environmentally friendly bombs?

So a friend told me about this today: Environmentally Friendly Bombs Planned

I'm sorry, but is that not the biggest oxymoron ever? Here's what it says to me: "Let's bomb people; but it's okay, because it won't hurt the environment."

I mean, I understand that nuclear bombs and such can really cause damage to the entire ecosystem. But do the human lives lost in those bombs not count?

What a world we live in.

one year

It's amazing how much can happen in one year.

This time last year, I was getting ready to go to South Africa, with no idea what I was getting in to. (more on the SA reflections in later posts).

Now, I have returned from there with a forever changed heart. Moved into an apartment...and now into a community house. Started working at a church and changed my membership. Traveled to El Salvador. Been in a musical. Made new friends. Started running. Said goodbye to a roommate and a good friend. Started *coughdatingsomeonecough*. Put a year of seminary under my belt. Discovered my love for both the church and the academic side of ministry. And through it all, learned a lot about myself, about God, and found new strength and confidence in it all, while realizing how much more I have to learn.

It's been quite a year. No wonder I'm exhausted now...is all of seminary like this? I think I need a break from all this change and transition...

heartbreak

I was poking around on the BBC website yesterday morning when I saw this: Johannesburg Violence. My friend Amber, who is still over there, also gave an update on her blog about the situation.

Apparently, groups of black South Africans are rioting and attacking immigrants, blaming them for the widespread poverty, hunger, unemployment, and homelessness. My heart is breaking.

This is where I lived, where a part of my heart still is. I walked some of those streets, possibly saw some of those people. And though I can understand the frustration and anger behind these acts (feeling helpless about your economic situation, your survival) and the appeal of creating a scapegoat...it is horrible.

I hate that people are living in fear. I hate that the violence of a few is controlling the lives of so many. I hate that they are in such a hopeless situation. I hate that they feel there is nothing they can do but react in violence. I hate the inequality and oppression that still exists there. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

I fear for the women that I worked with. I fear for Joyce, who is an immigrant herself. I fear for the children, who have already been exposed to so much violence.

And this is on top of the growing casualty list in Myanmar and China. So much violence, death, destruction, all around the world. And I so desperately want God to just come down and make it all better. But that's not how God works. And so I continue to wrestle with my own heartbreak and anger over the suffering of so many innocent people.

race thoughts

Yesterday was the annual Race for the Cure in Richmond. And for the first time, I ran in it. Yes, I ran a 5K. There were so many great things about it...

First, the actual running. It was so much fun to be out there with over 9000 other people, running and walking and all headed in the same direction. My friend Kate drove down to run with me, and it was great fun. At the 2.5 mark, the course turned into a half-mile hill...upwards, of course. I run in a flat neighborhood, and was not prepared for that at all. Halfway up the hill, I didn't think I would make it to the end without stopping (my goal for the race). I told Kate to go on without me, and she refused, telling me to keep running. And we kept running...straight to the finish line.

It was so nice to have that support, the encouragement to keep on going. Suddenly, all those passages in the Bible about running and races make more sense to me. I can understand the metaphors much more.

I also loved being a part of a greater cause with everyone else. Yes, we were all running, but it was all for breast cancer research. So many people were there in support of those who are fighting this disease, or in memory of those who have died from it. And though we can't cure it ourselves, we can stand there with those who have had to deal with it and be a support and encouragement for them.

when I grow up...

Today in children's church, we talked about the priesthood of all believers. Well, we never used that phrase, but basically we talked about how everyone is a minister. At one point, the children's minister had them all close their eyes and imagine what things they might want to do in the church when they get older. There were a variety of responses. But one little girl, who comes with her neighbors, raised her hand and said "I want to be a pastor."

Now, I don't know if you can discern a call at that age. But the fact that that little girl didn't think twice about it being a possibility, had no problem saying that, and that no one raised their hand to respond saying that she couldn't do it...that's something. I was so proud of her. That makes me feel good about our ministry, and where this church is (hopefully) going...

no conclusion

It's finals week. Thus, I'm blogging. Makes sense, right?

It seems as though the more I write papers, the less they tie up neatly. As I get deeper and deeper into different perspectives and difficult questions, I can explore but not fully answer. For example, here's a "conclusion" from a recent exegesis I wrote on a passage in Job:

No solid conclusion exists for the question of suffering and God’s presence. We do not understand why such injustices exist despite the characteristic of God as a liberator, yet it is not enough to cause Job or most of us to abandon such a belief. Ultimately, what we do know is this: God’s ways are higher than we can know or fully comprehend, which God’s response makes clear in the final chapters of the narrative. It is at this point where it is best to take the position of the wise, who fully acknowledged their own limited understanding, instead allowing a variety of voices to participate in the discussion. Though that did not stop them from contemplating and struggling with such topics, as we should, it also did not limit them to a stagnant and rigid system of theology regarding sin and suffering. As uncomfortable as it may be to have no clear answer, we are wise to follow suit.

Yet as I continue to learn and grow, I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the ambiguity. Of course, there is the danger of falling into the cop-out answer of "God is a mystery," which can become an excuse to not struggle and explore at all. But I must say that I enjoy the process of thinking and learning, despite the lack of solid answers. I've turned away from the need to fit everything in a neat little box, with all loose ends tied up. In the words of my OT professor (whom I will miss greatly): A coffin is a nice wrapped-up box. When we accept "solid" answers, we get rid of the room to change and grow, essentially stifling the Christian faith and making it dead. This is what turned me off from the Bible - the thought that it was a stagnant set of rules, an unchanging handbook for any and every situation. But if we really do believe that God is living and active, then we are willing to let the ambiguities and contradictions remain, knowing that interpretations and perspectives will change over time. They have before, and they will continue to do so.

revival?

In studying for my Christian Traditions test (meaning that I'm finally reading the textbooks), I came across the observation that the Great Awakenings have left an expectation of revival within the American religious tradition. Having grown up in a quasi-southern church, I can definitely see that. We waited for that week of revival, went to the services and got emotionally charged up...then forgot about it all two weeks later. An endless cycle of waiting for that next "spiritual high," hoping that one day, it would stick.

But it also reminded me of a friend I had in college. A guy who was very passionate about his (relatively new) faith, and attended a charismatic church. We would talk about random things, and he would always ask me to pray for revival on our campus, for God to basically come down and make everyone a Christian. I always told him that that's not exactly how I word my prayers, because I don't think God acts in that way. He would usually respond with something about how I don't have enough faith because I don't think God has that kind of power.

I do think God is powerful. God can probably do whatever God wants. But God chooses to give us agency. God chooses to work with us, to have us help in whatever work is to be done. Call me a cynic, but I'm not so sure a widespread instantaneous revival (complete with the emotional reaction my friend desired) is what is best. Is that how the kingdom of God works? I can't help but think of the parables Jesus told. A tiny mustard seed that grows into the largest tree. A small amount of yeast worked into a batch of dough that causes the entire thing to rise. Not this massive, one-time event, but a continual process flowing out of our lived-out faith.