The One Who Dwells Within

As a child, I never understood the Holy Spirit. I could envision God and I could envision Jesus, but this part of the Trinity that "moved among us" was too ethereal for me to grasp. At best, I thought of the Spirit as a sparkling wind; at worst, a scary ghost waiting to jump out and catch me sinning. When I sat down to write my systematic theology in college, I had to figure out who this Spirit was and what they were up to.

I remembered sitting in a huge room with several thousand other Mennonite youths, my mother next to me, listening to John Paul Lederach give a speech at convention in Atlanta. He was telling us a story about a colonel he saw at an airport in South America that he had painted as “the enemy” in his mind. He never spoke to the man, only looked at him through a window, but he became so involved in his disgust for this man that it was visceral. But then, he saw this colonel greet his disabled daughter as she got off of an airplane. He saw the joy in the man's face and his tenderness as he helped her move around. He saw the way in which this man was like himself: they were both fathers, they both loved their daughters. It was in this moment that John Paul saw God in this man that he had had such righteous disdain for only moments earlier. When John Paul finished telling this story, I looked over to my mother and saw that tears were flowing down her cheeks. I then realized that I, too, was weeping. This experience shaped the way I strive to live my life: to see God in every person I meet.

When I thought of this story, suddenly this ethereal Spirit made sense. It wasn't merely moving among us, but in us. I believe that each and every human is imbued with a piece God in them at their creation and that this piece of God finds a way to shine through even the most disdainful person. This is what gives me my unabashed faith in the human race: we are all created in the image of God and we all have the capability to allow that image to shine through us.

This is also the reason I always trust my gut: God's in that gut. When you believe that God is a part of you, it becomes easier to trust your own judgement. Obviously there are times when ego gets the best of us, but if we are discerning, we can hear God's voice inside ourselves.

I like to use the term dwell to describe the Spirit in us. It gives the sense that the Spirit is at home with me, in its dwelling. It also hints that the Spirit will not leave me, but will dwell with me through everything. God is focused on me, dwelling on me. And there is a stillness in dwelling, a sense that we are together and that is enough.

The One who Creates, the One who Incarnates and the One who Dwells Within. This is how I understand God. This is the keystone to my theology. The way I understand God informs the way I understand the world.

We are Created in God's Image, the Creator gave a piece of Godself to Dwell in us and with that piece of God, we can Incarnate and show God to others.

The One Who Incarnates

“But what about you?” Jesus asked. “Who do you say I am?”

~Matthew 16:15

Jesus has always been difficult for me to wrap my head around. I have a lot of trouble understanding this mortal deity sent to save. I remember an atheist friend of mine telling me her trouble with Jesus was that if he wasn't God, then we were all just worshiping a man. This really struck me since Jesus' divinity had never made sense to me and I have spent much of my theological journey attempting to understand this figure so intrinsic to the faith of my tradition.

I must admit that I feared my uncertainty about Jesus. Christianity is, obviously, built around the divinity of Jesus and so if I was doubting that, I was doubting all of religion. I found myself at my most confused in the summer of 2006 while I was interning at Oxford Circle Mennonite Church here in Philadelphia. One Sunday the pastor was preaching on the question Jesus asked "Who do you say I am?" I was excited because I thought perhaps this sermon would offer me some clarity. I paid very close attention and I think I even took notes, searching for anything that would help me put these pieces together. But, as the sermon went on, it kept feeling all too familiar and unhelpful. It ended with the pastor basically saying: "Who is Jesus? Your Lord and Savior, who you should worship and follow." I was deflated. Nothing the pastor had said gave me new insight into Jesus' divinity. Nothing cleared up any of my confusion and doubt. I just sat there feeling so empty and lost and scared. The pastor asked us to sit and reflect on the question of who Jesus is to us and I felt the tears welling up inside of me as I thought "I don't know." But that was when I felt a presence kneeling next to me, saying "That's okay." I knew immediately it was Jesus. "It's okay if you don't know who I am. It's okay if you have doubts. Go ahead and have your crisis of faith, I will be right here next to you. I will go with you wherever you need to go." Since then I haven't feared my doubts. Since then I have been comfortable exploring and testing and coming up with crazy ideas about Jesus because I know He is walking with me. I spent the next several years trying to figure Jesus out and I think that the most important thing that I have come to believe about Jesus is that He was able to Incarnate in a way that we had not seen before or after him.

