I Feel Old . . .

Tomorrow (September 1st) my only sibling turns 20. I can’t believe Emily is officially no longer a teenager. She totally gets mad at me because she says I’ll never see her as the adult she is growing up to be (as a sophomore at Judson College in Marion, AL), but I totally have the older sister syndrome: she’ll always be little to me. I know my confession universally drives younger siblings crazy, by the way.

I remember the day she was born in Nashville, TN. My dad and I rushed my mom to the hospital on a Sunday after church. I was mad because it meant I didn’t get to go the final swim party of the year. However, once the thought settled in to six year old me that I was getting a real life sister (and not a baby doll), I was happy nonetheless. Mom’s labor was long into the evening, so I was ushered out of the waiting room with Gran and Granddaddy (my mom’s parents) to sleep at their house for the night. Gran woke me up the next day with the great news that Mary Emily Evans was born, healthy as she could be. I was even allowed to call my friends back in our Orlinda, TN home long distance to tell them the great news! I was so excited to have her in our family I could hardly contain myself.

I remember the day before Emily started kindergarten. I was horrified that she would attend school unable to write her name, so "Elizabeth school" was set in motion. I took her out to the back porch of our Chattanooga, TN home until she could write letters of her name legibly. I was probably quite hard on her, but she didn't know any better at the time to tell me to stop. I think we were there for hours, but the look of joy on her face when it was all said and done was worth our time. I still wonder still if her kindergarden teacher was as impressed as I was with my work.

I remember the time that Emily first began to drive. Boy, I was scared! I’m sure I was just as frightening of a driver when I was her age, but it was hard to not want to take over the wheel and watch her make mistakes. We fought a lot then as it seemed that every time I came home from college we would be venturing out together from our Pulaski, TN home to hit the mall in the next town over or just to Wal-Mart up the street. Often I wouldn’t allow her to get the practice she needed out of fear of my life. But, eventually she got better and I became less of a drama queen about the whole experience. We ride together nicely now (well, most of the time).

For these and many more memories, I am thankful to call Emily my sister and friend. So, Happy Birthday, Emie! I wish you all the happiness in the year ahead.

The Pastor Goes to Ann Taylor (Part 2)

I reread what I posted yesterday and realized that my reflections were of a particularly serious nature, so I wanted to lighten up the mood today while remaining on the same topic.

So, what else does the pastor find in common with the church and Ann Taylor?

1. Both do “outreach” mailings.
Let me take you back to the days of my Southern Baptist upbringing for those of you who don’t do this in your faith community. Every Monday night we had an activity on the church calendar called Contact night. This meant that the dedicated types would come to the church and write cards or make phone calls to recent visitors or members of the church who were inactive. (I can’t tell you how many postcards I wrote during this period of my life). All of this seems pretty standard for the church, right?

But, actually this week, I was asked to do the exact same thing at AT. Part of the Ann Taylor protocol is that every sales associate keeps a client book. This book contains the address and phone numbers of clients you have had significant contact with via helping them with their shopping. On Tuesday, I wrote cards to my clients (with coupons in them) telling them about an upcoming sale. I invited them to call for a personal wardrobe appointment with me (isn’t this scary?) about our newest fall fashions. I feel like I needed to go find an offering envelope to be able to report how many contacts I’d made this week . . .

2. Both value the personal greeting.
A week ago our district manager came into the store to view the newest store layout and evaluate us on our job performance. While she was observing my customer service, I happened to say, “Welcome to Ann Taylor, I’m glad you are here.” No one taught me to say that because actually, a more appropriate thing I should have said to the woman was: “Welcome to Ann Taylor. Would you like to me to show you some of the newest hot items we just got in?” But, in fact the district manager loved the statement I made and complemented me individually later.

In that moment I realized that the church “meet and greet” Elizabeth had come out. “I’m glad you are here” or “I’m glad you came today” is totally something I would say while greeting parishioners at the door coming in our out of the church. So for now, I guess I’m leading people to come to know about a personal relationship with Ann. . .

