Tinted Purple

The church congregation I serve is tinted purple.  This is also true of my personal friends if I were to bunch everybody together in one place. People are all over the map on all kinds of issues including who should be president.  People I love. This is a push-me-pull-you experience revealing idealism of all kinds.  While I'm known to hum a tune of optimism on occasion, I'm fairly clear-eyed when it comes to people.  Maybe it comes from having a brilliant, loving dad whose mind imploded in a haze of schizophrenia even as he exploded in violence against my mother, the woman he loved.  I was 4 years old. Regardless, I'm clear-eyed as much as that's possible in the shadow of being human.

So, here's my plan over the coming days and weeks. I'm going to continue to do the hard work of loving people - distraught people, jubilant people, and everyone in between.  I'm going to speak up when someone hurts someone else. I'm going to celebrate when someone loves someone else in selfless ways.  I'm going to do these things because I'm a Jesus person which also means that I'm a person of the cross. The cross and Jesus' death on it means that we're inclined to hang out in dark places, saving ourselves as we dehumanize someone else.  I dare say that this is true for all of us including me.  I hear it in the ways people ridicule the Clinton supporters and the Trump base.  I hear it in people's fear for themselves, other people, the country, and the world.

And so, my friends, I will love you through your biography, not your ideology. And I will love others in the hard, bitter, purple-tinted shadow of the cross. Because I have a God who did not raise a hand in violence against the people God so loves. God who loves people, each person, and asks us to do the same.

"No one has great love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends." - John 15:13

A Glimmer of Unity...

I've been craving a bit peace this voting cycle.  With so many divided about so much, there is a glimmer of unity in Colorado.

100% of the Colorado legislature, both houses and both parties, voted unanimously to place Amendment T on the ballot. Voting Yes on Amendment T removes the slavery exception from the Colorado State Constitution, Article II Section 26.  Right now, slavery is forbidden "except as a punishment for a crime..."

That’s right, there is full agreement among Republicans and Democrats to remove the slavery exception from the State Constitution. Now it is up to Colorado voters.  From my intermittent work at Denver Women's Correctional Facility, there is no doubt that offender work and training programs are necessary for self-worth and successful reentry into community.  However, there is unanimous agreement that the language of slavery is neither an acceptable starting point nor a Colorado value. 

It will take 1.7 million Colorado votes to pass Amendment T.  I'm hopeful that voting "yes" will be a no-brainer for our state as the word spreads.

100% of the Colorado legislature, both houses and both parties, voted unanimously to place Amendment T on the ballot. Voting Yes on Amendment T removes the slavery exception from the Colorado State Constitution, Article II Section 26.  Right now, slavery is forbidden "except as a punishment for a crime..."

That’s right, there is full agreement among Republicans and Democrats to remove the slavery exception from the State Constitution. Now it is up to Colorado voters.  From my intermittent work at Denver Women's Correctional Facility, there is no doubt that offender work and training programs are necessary for self-worth and successful reentry into community.  However, there is unanimous agreement that the language of slavery is neither an acceptable starting point nor a Colorado value. 

It will take 1.7 million Colorado votes to pass Amendment T.  I'm hopeful that voting "yes" will be a no-brainer for our state as the word spreads.

Listening #queenlatifah #nakiajones #trevornoah

Below are a few links to black people speaking in the wake of the two police shootings this week of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile as well as the sniper attacks on Dallas police officers guarding peaceful protesters exercising their First Amendment rights.  Listening to these people is especially helpful for me out of the many listened to this week.

Nakia Jones: Police Officer and Mother, Facebook video

Trevor Noah: The Daily Show, You Can Be Pro-Cop and Pro-Black

Queen Latifah: Musician, Actress, "Black Wherever I Go...I'm Also the Daughter of a Cop, Sister of a Cop, Cousin of a Cop, Niece of Cops

As a white, Christian pastor, wife, and mother, my heart goes out first and foremost to everyone who lost people they love this week - black, white, and blue.  The shock and grief is unimaginable.  At the same time, my mind is challenged by the complexity of the problems needing solutions. I'm open to being a part of the solutions.  

God's plan: Why it is by faith that do NOT invoke it...

Individual or collective experiences of violence shine a light on just how twisted people can be.  Recent events include Orlando, Charleston, Baylor University's sexual assault tolerance, Brock Turner rape crime, to name a few. Whether in the nightly news or during the pastoral care and counseling that I do, people often say some variation of the following comment, “I know that God has a plan.”  In pastoral care, there may or may not be a response in the moment to the comment depending on how the conversation goes and how reassuring this idea is to the person.  In the news during national crises, there's usually the token interview with a pastor who's willing to say that it's part of God's plan.  

Here’s what I know for me: “God’s plan” is difficult to invoke for myself or anyone else after having a father die when he was 50 years old following his homelessness due to intractable schizophrenia. It's galling that anyone would claim that his suffering and the subsequent suffering of his family was randomly inflicted by God or in any way deserved. The way that I’ve come to terms with my father’s life, illness and death is through the cross.  And, when I say it that way, what I really mean is Jesus on the cross.  

All kinds of things can be said to try to make sense of the cross.  I spend a lot of sermon time saying them.  At it's core, Jesus’ death on the cross is nonsensical, dark, mysterious, incomprehensible, etc.  Yet, the cross is where the nonsensical, dark things in life meet a glimmer of hope.

