A Good Friday Reflection - Father, Into Your Hands I Commend My Spirit

First, a preface - this reflection was written as a part of the Goffstown Clergy Association's "Seven Last Words of Christ Good Friday Service." I chose this text, based on Luke 23:46 and this reflection was done in the context of 6 other, amazing reflections by my clergy colleagues. Though we wrote them individually, God worked them together well, weaving similar themes through each reflection, tying them all together to the ultimate meaning of Good Friday - God's extravagant love for us. As I continue to reflect and meditate on the cross today, I offer this reflection to you. Live into these moments of Good Friday and Holy Saturday. We know that Easter is coming, but for now.... wait, reflect, and live into the story.

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This afternoon, we’ve been taking a look at the seven sayings of Christ from the cross. Jesus’s final statement was a statement of trust “Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit.” As Jesus hung on the cross and took his last breath, he spoke to send a clear message to the people around him – a message of hope, trust, and love for his people. Imagine what the disciples and followers of Jesus must have felt as the stood near the foot of the cross. Last night, I encouraged my congregation to live into the difficult moments in Holy Week. We know that Sunday is coming, but for right now, live into these moments – the confusion, the discomfort, the hurt, the grief. Imagine what it must have been like to watch their teacher, their King, their Messiah die. This wasn’t the way that it was supposed to be. Jesus was supposed to overturn the government, to make all things new, become the king of this new world. But Jesus was here, hanging on the cross, seemingly defeated and dying. How could this be? Did we get it all wrong?

Jesus final words from the cross have two purposes. The first is a proclamation of Christ’s obedience to God and the completeness of his actions. Father, into your hands I commend my sprit is a phrase of trust. It’s a phrase that says, God, take all of me, because I am yours. Everything I’ve ever done, everything I’ve ever said, and everything I am is yours. Father, into your hands, I commend my Spirit – take all of me – catch me in your hands – the work I’ve come to do is completed. This is it.

The second purpose in these words is a call to remembrance. The phrase “into your hands I commend my spirit” is a phrase from Psalm 31. In Jesus’ day, the Psalms were sung and they would have been known by the people standing near the cross. Much in the same way that we have familiar songs that are known to us. If I were to begin singing Amazing Grace right now, I’m willing to bet that most of you would be able to join me in singing. This is what Jesus did in his final moments from the cross. Though he didn’t have enough air to sing the words to the Psalm, struggling for his final breath, he spoke just enough to call his followers to remember the familiar words of Psalm 31. He reminded them of the song and in the song, the message of hope, trust, and love that one finds there.

Psalm 31, written by David around 1000 years before Jesus’s life on earth was the Psalm that Jesus chose as his message. It had been sung in the synagogues and would have been remembered even in the midst of the grief. It was familiar. The Psalm’s is clear and that’s what Jesus intended. Take time to read for yourself the words of Psalm 31 - the words that Christ called into the present with his final words on the cross. (And if you want a beautiful translation, read the words of the Psalm translated in the Book of Common Prayer which can be found here. To give you a summary, Psalm 31 begins with David taking refuge in God and calling on God to be a stronghold and castle to keep him safe. Then, David writes the familiar line “Into your hands I commend my spirit” God, I give you everything, in spite of the troubles I face, in spite of the enemies that mock me, in spite of the people trying to kill me, You are God and in you I trust. This paraphrase of the Psalm sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Kind of like the things that Jesus was experiencing. But Psalm 31 does not end there. Instead, it ends with the final line “Be strong and let your hearts take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.”

In Jesus’ final moments of life here on earth, as he struggled to breathe, hanging on the cross, this was the message that Jesus spoke. “Be strong and let your hearts take courage, all you who wait for the Lord.” “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit” was both a trust in God and a reminder to his followers: Take courage in God. Be strong. Things didn’t work out the way that you thought they might, but I have a better plan. Hope. Trust me. And wait. With those few words, Jesus called into memory the familiar Psalm in the people who surrounded him. He gave them hope for another day. And in the confusion that ensued after his death, his final message remained – I am not finished yet. Wait. And so they did and so must we. Amen.

For Such a Time as This: Hope for the UMC

I've been thinking for quite some time how to write this: a blog entry about my experience of General Conference. Though my thoughts are not complete and I am not nearly finished processing all of my experiences, this was an assignment for our General Conference class. I share it here, because I believe that it has value outside of that context. I know that I will continue to process my experiences long after this time and that this is not a complete articulation of my GC2012 journey. What I do know however, is that I have hope. I have hope in the UMC and in the work that is beginning from the #dreamUMC Twitter community. I have hope because of the ways that I was touched and the ways that our work touched the hearts of others. And more than all that, I remain faithful to my calling as a United Methodist, to become clergy in my beloved denomination. I will not leave, but I will stay. Perhaps I have been called to this beloved church, "for such a time as this."

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With General Conference now finished, United Methodists all across the connection in both the United States and across the world are reflecting on the actions that occurred in Tampa during those two weeks. Some rejoice because the legislation they sought to pass was adopted, and others mourn because the legislation they sought adoption for was rejected. In the gathering of the 2012 General Conference, observers, both online and in person were able to watch the church work, or fail to work as it may have been, while trying to grasp the complexities of what was going on. For this year’s conference, 988 delegates gathered together. They prayed together, they worshiped together; they worked together, debated one another, and became physically and emotionally drained together. From the outside looking in, one might describe General Conference as a grueling process by which the United Methodist Church’s polity, social principles, structure, and witness is born. And, like childbirth, this was not an easy process for those who gathered together in Tampa.

