Theologica Thoughts for Thursday

Today is a good day. I feel that on some level every day is a good day. I think it's funny how we categorize days based on the first few minutes. We decide if our day will be pleasant before we brush our teeth. I feel that millions of dollars should be spent studying how to build the most pleasant alarm clock and in getting that alarm clock installed in every home.

Malcolm Gladwell's Blink explores the initial reaction we have to things compared to our long term understanding. People almost always pick Pepsi over Coke in a single-sip blind taste test. People almost always pick Coke over Pepsi in a whole-can blind taste test. Our initial reaction to Pepsi is much more favorable, but it fades as we finish the can.

We had a near perfect Sunday once in Toccoa. We planned this sermon series about the Upside Down Kingdom, the idea that Jesus came to flip the whole world on its head. One of the ideas we had was to shake up a service (just the contemporary, of course) by starting with the sermon and ending with the greeting. We figured a change would at least get people to notice. The whole Sunday went off without a hitch. It was one of the best sermons I'd ever heard at the early morning service. The following Tuesday at our meeting the pastor explained that he is usually groggy at the beginning of a service and needs to music to wake him up ... so the previous week he had started his i-pod when he woke up so he would be ready. It made all the difference in the world when he took an active step to improve his mood first thing in the morning.

We all looked at each other around the table, wondering who would be the willing one to recommend he try the same thing next Sunday ... and every Sunday after that. But, wouldn't that make sense. What if every pastor in the country got up on the right side of the bed, on the right foot every Sunday morning?

What if we stopped allowing our first few negative minutes to color our day negative? Just a thought.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

I read the most intriguing article today. Ok, the article is from Esquire magazine, but I found it through a link on Slate.

Warren Hern is an abortionist. The write up, while not written in my favorite style, takes a unique approach to an ubiquitously political issue. The author chronicles the life of the doctor, his mother, his wife and his clinic. Constantly reminding the reader that he can't give names, he can't divulge facts, and he must do everything possible to protect the safety of everyone involved. After the murder of George Tiller , who was, according to the article, labeled "George Tiller the Baby Killer" by Bill O'Reilly [Before he was shot and murdered while serving as an usher in his Lutheran congregation.]Warren Hern remains as the last abortionist to specialize in late term, medically necessary abortions.

The author writes about Hern's wife and mother in tones and hues that could be used to sell sweaters on QVC, but makes no qualms highlighting the destructive anger of a man so far swayed to one side in this debate that he can't even hear about the opposition without flying into a rage.

Abortion is a very difficult subject. The language we use is so tainted by politicized thinking that one can detect a position purely by word choice. "Baby" means you're pro-life, "fetus" means you're pro-choice. Or, Anti-choice and Anti-life respectively, un-respectfully. Do you support the murder of millions of innocent lives? Do you think a woman is a piece of property? We can't even think about the topic without using words, phrases, and rationals so steeped in the political culture that they are only good for fighting and not for thinking.

My own position is highly nuanced. It's evolved to the point where I need a car ride and two lattes to diagram my stance. I'm influenced as much by the songs of Ani DiFranco as I am by my conservative Evangelical education.

To summarize as briefly and carefully as I can; I am almost entirely against abortion from a socio-emotional perspective, but I am almost entirely in support of abortion from a legal-ethics perspective.

I think that every life is precious and worth saving, but I also believe very strongly that the government has zero right to anyone's reproductive health.

I love kids and can't wait to have and adopt my own kids (well, I CAN wait, and will do so until I am married at least). I celebrate the sanctity of life through political positions on abortion, health care, war, the death penalty, global poverty, HIV/AIDS, environmental concerns, GLBT rights, and international genocide. I pray that all Christians will some day grasp a broader definition of "sanctity of human life." I fully support ministries that work with pregnant teenagers and teenage mothers. We need to work on improving their quality of life. We need to be concerned for them before they have an unwanted pregnancy. Teenage girls must be taught to respect themselves. Condoms should be free and easily accessible. Technology and human opinion must advance until the term "unwanted pregnancy" is filed away with polio and smallpox: another term our grandchildren will never know or fully understand.

