powerful way.

But, while I’ve been at Duke, I’ve met more preaching sisters other than just Sarah. I meet weekly with a whole group of them! If there was any doubt that God calls women to preach in your mind, I would invite you to get to know any of these wonderful women in the picture below. Each are from a variety of Protestant denominations including Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterian, and Episcopal. While all of them have unique passions and interests, these wonderful friends of mine are very gifted at what they do. And, most of them see regular preaching as a part of their calling to the church. I say, watch out world, here we come… a new day is coming in who you see behind your pulpits in the years ahead!

Unexpected Blessings

When I begin the 90 mile trek to Goldsboro, NC on Saturday afternoons or evenings, often times I go expecting very little out of the Saturday night stay over experience.

It is hard to give up a weekend night. And it is hard sometimes to spend the night in a parishioner’s home because when I am there I am no longer Elizabeth, but Elizabeth the pastor. I feel like my every move is being watched and judged (such as when I go to bed, how I fold the towel in the bathroom, how much coffee I drink for breakfast, etc). And, the sacrifice of not sleeping in my own bed seems a bit too much to endure sometimes when I’m facing a long day at church the next day.

But, during the month of January, my host family, Danny and Lynette gave me new perspective on why I do the job I do once again but more importantly what it means to joyfully embrace life—no matter the circumstances.

It is important to note here that Danny spends most of his days in his wheelchair. He can not dress, bath or feed himself without help. Danny will proudly tell you that he used to be a lineman, working for the local electric company. But, in 1991, a freak accident occurred and as a 15-foot, 200 pound poll fell on one side of his body. Doctors told Lynette and their three boys that Danny would probably not make it through the night. But, Danny fought through many nights ahead with the support of his family. Lynette brought him home as soon as she could learn how to take care of him and now Danny can even walking some with assistance. So, even though Danny’s physical abilities are now limited, Danny has many gifts to offer. His smile and delightful spirit lightens up any room he is in. I felt this way when he called out across the room, “Elizabeth, I’m glad to see you.”

But, beyond Danny’s positive attitude and love of life, he also loves others deeply. Before I could even begin a conversation with Danny, he handed me a pack of his own design of greeting cards and a scissor holder made from a paper towel dispenser and construction paper. I was so taken back by these homemade gifts because I knew not only how much time Danny had spend making them (using his one mobile arm), but because of the income I knew he received from the greeting cards. Since his accident, drawing had become Danny’s passion. His drawings had won him awards in the county fair and were prominently framed all around his bedroom. I felt so special to have some of Danny’s artwork as my own.

But beyond just being around Danny and hearing more about his hobbies, I learned much from Lynette too. From the moment Lynette and I began to talk, I quickly learned she was with a woman of courage. As I listened to her tell me about Danny’s accident and how it had shaped their lives, I was overcome with awe. She was so joyful! Lynette praised the many doctors, friends and church members who had helped them financially and in gifts of time and service. And even though her days were now consumed with Danny’s care with limited trips out of the house for herself, she keep thanking God for how she felt God’s presence with her day in a day out. While Lynette did she expect her life to turn out as it did, God’s grace was sufficient. She and Danny were very blessed, she said. Grace got her out of bed each morning and sustained her through the lonely and uncertain moments. And, all I could think is, “Wow, my faith is so small!”

And, so after spending three Saturday nights we them, I too found unexpected blessings.

Blessings of seeing my life from a perspective outside of myself, the blessing of being loved by one who gave me the best he had to offer, and the blessing of encouragement from a woman of great faith.

Even though driving 250 miles each weekend can be an inconvenience, some of God’s most authentic saints do indeed live in Goldsboro, NC. So, I’m glad that I get such precious moments of getting to know people like Danny and Lynette when I get there.

Trash Talk about Tennessee

I don’t often get on a “high” from watching sports, but last Monday night I certainly did! The #2 ranked Duke women’s team beat #1 ranked the Lady Tennessee Vols 75-53 in Cameron Indoor Stadium in Durham. It was a sold-out crowd. I had to wait in line 2 hours before tip off just to get a ticket. During the game, I sat in the Cameron Crazies section, did all the cheers and only sat down during half-time.

Duke’s victory excited me for several reasons. First, even though I grew up mostly in the state of Tennessee, I have an extreme disdain of any University of Tennessee sports teams. I think UT fans are obnoxious and arrogant. If you don’t believe me, see how many times they sing “Rocky Top” while wearing their BRIGHT orange outfits at any one of their home contests. But, more than just not liking UT sports in general, I especially don’t like the women’s basketball program. Even though it has one of the best overall records in women’s basketball history, winning more championship games than any other team, their players and their coach, Pat Summit are among the most know-it-all in the business. They’ve truly been called “the best” for so long that they (and their fans) have little respect for no other teams in the country. They’ve forgot what it is like to be human and lose every once and a while.

Second, I dislike Tennessee so much because deep in my heart my team of choice is Vanderbilt (yes, I know they are a brainy school that never fares well in any sport) who happens to be Tennessee’s arch rival instate. In fact, I grew up wanting to be a Vandy basketball star myself, probably because of the influence of my late grandparents, Doris and George Duncan of Nashville, TN. They regularly took me to basketball games as a child and funded my participation in Vandy’s basketball camp as a middle-schooler. However, my lofty dreams soon were halted by a dose of reality in 9th grade when I learned that I didn’t have the competitive nature to make it through even the high school level. But, even still, I followed the Lady Commodores basketball religiously throughout high school with my grandfather’s help. Granddaddy would send me a package of the Nashville paper’s clippings every week. I loved it! I even had a “Vanderbilt wall” in my room. When Tennessee and Vanderbilt women played on t.v. twice a year, I called it my personal “Super Bowl” because my world would stop until the game was over. Sadly, though, Vanderbilt usually crumbled under the pressure and usually lost most of these match ups, so my super bowls were never that super (except once in 1993).

So, I celebrated this year because finally I am afflicted with a school that could mount a serious threat to the Lady Vols! Last Monday, it was a joyous occasion to see Pat Summit so frustrated with how badly her team was playing because of the spectacular defense Duke showed, especially at the end of the game. It was great to see the large number of devoted Tennessee fans go home that night with their heads bowed. It was even better to experience such a great game with several of my friends from the Divinity School. I have included some of their pictures on this page.

Even though Duke women had a set back on Sunday to UNC, I know good things are in store for them. So, Tennessee, watch out, national championship here we come! I’ll be cheering for Duke all the way.