What if We're Wrong

Mark 9:38-50

 “What if We’re Wrong?”

27 September 2015 St. Andrew’s Chapel Singapore

Confession time: street preachers cause me all kinds of frustration and unease. Living in downtown San Diego, I would see and hear my fair share of people telling everyone that the end was nigh and we were all going to hell. My first thought is usually, “C’mon man, my job is hard enough already without you yelling hellfire and damnation to everyone you see.” My problem is the assumption that none of us just going to the grocery store, out for a run, heading to a ball game, or taking kids to the park have faith really gets my blood boiling. It’s really bad during Comic Con because the street preachers are playing off a stereotype and approaching it in the absolute worst way.

  Now, have I ever stopped and talked to these preachers and asked them their reasons for such an approach? Nope. Have I ever told them how I feel? Nope. I did participate in a counter protest of Westboro Baptist while I was in seminary, but they never showed up so that doesn’t really count. Did I ever muster up the courage to take the advice and example of my preaching professor and counter their preaching with my own street preaching emphasizing grace and love over judgment and despair? Not a chance. Have I mumbled and grumbled to God about how I don’t like what they are doing? Of course.

Which places me squarely in the line of the disciples in this passage, and that’s probably not a good thing. I think that if I asked Christ his answer would be, “he’s not against us, so he’s for us.” And I really don’t want to hear that I’m on the same side as that guy, especially because his theology isn’t my theology. I’m not really a huge theology snob, but there are a few theological interpretations that will really get me fired up.

As I read and pondered this passage over the week, while on one hand it was convicting my own behavior towards certain lines of thought and interpretation. This passage also made me think about what kind of theological stumbling block merits a millstone around my neck?

Mark writes that Jesus used the Greek word micron in this passage. We tend to interpret this as we shouldn’t cause children to stumble, but we can also translate micron as “of least importance, insignificant, or humble.” If we go that route, it still includes our children, but it also widens those we should prevent causing a stumbling block to any who are marginalized or new to the faith.

Theology matters and is important, but how we express and explain theology is also of vital importance. And that importance may be difficult to reconcile with the fact that no one may be fully equipped to judge another’s theology. By definition, theology is an inherently impossible task. How can a finite being fully understand the infinite God? Like the disciples, my interpretation may be wrong and I may be expecting everyone to follow the same theological interpretation I have. The disciples are mad that this exorcist isn’t following them. They assume he has gone rogue because he isn’t in their group.

Jesus quickly tells them, he isn’t against us so he’s for us. Notice that word choice. It casts a wide net for following Christ. It pitches a big tent in which we can hold a large variety of theological viewpoints and teachings and all get along. As long as you aren’t working against Christ, you are working for him. Just sit with that for a minute. If our theology isn’t working against the work of Christ in the world, we’re with Jesus. If we use Jesus’ name and power for good, we’re probably doing it right and are not against him.

Now, some of you are better Biblical scholars than myself and might want to bring up Matthew 12:30. In that verse Jesus says, “whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.” He says if you are not with Jesus, you are against him. Loyalty to Jesus is important, not loyalty to our interpretation of Jesus. We don’t control God and his work. The Gospel is the Gospel and will always be the Gospel despite any of our attempts to put it into a certain box or theological framework. We must remain faithful to the Gospel because our theology may just miss the mark and not be the correct interpretation. Where we come from and how we have grown in Christ color how we interpret his work in the world. Again, theology is important, but Mark is telling us we must handle the act of teaching theology with care.

Those that are young, either in age or faith, are malleable and impressionable. When we are new to an experience, we tend to drink it in and experience as much as fast as possible. We pay more attention to things. Just look at the young people in our midst. Infants are wide eyed, observing how things are and what things mean. Toddlers are experimenting with walking and talking and figuring out how to make it in the world. Elementary aged children are excited to learn something new, even more so when they feel they’ve mastered something. Remember the first time you rode a bike without training wheels or an adult holding the bike running along beside. Oh the sweet feel of freedom blowing through your hair, the sheer joy at pedaling on your own, leaving mom or dad in the dust. It didn’t matter if you crashed after 100 yards, you were free!