3. Both environments contain people who are in desperate need of a conversation.
I met a man a couple weeks ago who was waiting patiently on a stool in the shoe section of the store while his wife tried on yet another black pant suit. I went over to tell him that I thought he was being a patient husband. He thanked me for noticing him and then proceeded to engage me in conversation all about his hometown in West Virginia, why he and his wife were in D.C. for the weekend, and what he thought about women’s clothing stores in general. “She can sure spend a lot of money in her’e,” he said. I found myself wanting to continue to talk to him and realized that was in fact not my job. My focus according to the corporation was talking his wife into buying more clothes than she wanted. I had to get back to work. . . . But, I sure did wish this man's his wife would come of the dressing room soon as I saw that he was about to go into fashion overload.
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So even though I am ready for things to come, I am encouraged by the fact that there is God to be found where I am, and that my pastor brain continues to be on even when I’m stuck in uncomfortable shoes of the retail life for a while.

The Pastor Goes to Ann Taylor (Part 1)

So what do pastor types do when they are waiting on a church to call them?

When I found myself in a new city with this dilemma, I didn’t have a clue.

The idea of temping by being sent to a new random office each week and sitting daily behind a computer seemed boring (as much as the required spelling test to make it into the temp agency’s data base scared me). Furthermore, my resume is very church . . . I was afraid people would be afraid of hiring me. (I could, after all be a Bible-beater or something strange like that).

But luckily an opportunity came along to get me out of the house everyday. This opportunity happened to be in retail at the popular women’s dress store called Ann Taylor.

I consented to this opportunity based on my need for more professional attire (the employee discount is GREAT) and desire to work in downtown DC where all my friends are. But little did I know that my pastoral self would find strong similarities between church life and retail. While it bothers me sometimes that my success at Ann Taylor depends on my sale numbers which encourage American consumerism (which I will describe later on), overall I’ve found my current job to be a good situation to land for a while. I’ve had numerous occasions encounter the human personality similar to the ones you find within any church setting.

For example, Ann Taylor is a great place to observe the rich/ poor socioeconomic dynamic. While women (and sometimes men) who are obviously well enough off to spend $118 on shoes or $78 on a shirt look through our store inventory, there are several homeless persons sitting on the benches outside the store.

My favorite is a Caucasian man probably in his mid-50s who has often has set up his bedding on the bench to the left of our front door. He has a long white beard and dirty clothes, typical of many of the homeless around D.C. There is nothing particular attrative about him. You can smell him from a mile away. I like watching him sleep because he's so peaceful as the pace of crazy city life goes on. The world inside Ann Taylor seems miles away from his slumber.

I often wonder if anybody else sees him from inside the store. I wonder if he or his wife or relatives would ever be allowed to set foot inside without being asked to leave immediately. I wonder how his life would change if a couple people a day decided to forgo matching earrings with the purchase of their suit and gave the $25 to the homeless shelter.

I doubt these things it because we as humans are generally are pretty self-absorbed. It takes a radical way of life for those of us who have to SEE those who have not . . . even the churchy types like myself. Moreover, may I suggest that our individual blindness is a reflection of the communities of faith in which we participate. If our church doesn't care, why should we?

Maybe I'm stretching things a little, but observing the homeless outside the glass windows of Ann Taylor has given me a great parable for the way many of our churches operate. We have the opportunity to see the needs of those outside OUR glass windows, but often our sight does nothing to inspire us to act. It is easier for many of us to stay inside and keep shopping— you know, following the standard routine of the way church has always been done. Because after all, doing things the traditional way is where people who look like us live. It is what keeps us busy so we don’t have to notice our neighbor in the sleeping bag on the bench.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not anti-nice things (I’m learning to love Ann Taylor clothes, by the way) or tradition. But as I’ve rung up $200, $500 or even $864 purchases of clothes over the last three weeks with the homeless looking on, I’ve often thought to myself: there is something sickly wrong with our culture and especially the attitudes of our churches that look very similar to the world of Ann Taylor.

What do you think?