The way that I understand Incarnation is our ability to communicate God/Gospel/Kingdom/Wisdom/Love to each other. Unfortunately, this definition only breeds more need for defining. When I say God, I’m generally referring to the Trinity as I understand it (which I explained two weeks ago on this blog, in case you missed it). The Gospel is our Good News; it is what drives us to praise God. It is the knowledge that we are Loved and called to Love others. The Kingdom can be seen in quietly falling snow or it can be found at a dinner among friends or we can catch a glimpse of it as we weep for the pain we must bear or it can be felt when we laugh so hard that our stomach hurts. The Kingdom is everywhere; it is just that we do not always recognize it as such. Wisdom is our God-given understanding of the workings of the world around us and our knowledge of how to respond to those workings in a Godly way. Love is the driving force of the universe. It is passion, spirit, zeal, ardor, compassion, forgiveness, honesty, life. When you combine all of these, I think one can start to understand what I mean when I say Incarnation.

I do not believe that Jesus’ Incarnation is exclusive. Perhaps he is the only one to be capable of that full of an Incarnation in history, but we are all capable of some Incarnation. I believe that part of Jesus' purpose on Earth was to show us what we are all truly capable of. He showed us that we have the ability to heal people, both literally and figuratively. Through Jesus we saw that it is possible to live sustainably. Jesus showed us how to have true compassion for others. Most importantly, Jesus showed us what love is capable of. We should strive to live our lives like Jesus with the knowledge that we, too, are capable of Incarnation.

The One Who Creates

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

Psalm 139:13-14

The aspect of the Godhead that I will discuss today is the One Who Creates or Creator God. I find this image more meaningful than God the Father, but also not anathema to it. Fathers are creators because they have created life, as mothers have. Creator God is a way to talk about a parent God without need to push a gender on that parental love. If you have ever created something (a baby, a painting, a bookshelf, etc.) you might have been able to catch of glimpse of the kind of Love our Creator has for us. God knit us together, taking care to make each part Perfect, as our Heavenly Creator is Perfect. God is invested in us and rejoices in our success. Creation doesn't stop once we are born. We are reshaped and recreated over and over throughout our lives. Our Creator is dynamic and involved in our formation beyond the initial spark of our birth. 

While I think of one part of the Godhead as specifically Creator, it is my understanding that each part of the Trinity plays a role in Divine Creation. It would be helpful to now remember the way I understand the Trinity running parallel to our own personhood (mind, body, spirit). I will employ this analogy to demonstrate how each part of the Trinity is a part of the act of Creation. Say, I’m making some art. I create it in my mind first, shaping and molding it with my mind’s eye. It is Created one way because of the way I think about it. But the way I shape it with my hands changes it because of what my hands do and what the material does. If I combine those two things with loving that piece of art, then it is Created even differently still. When you love something you imbue a part of yourself in it. My mind, my body and my spirit each contribute to the Creation of art, and the contribution of each makes that art more perfect. That is how the Divine has created each thing, imbuing a piece of Godself in each creation.

Creation is a truly joyous exercise. It is good and is meant to be enjoyed and rejoiced in. It is my belief that we can learn Truth by examining the experience of our embodied selves. If we examine sex, arguably one of the purest forms of creation, we can see that the pleasure of it is proof positive that creation is to be enjoyed thoroughly. It is in this way that we can catch a glimpse of the Joy God takes in Creation.