And isn’t that the same sweet taste of freedom we savor when we find the Gospel. When we finally get it and fully surrender. That ironic freedom in surrender is at the heart of the Gospel. So shouldn’t all of our teaching, all of our interactions with others be such that the other walks away not in fear of or disgusted with a Gospel encounter, but excited and reenergized by the prospect of such freedom. But, even if they aren’t wholly convinced shouldn’t they at least walk away curious as to how we can live with such freedom and long for a moment like that first bike ride?

What might this church look like? It would be one that isn’t worried about how many people show up, but how much like Christ the ones that do show up become. We’d focus less on growing numbers and more on growing disciples. When we say all are welcome we’d mean it. It wouldn’t matter how holy someone is or isn’t, nor how much they make or don’t, nor how they look, nor what gifts they posses. A former pastor I worked under told me during my first week, “I’ve got Bible thumpin’ conservatives sharing communion with tree hugging, gay loving liberals, so we’re doing something right.” We’d focus on hospitality and relationships because we’re all broken yet redeemed and seek for all to be redeemed, so we treat them as such.

We’d find a place for everyone’s gifts and talents. We wouldn’t brag about the work we do as the hands and feet of Christ, but rather we’d be the type that would blow off lunch with power brokers when they only want us there to bolster their image to spend it with the least of these because that is where we are called. When we see someone living out the Gospel, casting out demons in Christ’s name, we’d applaud her even if her theology isn’t ours.

This chaplain would finally quit his silent judgment of street preachers. We’d fight for a few underdogs. When the world kicks in our teeth, we’ll give the best we’ve got anyways. We’d be humble enough to listen to Christ speaking through others even if what he is saying isn’t what we want to hear. We’d be humble enough to know that our human attempts at theology, in other words, our attempts to define God might just be wrong. We’d acknowledge that misinterpretation, adjust, and move on.

In a nutshell: We’d love God, love people, and reach the world for Christ.

Is this list all inclusive? Of course not. Could it be wrong? Yes, because I’m sure there are flaws in my theology. But it’s my prayer that all of us are striving towards the goal of living faithfully into the freedom of the Gospel where our love of Christ overflows into love for everyone we encounter.

So, let us strive to make our theology less right and more solid, more in line with Jesus’ idea that those who aren’t against us are with us. What a different perception of the church we would have if we could break the stereotype of Christianity as being about rules and who isn’t part of the club, but rather about a place where we recognize that Christ works in mysterious ways, through people I may never expect to do the works of Christ. For then we’d be a salty church bringing flavor and peace not only to ourselves but to the entire world.

Faith and Leadership

This is the link to a reflection piece I wrote following the tragedy in Hawthorne, NV:

http://www.faithandleadership.com/content/russ-ferguson-beauty-the-midst-chaos-and-carnage

11 Years Later

Today was eerily similar to 11 years ago: clear beautiful blue sky with hardly any clouds, cool fall like temperatures, going to work in the morning doing my part to prepare people in the military for anything that would come their way. 11 years ago I was teaching future nuclear officers how to operate a Naval Reactor when the planes first hit. Today I am a chaplain serving a USMC infantry battalion who deployed to Afghanistan last year. Most of my Marines were young on September 11th, and have a different perspective than someone who was in his 20's when it happened. They joined the military during a prolonged conflict, I prayed we'd never have to go to war during my time as it is a horrible prospect. Horror came to us and we were afraid and confused. A day much like December 7th or June 6th I don't think Americans will ever forget and we do need to remember, but after reading some posts on Facebook and Twitter today, maybe we can begin to forgive.