My Latest Theme Song

For graduation, a friend gave me the newest Dixie Chick's CD: Taking the Long Way. I love it and highly reccomend it. It is full of passion and rare honesty that some artists are too scared I feel to show. Check out the lyrics of the lead song below:

My friends from high school
Married their high school boyfriends
Moved into houses in the same ZIP codes
Where their parents live
But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never followI hit the highway in a pink
RV with stars on the ceilingLived like a gypsy
Six strong hands on the steering wheel
I've been a long time gone now
Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
But I've always found my way somehow

By taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around

I met the queen of whatever
Drank with the Irish and smoked with the hippies
Moved with the shakers
Wouldn't kiss all the asses that they told me to
No I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow
It's been two long years now
Since the top of the world came crashing down

And I'm getting' it back on the road now
But I'm taking the long way
Taking the long way around
I'm taking the long way
Taking the long way around
The long The long way around

Well, I fought with a stranger and
I met myself I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself
But I, I could never follow
No I, I could never follow
Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else

Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me
I can still be found
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around
Taking the long way
Taking the long way around

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There is a rare comfort I get from listening to this song. I am reminded that my unconventional approach to life is actually a good thing in the long run. I am reminded that there are others out there like me who don't do things as they've always been done. I am reminded that there is strength in remaining true to your convinctions.

So, for now I'm in Washington, D.C. taking the long way around to ministry; just hoping that the route doesn't take forever.

Some Interesting Reads

I’ve recently been tagged by my friend Amy to join in a book discussion which began through her connection to the Baptist Bloggers ring. So here goes…

1. One book that changed your life: A New Kind of Christian by Brian McLaren. I read this book (and made everyone in my life as well) the summer before I decieded to enter seminary. The way McLaren spoke of post-modernism made me want to step out on my own and be an agent of change in the church. I actually read and re-read it several times during that period of my life. However, now I look back on that period of my life as a phase. While I appreciate McLaren’s ideas, etc, New Kind of Christian is not one of my favorite books anymore. The book that has most recently changed my life is Barbara Brown Taylor's Leaving Church.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom. I don’t know why I’ve always been drawn to this book, maybe it is my evangelical upbringing/ the history lover in me. It was one of the only books I took on a trip to Tanzania/ Kenya in 1999. I remember reading it in “rashions” so that I would have something to do every afternoon (do you get the pun?).


3. One book you’d want on a desert island: Isn’t this where everyone is suppost to say the Bible?

4. One book that made you laugh: Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life by Natalie Goldburg. I was assigned to read this book last fall in my class at Duke entitled: Writing and the Spiritual Life taught by author Lauren Winner. I laughed because of the spunky way in which this book describes how Goldburg approaches the writing process. She seems like such a spastic person. I would love to be a fly on the wall of her house, just to see her in action.

5. One book that made you cry: For some reason I don’t really cry when I read. But probably the closest I came to crying while reading was last summer when I read: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I totally recommend this amazing larger than life fiction story.

6. One book that you wish had been written: How to Live in the Fishbowl Called Ministry and Still Always Look Fabulous.

7. One book that you wish had never been written: I have to agree with Amy here and add my vote for Passion and Purity. It really scared the way I view relationships with men keeping me hanging with my freshman hall of girls only my first year of college. I would also like to add the book: Lady in Waiting by Jackie Kendall. It is an overly sexist book which tells women to be like Ruth and wait for your Boaz to come sit at your feet. The irony of this is quite funny isn’t it??

8. One book you’re currently reading: Normally, I would take this opportunity to boast about
what I’ve been engrossed in over the last couple of weeks, but I have to admit I’m kind of on a reading vacation. Maybe it the hangover from graduating from divinity school or maybe it’s a part of my protest of not having a job… but I have been skimming the book my friend Elizabeth gave me for graduation called Sabbath by Wayne Muller. It has an interfaith feel to it (which I love) and has some helpful things to say about our need to slow down in fast-paced, cosumer driven America.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: Anything that is a classic. I sort of slept through 10th and 11th grade English and would love to re-read some of those great stories that I missed out on like Pride and Predjuce or The Grapes of Wraft.

No Ordinary Wedding

Have you ever been to a wedding where—

All the food was organically and home grown?

The entire neighborhood in which the community couples reside is invited to the wedding?

Where the bride is ready to give away her dress immediately following the wedding to someone in need?

Where the couple specifically requests no presents?

This weekend I did.

