Peace, Sin, and Advent

Bonhoeffer’s Argument Against Religious Blackmail
December 19, 2012
Wesley Hill
http://www.firstthings.com/onthesquare/2012/12/bonhoefferrsquos-argument-against-religious-blackmail

(Bolding by yours truly, to highlight what I find most interesting/striking/confounding/etc.)

Krister Stendahl’s classic 1963 essay, “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West” makes the case that Augustine and the Western (Protestant) Christian tradition, preoccupied as they were and are with personal human guilt, present us with a drastic misreading of Paul. Unlike his fourth-century reader who poured out confessions of sin and misery to God, Paul was relatively untroubled by a sense of personal failure. According to Stendahl, himself an ordained Lutheran clergyman, Paul was very different from Augustine and Luther insofar as Paul possessed a “robust conscience.”

When Paul looked back over his life prior to his conversion to faith in Jesus, Stendahl argued, he considered himself a successful keeper of the Jewish law. Where Augustine and Luther narrated their respective conversions as a transition from oppressive feelings of condemnation to the relief of forgiveness and justification, Paul presents a very different picture: “as to righteousness, under the law [I was] blameless” before I became a Christian, he says (Phil. 3:6).

In drawing this distinction between Paul and Augustine, Stendahl is not simply interested in making a point about the distant past. He suggests, rather, that Paul’s freedom from feelings of guilt may have something to teach us about our contemporary Christian experience. Paul’s witness may enable us to break free from an oppressive Augustinian preoccupation with human unworthiness. “Did Paul think the only way to become a good Christian was out of frustration and guilt?” Stendahl asks (in the book in which the “Introspective Conscience” essay was eventually collected). No, he answers. “It may be that the axis of sin and guilt is not the only axis on which Christianity revolves.”

Another Lutheran clergyman—the theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer—may offer the best rebuttal to Stendahl’s view of Paul. In his Letters and Papers from Prison, Bonhoeffer worries that some versions of Christian apologetics and evangelism elide the distinction between sin and feeling guilty. As theologian Ian McFarland put it in his excellent book In Adam’s Fall:

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was highly critical of those styles of evangelistic preaching that seek first to persuade people how wretched and miserable they are and only then introduce Jesus Christ as the cure for their condition. He called it ‘religious blackmail’ and thought it both ignoble and completely inconsistent with Jesus’ own preaching. . . . Bonhoeffer objected that such preaching confused sin with personal weakness or guilt.

Better, Bonhoeffer argued, to present the total claim of Jesus Christ on a person’s whole life, rather than attempting to root out—in the fashion of muckraking journalism—a person’s hidden insecurities as a prelude to introducing them to Jesus’ forgiveness. At first glance, this makes it sound as though Bonhoeffer were agreeing with Stendahl that we have to break free of the old notions of personal sin and guilt if we’re to preach Christ in the changed landscape of modernity. But a closer read suggests there’s a deeper logic at work here.

Bonhoeffer suggests, contra Stendahl, that if we’re really to preach about the sin of humanity, we have to avoid yoking that preaching too closely to the feelings of guilt that may or may not be a feature of our hearers’ experience. Regardless of what a person may feel, Bonhoeffer implies, the gospel truly addresses them and lays claim to their lives. The truths of sin and redemption aren’t dependent on the rising and falling of human emotional states. And to dismantle a faulty view of the importance of those emotional states isn’t equivalent to a wholesale revision of Christian teaching on sin and redemption.

There’s an important lesson here, and not only for Pauline scholars (who, by the way, may agree with Stendahl that Paul possessed a robust conscience prior to faith in Christ but may nonetheless disagree with Stendahl about the implications of that fact). Distinguishing between the objective condition of humanity under sin and divine judgment (see Paul’s letter to the Romans, chapters 1-3) and the subjective feelings of guilt and shame may allow us better to defend, say, a Christian account of marriage in the public square.