I rarely posts my sermons for all to read because I believe sermons are crafted for a specific audience at a specific time. However, I read my sermon from last year in Afghanistan given on September 11th to Marines, Sailors and civilian contractors in a war zone using passages from the lectionary that resonated with the day (and the lectionary was written many years before 9/11). So I decided to share this a my contribution to the sea of reflections we are reading and hearing today. (It may read a bit choppy as it is a combination of notes and prose)

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Matthew 18:21-35

“Forgiveness is Hard”

11 September 2011 Field Services

What a day to talk about forgiveness! Sometimes the lectionary really resonates with the day. 10 years ago the world changed for all of us. 10 years ago set the stage for us to be here today.

10 years ago was a hard day. I remember where I was, but what I really remember was frantically trying to find out what happened with an old shipmate of mine who was working in the Pentagon. Called him, no answer. Called his wife, frantic mess. Vengance wasn’t on my mind, nor was forgiveness.

Can we forgive an event like 9/11? An event forever associated with a date, that is a rare thing in our country. It and July 4^th. Both world changing dates. Can we do what Jesus talks about and forgive those who attack us from nowhere?

Jesus tells us we should. There is no way around it reading this passage. And if we try to skimp out on giving the forgiveness and grace God gave us it does not do much for us as seen by the landowners reaction.

Look at the gospel for today. We continue the 77 times forgiven from last week showing us that our grace should be as limitless a Christ’s. Jesus knows we won’t like it so he tells a story about it. A guy owes 10,000 talents. A talent is 15 years of wages for the common laborer. The owner calls the debt in and the man can’t pay so off to jail with him and his family. He pleads his case and is forgiven the equivalent of 150,000 years of wages.

So what does he do? Go out and celebrate and share the grace and love? No he goes out and puts a guy in jail for 100 denari or about 100 days of wages. The owner gets pissed and has the man tortured. And Jesus ends the passage saying, “So my heavenly father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”

It’s time to forgive. It’s time to release ourselves from the power of sin against us. We can’t change the hurt. We can’t make it go away. But we can take its power. When we forgive someone for what they have done, no matter how small or large we free ourselves from that person and the power their sin holds over us.

Holding a grudge eats away at us. The person who wronged us still holds the cards and is still affecting our lives in a direct and dangerous way. If we let it continue, over time it takes over our thoughts and starts to affect everything we do.

Forgiving, takes that power away. The person’s actions no longer rule our lives. They no longer are there in everything we do. Forgiving opens space for God to come in and fill that void. It allows God a bit more power and room in our lives. Forgiveness allows beauty to come where there was darkness and destruction.

We think we have to forget when we forgive. We can’t forget certain events in our lives. I’m not even sure God wants us to forget our trauma. Everything that happens to us, with us and through us makes us who we are today. It is our story and we can’t rewrite the page once the ink is dry.

Forgiving allows us to begin the process of incorporating a trauma into our lives. Forgiveness shows us that the individual or event doesn’t have power over us. Once we get out from under that power we are free to live a full life in God’s grace and give that to others.

We have to put 9/11 in this context as Christians. It’s hard and that is why we tend to look for answers other than forgiveness. Maybe we don’t easily forgive because we equate it with forgetting. But forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. Forgiveness is release for us.

Many of us are here today because of one clear Tuesday morning in September. We have to forgive what happened that day to allow God’s work to shine through our lives. We have to forgive to help the people out here who need our help. Forgiveness prevents vengeance. We have to forgive to let beauty come out of the ashes of the towers and Pentagon. Forgiving those who started this chain of events is the only way we can honor what happened 10 years ago. Seeking vengeance doesn’t change the world. Vengeance doesn’t honor the dead. Seeking beauty does. And the beauty to come from 9/11 starts with forgiveness. 

I don't think we need to forget, because us humans need reminders of the dangers of war. But, I think it is time for us to forgive. I know this isn't hard, as my friend and colleague in the Army Mel Baars states so well in this article. As the US role in these conflicts winds down, it is my prayer that as the distance grows from such a tragic day, so does our forgiveness. 