The 2012 General Conference had a great deal of legislation on its plate. Significant plans for restructuring the church were on the table, from multiple organizations, caucus groups, and people. Controversial legislation concerning a woman’s right to choose and full inclusion of LGBTQI persons in the church, the removal of security of appointment, lifetime tenure for Bishops, and numerous other petitions were topics of major concern for many as they gathered in Tampa. Each of these significant pieces of legislation had the opportunity to redefine who the people called Methodist are, both in how they identify themselves as a mainline Christian denomination and also in terms of how the ally (or choose not to ally) themselves with groups of people and ideologies. This General Conference, facing the impossible amount of legislation before it, did its very best to adequately address all of these issues, yet in the end, it failed to have a final, full body vote on each item. Ultimately, a rule was passed which allowed the General Conference the freedom of not completing all their work, in order to focus their attention on a few key pieces of legislation. From my perspective in the visitors seating, I had the opportunity to watch the General Conference work. This being my first General Conference, I entered with the preparation from our coursework and my own thoughts and reflections on what it might be like. Upon arriving in Tampa, I had prepared myself for intense politicking, bureaucratic nightmares, caucusing (both positive and negative,) and a variety of other meetings, gatherings, and alliances. Yet, when I arrived on Saturday evening, thinking I had prepared myself for the experience I was about to have, I found that I was very wrong. I very quickly learned that General Conference is not a place for the weak of heart. It is a place where passionate United Methodists, from many places in the world, with many differing theologies, political ideologies, and so on, gather together, trying to shape the church. It was United Methodist polity at its finest. The things I love about it - the connectionalism and the ways that individuals are grouped together with the likeminded and those who were not likeminded and asked to do God’s work. But there were also the ugly sides of connectionalism present – those, on both sides of the aisle, who speak and act in ways that are painful to others, and the times when our Methodist principles found themselves to be on trial. These times were painful and difficult, and certainly unexpected, at least for me.

Though I am still processing all of my experiences from my days spent in Tampa, there are some experiences that rise above others in my mind. One such experience was my work with the Common Witness Coalition. On Tuesday, while sitting in a plenary session, I noticed a small group of persons from the Coalition, wearing their rainbow stoles, holding signs, and marching silently around the outside of the bar. These persons held signs identifying themselves as members of the LGBTQI community or the community’s allies. The marched silently, reminding the delegates that harm was being done to this community as a result of the actions of previous General Conferences, as well as this one. While watching this happen, I knew one thing: I had to join them. I could not sit silently, watching beloved children of God bear their hurt and pain and not stand to be with them. I desperately wanted to walk the journey alongside of them. And so I did.

Initially, when I left my seat, I did so because I believe that God loves and cares for all people, just the way they are. I also support the LGBTQI community and seek to work for justice and full inclusion of this community within our beloved, United Methodist Church. When I joined the demonstrators, I had no theological reasons for joining them, I simply responded to the tug at my heart that asked me to go. And I did. At the conclusion of the demonstrator’s time in plenary hall, I followed them out into the lobby and listened to their words, debriefing, and reflections on their activity. At the conclusion of this time together, a few announcements were made (what time they would be meeting the next day, etc.) and then they asked for a volunteer to pray. No one spoke for a few moments, and suddenly, out of my mouth came, “I will!” And so I prayed, for our beloved United Methodist Church and for the people gathered around the circle, in the hall, and all over the world. I prayed for unity and for justice, for inclusion and for the remembrance that we are all God’s children. Then, my friends and I parted ways for the day, with hugs and smiles and thanks for those of us who did not remain in our seats. What I did not realize when I left my seat that day, was that I had joined a new community and that God had put me in a place where I was confronted with my own voice and presence at General Conference. Why on earth am I here in this place? And what good will I possibly do while I am here? Those questions ran through my head as I returned to my seat for the rest of the session. God was not finished with me yet and I had just begun my true work at General Conference.

Later that afternoon, the delegates entertained a heartbreaking discussion about an addition to the Preamble of the Social Principles. This addition, which was eventually amended, affirmed that God’s grace was available to all persons. However, it came with a significant amount of debate and hurtful language. Additionally, the debate also challenged United Methodist and Wesleyan theology at its core. Much of the debate focused on whether or not God’s grace was indeed available to all and whether prevenient grace was possible. Sadly, as I watched from the visitors seating, I began to realize that everyone in the room did, not share some of the foundational aspects of Wesleyan theology that I hold dear. Though I cannot quote it exactly, one delegate, speaking on the issue of human sexuality, mentioned that God’s grace was not available to persons of the LGBTQI community until they repented of their sins. This language, along with much of the other debate against adding this piece to the Social Principles made my heart break and made my eyes well with tears. How could we be so hurtful and how could we deny the prevenient grace that God has for all people, when it’s such a Wesleyan idea? How can we live as United Methodist when we cannot agree that God’s grace is open and available to all people, regardless of their sexual orientation, or anything else? Ultimately, the addition passed, with a 56% vote in the affirmative. It barely passed. That afternoon, I knew that this vote, heartbreaking as it was, was one of the reasons why I chose to walk with my brothers and sisters who were silently demonstrating that morning. And it was one of the reasons why I would continue to be active with that group during the remainder of my time there.

This vote, along with other significant pieces of legislation, challenged the very heart of what I believe it means to be United Methodist. Our Wesleyan tradition teaches us that God’s grace is available to all persons, regardless of how sinful, terrible, and awful we are. Our Wesleyan heritage also teaches us that God’s grace is available to us before we even realize that we are sinners. This grace, which Wesley calls, prevenient grace is part of Wesley’s foundation for salvation and Christian life. Another piece of legislation challenged the use of the “Wesleyan” quadrilateral, from the days of Albert Outlet, asking that scripture be considered the only credible source of authority and changing the way that United Methodists process and live out their faith, negating the effects of tradition, reason, and experience. As an observer, these pieces of legislation and the debate that was part of this legislation struck dissonantly with my understanding of Methodist/Wesleyan theology.

