summer 2013 reading list

in what has become a bit of a tradition, it is time to list out the books i intend to read this summer. inevitably, i will get distracted by sunshine, friends and family and will read fewer than half of these books…but i like to be ambitious.

key:
books to re-read
completed books
books for school

in no particular order:

The City & the City – China Miéville
Love, Imperfectly Known: Beyond Spontaneous Representations of God – Brother Emmanuel of Taizé
Ender’s Game – Orson Scott Card
Speaker for the Dead – Orson Scott Card
The Prophetic Imagination – Walter Brueggemann
How to Become a Really Good Pain in the Ass – Christopher DiCarlo
How Music Works – John Powell
Walking on Water – Madeleine L’Engle
On Liturgical Theology – Aidan Kavanagh
Liturgy as a Way of Life – Bruce Ellis Benson
The Study of Liturgy – Various
For the Beauty of the Church: Casting a Vision for the Arts – W. David O. Taylor (despite the use of the word “robust” on the book jacket)
What We Talk About When We Talk About God – Rob Bell
Daring Greatly – Brené Brown
Desiring the Kingdom – James K.A. Smith
Imagining the Kingdom – James K.A. Smith
Doxology: The Praise of God in Worship, Doctrine and Life – Geoffrey Wainwright
Fresh Air: The Holy Spirit for an Inspired Life – Jack Levison
The Fellowship of the Ring – J.R.R. Tolkien
The Two Towers – J.R.R. Tolkien
The Return of the King – J.R.R. Tolkien

an attempt to describe what is happening in my soul after reading the lord of the rings

back when the bestie and I were roommates, i teased her about her obsession with Lord of the Rings. i laughed to myself (and sometimes to her face) as she stayed up late flipping pages fiercely. and i called her a nerd when she set up her collection of memorabilia.

but here you have it, friends: i hereby eat my words.

i finished reading the Return of the King on Sunday morning after a two-week binge, and let me tell you…since then there has been a sort of ache somewhere deep inside of me. something is different. i find my mind wandering to the Shire with the Hobbits, sitting in on the council of Elrond, laying on a bed of soft grass conversing with Treebeard. i almost don’t feel like the same “me” anymore.

call me crazy, i’m okay with that.

tell me it’s just a book (or series of books, if you want to get technical). you’re right.

but there is something about this story. something about the way it is told. something about the characters that rings true. it seems to put air in your lungs, a bounce in your step, and hope in your heart.

i understand why she reads it every year. i understand why she gets excited to talk about it when someone brings it up. i even understand the memorabilia.

we had class last night at my professor’s house – and you know the first thing a seminary student does when they walk into a professor’s house is look at their bookshelves – i found my eyes darting around for Lord of the Rings. as soon as i spotted them, i was satisfied (the Bilbo bobble-head i noticed later was icing on the cake). the only sad part was that i couldn’t talk to her about the books because then i would have to admit that i had spent the weekend reading instead of doing the homework for her class.

so, fellow LotR nerds, consider me officially a part of the club. i will own it proudly.

the discipline of creativity

i have had a love/hate relationship with the creative aspects of my being for at least the last five years.

as far back as i can remember i have wanted to be a writer. i wrote (and self-published) my first book at the age of 8. i used to dream of being a journalist or an author, seeing my name in newspapers and my face in book jackets. in high school, my senior project was an attempt to get published. i wrote a story about a roll of film that was obtained surreptitiously, and learned of different places that i could try to get it published.

there is also music in my blood. i grew up in a house with a piano, drum set, guitar and bass out at all times. i played clarinet and flute most of my life. in high school i took up guitar. i have even written a few songs and played one or two shows.

somewhere along the line i decided i could paint and draw and i experimented with mixed media.

my room is evidence of this. in my tiny space i have a guitar, ukulele and keyboard accessible. my walls are decorated with my most prized creations.

but

the last five years have been marked by such a profound block that i haven’t created anything that i am proud of or wanted to share with people, save a couple songs i worked on for practicum in the fall. this blog is my only regular creative outlet, and it has been my saving grace in those moments when i just need to put words out there. but it is not the form of creativity that i thrive in.