Too often we Christians are heard as saying something along the following lines: “Your life of casual sex (or cohabitation, or homosexuality) surely must be leading you to feel empty, unfulfilled, and jaded. But we have the solution for those unpleasant feelings!” To which the reply is often: “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t feel excessively guilty or ashamed or unfulfilled. On the contrary, my gay partnership has given me more emotional peace than I’ve ever had.”

In other words, we Christians are often found making Stendahl’s mistake: in our rush to defend our understanding of sin and human flourishing, we too easily assume that the same emotions must be the universal human result of certain behavioral choices. When those expected emotions aren’t present—when Paul, for instance, feels no guilt after persecuting the early Christians—we’re suddenly left wondering what went wrong with our doctrine of sin.

I submit that Bonhoeffer may provide us with a way out of this conundrum. Avoiding what he calls “an attack on the adulthood of the world,” we may realize that it isn’t part of our Christian calling to first expose (or conjure) guilty feelings before we commend, say, a traditional Christian vision of marriage. Rather, we can simply acknowledge that human emotions are unpredictable; “peace” and “fulfillment” may indeed be the outcome of practices and behaviors that, from a Christian vantage point, we must deem sinful. But no matter. The gospel lays claim to the whole human being in the midst of that “peace.” Here in Advent, we remember the One who told us he did not come to bring peace (Matt. 10:34). He came to demand our all—to ask for our death and our life. No matter how robust our consciences may be, he came to save us all.

--Wesley Hill is assistant professor of biblical studies at Trinity School for Ministry in Ambridge, Pennsylvania. His book Paul and the Triune Identity is forthcoming from Eerdmans.--

Baggage, Leadership, Sex, and Freedom

‎"I came before God with baggage (and a hangover)." -Jessica Laporte

Jessica is an InterVarsity student at Tufts (where we've had some challenges to our ministry operating on campus). She wrote an incredibly humble and faith-filled op-ed today.

We are grateful that Jesus has saved Jessica and is using her on her campus. Read her words and share them.

http://www.tuftsdaily.com/op-ed-why-i-am-a-leader-in-tcf-1.2802263#.UMfwIoWs323 "

From InterVarsity Christian Fellowship's facebook page.

This is a stunning testimony of a junior at Tufts University who serves on leadership with the InverVarsity chapter there, especially in light of challenges that face the operations of a Christian group on campus.  I am awed by it--by the Holy Spirit's work in her life, by her openness and boldness to share that work with her entire campus, and also by the writing itself that invites others to experience God's transformation.  Just read it!

I Will Wait for You

This poem is brilliant.  It's been sitting in my inbox since April--I emailed it to myself once I saw it.  And it's long past time to share this wonderful work of art--get it out of my inbox and into...somewhere where it's more than a link.

I Love You, but...

Dear Jesus,

I love you, but I really need to finish this large stack of grading!!  Please stop distracting me with your awesomeness.

Too much love,
Rachel

Intercession

In the past eight hours, I have driven to Lansing, met up with several dozen people I haven't seen in months, if not longer, prayed, prayed some more, prayed, and driven back home to West Michigan.  I made the decision to do this about 30 hours ago.  Ha. Yep.

This is after an afternoon of chemistry education thought bubbling, including a seminar, article reading, and expected phone calls from graduate schools (which didn't happen).

You would think my brain would be complete mush.  It is rather squishy, but it is not complete mush.  I believe that is an answer to prayer in itself.  Thank you to Kristen and Kerrie and others who prayed for me tonight.  I don't think I could have done this evening without your prayer support.

This evening was an experience.  In so many ways.  Somehow, I always seem to forget how completely OVERWHELMING it is walk in from the parking garage after spending 2 hours alone in the car...to see 500+people crawling the halls of the conference center.  An extrovert might be like a little kid in a candy shop.  I wouldn't know, because I'm an introvert.  This jams my system for a little bit, and I end up seeking out a corner to hide in until I can make small steps out from it (or in tonight's case, a row between racks of college apparel).