After the vote about the addition to the Social Principles, I found myself more deeply moved to stand with my friends in the LGBTQI community and with the activities of the Common Witness Coalition. As a United Methodist, steeped in Wesleyan theology, history, and tradition, I knew that I could not remain silent on these issues of injustice. I had just finished watching the heartbreaking debate about whether or not God can love an LGBTQI person and whether God’s love and grace was available to that person. My mind began to think theologically about my actions that morning. I chose to stand, because I could no longer be silent about the injustice that my brothers and sisters in the United Methodist Church were facing. I chose to join them, to ally my support with them, and to cry with them because it was all that I could do. Living out of the Wesleyan principles that have defined my life to this point, and those which I pray will continue to define it long after, I joined my brothers and sisters in their silent demonstration. This is what it means to be a United Methodist - to speak lovingly and carefully, to honor others in our places of disagreement, but also to call out injustice. I could not be silent any longer. The time for silence and prayer had passed. My life, necessarily became a different kind of prayer; an active, engaged, refusing to be silent prayer. This is the prayer and the work that guided me and my understanding United Methodism from that time forward.

The following day, I participated in yet another demonstration, walking silently around the bar of the conference. This time, I held a sign. It said, “56% in favor of God’s grace for ALL people.” I chose to carry this sign and to walk with members of the Coalition because I could not sit idly and watch more damage and hurt be done to my friends in the LGBTQI community and to their allies. I carried the sign because it made me feel physically sick to know that LGBTQI persons and their allies feel alienated and disillusion from the Church – a place where I felt so much love and grace. And I realized that I carried a sign, because it was safe. As a person of privilege, at least in this arena, it was safe for me to stand with my LGBTQI brothers and sisters, with an engagement ring on my finger, from the man I would marry in less than two months. I could “speak” and the potential for damage to my own ordination process was minimal. Others, could not, for fear of being, “found out.” This was an opportunity for me to use my privilege and to stand with others who were not so safe in “speaking out.” This realization helped me to further filter my experiences that week and to prepare me for what was to come. I prayerfully and joyfully celebrated the opportunity that God had given me, and hoped that my work would make a difference for someone. This work also helped me identify with Methodist history. In speaking out on behalf of those whose voice we are not yet listening to, just as my Methodist brothers and sisters have done for years. In the anti-slavery movement, in the workers’ rights movements, in the civil rights movement, in the women’s movement, Methodist have been using their voice to speak for justice, and at General Conference, I couldn’t help but join them. In these moments, I was both reinforcing my ideas of what being a United Methodist is, and recreating them. For me, “speaking” and acting at General Conference allowed me to live more deeply and fully into my United Methodist beliefs and helped me to find my own prophetic voice within the church.

Later that day, I spent time with the Coalition as they prepared for a bigger demonstration. It was a planned demonstration (by the Coalition) but it was to be an unexpected demonstration on the floor of the General Conference. At the signal of our leaders, demonstrators planned to sing “Wade in the Water” while streaming into the center of the room, crossing (illegally) into the bar of the conference session. As this was discussed, questions flooded my mind. “Should I do this?” “What happens if they ask us to leave, and we do not?” “Will I get arrested?” I thought to myself that perhaps I would sit this one out. But God said no. I remembered my earlier thinking – about the privilege I had and the safety that came with the engagement ring on my finger. I would participate in this action because it was safe for me to do so. I would participate with allies and members of the LGBTQI community (some who were far more brave than I!) I would participate because by failing to do so, I was letting others speak for me and I was failing to truly stand with and in support of my LGBTQI brothers and sisters. And so I participated. Near the close of the afternoon session, we sang and we walked to the center of the room, around the communion table. We participated in an “occupy” style call and response litany and then we sang again as we left the floor. I watched as I spoke – delegates were shocked when members of the Coalition streamed onto the floor. The Bishop prayed over us and then quickly dismissed for the dinner recess. But many delegates stayed. Some took pictures, along with the reporters and other press. Others just stood silently in solidarity or participated at their seats. It was beautiful. And to be quite honest, it was one of the most prominent moments in my life when I truly felt as though I was a part of the kingdom of God. I might have been breaking church rules, but I was living into the kingdom that God was calling me to be a part of. I was speaking with and for those whose voices have not been heard. I was standing alongside those who had been harmed by the actions of the General Conference and the failure of the United Methodist Church to recognize the harm that was and still is being done.

Unfortunately for me, that action was the final major action I had a part of at this year’s General Conference. Sadly, before the human sexuality legislation was debated, I was on a plane, headed back to the safety and security of Boston, with prayers in my heart and my Coalition friends weighing heavy in my mind. When Thursday’s direct action and communion service took place, I found myself 35,000 feet in the air, praying for my brothers and sisters. For the hurt that was being done and for the life and wholeness that would spring forth from that communion table. I knew, that even though I was not physically present, I was standing with my brothers and sisters around that communion table, singing about the justice that the Lord requires of us and sharing in the pain of my brothers and sisters. And I believe with all my heart, that they knew I was there as well.

Participating in this year’s General Conference has allowed me to redefine and to differently articulate my role as a person who is called to ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church. For some time, I have been wrestling with my calling, as all of us do, whether called to lay or ordained ministry. For some time, I have known I was called to ordained ministry and to ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church. However, often, I questioned that calling. Was I really called? Why me? And why in the world to the United Methodist Church? At General Conference, I found some answers to these questions that I have been wrestling with for years. Though many of my young friends have said that the United Methodist Church no longer holds any value for them because of its failure to be inclusive to all persons, this is something that I just cannot say. I still have hope for the United Methodist Church. I still believe in the United Methodist Church and I believe that I am called to be a part of the ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church “for such a time as this.” In the Book of Esther, Esther is called to speak to the king, to speak to the authority on behalf of others. And while I do not speak on behalf of others, because I seek to empower them to speak for themselves, I identify with her task. Esther 4:14 says, For if you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father’s family will perish. Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.