this troubles me because of what i believe it means to be human. we are created beings, created by a Creative God, to participate in God’s creative action. we are all creative. creativity is not about whether you can paint or play an instrument, creativity is the expression of imagination, it is producing something beautiful, it is generative. you can argue about whether or not you are artistic, but i will stand strongly behind the assertion that we are all creative.

i have felt in the last year as though my creativity has been bursting at the seams. i have such an overwhelming desire to create something beautiful – a song, a poem, a painting – to express what is happening inside of me, but it doesn’t come.

i think i have realized something. creativity is spiritual. and there is some sense in which it has to be cultivated, maintained, developed. how do you do that? perhaps the cultivation of creativity, like spirituality, is based on discipline. we have spiritual disciplines like prayer, worship, confession, service, etc. that help us to grow as disciples and in our knowledge of God. what if there is a discipline to creativity too?

what if creativity is like a life of faith, where at some point it doesn’t just come easy anymore, but it is something that needs work. at some point we need to learn how to sustain it on our own, without those moments of overflowing, of abundance where we don’t really have to try. these are the only kinds of moments that i know how to create from: bursts of inspiration that seem to just flow out of me without much effort. but what if creativity is more than that?

the tenth year

in case you haven’t noticed, i enjoy measuring time. i see life in terms of dates, anniversaries, seasons, patterns. this post is no different. this post is in honor of many ten-year anniversaries in my life this year.

this (just over a) year that i am speaking of is March 2003 to July 2004. during this period of time, many important life-changing events and milestones occurred, each of which i would not be the same without.

first, in march of 2003, my grandpa on my mom’s side passed away. this was quite unexpected, and was sort of a freak accident. this was also the first tragedy that my family had experienced together (to my recollection). i never really got to know my papa as an adult. most of my memories of him involve him sitting quietly at the family dinner table working on a crossword puzzle, kicking everyone’s butt at jeopardy, running around in a wetsuit during our vacations to the beach, or trying to tell a joke or story but loving it so much that he couldn’t say more than five words without being overcome by laughter trying to get it out. i was in my senior year of high school and had my two nieces (2 and 3 years old at the time) were staying with us. i learned one really important lesson about myself during this time: i can do anything that i put my mind to. because my mom was busy taking care of details and family and whatnot, i spent many an early morning getting myself and the girls ready, dropping them off at daycare, picking them up, and finding a way to do my homework, feed us all, and grieve all at the same time. to be clear, i don’t resent this experience at all, rather i see it as an affirmation of my character. i learned that in those moments of crisis where everything seems to be falling apart, i am the kind of person who steps up, who takes care of and supports others, and keeps her head. i like that about myself.

second, in may of 2003, my grandpa on my dad’s side passed away. this was also unexpected. the previous fall, my grandma had been diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. there was at least some sense that we were sort of waiting for that event to occur. so when my grandpa died of a heart attack, it was surprising. in our strange sort of family spirituality, we talked about this event after my grandma passed as though my grandpa couldn’t stand to live without my grandma, and so it was only natural that he would go first. my grandpa used to tell me that i had an old soul. i have learned a lot about him in the last couple years, and he was a man that i regret having the opportunity to know as an adult. he was a man of his time, the generation of 2.5 kids, “yes dear”s, and dinner of meat and potatoes on the table at 5pm sharp. but he loved his family fiercely, and he was proud of their legacy. he spent his life in service to others, working to improve education in northern california. i grew up hearing negative things highlighted about my grandpa, but since then, i have learned that there is way more than meets the eye. our stories are way bigger.

next, in june of 2003, i graduated from high school. this event, as well as what followed as a result, set a course for my life that brought me to where i am today. high school was lame. i’m sure everyone says that. but there was something unique about my high school experience. i tell stories of high school to people who didn’t grow up there and they look at me like i’m crazy, like that kind of thing wasn’t normal. when i graduated, i hoped for change; for something different, better, bigger. but because i was 16 when i graduated (turned 17 shortly thereafter), i wasn’t allowed to go away to college. the dream that i had of attending stanford or ucla and becoming a writer slipped out of my hands. i ended up living at home and going to the local university, and i found out that college is not all that different from high school when you commute from home. so, this marked the beginning of a period of profound disappointment and discontentment with my life that opened the door for other important things to happen. if i had been able to go away to college, i certainly would be on a different path today.