A Reflection of Society

So what exactly are we to make of the events of last weekend? I thought about posting my thoughts earlier to the small number of you who read these entries, but I wanted to wait and not jump to conclusions. It still seems a bit early to try and figure out what happened to cause a 38 year-old career soldier to commit such a horrible act. If I were to listen solely to the TV, I’d come away with the impression that he was suffering from acute PTSD due to TBI (a concussion is classified TBI and we don’t claim PTSD for every football player who takes a violent hit resulting in a concussion) and that is what made him snap and murder civilians. Reading articles in newspapers shows a bit more complicated and nuanced picture of what happened. Regardless, we won’t know the truth until a trial and even then we will ponder the unanswered questions that aren’t discussed. So, I’m not looking to figure out what happened in this solitary case. I think there is a larger issue at play that affects not only this particular Staff Sergeant, nor the military in general. There is a larger issue that affects our entire culture and it is one I don’t foresee any media from investigating: a lack of training in our lives of how to make ethical decisions.

Back in the submarine days, anytime some unexpected event occurred we got all the key players around and conducted a critique. I have experienced my fair share of critiques as both the subject of the gathering as well as a neutral observer there to write down the facts and find the root causes. The goal is to find the points that led to the failure and then discuss ways we could prevent it from happening again. Sometimes, there are things you can’t foretell and you are just left holding the bag and have to figure out the recovery. But many times there are distinct and multiple errors that led to the particular gathering with the Commanding Officer and outside agencies offering assistance and possibly punishment. Undoubtedly, there is an investigation in Afghanistan doing similar things right now asking many questions that relate to the specific events leading to a horrific act early one morning. And that is necessary and needed for closure with his unit.

But, I think there is a larger root cause at play here, and PTSD is just a symptom not a cause. I can probably safely assume that everyone who has deployed to Afghanistan and Iraq has suffered some form of combat stress. The overwhelming majority come back, decompress and that is it. A very small number come back and have trouble reintegrating with their families and society in general. We work hard to identify them and get them the treatment they need. Most of the time, it involves talking about what they went through and assuring them that it’s normal to think things are a bit bizarre in the US compared to the life they lived for 7-13 months in country. Some of those who can’t readjust just can’t get back in the swing of things easily so we need to get them specialized treatment because they can’t function as our society expects. If this Staff Sergeant couldn’t function and make decisions he most likely would never have deployed in the first place. So while the PTSD argument is compelling and plays well with the press, I think it is a red herring (there is a chance he saw something and just snapped, but I don’t get that kind of vibe from what I have been reading).

He made terrible decisions with horrific results. I would venture the amount of time he spent learning about ethical decision-making was miniscule at best. Most of the Marines I encounter don’t come from any kind of background that teaches ethics at all. And no, it doesn’t require a religious background to study ethics (though many people will try and convince you of that, probably a reason why we don’t teach ethics in public schools). Many come to the military to get a sense of order in a chaotic life where ethics is the last thing in their minds. We send them to boot camp and some specialized schooling where ethics is presented as this ethereal concept of black and white decisions based on the law of armed conflict and decisions of right and wrong. Then we take these kids who have no real idea of their ethical framework and what drives their decisions and put them in combat, a place where ethics can rapidly become murky for the best trained and informed individuals. You see and hear about things that rattle your worldview and how you order your life. If that is shaky to start, things can rapidly deteriorate.

Ethics isn’t just right and wrong choices (in the military we have to follow the Geneva Conventions, etc.) it’s about our decision-making ability. The way I reason through a murky situation says a lot about the ethical framework under which I operate and my framework is probably different than yours. Knowing how we think and reason is important not only for me, but also for my commander. If I know how I will approach and ethical issue and talk about it with those in my immediate chain of command through open discussion of case studies they know in which situations I may struggle ethically. Some ethical frameworks (relativism) don’t work in a military environment and if an individual won’t refocus their framework then maybe we need to send them on their way.