General Conference has called me out of my silence. It has challenged me in my current ministry contexts and given me direction for my future ministry contexts. Do not be silent. Speak out against injustice. Speak prophetically to the church. Be the church TO the church, if necessary. Stand alongside others and work for justice together. Not taking away the power of those who have little voice, but by empowering them to use their voices and to cry out their injustices. My calling, for the present and the future is to refuse to be silent. And I believe that I have been called for such a time as this.

While my time at General Conference was largely heartbreaking, I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be there. In being there, I was able to find my voice – a voice that I had allowed to be silenced during my time in seminary, determined not to rock the boat too much and allowing myself to slip into the ease of my relatively privileged life. My time at General Conference however, called me out of this sleepy silence, challenging me to speak and to act, to be angry and to be prophetic about the injustice that I see around us and in our church. Moreover, my time at General Conference, while not everyone would see it right away, would lead me to becoming hopeful for the United Methodist Church. At several points during the conference, I sent a heartbroken text to someone saying, “I hate the United Methodist Church.” And in those moments, I truly did. But after some careful reflection, some conversations and processing with others via the Internet (Twitter,) and some time, my heartache about the United Methodist Church turned into hope. I watched as people gathered together to dream about the future of the UMC in the wake of the failed restructuring attempt and the hurt that was done to persons from a variety of backgrounds. I am currently participating in a conversation with other persons about the future of the United Methodist Church and the hopes/dreams we have for the UMC. And I refuse to give up hope, both now and in the future as I live out my calling to be a vocal, prophetic, passionate, transformational disciple of Jesus Christ in the United Methodist Church.

General Conference - Day 2

Oh my. It's been a long day. I have been to class and to a banquet for my RA staff at Tufts University, but most importantly and heavy on my mind, I have been listening in and watching the live feed and the twitter feeds of General Conference. I'm not sure where to start with my thoughts or my feelings about all that has gone on today. There have been plenary sessions, legislative committee elections, presentations from Adam Hamilton (and others) about the Call to Action, and much, much discussion on vital congregations and the aging, dying United Methodist Church. Yes, the UMC is aging and dying. Statistics tell us that just 5.61% of UMC clergy are young adults. Only 5%?! That's crazy! We are certainly an aging church, but what's more disturbing than being an aging church is the fact that we are failing to empower young people in our churches and in our ministries.

This far, my assessment of General Conference has been that there is a significant lack of voice and presence of young people. While there are indeed young adult delegates and there was a phenomenal young adult address given at this morning's opening plenary session, there needs to be more engagement with young adults. Where are the young adults in the committees? Several tweets lamented the fact that the individual was one of just a few, or at times, the only young adult in the room. Where are they? How can we, as faithful followers of Jesus Christ engage youth and young adults for the present and the future of our church? And why is it that we only care about young adult clergy? What about young adults who are laity? Don't we need them too! (Here's a hint - WE DO!!!!)

I have found myself involved with Twitter often today. A networking tool which I once dismissed has now become a lifeline for me and an avenue of discussion while I await my own trip to General Conference. I wish I were there now, but between the live feed on the internet and the live discussions on twitter, I feel ALMOST as though I am a part of the discussion. One of the most important tweets I have seen today came from a young adult (Matt Miofsky) who reminded General Conference goers that "Jesus died at 33. Just sayin' UMC, young people can lead. Don't just include them but let them lead." His words rang true in my heart. I want to lead! I am young and I believe that I have something to offer the church. And so do so many of my fellow young people. We want to serve the church, but first, we want the church to stop telling us what it thinks we want. There have been lot of assumptions today. In all it's talk about young people, the UMC has forgotten to ask many young people what we think. We [young people] have been lumped into one big group, all loving new things and music, all hating tradition and calling for radical change to the very fibers of what makes us Methodists. But that is not what we all want. Sure, some of us do, but I for one, am not among them. I am a United Methodist because I love my church. I was raised as a Methodist and I will be a Methodist for life. I love tradition and liturgy, Wesleyan hymns and "old" "High-Church" worship services. While the debate about young people in the UMC has focused largely on what people think that young people want, many have failed to listen to our hearts and to hear what we really want.

This evening, while listening to Rev. Adam Hamilton present about the Call to Action legislation to the body, I found myself getting angry at the way that he portrayed young people and their place in the church. At first glance, he gave some shattering statistics. The average age of the UMC is 60 something. Just over 5% of clergy are under the age of 35 and are considered to be "young." At first, I found his presentation inspiring (aside from my previous dislike for the Call to Action.) I thought, finally! Someone who cares about young adults in the Church! But then, I continued to listen. It's not that I don't' think Adam Hamilton and others don't care about young adults - I think they do! It's just that the portrayal of young adults and the way that they are using the lack of young adults to scare people into voting for their proposal is concerning to me. I am a young adult and I care about worship and the Church. I am a young adult who likes the "contemporary" and the "traditional." I am a young adult who values the voices of all around the table, whether 2 or 102. Whether from my theological/ideological/political or other value system or (and especially) of another. I want to be in dialogue, I want the church to grow, I want to transform the world by making disciples of Jesus Christ. But I don't like the way that young people and the lack of young people in our churches is being used as scare tactics. In a twitter discussion during this presentation, another tweeter (Shawn Foles) posted: "I think what I find most offensive is the idea all YA's want an elaborate production and wish to throw orthodoxy and liturgy away #gc2012" To him, I replied: "@sfoles Amen to that! I'm young and I like orthodoxy and liturgy!" Why is it that we must decide that all of our young adults hate liturgy and orthodoxy? Isn't there more to the story?