But I discovered a new component to the hazards of my callings:  Overfilled people index.  I spotted dozens of familiar faces within a few minutes--and I found my mind blank of their names.  The further I walked, the more faces I recognized, and the more overwhelmed I became that I could not think of their names, or know from which setting I knew them.  After being involved with InterVarsity for 5 years now, I should expect this.  But this happens in the hallways at school, too, and my people index is filling fast. Now that I have taught for 4 semesters, I have over 400 students' faces tucked away in my memory.  They walk by me and the recognition sparks...but most of the time it doesn't catch.

Or, one of my students that I taught last night walks by me in the Kellogg center. She sees me and asks in surprise what I was doing there, and I say hi, and apologize--I recognize you, but I recognize so many people here, and I can't place you.  And she tells me that she's one my lab students in my section I taught last night!  1) Oh man, name recall fail.  2) Wait, that's so cool!  I'm really excited that one of my students is in InterVarsity, and I'm excited that she knows her professor shares her faith, shares an organizational experience, and knows that her professor is willing to come pray for her and her fellow students.

It isn't until the drive home that I actually remember her name.  And she's one of my best students, and sits in front of me.

So that was the first half hour of my evening, after spending the drive thinking I was insane for driving 1.5 hours each way to spend 4 hours in Lansing.  The next 3 hours, I prayed.  I prayed in groups, with various people, in various places, in various ways, for various things, ranging from restful nights for all, to breaking off evil spirits.  I love to pray, and I love to intercede for people.  But tonight I was stretched to live as an intercessor for 3 hours.  Oh, how it was a stretch.  I left and once my car was in sight in the parking garage, I started to feel myself collapse into tears.

I drove home, fighting this battle of feeling like I had failed (that and just exhaustion).  Between not knowing people's names and not knowing how to proceed throughout the evening, I felt inadequate.  But Jesus won that victory.  Though those thoughts came, they didn't stick around for long.  It felt a little like the way silly putty is sticky but not really.  The thoughts would come, but they wouldn't stick.  And so I am grateful.  I am grateful that I got to intercede for this weekend, to learn a little more of what that means.  To grow as an intercessor.  To grow in my understanding of walking well on this journey--though I am an experienced traveler, there are many more miles still to go.  I am grateful for the miles walked, and I am grateful to share in the travels of others less experienced than I, but covering new territory myself, and experiencing all that goes with that.

And now, I must go.  The brain has said, You've processed.  Now can you go to bed, please?

Heritage

Whoa! Less than a week between posts?  What is this?  What's happeninnnggg?

What's happening? I don't really know.  But things are happening!  Hence, you get to read a few of the things I've been discovering lately and nomming on as I stumble around the blogosphere--what amazing things you find when you follow a theologian's tumblr!

It is significant for our understanding of the nature of the religion of Israel among the religions of the world that meaning for her is derived not from introspection, but from a consideration of the public testimony to God. The present generation makes history their story, but it is first history. They do not determine who they are by looking within, by plumbing the depths of the individual soul, by seeking a mystical light in the innermost reaches of the self. Rather, the direction is the opposite. What is public is made private. History is not only rendered contemporary; it is internalized. One’s people’s history becomes one’s personal history. One looks out from the self to find out who one is meant to be. One does not discover one’s identity, and one certainly does not forge it oneself. He appropriates an identity that is a matter of public knowledge. Israel affirms the given. -Jon Levenson

Children of God

Prayer snippet re: praying for college campuses

We claim that the kingdom of darkness can come NO FURTHER.  It must STOP here.  It has no power, authority, or say here, because we belong to and are ambassadors of Christ, and we say NO.  We claim this borderland for Christ.

Maranatha

For all the thirsty in need of the river
For all the sleeping hearts waking from their slumber
For everyone still standing at the shoreline, come!
For all the hurting souls running from their Healer
For all the skeptics running from an answer
Let everyone who hears these words, say 'Come!'

For the Spirit and the Bride, say 'Come!'
Yeah, the Spirit and the Bride, say 'Come!'
For all the Pharisees, empty on the inside
For all the lovers who spent their love on a lie
For the forgotten, the Father's heart says come!
For all the fatherless looking for approval
For all the daughters who've never heard they're beautiful
Let everyone who hears these words, say 'Come!'