But, we don’t want to “force” a belief system on people if they work for the government. Our society is libertarian by nature (i.e. I’ll do what I want as long as it doesn’t infringe on another’s rights) and we feel that moral and ethical standards may cross that line. I disagree. In the military (and I would argue for society as a whole), we need moral and ethical boundaries to function properly. When recruits arrive without understanding what comprises ethics and how to reason through decisions fully we are starting them out at a disadvantage. So what can we do?

This is only one approach and probably isn’t anywhere near the right one. In our battalion we talked with every Non-Commissioned Officer and higher in rank about ethical decisions and how to talk about ethics with their Marines and sailors. We described many types of ethical frameworks and let them discover which one they operated under. We talked about the strengths and weaknesses of each. We also talked about how the Geneva Conventions came into being as well as the Law of Armed Conflict and international expectations. We also discussed why the US follows a certain standard of behavior in combat with groups who seem to not follow the rules of war. We let them disagree. We let them vent about it before we got into country. We agreed that it isn’t “fair” but it is what they signed up for and if they had a serious problem with it to come see me. We then showed some movie clips and talked about the ethical ramifications of each as a guide of how to discuss ethics with their Marines. We talked about how they have multiple opportunities each week to bring ethical discussions into their work. Finally, we gave each NCO access to dozens of case studies if they ever needed material to get a discussion started. Most importantly we didn’t make it a forced program and just told them we expected this from small unit leaders and why it would help them in the long run. From every indication, it worked in combat and we’ll use it again before the next deployment and I’ll take the program with me for every command I serve as well as any churches I serve upon my retirement.

I could be wrong on this whole thing, but I just think the media is looking for a quick surface answer because they are scared and finding out their complicity in what happened last weekend. If we are truly honest with ourselves we will see our faces in the mirror as we realize that ethics is in everything we do and we have placed learning about such an important thing in the background or just expect the military to teach a life-long skill in a few weeks of boot camp. It takes a great deal of time and effort to prepare yourself for the short moments where you have to make rapid ethical decisions (and yes, it does happen in the civilian world as well especially in school where cheating is on the rise). And if you haven’t explored where you stand you will rapidly learn your ethical foundation is made out of sand in the face of a tsunami.

If you have other ideas to teach ethics, drop me a line and let me know your ideas. As always if you have comments, feel free to discuss here on this page.

Uncomfortable with Vets

I know it has been a long time since the last post, but I took some much needed time off work after the deployment and am now getting back into the swing of things. Work has returned with a vengeance, but is starting to settle down a bit and I hope to post at least every other week.

One thing I was asked to do at the end of last month was to speak to my Presbytery (they are the governing body of me as a minister) about what I do as a chaplain, how a chaplain ministers in combat and how churches can help out chaplains. I think this blog has covered the first two items over the last few months, mostly in order to provide a glimpse of life in Afghanistan to the families of 1/9, but I haven't really talked about the last item. Reflecting on the topic before the talk, I realized that chaplains really need to take the lead in speaking out on how to care for our service members who are deployed, combat or not. We have a unique inside angle on the spiritual needs of service members and sometimes we allow ourselves to stay fairly isolated from the larger faith community to which we belong. I realized that at times I also fall into this category and have forced myself to keep that from happening.

There is a distinct divide between those who serve and those who don't. I don't hold myself in greater esteem because I serve a unique congregation, but I think faith communities would do a better job supporting chaplains and their "flock" if they knew what we did and if we actually told them what support we needed. Sure, I could just rely on the military programs for helping my Marines and sailors, but I honestly believe that faith communities (regardless of their theology or beliefs) need to take a larger role in caring for those who have served.

Most congregations I have attended during my years on active duty talk about serving the military. But, they do so through care packages and prayer. I'm not discounting the need for these things. Personally, I am convinced the prayers of many people across the country played a role in my entire battalion making it home alive and with all their limbs. We had many close calls that I could never explain why those guys are still here with me today except through some divine plan I don't understand and probably never will. And care packages are vital for morale as they serve as tangible evidence they are not forgotten. Opening those boxes brings many smiles thousands of miles away. I would just ask churches to contact the receiving unit before sending something. When you send without knowing the needs, some stuff may end up in the burn pit.