I believe that our Great Creator Created the Universe. Perhaps it was created with a big bang and then slow movement. Perhaps it was created in a single week. That is not the point. The point is that the Great Creator Created. Everything Created was so divinely intricate and perfect that we will never be able to comprehend the magnitude of our Creation. The Great Creator also Created a balance so sacred that to defy it is sin. All things were Created in Grace. I do not understand the idea that God and science cannot be reconciled because science is merely the study of Creation. If the study of Creation tells us that we have evolved from primates, then that is true. If science tells us that Earth is billions of years old, then that is true. We should not reject the Truth that our Creator has placed in the world around us. Through the very act of Creating, God has become a part of the Creation. It is because of this that we are called to live harmoniously with God’s Creation.

~~~~~

This past weekend I attended a retreat with my church, West Philadelphia Mennonite Fellowship. I was asked to lead worship along with two of my friends, Megan and Mercy. It was such a wonderful experience not only to be planning the service, but to be planning it with my friends. We seemed to thrive on each other's ideas and came up with some really interesting things to do during the service. The piece I was most excited about, though, is that we structured the service to mirror the Trinity. And, as I made known last week, I'm a little obsessed with the Trinity. We titled the three "movements" of the service Creating, Relating and Dwelling. The section I was in charge of was our opening, Creating.

Since it was the opening, I decided to focus on the idea of creating a space for worship. As I thought about it, though, it morphed into creating as worship. I love the idea that the very act of creating something can be worshipful, so I started considering ways I could incorporate this into the service. I had the idea to have an opportunity to create art during the opening singing worship. The congregation would then be invited to bring up their art and place it on the altars as an offering. I decided to have one station with origami paper and some simple instructions, one with paper and markers and crayons and one with clay. While I was excited about the idea, I knew that there was a lot of potential for things to go wrong; as is the case whenever you have moving parts that you've never had before on a Sunday morning. I asked the song leader to pick familiar songs so that people could continue singing while they were working on their art. I told several people about the plan beforehand so that some people would be prepared. I asked people for suggestions on how best to explain it. I did my best to make sure everything would run smoothly, but was mentally prepared for everything to fall apart.

The morning of the service, I set up the altars and decorated them with cloth, leaving space for the creations. I spread out the supplies for each medium on three tables in the back of the worship space. And then I said a prayer that things at least wouldn't totally fall apart. Once the service started, I stood in front of the congregation and explained my idea. I then walked to my seat as the song leader began the first song. I held my breath until the first person got up to go to the back to create. Then a small stampede of children followed. Then more and more people began filtering back. I walked to the back of the room to see how everything was going and the only way I can describe my feeling is overwhelmed. It was perfect. Everything went perfect. I was overwhelmed by the blessing of it.

Creation is a Sacred space. But it's also so incredibly accessible. Every single one of us is capable of creation. Each of us can share in the Joy of our Creator. We can Create corporately or on our own. We can Create with our voices, our hands, our minds. Creation can be found all around us all the time. When we take time to focus on Creation, whether that be observing nature or creating art, we are focusing on God. 

The altars from church on Sunday.

Trinity

When I was a senior in college, I wrote a systematic theology. For all of you non-Bible majors out there, that basically means that I attempted to take all aspects of my theology and meld them into a cohesive whole. My ideas about salvation, creation, heaven & hell, church and everything else shaped and revised together in a way that they all made sense and intertwined. This is actually even more difficult than you imagine. I spent a few weeks with pages full of disparate and sometimes incoherent thoughts and ideas. I couldn't bring them all together, until I began to truly understand the Trinity. I can't even quite explain it, but when I started to look at my theology through the lens of the Trinity, everything clicked. The Trinity became the keystone of my theology.