Amen, Amen, come Lord Jesus, come again!
Until then, until then grace and peace be ours, Amen!
Amen, Amen, come Lord Jesus, come again! 
Till You come again peace be ours, Amen!
Till You come again!

The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.

~Revelation 22:17

A Shepherd's Compassion

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. ² And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”³ So he told them this parable: ⁴ “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? ⁵ And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. ⁶ And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ ⁷ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.  Luke 15 (ESV)

Imagine with me that you are a shepard.  You've been roaming the hills with this flock of 100 sheep for a while.  And then one goes missing.  You suddenly notice that that one little ewe with the wide set eyes and the little notch in her ear is not among your sheep.

What are your first thoughts?  What are you feeling?  What do you do?  You aren't thinking about logistics, are you?  You aren't thinking about philosophical ideas.  You aren't thinking about anything other than that missing sheep.  You are filled with a desperation to find that ewe.  And so you leave your flock and you roam the hills, calling for her.  You are hoping that around the next bend, you'll see her.  Hills go by, you are bounding from boulder to boulder, trying to find a place to see as much of the ground as you can and still trying to move quickly.  The shadows begin to shift and lengthen and you haven't found her yet.  You are beginning to despair of finding her, worried that if the night comes before you find her, the wolves will find her first.

And then you hear her bleating.  You whirl in the direction of the sound, and dash after it.  You don't see her yet, but she is still crying.  Your heart aches with the knowledge that she is at hand but not immediately present to you.

And then you see her.  You find her hiding in the space between two rocks.  As much as you want to run to her and fling your arms around her so you can take her back to the flock, you still.  You approach gently, and carefully and stroke her head once she recognizes you.  You take a few minutes to calm her before lifting her on your shoulders and heading back to the flock.

At the days end, you're sitting with your family or friends or Shepherds Non-Anonymous Group or whatever, and you get to share with them your joy of your finding of your lost sheep.  You had an emotional and troubling day, and yet it has all ended in joy--a joy that came because she was lost but is found.  A joy that came because what has been lost has been found.  The joy of finding is proportional to the hurt at the losing. 

It's a stunning picture of the love of Jesus, is it not?  The compassion of the Shepherd seeking after his one lost sheep.

Let's change the picture a little bit.  Let's paint this in a different color.  What if that ewe with the wide eyes and the notched ear had a habit of disappearing?  What if this was not the first time the shepherd had noticed this sheep missing?  Does this change the shepherd's desire to find her?  No.  It might change the initial emotions, but it doesn't keep the shepherd from wanting to find her.  The shepherd will still climb over hills and rocks to find her.  And when he does, will he not still stroke her head and lift her on his shoulders?  Will he not still not rejoice that this missing sheep is on his shoulders again and headed back to his flock?  Might not he have even more compassion on this sheep that always seems to be getting left behind or lost or separated?  And while at SNA, someone might ask him, Isn't that the one that ran off last week?  And might he say, Yea.  I know.  I'm just glad she's back now, again. 

Let's paint this a little differently still.  Let's use oils instead of acrylics, and shift the perspective.  When the shepherd realizes he's missing that sheep and chooses to leave the flock to find her, is it not possible that the shepherd, even in his distress over the missing sheep, takes pleasure in knowing that he *can* leave the flock to find this one?  He trusts these sheep, because he knows these sheep trust him.  Does he not rejoice in this as well?

And is it not possible that he looks at each of those sheep and remembers a time when it was that sheep with the funny colored nose who ran off, or the one with the odd gait, or the one with a cowlick in his coat?  Is it not possible that each of these ninety-nine that he has left behind have been that one sheep before?  And is it possible that these sheep stay put because they know that even when the shepherd leaves them, he always comes back to them?

 ¹⁰ The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. ¹¹ I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. ¹² He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. ¹³ He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. ¹⁴ I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ¹⁵ just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.  John 10 (ESV)

I'm Not Dead...

