Three is a Magic Number

For a recent professional development task, I was asked to reflect on some questions, giving answers that could catch people's attention on social media.  Super fun activity.  Thought I'd share. 1. How do you know God is real? If I knew God was real, I don't think I would need faith. 2. What does it mean to be made in the Image of God? You are valuable and worthy beyond your wildest imagination simply because you exist. 3. Is God in charge? Not in charge, but awfully persuasive. Theodicy... God is radically loving, powerfully persuasive, and persistently present. I can't ask for more than that. 4. What is the Trinity? A three-fer explanation of how humans explain their experience with God. 5. What is wrong with us? Nothing. Shame is the problem, not sin. 6. What is the Gospel? A living message (like a reef): Belonging, healing, reconciliation, liberation, and social justice. 7. How do we know what is true? The quad is cool. And it's best whe

I’m coming up on my one year anniversary of my first pastoral appointment.   And I have a lot to say about church planting: about how I'm learning to risk and persevere, about the experience of herding cats (um, I mean progressive Christians), about how much easier it is for people to talk about churchy things over wine, beer, or coffee, and about how I see a lot of people seeking spirituality and asking questions.   Maybe at some point, I’ll write a little ditty on each of those things.   For today, I want to write a bit about what evangelism looks like to me. I know, I know.   That word “evangelism” is probably conjuring up modern images in you—maybe a political voting block, praise and worship music, praying a certain kind of prayer, a robust faith.   Let all that go for a second so we can look at few ways the word has been used. At one time in the not so distant past, the most prominent feature of those identifying as evangelical was that they had a transformative experie

 I find my husband’s family—the Christensen clan—is absolutely delightful.     Fourth of July is a big event for us.   I’ve been to Hill City’s Independence Day celebration since 1996, except for one year, last summer.   I was super busy doing an internship in recovery ministry, and just couldn’t get away.   But this year I was back, and wow… something strange happened.   After taking a year off, everything felt new again.   The same feelings I had in 1996 came back:   “Wow, this is so much fun.   What a sense of family!   What a sense of community!   Babies to seniors, all playing together.   Pontoon rides, campfires, fireworks, street games, etc, etc, etc.”   After going north for the 4 th of July year after year, it’s almost as if I was desensitized to the whole sensory experience of it.   So this year, it all came flooding back. And what’s even stranger, the thing that took me away last year—recovery ministry—is another one o

When one is planting a new church, there is little time for reflection on much else.   All my thinking energy seems to be going into the project. My younger sister has become accustomed to me venting to her about all kinds of social issues.   Those who know me aren’t surprised to know I have a pretty big soap box.   Passionate… that’s the word.   On the phone with my sister this week, she was a little surprised to hear I didn’t have much to say about the Charleston domestic terrorist attack.   Feeling out of "thinking energy," I found myself saying, I can’t think about the attack because it will put me into a funk, and I can’t afford that.   Yep, my privilege gives me the option of what I choose to care about and what I don’t.   Sad, huh?      Well, then I watched the president’s eulogy of Rev. Pinckney.   Again my privilege crept in, tempting me to culturally misappropriate the speech… hummm… maybe I could use it at church to study theology around grace (which I thou

I just got back from my first annual conference as a voting clergy person.  Given the year I've had in ministry, the three days were a roller coaster of emotions. Here's me in my robe... first time I've worn one.  Generally I hate them, and I'll blog about #thestoleproblem at some point.  But I have to say, wearing this robe was special.  The robe actually belonged to my aunt Jane who died several years back.  Most ordination ceremonies include a time for those who feel called to ministry to come forward for encouragement and prayer.  It would be a strange sight to see a robed person going forward.  After all, anyone wearing a robe is already clergy and has answered his/her call. But I did go forward--in my robe--straight to my where my district superintendent was stationed.  She has been an incredible support to me.  I gathered courage and said: I'm coming up to tell you a story.  I first felt my call when I was 17 at my aunt's ordination ceremony. 

We're coming out of a super busy week with the kids.  I found myself sharing with another parent last night, "Life is good."  It's good indeed. Samuel participated in a singing group for solo ensemble.    Faith went to her first school dance.   Emilee brought home a very clever picture.

Pastors and churches engage in a whole bunch of ministries: preaching, worship, pastoral care, faith formation, public ministry/advocacy… to name a few.   I think maybe my group of people have invented a new one: Exploratory Ministry. When I started my position in September, the senior pastor asked me, “What should your title be?”   Huh.   Good question.   I asked to make one up, and without a whole lot of thought I said, “How about we call me Pastor of Exploratory Ministry.” A quick Google search seems to indicate I’m the only Pastor of Exploratory Ministry out there.   I invite you to do some digging to see if I’m right or wrong about that. As a facilitator of a ministry like this, I’m finding it necessary to give space for people to explore their needs and the needs of the larger community.   Some needs float to the surface.   Here’s the big, underlying assumption:   The process of exploration is what actually allows people to speak aloud their needs; the ministry is then sha

  Since I’m nearly done with seminary, I often get asked, “So what are you up to?   What’s next?”     The best way I can respond is by saying, “I’m on this super weird journey.” For a couple of months, I’ve wanted to write this post to explain what’s going on in my life, but this has been a hard post to get out.   Writing about my current life journey makes things really real.   As I sat down to type today, I realized I finally got enough confidence to make things really real.   So here is where the seminary ride has brought me… For as long as I can remember, my own spirituality could not be best expressed in existing versions of church.   When we were moving around early in our marriage, finding a church in which I felt connected to God was a frustrating task.   Throughout the years, I’ve had countless conversations with others in the same boat, and I’ve felt drawn to people like this, wanting to walk with them as we worked on this faith-thing together.   Not surprisingly then, du

Each semester of seminary, I post a reflection.   I’m grateful for those who have followed these posts and offered encouragement along the way.   I’m 7/8ths done, so this is my second to last post! I had two classes this semester—Senior Capstone and Social Ethics (which I took at Bethel Seminary).  This pic of line dancing in the café is so illustrative of my seminary experience. Senior Capstone was a journey down seminary-lane with people who have become incredible traveling friends.   During this class I realized that seminary has been an incredible gift to me, a gift which many people have contributed to (some knowingly and some unknowingly): the WI Conference of the United Methodist Church, the Dayton family, the alumni of United, UMC Board of Higher Ed, Paul Christensen, Patt Christensen, Jane Souhrada, and Cheryl and Rick Lamon.   I certainly got an education/training, but the greater gift was the blessing of my seminary friendships.   Every time I was on campus, I j