I want to spend this time after Lent exploring what God means to me. After taking time to dwell on God's absence last week, I am more than ready to dwell on God's presence. Over the next four weeks, I'll be diving into each aspect of the Trinity; but today I want to try and explain the way I think about the Trinity as a whole. Much of what will follow over the next weeks will be adapted from that capstone paper I wrote about 5 years ago.

The Trinity has often been understood as being “Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” I began to struggle with this because I felt that no one had ever been able to explain what it meant to me. I didn't know how these three were one and how they interacted. But when I thought critically about my ideas about the Trinity, I discovered a belief that I didn't know I had. You see, I believe in a God in Us. That each of us are imbued with a piece of God's own self at the moment of Creation. This God in Us made sense to me as being what is understood as the Holy Spirit. I believe in a Creator God who is also called Father God; because Fathers and Mothers are definitely Creators. And as I began to think about this Son that others understand, I considered the different ways He is understood. The way that resounds most with me is Incarnation. You see, I think of Incarnation as our ability to communicate God/Gospel/Kingdom/Wisdom/Love to each other. It is the very fabric of our relationships and how we understand and are understood. We are all capable of Incarnation in our own ways, but Jesus was able to Incarnate in the most complete way we have ever seen on Earth. To put it another way, my Trinity is: The One Who Creates, The One Who Incarnates and The One Who Dwells Within.

One aspect of the Trinity that proved very difficult to explain is how the three entities interact with one another. I remember having the analogy of an egg used to explain it when I was young in a children’s story one Sunday morning. We were told that the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are much like the yolk, white and shell of an egg. They all function differently, but they are all egg. While this helped me to wrap my head around the concept of the Trinity, it did little to clear up what the Trinity actually did and how the Godhead interacts. It was not until I discovered Augustine of Hippo’s assertion that “humanity is not merely created in the image of God; it is created in the image of the Trinity,” that I found a helpful analogy. There are three distinct parts of personhood that are often referred to as mind, body and spirit. If we place this human trinity alongside the Holy Trinity, we can see a clear parallel: mind – Creator, body – Incarnation, spirit – Holy Spirit. You see, I can understand that while my mind, body and spirit are all separate and serve different functions, they are all me. This helped me begin to fathom how this Holy Trinity functions together.

Something about so clearly recognizing the way in which I am created in the image of God makes my chest puff out a little. I have a deep sense of pride knowing that I was Created in God's Image, that that Creator gave a piece of Godself to Dwell in me and that with that piece of God, I can Incarnate and show God to others. Truly, we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

The stained glass window in the ceiling of my church's sanctuary.

God is Dead Saturday

We have Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday; but what do we call that errant Saturday just sitting in the middle of tragedy and triumph? Some call it Holy Saturday, but I think that's just a cop-out like Holy Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. It can also be referred to as Easter Eve, but that feels too much like trying to skip over mourning to head straight for the resurrection and you can't get from Hosanna to Hallelujah without the Hell of the Passion. Black Saturday feels the most resonant to me, but I still feel like it's trying to skirt the issue. I prefer the title: God is Dead Saturday.

I started thinking about the day between Good Friday and Easter as God is Dead Saturday when I came across a story in my early twenties. And while this story has impacted my life, I cannot, for the life of me, remember where I read it. I'm fairly certain it was in one of the books I read while in Peru, but that doesn't narrow things down a lot. I also have no recollection of whether it was fiction or non-fiction. Regardless, I once read about a remote community that had been visited by Catholic missionaries at some point, and so had adopted parts of the Catholic religion. However, they had some of their own ideas about theology. Specifically, they believed that between sundown on Good Friday and Sunrise on Easter Sunday, God was dead and there was no sin. In the story I read, the villagers used this as an excuse to exact vengeance and commit adultery with no divine consequence.