You can be sure that when I am silent here for long stretches of time like this that God is doing something deep.  On these things I hope to write at some coming date.  But, in these private contemplations and conversations with Jesus, I will say that there has been both pain and joy.  Much, very much, of both.  I find that this prayer we took part in tonight in what our church calls "Contemplatives in Action" (it's a class on Christian spirituality where we study and engage with a variety of thought and practices in our Christian heritage.  Our latest series has been on the three dominant orders of monastic traditions.) reflects that.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.
Body of Christ, save me.
Blood of Christ, inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O good Jesus, hear me;
Within thy wounds hide me;
Suffer me not to be separated from thee;
From the malignant enemy defend me,
And bid me come to thee,
That with thy saints I may praise thee
Forever and ever. Amen.

Joy like a Fountain

Today was the first day of summer classes.  It felt so good to be going back to a job that I love after two weeks away.  I enjoyed the two days off that I had--I was super productive!, and staffing Chapter Focus Week last week was important (more on that later), but this morning, I was filled with such joy.  I was going to get to teach again.  I was nervous, yes, I was dreading the stacks of grading, yes, I was anxious about dealing with student emails, yes.  But to be able to talk about something that I enjoy and help others learn about it, and engage with them as people, to see the lightbulb go on in their faces...Such a joy.  As if I wasn't already excited for the semester, after class, four students talked to me about the issues they were having in lecture.  They told me that they learned so much from me today, more perhaps even than they had learned the past three days combined in lecture.  I feel bad that lecture has not been a good experience for them, but I was so encouraged that they had learned something from me today!  They learned something from me today even though I felt like I could have done a little better.  And I was honored that they felt like they could talk to me.

There is a fountain out in front of the chemistry building that I pass every morning.  I love it.  It's a pretty fountain, surrounded by some hedges.  The sound is peaceful, and when the wind is blowing, I can feel mist from it as I walk by.  It's such a simple piece of architecture, but it can say so much more than you think tiers of concrete filled with water could.  Sometimes it reminds me of baptism.  Today, it was the epitome of what I was feeling: gurgling, overflowing, joy.

At Peace

I was reading over my blog (as I sometimes do--it's so interesting to read how life and my responses to it change over time!) and I realized that I never clarified what the "secret" was that I didn't want to blog about until appropriate parties had been informed.

The surprise was that I had decided to apply for staff part-time with InterVarsity.  This was a big decision for me.  To acknowledge that God has called me to be involved in student ministry involved trusting that God knew my gifts better than I do (because I generally feel I don't have any) and trusting that what I do have to give is worth giving and is needed (because even when I feel I have a gift, I don't always feel like they matter).  I was willing to take the risk to apply, and trust that God would take it from there.  If I applied and never interviewed, okay.  If I interviewed, but didn't get the job, okay.  If I interviewed and got the job, okay!  THEN I would embark on fundraising and all the fun and "fun" stuff I didn't even know about  yet, and trust that God knew what he was doing there, too.  It's how I got to Russia--one step at a time.  (The last half of this entry shares how my trip to Russia was part of the decision to apply for IV staff.)

The next surprise is that...it didn't matter.  It turns out that the area (West Michigan) doesn't really need my skill set.  They are looking for chapter planters (I am a chapter builder--I lack the extroverted, entrepreneur-type gifts to plant new chapters; I work better with existing structures that I can take and rework and encourage and strengthen.), or staff team directors.  And so began a painful 2-3 months of sorting through this news.  Was this a 'No'?  A 'Wait'? A 'Yes, but you need to be willing and ready to leave your home to do this.'  I was not ready to leave my home to do this.  I wanted to be willing, but the truth is that I was not.  "Home" is a very special thing to me--it takes so much energy for me to emotionally invest in a place where I finally feel *safe* that the prospect of leaving my first true church family at Zion, and a job I love, and a chapter I love, and an environment I love for a part-time ministry position was distressing.  And I wasn't getting a clear answer from God.  I risked going to Russia, because God was very clear about it.  I would pray, and God would hardly let the words of the question finish leaving my lips--he would silence the question with his invitation to follow.  But here, God remained silent.  So frustrating!  And so stressful and scary!