It's probably already clear: I don't like the Call to Action. I think that the things that this report and the attached pieces of legislation ask of the church is too much. And I wonder, how do these changes affect who we are as Methodists? How do they help us spread God's love? Where is Christ in all of this? How does the Call to Action critically engage the four dimensions of the Wesleyan Quadrilateral of Scripture, Tradition, Reason, and Experience? I think the emphasis on vital congregations is good.... but let's not stop there! Let's be transformative! Let's change the world! But is restructuring and getting rid of security of appointment, etc, etc, etc really the way to do it?

Okay, okay... this blog post is long enough. So let me leave you with one of my own tweets, which I hope, shows my continued love for the UMC. I want to lead, I want to serve, and I hope that the UMC will let me. So, to end tonight's posting, I leave you with this: During his presentation on the Call to Action, Rev. Adam Hamilton asked the question: Who will be there to minister to the five year old and the ten year old in the crowd? To that, I replied: I'll reach the five year olds and ten year olds in my town! You just have to trust me and let me lead! #gc2012 #gcyp

General Conference - Day 1

As I write this post, I am writing from my living room, while watching the General Conference proceedings in Tampa, Florida. I desperately wish that I were there, sitting in the room with thousands of my United Methodist colleagues from around the world. Soon, I will be! As a part of my seminary education, I had the privilege of taking courses on General Conference this past semester. We spent time learning about procedure and policies. We learned about rules and holy conferencing, and yes, we read legislation. LOTS of legislation. We read the Call to Action and the IOT report and we wrote papers on issues that were particularly interesting to us. Throughout my time in the class, I learned a lot, about myself and about the United Methodist Church. The thing that I continue to come back to is the question, Who are we as United Methodists? How will we engage each other? How will we work together and love one another in spite of our differences and because of them? How will we celebrate our diversity and remain true to our own convictions and beliefs? How will we employ the quadrilateral of Scripture, Tradition, Reason, and Experience as we make decisions for the life and future of our beloved church? These are the questions that I ask tonight while listening to reports and rules.

There are many pieces of legislation before the Church and before the General Conference. As we go throughout these next ten days, we will conference and dialogue. We will rejoice and we will weep. Yet it is my genuine hope that at the end of these days, we emerge from the Convention Center in Tampa as one church, celebrating its diversity and respecting one another. That we will be able to love and serve and that we will share the love of Jesus Christ with the world.

As I think about my week, the time I will spend watching live feed, my own trip to Tampa for our class and work with caucus groups, my own delegation in West Ohio, and observing the goings on of General Conference, I pray earnestly for our church and I urge others to do the same. I pray that the Holy Spirit will move in the hearts and minds of the delegates. That they (and all the observers and those of us on the outside) will give the Spirit room to work. I pray that we will participate in Holy Conferencing and that we will respect our colleagues whether they agree with us, or whether they do not. I also pray for our delegates from around the world, struggling with the time change and issues of translation and being far from loved ones.

Feel free to join me this week. I will work to take time each day to think about what I have seen and heard. As noted on my profile, one of the issues I am quite passionate about is the inclusion of youth and young adults in the Church. Because of this, it is likely that I will reflect on these issues throughout my time. As a young adult, and one who is currently enrolled in seminary and also who is pursuing Elders Orders in the UMC, I will do my best to share my heart and my assessment of what I see going on at General Conference here in this place and encourage discussion and dialogue, so long as it is respectful of all persons and theological or ideological viewpoints.

Blessings to you my friends and thank you for joining me on this journey. Please join me in prayer for our delegates to the 2012 General Conference. That we may love and serve one another by living out the mission of Jesus Christ to transform our own lives and our world. May we always remember who we are as United Methodists, living into our history and rejoicing in our past and future, in our differences and similarities. May we always pray for each other and carry peace with us in our words, actions, and wherever we go.

-- Lorrin

Lessons from a Tree

Take a walk with me... leaving the comfort of the air conditioned Harmony Lodge, let's walk together into the crisp morning air. The sun is just beginning to rise above the trees on the horizon, there is mist slowly drifting off the pond and dissipating into the air. Heading toward the trail, you pause to look at an interesting and strange tree. A tree which holds a story. This tree tells the story of ancient people, living off of the land and in relationship to their Creator. You see, the tree is a special tree - it's known as a Native American Signal Tree. It carries the scars of it's past life, a life that is no longer recognized or useful to us. And while it bears those scars, the scars make it unique - they make it a beautiful and wonderful creation.

This signal tree is a tree that is split into two parts. As a young tree, it was bent and tied, forcing the tree to grow into two parts. Now, in it's old age, it looks like something of a y, with two thick branches bending out in opposite directions. But this is not the only scar that appears on this special tree. In the middle of the two thick branches, there is a large knot in the tree - a knot which marks the strain and struggle of the tree against the ropes that bound it. In an effort to grow straight and tall, (like normal trees do) the tree pushed as hard as it could against the ropes, leaving scars that still remain. While I've told you much about this tree, there is seemingly little that is unique and special about this tree. One may suggest that all it's unique qualities are nothing special, that it's just another tree. And to some, it may well appear that way. Yet to others, it pointed the way.