When I first read this, I'm pretty sure my head exploded. I have often said that I was blessed with an overabundance of faith. I have been through some very challenging things. I have been deeply hurt and I have known real loss. I have doubted God's goodness and love. I have doubted my worthiness and salvation. But never in all my life have I doubted that God exists. Perhaps that is why the idea of God being dead, if only for 36 hours, shook me to my core.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was equal parts terrified and thrilled by the idea. When you're in your early twenties, the idea of no rules is an enticing one. But my connection with God is what keeps me grounded, so will I just float away into the aether if God is dead? My mind kept spinning and spinning. I wondered what I would do if I really believed there were no consequences. Then I wondered about how awful and empty I would feel without God.

I eventually put this magical thinking aside and got on with my life. God wasn't dead after all, so why keep worrying about nothing? But then, a few months later on the morning of Black Saturday, I suddenly remembered that God was dead. I got kind of twitchy and panicky; I kept looking over my shoulder like something was coming to get me and no one was there to help. Part of me wanted to try and shake off this feeling and rest easy in my faith, but another part of me was curious to explore.

I felt the excitement of there being no rules. It reminded me of the thrill I got when I was ten and one of my friends from Girl Scouts convinced me to say "shit." I still remember looking around her room before uttering it, like maybe the Holy Ghost was about to pop out from behind the dresser and condemn me. It was a taboo, it was not to be said; but I said it and nothing bad happened. What taboo things had I been curious about that now I could explore with no spiritual consequence?

But I couldn't think of anything worth doing. The truth was, I felt empty and scared. I didn't like the very notion of the absence of God. Without God, the world felt distant and menacing. In these moments I felt like I truly connected with the Hell of the Passion from the perspective of those left behind.

I thought about those Biblical days between the crucifixion and the resurrection. How dead and empty those who knew and loved Jesus must have felt. How scared and vulnerable, too. That was what struck me about God is Dead Saturday: how exposed I felt. Like the hedge of protection around me had been ripped out by the roots and I was laid bare.

This is why I haven't stopped thinking about God is Dead Saturday. It's too easy to go from Hosanna to Hallelujah and if I'm not intentional, I could almost forget the Hell in between. I understand the temptation to skip the cross; it's just so awful and sad. The very thought that God is dead is harrowing, but that is what happened two thousand years ago: God died on the cross.

So, harsh as it may sound, I'm sticking with God is Dead Saturday. If only to drive home the point that something devastating happened. Something jarring and awful. God died.

If you consider the terrifying possibility of God not only being absent from your life, but also from your world, it's almost debilitating. But when you pay attention to what the absence of God might look like, it helps to define the presence of God in your life. Taking time to dwell in God's death makes the resurrection so much more powerful.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

~Romans 8:38-39

Laurel Hill cemetery at sunset.

What a Miracle

Oh what a miracle Spring is.

The world is cold and frozen and then suddenly, she is clothed in splendor. From the mud and the dirt springs something fresh, clean and beautiful. Out of the grey and brown we are gifted with green, yellow and purple.

The scriptures for last Sunday told the stories of the dry bones Ezekiel encountered in the desert and of Jesus' resurrection of Lazarus. While I'd heard these stories so many times before, I had never related to them as I did on Sunday. My bones were feeling very dry. I was in need of some resurrection.

My life has been filled with more uncertainty than I'm comfortable with these past few weeks. And my only recourse has been to sit and wait for something to happen. Which is starting to feel like staring at the ground, waiting for something to sprout.

The winter was so long and so cold this year and then it just wouldn't stop. Hammered by snow storm after snow storm, freezing cold commute after freezing cold commute; I lost interest in going outside. I didn't want to do anything other than curl up under the covers with my space heater blasting.

I was losing my faith in Spring, losing hope that soon it would all be beautiful.

But then came Sunday and the miracle of Spring.

On Sunday I felt the warmth of the sun. Not just the light of the sun, but it's actual warmth. It was beautiful, I felt like my dry bones were rising up and God was commanding the four winds to breathe into me so that I may live.

I could finally hear the birds. I could finally smell the flowers. I could finally feel the warm breeze.

Just like Lazarus' corpse and Ezekiel's dry bones, I had come to life.

It seems impossible that life can come from death. It seems impossible that growth can come from dust.