Christian groups often use China's one-child policy as evidence that abortion is a terrible practice and a slippery slope. I've read pamphlets in support of pro-life groups that belabor the fact that China forces abortion on women who get pregnant a second time. I've never read anything that points out that this argument is a double edged sword. Abortion isn't the culprit in China (which has, since the 90s, really relaxed it's one-child policy and deserves a better reputation now)the evil lies in the fact that the government has total control over reproductive choice. Forcing abortion, illiminating abortion, etc. if the government has the right to choose for individuals in these extremely personal decisions it will always have a negative result.

Perhaps if we could re-define our conversations. If we could call the positions Side 1 and Side A. Perhaps then we could see beyond the political discourse and see eye to eye on some common ground.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

I've come to the conclusion that I don't really understand prayer.

Or, at least that I have several separate understandings of prayer; none comprehensive, some necessarily exclusive.

Sometimes I think that we pray to change things. I believe with all of my heart that prayer changes things. If we didn't believe prayer changes things, why would we pray for things to be changed?

I pray for the dead sometimes. After Zach's suicide I begged God for mercy; for him. Sometimes I wonder if I pray to the dead, too. I talk to Aunt Mabel sometimes. I ask her to talk to the "Big Guy" for me. I figure that if anyone has any pull in Heaven it would be her. I don't think these things are theologically correct or accurate ... but I still do them.

Steven Greenberg is an Orthodox rabbi. He believes that we can petition God for the change of God's mind. Most famously, Rabbi Greenberg leads a group of gay and lesbian orthodox jews in prayer asking God to change the Biblical stance on homosexuality. While his views are quickly dismissed by most, he has a valid point. In the Bible, people argued and debated with God until God changed his mind.

He cites the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, an odd choice of text for a pro-gay theologian, where Abraham pleads with God to save Sodom if only 50 righteous people can be found. Then he jews God down to 45. 30. 20. 10. Openness Theologians point to passages where God "hopes" and servants of the Almighty challenge and find compromise with God.

Sometimes I think that we only talk to God for our own benefit. That we pray primarily for the connectedness to God. I'm not implying that our prayers are futile, just that the primary benefactor isn't the subject about whom we pray but ourselves. Prayer (and meditation) has wonderful, medically proven effects on the body. If a Christian doesn't believe he or she can change the will or mind of God, is his or her prayer exclusively to stay connected to something bigger?

In the New Testament, no one ever prays for a persons salvation. Jesus prays for more workers for the harvest, but not that people would be saved. In our churches we pray for people's salvation all the time. Almost as much as we pray for the sick and the dying.



I'm reading Train Go Sorry, a book about growing up as a hearing person at a deaf school. It sums up a few of my thoughts on prayer. In the story, the teachers and pupils are in a state of constant misunderstanding. The school looked down on American Sign Language and instead taught the students to mimic sounds they couldn't hear. Teachers used tongue depressors of various shapes to teach the kids how to hold their mouths while they vibrate the vocal chords they can't hear. The students read the teacher's lips and sounded out words to respond to the instructor. Although most of the students knew sign language, many of the teachers did not.

Maybe when we pray we are speaking a language we don't quit understand, but one that God understands. Although we don't hear the sounds, they are there and with patience and training the sounds will be correct and will form words.

I think that there's a disconnect in our prayers. Maybe we don't understand. Should we really just pray for God's will all the time like helpless minnows being carried down stream? Or are we to be like the salmon and fight the current upstream? Is it okay to make demands of God?

My friend Deepa R. Joseph tells of her mother's prayers, in her native India, her mother would pray, "God you will provide dinner tonight. We have served you and my children will not go hungry." They never went hungry.

I have a secret hope that God answers the prayers of children more than the rest of us; that our prayers are weighted ~ and it's not the windbag prayer from the pulpit but the tears shed in Dora the Explorer nightgowns that God answers most readily.

My favorite paintings.