In reflecting on the idea of what churches can do for those who serve in the military (and this would probably hold true for other groups who avoid church) is to allow themselves to feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable sitting beside someone who may have killed in combat. Combat those in the congregation send into combat by the way. A congregation who is willing to sit with and come alongside that individual as they work out what they saw and did in combat. A congregation willing to enter into the murky and uncomfortable world of ethics in combat, what some have called "ethical warriors" or "noble warriors." A congregation that will listen in love and not judge them because they are in the military. Some may come seeking repentance for what they have seen and done. Some may say they have done nothing wrong. Both of them should be welcomed with open arms into our congregations. We say no sin is too large for God, we need to live that out. These conversations are messy, painful, uncomfortable, unruly. But they are beautiful, healing, at times joyful. I know as I have them on a regular basis and many of those conversations don't deal with combat related issues. I encounter more service members damaged from other aspects of society than their deployment to Afghanistan. Even an atheist in my battalion recognizes the need for somewhere for his young Marines to have these conversations.

Without a healthy and supportive environment to work through this discomfort, my Marines and sailors will seek unhealthy ways to navigate the issues. Chaplains are only in their lives for a short amount of time. I have only been in 1/9 for 16 months and almost half of them will be in other units by April. Churches, synagogues, mosques, etc can offer a stable long-term presence in the lives of my service members. Especially if a denomination embraces this call and no matter where they are stationed they can turn to a specific faith group for a loving community to be there if they are needed. If you are reading this and a member of a faith community I challenge you to go beyond prayer and care packages and invite your vets to discuss what needs they have.

I am more than willing to discuss this with anyone who wants to explore ways to provide such a community, regardless of your faith preference. Just drop me a line or discuss freely in the comments.

Enough Already

I usually don't delve into theological debates here as the main focus is to try and provide a glimpse into the everyday life of a Navy chaplain. Those stories alone, many of which can't be told due to confidentiality, could take up many hours relating on a blog. However, this whole Rob Bell/Universalism/Is Hell Real debate is getting old, especially now that the collateral damage is hitting close to home.

For those that don't regularly follow theological debates that rage on the Internet all around you, I'll provide a bit of background. Rob Bell has written a book titled Love Wins that delves into the topic of hell. I haven't personally read the book yet and hadn't really intended to until it came out in paperback. But, picked up a copy today using a gift card so I wouldn't feel too bad about paying for a hard cover book (I stopped buying hard cover new releases while in seminary to cut back costs while I didn't have a steady job). Even before the book hit the shelves this past week people were blowing up the Internet with reviews of the book they hadn't yet read calling him a heretic and all kinds of other nice names we save for the people who rankle our theological leanings. Those who saw him as a spokesman for their theological positions disowned him, etc. Granted, I haven't yet read the book and even once I do I won't bother to post a review, as most people probably could care less what I think of the book.

What bothers me is the reaction. I hadn't really paid much attention to the lead up as I was out in the field serving my Marines and had more important things to worry about. And frankly, you could probably say I still have more pressing problems: an accelerated predeployment schedule, leaving for deployment training this week, getting Easter services prepped before we leave, working out the rough memorial service outline for deployment, counseling Marines until well after dark each day, cleaning the house and car, etc. However, a friend of mine got caught up in this whole hysteria and has paid a pretty steep price. He was a student pastor at a church in NC while attending seminary at Duke. He is in his last semester and was on track to get interviewed for provisional ordination in the Methodist church this month. Sometime during the lead up to the book's release, he wrote a piece for Emergent Village about what he lost and gained when he lost hell. His view of hell and mine are not the same, but that doesn't matter.