This tree points to the Maumee river. To those who know Northwest Ohio, this is not a surprise - the river is long and runs from east to west. From Widewater's property, pointing anywhere south will point one in the direction of the river. So, again, one might ask, what's so special about this tree then? What is so special is that the tree points to a specific place on the river - a place of safe passage. You see, in this part of Northwest Ohio, the river banks are wide. Before the dam was built, these wide banks meant that here, the water was shallow. Shallow enough to safely cross. This place of safe passage is what the tree points to. Somehow, this tree becomes more significant now, pointing the people in the way that is safe and good and right.

There are a number of things that intrigue me about this tree... but they all take me to two places. One - the tree has scars, and yet, it's because of the scars that it's useful. Without the scars of it's life the tree wouldn't be anything special. The tree would just be another tree in the woods, mixed in with all the other trees. Without the scars, the tree could not point persons in the safe direction. Perhaps this is true of us as well. We all have scars, some of us have more than others. Some of are scars are physical, some emotional, and some are spiritual. But like the tree, we are useful in spite of our scars. In fact, we are more than that - we are useful BECAUSE OF our scars, not just in spite of them. God uses our scars for God's glory. If we let God, God will take our scars, heal the hurt, and empower us to use our scars to point others in God's direction. Yet we try so desperately to protect our scars. After all, we've already been hurt - why let anyone else in? We hide every bit of vulnerability from everyone around us, making it nearly impossible to trust anyone with the true passions and hurts of our hearts. But we are not meant to live this way. Like the tree, we are meant to take the hurts and scars from this world and turn them over to God, allowing God to change them from the ugly, painful things that they are into things of beauty.

It is not an easy process. Just as the tree struggled and strained under the ropes that held it captive, bending it to just the right angle, we too struggle under the grace and love that God uses to transform our scars. And while the process is slow and sometimes painful, it IS worth it. God promises that. In the end, our scars become things of beauty. They make us unique and different from all the other people that God created. Just like the signal tree. The tree points to one specific place on the river where it was once safe to cross on foot. When we let God heal our hurts and transform our scars, we are able to touch the lives of others that no one else can touch. When we allow God to work through us, we make a difference that no other soul on earth can do! You see, God created each of us for a specific purpose. And while God did not orchestrate and plan the painful events of our lives, God takes the brokenness and pain of the world and molds it into something beautiful to be used for God's glory.

The second intriguing thing about this tree is something I've touched on a bit already. It points to the safe place. A wise woman (who happened to be my first psychology professor) once said, "You never know when you're going to be someone's secure base." By that she meant, you never know when you have the potential to touch someone's life and change it forever. In fact, you could be changing someone's life right now, and not even know it! You may NEVER know (and that person may never know either.) But God does. God gives us the opportunity to use our knowledge and skills, as well as our hurts, and beautifully refined scars to touch the hearts of God's children, whether we or they know it or not. Every moment is an opportunity to change a life. How are we living? Are we being intentional about the time we spend? Are we hiding our lights?

As I write this, it's hard to believe that these are the words coming from my fingertips. While it sounds nice, I have to be honest - I'm terrible at all of this. When we get hurt, our body’s natural response is to protect itself. It’s survival! If I cut my finger, I’ll wash it and place a band-aid on it, in order to protect the weakened skin. It works the same way for emotional and spiritual hurts too. If a relationship ends poorly or suffers as a result of something negative, we (read I, although I’m sure that I’m not the only one,) tend to draw closer to ourselves, and refuse to let others get close to us. We refuse to let any shred of vulnerability show. We become “super people” – and not the good kind. We build walls. And the moment someone tries to scale the wall, we continue building on top, just so they can’t get in. We try our best to protect ourselves, to let our scars heal on their own… But they do not. When we’re hurt, we start to think that we can take care of ourselves. That we don’t need anyone else, not even God. Besides, it’s obvious that other people (and God) weren’t taking care of us in the first place if they let us get hurt, right? Wrong. We were created for relationship. We were created with the desire for love and community. Our lives are not complete without these things, both with God and with others.

This summer has been an interesting one for me. I’ve been learning lessons from trees. (And of course from a wonderful man and his family.) I’ve been blessed by the experiences and the interactions I’ve had. And I think that just maybe some bricks have fallen out of my wall. Here in this place, I have been challenged. I’ve been stretched to think of myself as God’s child. I’ve been a part of the family I never had, and been loved more by “perfect strangers” than I have by some who were close to me. This summer, my boss has challenged me. He has asked me about vulnerability. He has asked about taking time to just be. To be honest, my answers are frightening. I’ve found that I’ve worked incredibly hard building my wall, just to try and insulate myself from the chaos that reigned for so long. I’ve worked really hard to keep others out, convinced that life is better that way, and that I don’t need anyone else. But I do. We all do. I have sought everything possible to hide the Light God has placed within me. I have refused to take the bandages off my scars and let the Great Physician see them. Scars cannot be made beautiful in and of themselves. Scars can only become beautiful when the Light of God shines through them and points to the correct path.

So this summer, I have been learning and I have been growing. I have been slowly pulling off the bandages and letting the scars be transformed into things of great beauty. Throughout my time in this sacred space, I have been continually amazed by the ways in which God has spoken and continues to speak to me. I have been blessed by a kind of love I haven’t yet experienced. Hopefully, as the summer winds down and I prepare to leave for Boston, I have enough sense to continue peeling back the bandages, and to let the Light shine through the scars. While I know the process is painful, I also know that it will be worth it – it already is, and God is not done yet!

Who knew that there would be so many lessons in a tree. A simple creation of God that can teach us SO much about life and the ways we’re supposed to function in the world where we live. Who knew that a simple walk could show us so very much about the love and grace of God. And to ask a different question: who of us even dreamt that such a love could be possible for us?