Two Sundays ago the preacher quoted a line from a poem: "Do you not know what God can do with dust?" When I consider this question in the context of Spring, it occurs to me that God can do an awful lot with dust.

So I will continue to stare at the ground waiting for something to sprout. Because I know that when I am at my darkest, God can bring me sunlight. When I am at my driest, God can refresh me. When I am losing faith, God can help me believe.

Out of the dust, God can bring flowers.

What a miracle.

My beloved spoke and said to me,
“Arise, my darling,
my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
my beautiful one, come with me.”

~Song of Songs, 2:10-13

This is the banner I made for church last Sunday. It symbolizes a body or plant (the green fabric) being infused with life (the blue fabric) and lifted up by the Spirit (the yellow fabric).

Mid-Lent Check-in: Some Confessions

As most of you know, I love Lent. I love early spring and foggy mornings and little flowers bursting out of the mud. But, I must confess, this Lent has been a major letdown so far. After patiently trudging through a truly awful winter, I simply cannot abide this cold anymore. Every night I go home and immediately curl up under a blanket. I consider getting up to go do something, but the idea of pulling on layers of leggings, heavy boots and my shapeless parka is too much for me after all these months. Each morning I check the weather with trepidation and see that, for the bajillionth day in a row, it will be cold for my walk to work and the temp will not rise above 60 the whole day. It's April, is 70 degree weather really too much to ask?!

But even as I sit here filled with indignation, I confess that I know I'm just being selfish. The seasons are not here to make me happy; they have more important things to do. The lack of warmth this far into spring is not some sort of personal affront. The weather is the weather and there's nothing I can do about it.

However, I'm still feeling grumpy and uninspired. I wish I could just shake it off and write something awesome, but I fear I'll need to feel the sun on my face and smell the grass before creativity will flow again. In lieu of something creative, here's a mid-Lent check-in. I confess I haven't been at 100% with all of them, but I'm trying and that's what counts.

No Screen Sunday

Of all my Lenten disciplines, this has been both the hardest and the most rewarding. I sometimes find myself going absolutely stir-crazy by the end of the day. Especially since it's been cold and rainy and I haven't wanted to go outside. But I have also felt a deep sense of gratitude as I move through my life more slowly. That's what I feel like taking the screens away has done: slowed me down. I'm no longer doing three things at once (watching a show on my computer, cleaning my room and checking Instagram on my iPhone) but rather focusing on one task. It makes me think of my Amish relatives and how part of the reason they drive buggies instead of cars is that buggies give them the opportunity to see God's creation as they amble down the road. On no screen Sunday, I'm blessed to slow down and pay attention.

Fasting Wednesday

Fasting Monday became Fasting Wednesday when I found out that others from my church would be fasting on Wednesdays. Each Wednesday at 12:30 a handful of us call into a conference line and pray together. While I haven't found the fasting itself super-meaningful, I'm loving the chance to pause in the middle of my day and pray.

One Hour of At-Home Productivity Everyday

This one has been super helpful for my life. Even though the cold has driven me to mostly tackle things that I can accomplish while under a blanket, I've been happy with how much I've been able to get done. I rearranged my room, did a bunch of dishes, ran errands in the neighborhood, went through some of my storage and so much more. It hasn't been easy to keep this up as a daily practice, but I've been doing pretty well.

Read Everyday

In an unexpected turn of events, this has been the most difficult of all my disciplines to keep up with. I started out so strong, though! I read Ann Lamott's Travelling Mercies and Farenheit 451 in the first week. But then I didn't find another book that captured my interest. I've been half-heartedly reading a few pages of various things most every night, but nothing that I'm excited about. This week I've started reading Genesis because I've never sat down and read through the whole Old Testament narrative before, so I thought I'd give it a try. If you've got a great book you think I should read, please let me know!

As we move closer to Easter, I am praying for hope. I am praying for eyes to see the new thing God is doing. I am praying for my faith in springtime and warmth to return. Just as our God is faithful, so is this beautiful earth. She will burst forth with life and color and warmth just as surely as the sun rose this morning, I just have to hold out hope until she is ready.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
~Isaiah 43:19

Cold and rainy as it's been, at least the flowers are starting to bloom.