After he wrote that piece, he was released from his position as a student pastor. This isn't something that is done by the congregation alone. It takes the work of a senior clergy member, one who is supposed to mentor student pastors as well as provide assignments. I don't doubt that other factors came into play (my friend acknowledges as much). He was going to get a new congregation in less than three months anyways and will graduate from seminary in two months. I am a firm believer in firing pastors when they violate the trust and confidence we place in them as leaders, much the same as why military members suffer dearly when they break the rules. Maybe, it is the wide theological range of beliefs found in my own denomination that makes this so confusing to me. It does make me glad that my denomination allows some wiggle room in our "orthodoxy" to allow theological discussion and growth on a variety of issues. Where was the grace in this process? What about some serious discussions about beliefs before summarily dismissing someone who was leaving anyways? What lesson does that teach the congregation if their beliefs aren't "orthodox?" Now you have a congregation, and apparently a denomination that is afraid to discuss theological issues. I for one am crying out loud, enough already.

Missing Those Kids

I have been traveling a bit the last few weeks and haven't really thought of posting during that time.  Taking in some Georgia Tech football and a Presbytery meeting along with getting the honor of re-enlisting my little brother a few weeks ago.  That was a special moment that I will never forget.  Each time I get asked to serve as the re-enlisting officer is an honor and privilege, but to do that for a family member is truly amazing. 

But none of these excursions are the reason for this post.  The trips were all scheduled with the impression that my official orders would be here by now, but budget issues still keep them held on a computer in Millington away from me.  I had hoped the movers would have been here this week, but everything stays on hold while politicians get to take a vacation and tell me they are fighting for me.  Oh well.  Having to at least plan on the possibility that things would have been rolling by now, I had to quit volunteering at a special place right before I headed on three weeks of traveling around and hence the impetus for this post. 

For the entire time I was in seminary I volunteered at the UNC Children's Hospital working in the playroom (with the exception of my time there as a pediatric chaplain intern for dual hat issues).  I have to admit I probably learned more about theology and being a pastor in those two hours each Monday morning than during the rest of my time in class each week.  I never thought I would enjoy the experience as much as I did.  I started there to see if I could handle working with suffering children and their parents.  I figured if I could handle those situations and seeing seriously ill children I could probably handle anything.  And I did see some horrific physical and emotional situations, but after about a month it was less about me and those situations that just being with those kids.  I have vivid memories of those kids, their families, my fellow volunteers, the therapists and nurses that I will never forget.  It is my hope and prayer that I keep the lessons from all these people with me throughout my life and ministry and use them to guide my theology when I'm not with them each week. 

I had the opportunity to look suffering and despair in the eye on a level that many people will never see.  We tend to let people suffer in hospitals isolated and alone, especially those who don't have normal support systems in place.  I learned just how important it is to just be there.  Those kids didn't care who I was or what I looked like or what I did for a living.  They just wanted someone there who wasn't going to talk about the illness or injury unless they wanted to.  Maybe they needed someone to yell at or take out their frustrations with through Wii boxing.  I learned to see beyond the illness and see the person, which was a lot easier than I expected. 

They taught me how to suffer with dignity.  They made me translate all the theological language I heard throughout the week into the vernacular.  They shaped me as a pastor and person without knowing that is what they were doing.  I learned how to be present in horrible circumstances.  I learned how to listen.  I learned how to share.  I saw true wisdom first hand.  I learned how to laugh.  I learned how to play.  I learned how to love.  I learned how to smile from deep inside.  I learned I dominate in air hockey (two losses in three years).  I learned resiliency.  I learned how to suffer.  I learned how to cry.  I learned to open my eyes and see the world around me.  I learned what the world looks like from 2ft instead of 6ft.  I learned how to use a Wii.  I learned that nurses are amazing people that don't get enough recognition.  I learned more than I can articulate and will continue to glean lessons from people much younger and wiser than I'll ever be.  Perhaps most importantly, I learned who I was. 

Man, I miss those kids. 