November through late/early February was hard.  I didn't know where to go.  I didn't know what to do.  I would pray and get silence in return.  I stopped praying because I was afraid of the silence.  The voices of anxiety crowded my head and my heart and gave me no peace.

But then, the fog lifted.  The voices shut up.  With prayer from others, I'm sure, and helpful conversations with others--an IV staff worker and a professor friend.  I came to understand that my calling was to students.  Period.  My calling wasn't limited to a job.  My calling has always been, and will always be (I think) to students.  To the (older) teens and the young adults, who are trying to make sense of the world.  To encourage them and to challenge them.  How that plays out in my life will be variable, and God will guide me in that.  So for now, I'm doing the right things.  I'm teaching and I'm volunteering.  I'm planning on going back to school for further education so I can teach chemistry, hopefully to college students.  Maybe I'll go on staff with IV later.  Maybe I won't.  Maybe I'll volunteer with the youth ministry at my church.  Maybe I'll hop across the world (back to Russia??) and do something there with students.  Who knows??  God will work it out.

So I have peace again, finally.

For you shall go out in joy
    and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
    shall break forth into singing....-Isaiah 55:12 (ESV)

For Vanderbilt (and others)

At Vanderbilt University, and many other institutions, the ability of faith-based groups to select leaders using faith-based criteria is being challenged.  Discussions are, of course, in full-swing.  It is a discussion I find my heart engaged in in a way that doesn't normally happen to me.  I generally resist taking sides, but here, my heart is sure where it stands.  And the fact that there is opposition to it, instead of instilling fear in me, only breaks my heart more.  And so I offer this prayer.  I sometimes find my fingers useful in aiding my prayers, and it is a prayer I invite others to join and to hear.

Father, my heart is moved for these students.  They are your beloved children.  They are your sons and your daughters.  They have gone to college, to Vanderbilt, for a myriad of reasons.  But I know, Lord, that college can be such a unique experience, to learn, and to grow.  And with this decision, the opportunity to grow in knowledge of you is hindered.  My heart aches for the student who is desperately seeking, and the opportunity to encounter you is shrouded by the bushes of “tolerance.”  I pray against the messages that satan would use this situation for.  I pray their ears would be deafened to them, and instead that they may hear your Truth ringing clearer than before.

I pray for our hearts as we engage with this issue.  I pray for patience and wisdom and understanding for all involved in this discourse, that we would be quick to listen and slow to anger.  Forgive us the sins we have committed.  Forgive my sins of judgement, for I know I have spoken harshly of the administration, in my heart and out loud.  Instead, turn my heart to this prayer, that you would give his heart wisdom as they seeks to do the right things for their school.  

Help us to love one another, even when we disagree.  Teach us how to love.  Because somehow we’ve lost track of what it means, and replaced it with an idyllic version, where love is easy, uncomplicated, and always happy.  So when we hit points like this, where emotions can run high, where pain and judgement begin to become stones to throw and justification to throw more, it is hard to see how love can enter the picture.  Teach us how to love one another, even when we disagree.  

For those enmeshed in the situation, at Vanderbilt, and at other universities, I pray for endurance.  I pray for strength in their hearts and souls to continue in righteousness.  That while being patient and loving seemed easier at first, I pray for the days to come when it will seem easier to react in violence and hate.  Give them grace to continue in patience and love.  Jesus, draw them back to you then, that they may find comfort in knowing you, in knowing that you’ve been there.

In all our struggles, and in all our dismay, Lord, be glorified.  Be glorified.  Even when we don’t see how, we know that you work all things together for the good of those who love you, and we know that you will glorify Yourself.  So we pray Lord, be glorified.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen

Reflections

I believe a series of some reflections are in order, as we have just added 1 to our year.