Sarah and Dan’s wedding was an event unlike anything I’ve ever seen for these and many other reasons. But, what did I expect? Because the days leading up to their marriage were far from ordinary either.

I first met Sarah as she and I were roommates for two years in seminary. Last year, Sarah felt a call to enter intentional Christian community called the Rutba House in Durham, NC. (The short version is: Rutba House is a place of hospitality to all, especially strangers who have no other place to go). Dan, who was also living in an intentional Christian community of his own in a nearby city, met Sarah while protesting human rights violations in Fort Benning, Georgia. They became fast friends through letter writing while Dan was in prison for his trespassing at this event (this was an intentional desicion he made as did Sarah to take a stand on this issue). They just began dating last September and were engaged by February. They moved fast toward marriage, but all the while beaming with a glow about them saying that God was calling them to be together. They will now reside as a couple at the Rutba House.

As part of living in these communities, Sarah and Dan both had already committed themselves to giving back to the world more than they consumed, daily prayer and shared meals with the community, and sensitivity and activism toward the needs of their local neighborhoods. Practically this means they often grow their own food, walk more than they drive their cars, and open themselves up to the possibility of helping others during their free time.

Their marriage ceremony reflected the same type of intentionally. The ceremony was full-out worship event, not just a glorification of the couple’s love. The service was full of liturgy they had written especially for the day. We sang hymns, prayed, heard a sermon and received communion. The entire wedding party sat down for most of the service until the wedding vows were said. Those present were asked to covenant to pray and support Sarah and Dan. The recessional did not begin until we sang a closing hymn.

As strange as it felt to be a part of such a countercultural event, beauty was present all around on Saturday afternoon. People across all socio-economic and racial lines were in a place of worship and celebration with one another. Children of all backgrounds were included in the service (including some of the neighborhood children I might add). And, the Spirit seemed to hover over the couple and those pledging to support their marriage. Many in the congregation were moved to tears, especially during communion and as Sarah and Dan said the vows each had written to each other (I’m not normally a fan of writing one’s own vows but theirs were articulately crafted).

And while I don’t feel called to live in such a community and will probably not have a wedding in a intercity neighborhood one day, I walked away from the service wanting to love Jesus more—in whatever way this means for me.

I want to know a God who moves to draw diverse people together in backyards. I want to know a God who calls people like my friend Sarah to give up most of what they have and live among the poor. And, I want to know a God who brings life partners together for edification of not only one another but the Body of Christ as well.

So, congratulations, Sarah and Dan! May God’s Spirit continue to richly bless you and your community just as your wedding blessed all of us this weekend!

My New Hero

I feel a lot like Abraham as of late. You know, the guy that God told: “Leave your country, your people, and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you.”

I left NC for a journey unknown to me last weekend. Logistically, while I'm not carrying a walking stick or anything, all I have is a temporary address and the promise of kind friends to take me in until I find a job to support both me and hopefully my calling too. I could bring only a car load of stuff with me. As I wait, I’m claiming that there will be a “land” to call my own in a place that God will show me . . . sometime sooner than later. And I'm learning how I say, "I don't know" when people ask me what it is that I'm doing with my life.

I have to say that having this kind of faith is not the kind of rosy “have faith in God” stuff I learned in Sunday School as a child. It is totally about believing in something that you flat can’t see at all, something there is seemingly little evidence will happen at times, something that others regularly doubt making you question who knew yourself to be in the first place.

However, a long time ago I heard an inward call to pursue ministry as a vocation. And, when God calls, there is just no turning back. Even if I tried.

I asked a friend the other night what she thought would happen if I just gave up with my dream to pastor altogether (because it is getting just a little too costly) and her quick response was “You’ll end up in a big fish somewhere” (like Jonah). True indeed. I'd probably feel worse than I do now.

Luckily, I have people in my life to regularly remind me that bucking the systems (being both Baptist and a pastor) is really a HARD thing to do. “Did I really expect it to be easy?" they ask. Well, of course not. But I didn’t know it would feel like this. Gross.

I know that the love of God has not forgotten me because of the voices and faces of friends who seemingly tolerate me despite my ever present sadness. These people inspire me to keep following my dream, hoping that I too can be like Abraham and get a little closer every day to God’s promise land.