Hope is what I hear in the classic Bible verse often invoked regarding God’s plan:

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.   (Jeremiah 29:11)  God’s plan is “for your welfare and not for harm.”  These words land in the paradox between God’s plan and a broken world – two things that are true at the same time and seem irreconcilable except for the cross in between them.

I hang onto the cross because God sunk into humanity in Jesus and was executed by the worst of what people can dish out. In this self-sacrifice, God did not raise a hand in violence against the very people who committed the violence. Rather, God redeemed into holiness what seems utterly unredeemable. But this isn't only about the grandiose, public violence that other people commit. It's also about the small acts of violence I commit in a million ways that hurts other people and myself. My complicity in systems of violence that breeds communities in which solo shooters are possible. God's holy work in me by way of the cross is the hope that I hang onto as those places of violence in me find redemption and new life.

Ash Wednesday - Sweet Relief

"Isn't it crazy to think that the minute we are born we start dying, " I said to my 18 year old son.  Without hesitating, he replied, "Yes, but we are also living."  My kids are used to me winging out all kinds of statements. That moment was no exception.  And it pretty sums up Ash Wednesday for me. There is a raw honesty to the words that perfectly describe my body's fragility and the gratitude to be breathing today.  My nursing and pastoral work means I've seen a lot of death. My loss of two fathers brings the grief close to home.  I said to my daughter recently that if we knew we were dying tomorrow the beauty of today would look really different.  She said (with patient affection), "Mom, it's so you to say that kind of thing."

The things that I tell my kids spout out randomly.  It's like me trying to figure out how to live in those realities but feeling so far from being able to it.  Ash Wednesday frees me up just a little.  I'm reminded that the reality of utter dependence and lack of control is true.  It's not something to figure out or live into.  It just, simply, IS.  So today I'll hear the words and receive the ashes as gift and reminder that control is an illusion.  

There's this great sound and feeling when the ashes are put on my forehead. I can feel the grit and hear the sound. It's earthy and stark. It's the paradox of dying while living and living while dying - time bending to expand.  It's sweet relief from striving, from lack of discipline, from the mess of life, while acknowledging the beauty of it. 

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Mardi Gras, Manning, and Newton [disclaimer: I like football]

It's not lost on me that the Broncos' parade celebrating their Super Bowl win coincides with Mardi Gras this year. My mind is full of images of Newton's smile and swagger.  He's delightfully fun and larger than life. Manning's career includes such a long list of "the most" and "the best" that I regularly wonder what data the NFL doesn't collect.  Reading his comments on leadership, team work, practice, resiliency, and staying in the moment often inspires reflection.

My mind is also full of images of the fragility of the body and the spirit. Manning's 39 year old body is no longer as willing or able as his mind. The Broncos' win really did take a team of "53" even though his leadership is included in that number. The Carolina Panthers' loss shrunk Newton into a shadow of himself. The criticism of his press conference behavior has become an intellectual feeding frenzy.

The fun of watching football includes: the surreal athleticism; the complexity of the game; the social dynamics of institution, fans, players, leaders, and followers; the guilty pleasure of cheering heroes and booing villains even if contrived categories; and hanging out with my husband.  The struggle of watching football is the greed, the institutionalism, the injuries, the rage, and the hangers-on that feed off the NFL like sex traffickers and gambling conglomerates.

Here's what I can't shake as a Broncos fan and as a pastor this Mardi Gras, the day before Ash Wednesday. This last week of football fits these two days.  Mardi Gras, in the most simplest of explanations, is a big party of excess before the austerity and repentance of the six weeks of Lent that lead up to Easter.  This development of "let's sin a bunch before we have to repent" is more recent in its history.

There are glaring excesses and abuses within the NFL.  Hence, the Mardi Gras comparison. The excesses and abuses are well documented elsewhere and, along with the fragility of Manning and the shadow of Newton, scream Ash Wednesday to me. On Ash Wednesday, there is an honesty about ourselves that includes acknowledging our brokenness.  The churchy language is confession of sin.  There is also an honesty about our fragile bodies as ashes are put on our forehead with the words spoken, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  We hear these words and more as we're told that there is nothing we can do or not do that would make God love us any more or any less.

On Ash Wednesday, I look forward to the honesty, accountability, and love.  It's real and raw and hopeful.  It's a relief sweeter than any king cake could possibly be.

3 Years A Pastor

Three years ago today my world became very big and very small all at once as I was ordained a pastor, called through the people of Augustana Lutheran Church. Feeling the love again through the pictures and memories: my family showed up supportive and wondered what this would mean; friends and neighbors showed up whether or not the church makes sense to them; church friends showed up knowing the wild, disrupting and sustaining force of faith in community; clergy friends showed up knowing the complex joy and challenge of congregational life; and new Augustana friends showed up in support and curiosity about their new pastor. God's love showed up through all these people on that day. Crazy!

Being a pastor is surreal - looking out at everyone over the pulpit or across the communion table, proclaiming faith, hope, and love in the name of Jesus feels like a dream from which I don't want to wake. And being a pastor is real, oh so real - real people, real stories, real love, real hours, real grief, real disagreement, real mess, real life.  I'm exhausted.  I'm grateful.  I'm ready for more.


Charge from Ordination:

Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God's mysteries. (1 Corinthians 4:1)

Caitlin, care for God's people, bear their burdens, and do not betray their confidence. So discipline yourself in life and teaching that you preserve the truth, giving no occasion for false security or illusory hope. Witness faithfully in word and deed to all people. Give and receive comfort as you serve within the church. And be of good courage, for God has called you, and your labor in the Lord is not in vain.