summer 2003, i should have been arrested. i wont tell that story here, except to say that it isn’t a secret, and i will tell you about it if you want to hear it. the point of including it is that it was the beginning of a wake-up for me. the beginning of a realization that the way i was living wasn’t what i wanted my life to be like.

fast forward a bit, to april 2004. my dissatisfaction with life had reached a new level. i had an experience with some friends that left me reeling. i happened to go to LA to visit a friend that spring break, and that experience quite literally changed everything. i saw something different, something bigger, something better than i had. and thank goodness i had this dear friend, who had been praying for me for years, because she told me about what was so different, and it made sense to me. this dude Jesus was different, bigger, and better than i had imagined. and i haven’t turned back since.

finally, in july 2004, my grandma passed away. we watched her get sicker and sicker. it is hard to watch someone you love deteriorate before your eyes. the hardest part for me to handle was that i never had closure. i heard later about conversations that my aunt, my cousin, and other people were having with my grandma. hearing stories, saying goodbye. i didn’t have that. and that’s my fault. this was back when i didn’t know how to grieve well, and i was afraid. and so i didn’t say goodbye. i never shared with my grandma that i had become a christian. i never asked her what she believed. i didn’t tell her i loved her one last time. i have realized how important it is to not hold back, to push into those moments that are hard because it’s worth it on the other side. and i have realized that it is important to tell people what they mean to you. not just because you may not get another chance, but also because we all need to hear it sometimes.

so there you have it. my reflections on some of the ten-year anniversaries that are upon me in the next few months. it is important for me to look back on these things, to reflect and to remember, and then to look forward. it is important that this year is ten years. i haven’t done anything in my life for ten years (partially because i’m still young, and partially because most of my adult life so far has been pretty non-committal and flighty). in many ways, the period of time that i am honoring with this post (and particularly the event i will celebrate in april of next year) marks the beginning of my journey of figuring out who i am and how i fit in this world. and that’s worth celebrating.

class meeting

part of my first year seminary experience has been participation in something called a “class meeting.” it is sort of modeled after the Wesleyan band meeting, but our groups are not gender exclusive, and have a couple other minor changes.

our class meeting consisted of four first-year students, one second-year student, and one faculty member. we have met once a week all year. there have been two main components of our class meeting: to check in with one another on the state of our souls (this usually manifested itself in each person sharing something about how God had worked in their life during the week), and alms-giving. class meeting was NOT bible study, prayer group, or a book group.

today was our last meeting of the year with all six of us present. throughout the year i have had moments of reflection and appreciation for the presence of this group in my life for this first year of seminary, but today i thought i’d write it down.

being a part of this group was invaluable this year. one of the biggest things that i learned from this group of people is about how i articulate my story to others. somewhere in the middle of winter quarter, one of my classmates called me out. he noted that i had shared my entire time without ever using the word God. and he asked me to speak specifically about how God played a role in what i was sharing. i was censoring God. i used language that was safe, language that would be sure not to offend, and language that didn’t do justice to the power of God in my life.

since then, i have paid more attention to how i communicate what God is doing in my life, and i have learned to recognize things as God rather than coincidence. and i have learned to ask better questions.

this group of people has been vulnerable together, we have laughed together, we have thrown our hands up in the air together, we have grieved together, and we have prayed together. i don’t think i ever would have thought that this kind of group would have been beneficial – i mean, i had never heard of a small group that didn’t study the bible or wasn’t one of these newfangled “affinity groups”.

i am here to tell you, friends, that there is something to this idea of a class meeting or band meeting. it appears that i get to do it again next year, and i hope that it becomes an indispensable part of my discipleship in the future.

insecurity

[I keep going back and forth on whether I want this post to be password protected. For now, it is public. That may change.]