Lessons learned from being volunteer staff:
1.  I can't do everything.
Now, that doesn't mean I don't try.  Oh, how I try.  I am the type of person that tends to believe that all that's worth doing is worth doing to the highest degree.  Hence, my stint in a PhD program, exhibit A.  Exhibit B: My struggle to figure skate recreationaly.  It is an off/on relationship.  When it's on, I tend to leap into it, with some new reason to validate the expenditure of my time and money on ice time, tights, blade sharpenings, lessons, etc.  And then that reason fails to come to pass, and I feel guilty and it's off again.  Now, though, I'm tentatively stepping back on the ice.  Because it's...it's skating.  It's where my heart feels at home.  Nothing cures a heart bound in string quite like the smell of the rink, the rip of your edges, the aching numbness from spent muscles and a few too many hard spills.  ANYWAY, I'm getting off-track.  SO, staffing and otherwise being a J personality.  I felt that if I was going to give my time to college students, to love them, and guide them, and teach them, and train them, I needed to do it *right* not all wishy-washy.  I needed to prove to them, to my superiors, to the people around me, to myself, that I wasn't in this because "it was a good thing to do," or "I had the time to give," or "it's what Christians do" or whatever.  I had to do it ALL OUT.  Which leaves me struggling with saying no to my students, with guilt at the way my work schedule conflicts with opportunities to be praying with, studying with, and otherwise hanging out with Hope students.  With stress that says I can't possibly think I'm staff material, because I'm not doing this perfectly.

But I'm learning, slowly, that living faithfully and obediently is not a matter of doing everything correctly.  Living faithfully and obediently is doing what God has asked me to do. It's going where he leads me, it's speaking when he gives me words, it's using the gifts he has given me in ways that bring him glory.  God has not asked me, in this time, to give 40, or even 20, hours a week to Hope's campus.  He has asked me to step out, to be present to the lives of college students, to encourage them, and to spur them to greater faithfulness.  The other part of that is doing it in ways that are consistent with who I am in Christ.  I need not fret that I am not staff material because I am not extroverted, or because I'm not a brilliant cook, or because I wasn't a religion major, or whatever.  God has gifted me in other ways.  And it is because of THOSE gifts that I have been called, because the gifts I have are needed, too.

2.  Leading is not a matter of holding all the keys in your hand and making sure that everyone knows it.
Operating with a picture of leadership like this disconnects me in two ways.  First, it disconnects me from my students.  Because this picture of leadership demands that I am focused on having the keys.  I am focused more on gaining what's missing than on giving what I have.  I'm also focused on making sure that everyone can hear them jangling.  I'm focused more on maintaining presentation than I am on doing the work of leading.  I'm focused more of being heard than on listening (which hurts me, because I desire, above all else, to listen.  To listen, to make space for another to speak).  Secondly, it disconnects me from Jesus.  If I am to have all the keys in order to be a leader, there is no room for me to come to his feet and say, Jesus, I need you.  If I am to make sure that my keys are making enough noise, I'm too busy shaking the key ring to pay attention to anything other than the keys.  I can't listen to anything else, such as the gentle voice that would lead me to know what to do in front of a large room of people.

I was working in a track called Transformation at Compelling this year.  It's an entry-level track, if you will, a basics course.  Like second semester general chemistry.  All throughout that weekend, I struggled to be present, to my students, to Jesus.  I would mentally check out from teaching sessions, and then I would have to reengage when it came time to work in small groups.  I wouldn't listen to the teachings because I already "had that key on my key ring."  I had a hard time listening to my students because I was too focused on leading right.  I was operating under this dichotomy, where to lead meant to be put together, at the top, and to be led meant to be in need, at the bottom.  So all throughout that weekend, I was flip flopping.  Sometime mid-conference, I realized that I wasn't doing it right.  To lead well means to lead out of being led.  The learning and the teaching coexist.  I cannot teach when I am not learning.  I've seen this in my job as an instructor too--I teach the best when I am actively learning.  I can explain molecular orbital theory to my intro class the best when I'm really thinking about what molecular orbital theory *really* is and what it tells us.  Likewise, as a spiritual mentor, I'm leading the best when I'm leaning the hardest on Jesus.  Because when I'm leaning on Jesus, I have everything I need: strength, peace, words, wisdom, the Holy Spirit.

TO BE CONTINUED!