Reflecting on Seminary (or Learning How To Wait)

So, the Navy delayed the board that decides my entry into Active Duty or the Reserves leaving me with two more weeks of waiting on where the next chapter of my life takes me.  This has provided me with an opportunity to do some things I probably wouldn't have been able to do over the last few weeks.  I got to travel to Hawaii to see a good friend get married.  The time has allowed me to put quite a dent in the stack of books sitting on my desk that seminary did not afford me the time to read (fiction and military history being the largest categories I am tackling.)  I have been working on the house, finally getting to some home improvements I was putting off and also dealing with a bunch of things that happened to break in the last week.  Next I head to DC to visit some old roommates and then off to Montreat again this summer but this time I will get to work with college students that are helping out the conference.  But more than anything else I have been able to reflect on the last three years and what this time meant for me and my future ministry. 

One major thing I have realized in this period of reflection is what seminary taught me and what the three years taught me.  Seminary, for the most part, was not where I learned how to articulate my theology or how to engage the world in a theological manner.  This is not to say the time was wasted or to discourage others from the process.  Seminary provided a great venue for me to learn how to think and write in a completely different manner than I had learned during my engineering studies and my role in the submarine force.  I didn't realize I could read or write that much in a week.  Not only did I learn how to write in a manner that would fit an academic context, but I also learned in my preaching classes how to write and speak to the context in which I would find myself whatever that would eventually look like.  I also learned that there is not singular theology to which we should all follow.  I think we all come out of seminary, or even from a particular congregation, with slightly different ways of speaking of God and our encounters with God.  The wide variety of reading in seminary showed me that in a stark way as they all have a slightly different take on the subject.  But none of these things really helped me to articulate my theology in a way others would understand. 

I have to admit that I learned theology outside the confines of classes.  There were times in which my fellow students debated what I believed and I learned how to articulate theology to those fluent in the lingo.  But I had to work in congregations to learn how to articulate theological themes, which can get quite complex, to those without the vocabulary.  Children taught me how to explain those complex themes in powerful ways that we can all understand.  My experience with kids shows they understand theology in a deeper and more powerful way than those of us "educated" folks.  The way they describe things cuts away the fluff we like to put on those themes.  But perhaps the place I really learned about theology was working at a children's hospital for the last three years as a volunteer.  They didn't care why I was there, only that I was there with them in that moment.  I entered into extreme suffering and extreme joy and learned how to feel comfortable in both emotions and that God is definitely in both of those spaces.  I learned that every interaction with another person is a sacred moment and that God is there in all of the relationships that I made with the children and their families.  I learned theology in the extremes and in the uncomfortable places of life not in the comfortable place I found myself in the sub force.  Now I have to wait and reflect some more before God sends me out to the extremes of life again to learn more theology in a different context and to pass on the lessons I learned over the last three years. 

What is Seminary Really For?

This has been eating at me for a while and I am not even sure if I can articulate the question, much less an answer, properly. The frustration may just stem from me being at a Divinity School instead of a true seminary, but I think that all of them suffer from similar issues. What is the point of studying about and writing countless papers about theology if the only responses that gain merit are those that speak in academic terms instead of what I will actually say to my congregation? Why do seminaries allow internships and field education during the summer and separating the academics from the application? Why are we not required to perform some form of long term service in the community during our three years in school?

I don't know the right answer. I have discussed these with other students. Some are sympathetic and some think I am off my rocker. Seminary should not be easy on either an academic or personal level. The challenges in both areas make you question your calling and drive you to ask and attempt an answer to the tough questions. But why should we separate the tough intellectual questions from the tough practical ones? My struggles with people outside the walls of the seminary help me wrestle with the countless pages of ancient and modern texts we read and vice versa. We are called as pastors to live in the world and show a glimpse of the Kingdom of God to everyone, so why do some students find it hard to get out in the community while in seminary? How does one go about convincing people that there is an amazing world out there that you can learn from and help at the same time. Plus, it gives a sanity break from the rigors of the world.

Just some rambling thoughts and questions I may never get the answers to.