With those thoughts, I will close my lessons from a tree, only to keep them on my heart and in my head. I will pray for more openness and vulnerability. And I will pray that I may have eyes to see the lessons God has for me each day. Thank you for walking with me, and don’t forget to let the Light refine and transform those scars into something beautiful and unique that only you could do.

A (re)Posting from the Intern Blog

As the title suggests, this is a reposting of what I posted on our NGL Intern Blog this afternoon! It's quite long... and I will admit, there are portions of previous postings on here... so please disregard those! ;)

"Oh my! It’s been quite a while since I posted… too long in fact - with being on trips and then the blog being down, it’s been several weeks for me! So, let’s recap!

I spent a gorgeous week at Lakeside helping out with the Next Generation’s Leadership Taskforce and attending the West Ohio Annual Conference. I greatly enjoyed my time at Lakeside getting to know a few of my fellow interns better (and getting up at 5am to watch the sunrise - twice! And on cloudy days at that!) ;) I always love attending conference, I like being able to catch up with people from around the conference that I know, as well as meeting new friends and watching God work within us as a body. Oh! And I LOVE worship at conference!!!! We always invite such inspired speakers and worship is planned so beautifully! :) Usually, worship is my favorite aspect of conference, but this year, my favorite part was the time I spent with the youth as I stayed in the youth house and helped with the NGL Taskforce! I loved listening to the hearts of the youth as they shared their stories and drew closer to God, us, and one another. For me, one of my favorite moments was sitting up until 1:30 or 2:00 with Joe and one of the youth talking about calling. For me, it’s incredibly special that this youth chose me to share his calling with, and even more special that he was asking for my advice in figuring it out! When he asked me that, I almost fell off the chair I was sitting on - what?! You want me to give you advice about calling?! Me? The one who let life get in the way and ran for many, many years? Maybe I’m not the best person to ask about that! Every part of me wanted to tell him to find someone else to help him, that I wasn’t quite the one to do it… but something in the still of my heart spoke, “just sit.” And so I sat, and I prayed. God, give me the words, and I will speak only when you have given me the words to say. As it turns out, we had a great conversation, and not only was the youth blessed by the conversation (I think and I hope) I was blessed to be a part of it as well! Joe and I drove the youth home very late, and went to bed for what would turn out to be a very, very short night!

The next morning, I woke up around 4:45, climbing out of bed to make it to the dock by 5am… the youth that Joe and I had been talking to the night before was planning worship and devotions on the dock for the youth and the interns if we chose to come. After two or three hours of sleep, I was practically dragging myself out of bed, and my body fought very hard to go back to sleep! But I knew I had to go - I knew how much it would mean if I were there. As I arrived at the dock, I saw just how well worship had been planned that morning. The youth had arranged for there to be greeters at the end of the dock, welcoming people to worship, two guitarists, a sermon, and prayer time. I sat in awe at what God had done in the hearts and minds of these young people, and felt incredibly privileged to be asked to participate with them. Worship was incredible. We sang, we prayed, and the youth Joe and I had talked with the night before gave an amazing sermon. For a majority of the time, there were only two other adults there and myself, until Tiffanie joined us. At the conclusion of worship, we all prayed together in a circle, had a group hug, and took some pictures. After that, as I was preparing to head back to the youth house and then to a meeting, and morning worship (this was Thursday of Conference) the two other adults who had been there stopped me. We had a nice conversation about NGL things as well as the taskforce, and then they turned to go. As they left, I watched as one of the men turned around and walked back up to me. After a conversation about me and my ministry, the man took off a stole he had been wearing around his neck, placed it around mine, and charged me with speaking to and for all people. I didn’t know what to say, other than thank you. He hugged me once more, turned and the two men left. I was speechless, and if you know me very well at all, you also know that there were a few tears involved with that as well. ;) I spent some quiet time on the dock by myself thinking about what had happened, and then went on with the rest of my day!

For me, conference was amazing!!! I always feel so privileged to be a part of all the work that is done there, and to watch God work in and through us!

So onto the D.C. trip! Oh my, where to start!!! We had so much fun, it’s hard to even remember it all! Although I must say - I’m not sure I’ve laughed that long or hard in quite a long time! :) You all are amazing!!!! :) Although so much happened during the trip, I will do as I did with Lakeside, and pick a few of the highlights! :)

For me, there were three things that tied in the top of my list for the trip: The Holocaust Museum, going to the Casa de Maryland and worshipping with the Day Laborers there, and sitting in the UM Building with you all after we were invited to read our creative writing. It’s hard to say which of those things was my favorite, because each resonated with me in such a different way! Both of them however, were precious and sacred moments that won’t be easily forgotten!