My favorite painting is the one on display every time you come to my blog. It was painted by Sara Wheaton, one of my sister's roommates. The original is currently on display at the residence of Jared and Janet Kaup in North Georgia. I love it because of the color, the turmoil, and the new sprout of growth. I also love it because it is the only original piece of art I own.

My second favorite painting is the Monet painting The Magpie. I own a print of it and it travels with me. It hung in my living room in Georgia and currently hangs in my bedroom. Although it looks like a sad picture, it represents hope. The magpie is a bird that returns before the snow melts. Even before the weather shows any indication of letting up, the magpie instinctively knows that things will soon be better and returns.


My third favorite painting is Alexei Savrasov's piece The Rooks Have Come Back. It's very similar to the Monet painting up above. I saw it in Russia and fell in love with it. The explanation is also the same. I want to be one of those people who sees possibility where others only see pain.


Monet's Boulevard des Capucines is my fourth favorite painting. I was in the Pushkin Gallery in Moscow and was walking quite close to the paintings. I walked by it and saw only dots of color. I really didn't get it. I stepped back a few steps and realized that it was supposed to be a street scene of some kind. When my back brushed the wall opposite the painting I saw the individual faces of the people. It was a tremendous experience. (Disclaimer: I'm not 100% sure this is the street scene I saw, it was the only street scene I have been able to find and my memory of the painting I saw that day is slipping - so if this painting isn't in the Pushkin Gallery ... I apologize for lying.) Sometimes I need a reminder that I need to step back from the current situation to see the full image.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

I often wonder if I could do something truly heroic.

I was just reading about Irena Sendler, a catholic who helped 2,500 jewish children escape during WWII.

It's not an issue of courage, becuae I often feel that adrenaline counts more than courage in most cases and I generally have good amounts of both, but an issue of seeing and recognizing the problem.

I wonder if I lived in Nazi Germany if I would have even noticed the jews disappearing. I see my small handful of jewish friends on a semi-annual basis, if that, so it would take months before I realized any of them had fled the country.

And I wonder if I'm silly for making modern day comparisons. I know that our government isn't killing GLBT people, but at what point should I as a Christian and a minister of social justice get involved in the fight for their rights? Am I missing my opportunity to be a hero?

And so often things start so small. It's just one black joke, right? Afro-turf. It's funny, because their hairdo of choice is an afro and they play football. Haha. Why would I think I could be a hero who could dismiss country and cultural loyalty in order to save repressed minorities if I can't even shut down a racist joke?

I always assumed that if I had lived through the civil war I would have sided with the north - against slavery - it's a no brainer. But now I wonder if I would have sided with state's rights. And I wonder if that would have been wrong?

I would like to think that some day I will do something heroic and courageous, but this day I just pray for the eyes to see the opportunity and the courage to stop the small, painful wounds we inflict against each other every day.

I pray in Russian sometimes. Usually at night when sleep escapes my possibilities and I am left with my own thoughts. I never quite felt comfortable praying in Russian when I lived in Russia, and I did live there. I've decided that. Although seven months divided into 3 trips isn't much; I lived there - in every essence of the word.

I felt betrayed by God some nights when I was there. My friend Meredith summed it up nicely upon her return, "I wish someone had told me how hard it was going to be to live there." dark days of language doom would precede sick nights without any relief in the interim.

I loved it there and I miss being there, but there were moments of discontent. More than moments. Days of discontent.

It's odd to me how much my thinking and core values changed during my time there. While I would never claim to truly think like a Russian, I also can't say that my thoughts are entirely American either.

I wonder if some lonely night in the distant future I will find myself praying in Korean; or if my thoughts and actions will be molded by this place. Will I learn to lie without remorse to "save face?"

I'm in an odd spot at the moment.

Scientists recently proved that no matter how dirty a bar of soap looks (or actually is) it has the same cleaning effectiveness as a clean bar of soap.

Isn't that interesting?

I compare that to life experience. I think that it doesn't matter if life is going well or if you are struggling; it's still life experience and it's still valuable.

I have to continually remind myself that this is all an important teaching moment. That this experience - like all the others that have come before it - is ultimately good for me.