this week, i read this article (ignore how many times he uses the word “gift”), and it has me thinking a lot about insecurity. articles, when combined with real life situations, result in blog posts.

i have learned the hard way that my level of anxiety is a pretty good indicator that something in my life needs to be examined, evaluated, checked for fruitfulness. this week, i have felt my anxiety level rising. thankfully, i am a fairly self-aware person, so to say that my anxiety level is rising simply means that it is slightly higher than next to nothing, because i have somehow managed to cultivate a life where i can hold things loosely (even when, perhaps, i shouldn’t).

anyhow, my anxiety level has been rising. so i have begun to ask myself why. and here’s what i’ve got:

i feel really good about where i am right now. things are looking up. things that were hard to walk through are not so hard, because at least now i feel like i have others beside me. i consider my life six months ago, and it was full of uncertainty, full of hurt, full of lament. today, i see hope, i see relationship, and i feel known.

but here’s the thing…

amidst this sense that life is really good, i am anxious. i feel so incredibly insecure. i find myself reflecting on interactions with others wishing i could take back some of my words, or wondering what would have happened if i had said what i really wanted to say in a particular moment.

i. feel. so. vulnerable. i feel as though i have laid myself bare, that i have put myself on the line, and that i have allowed myself to push into something. and i am terrified. i am so afraid that at any moment people will discover just how annoying i am, just how much of a loser i am, or just how much they only tolerate my presence. i am waiting for the other shoe to drop, because now i have something to lose. six months ago, i could take a risk. i could say all i wanted about young adults at UPC because i had nothing else to lose. things are different now.

the thing about being known by others is that it necessarily gives them the opportunity to reject you…to your face. see, if someone we don’t know dislikes us, we can say its because they don’t really know us. but when someone who knows you, who knows your hopes, your fears, your dreams decides they don’t like you, there’s no way of reasoning our way around that.

and this is where my current insecurity lies. it lies in the fear that one day i will wake up and realize that what i have is gone. or even worse, that what i thought i have was never there to begin with, and that i was deceiving myself the whole time.

where is the gift in my insecurity? i don’t see a gift right now. i only see the pieces of myself that i am afraid will push people away, and i fear there is nothing i can do to stop that from happening. this makes me anxious, and thus, makes me reflect on how i can handle this better. how i can understand better where my security lies and how to live out of that place rather than this place of fear.

still thinking.

m’rele Carly

more than a month after training and sending a team to haiti, i am finally able to think about the trip, to hear stories with an open heart and mind, and to fully process what it means that i didn’t go this year.

i spoke on the phone with Deb this weekend, and i was flooded with memories of sitting on her porch or standing in her kitchen, exposing my soul and my struggles, bearing her burdens with her, and spending time in prayer together. i was flooded with memories of children in blue school uniforms chasing after us, playing games with us, teaching me Kreyol. i was reminded of what it was like to return to that school in Foison, to see the children that i know, to call out their names and to see their faces light up. i could almost feel the warmth of the Haitian sun on my skin and smell the sweet smell that hits your nose at the first step off the plane.

i also talked to Amber this week, and she told me a story from her trip, from the one day the team spent at the school in Foison. she told me about how they saw the building that our churches worked together to complete. and she told me about the little girl named Clarnese who came up to her and asked for Carly, and when she responded that Carly wasn’t there, Clarnese turned to her friends and told them that Carly wasn’t there this time.

this story brought me to tears. i keep the kids that i know in Haiti in my heart every day. i see their faces on my wall and i pray that they are well. i know that there are limits to the relationships that we can build with thousands of miles and cultural, language and age barriers between us. but i learned early that what i can do is know their names. remember their faces. and pray. each time i have returned, the moment that i looked forward most to was the first day stepping off that truck and being able to call those kids by name. but i never imagined that they would give me that same blessing.

i still don’t know how to handle the fact that i didn’t go this year. or how to live with a piece of my heart being held in the hands of these kids who live so far away and so differently from me. but i know that the moment i still look forward to is getting out of the back of that truck and being able to call those kids by name once more.