At the holocaust museum, I was standing inside one of the traincars used to transport persons into the Nazi death camps. As I was standing there, I was overwhelmed by the thoughts of what had occurred in that space - final goodbyes, death, starvation, freezing, extreme heat, separation from loved ones, trampling, murder. All these things happened inside of train cars such as the very one in which I stood. And as I stood there, I could almost hear the voices, as if eavesdropping in on conversations. I could picture faces, pressed against one another - bodies crammed into the car like sardines. I stood and waited, with tears in my eyes, praying to God about what had occurred in that space. What would I do if I were standing there inside that train car? How hard would I have to fight to survive? Would my words be words of peace and grace, or words of anger? Would I be able to tell my loved ones that I loved them? My heart burst with questions, with empathy, and with sorrow. And it was just then, that God answered the thought crying out from the most inner part of my being - were You there God? Did the people inside this car pray to You? Did You hear their prayers? These were questions deeply imbedded into the heart of all the others I was asking - questions I fight with from time to time within my own journey. Are You really here God? Even in all this mess? In all my question asking inside that train car, I stood motionless, barely able to breathe, flooded with the questions, the hurt, the sorrow, the faces, the lives, the stories. It was all there. And it was then that a little boy approached me - he couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. I didn’t notice his approach, but he hugged me, and as I looked down, startled and roused out of my questions back into reality, I found this boy hugging me. We made eye contact and he said to me, “It’s okay. God was there.” Then as quickly as he’d come, he was gone, around the corner and out of sight, off into another part of the exhibit. I fought hard to keep the tears that had been filling my eyes from spilling over. I had just experienced God; a God with skin on - in the form of a little boy. I’m sure that he had no idea the impact of what he said to me. “It’s okay. God was there.” It wasn’t just a random statement. It was an answer to the cry of my heart. “It’s okay. God was there.” It wasn’t just about the train car, nor was it solely about the people that lived and died inside that car. It was about me. Living, breathing, and sometimes barely able to keep my head afloat me. “It’s okay. God was there.” I can scarcely attempt to comprehend the impact of that phrase. It speaks into the depths of my heart - to the places we often hide, where we often are the most broken and the most in need of help. Why is it that we hide from one another - even though we know others will help? Why is it that we hide from God? At least I did and still sometimes do. Adam and Eve hid from God in the Garden, and it’s a practice we still use today - albeit incredibly flawed and fruitless. Why is it that we can’t take our broken hearts, our shamed and guilty bodies to the Lord of all Creation? Why is it that we can’t take our dirty, sinful selves the to the very One who died to save us? What is it that we’re so afraid of? It’s a matter of trust. And it doesn’t come easily to me, or to many of us I suspect.



My question at devotions tonight was both a question and a challenge: What can I do today to change the world right now? How can I make an impact right now, right where I am, with whatever I have? Why do we always think that changing the world has to happen down the road, when we have things all planned out? Why can’t it happen now? Why can’t it happen here? Why can’t it start with me? It can. I just have to be willing to seek out those opportunities. I have to be willing to get a little messy. To step outside my comfort zone and my safety net. I have to take the risk and just jump, knowing that I will be caught in the loving arms of my Savior. It’s about risk, it’s about love, it’s about trust. And most of all, it’s about changing the world in whatever way we can, right now, today. So… what are we waiting for?

There was something about being at Casa de Maryland that just made my heart smile, even before we walked in the doors and got the warm welcome! Pastor David is a phenomenal man, and I am so glad that he has worked in the ministry there! As we introduced ourselves, I once again (I say once again, because this is something I experienced last summer on our mission trip as well) felt completely culturally ignorant to many of the individuals who were seated in front of us. I couldn’t speak their language and some of them couldn’t speak mine. On one hand, this was truly frustrating, as language is such a vital form of communication, but on the other, it was a blessing, allowing me to pay much more attention to the other forms of communication that were going on. Body language, tone, pitch, inflection, vocal speed… all of these things that we often filter out became much more important when I was speaking through a translator! And I also find speaking through a translator to be both sad and exciting. Sad, because I cannot speak the language of the person I am speaking to. I’ve been given the cultural privilege to learn English as my primary language (and yes, I do speak a bit of French… but let’s face it, for me, it’s not nearly enough to be able to communicate effectively!) I was given by privilege of my birth status, parents, nationality, and lots of other things I can’t control the gift of speaking English in an English speaking country. For whatever reason, good, bad, or indifferent, the individuals that we were speaking with were here with us, in a country where their language is not the primary one, nor is it understood or spoken by many people at all! For me, being in a situation where my language is the minority is exciting - it’s a chance to learn something new, but more than that, it’s a chance to walk in someone else’s shoes… just for a few minutes. The interesting aspect of that is that I can leave. I can walk outside of Casa de Maryland and find people who look like me, act like me, and speak my language. The difficult thing is individuals like Max and the man from Kenya, and all the other men and women in that room have a hard time doing that. They don’t have the choice to leave and find signs and grocery stores that are everywhere and convenient like those of us who are privileged enough to speak English can. (Okay, okay, I know… enough about that, and time to get off my soapbox!) Anyhow, being in worship with the Day Laborers is something that I won’t forget. It was a privilege to be invited and welcomed into their midst and to be made a part of their community there. Pastor David told us that whenever we were in Maryland, we could find a home there with them, and it was something I truly felt! His words weren’t just empty words, but the words of himself and the community in which he represents! Another touching moment for me was when Max stood up to address us. Speaking through Pastor David, Max charged us with asking questions, with speaking for those who have no voice, - for them, as Day Laborers. Max told us that we were the generation of the Church that needs to fix the world, to speak for those whom churches have previously cast aside. As he spoke, I felt the tears in my eyes, and then on my cheeks…. it’s true. We are that generation! It is our job to speak for the voiceless, it is our job to ask the questions people have been avoiding for years! It is our job to keep asking those questions until we (the Church) can figure out how to answer them! We must not remain silent, we must not sit by and let things happen as they have been and avoid changing the system… as the current catchphrase says, we must “rethink church” and we’re the one’s to do it! It’s our job!!! It is our job to push the Church to newer and greater ministy opportunities… it is our job to be what Jesus has called us to be!!!! (Okay, okay, I know… another soapbox!) After worship, we had a few minutes to mingle with the Day Laborers before we had to go on to the next part of our day, so I chose to thank Max. Just about the only Spanish I know is how to say thank you, so that is what I went to say. “Gracias Max” There was much more that I wanted to say, but without a translator and without the ability to speak Spanish, I just could not. But then, Max spoke, and he spoke to me in English, continuing what he had said to us as a large group and speaking to me as a leader of the church. He asked me to remember his face, to remember his name, and to remember his story when I help the church make policies. He asked me to remember people like him who have no voice, either politically or in the church and to speak on their behalf. I smiled, and I thanked Max for his wisdom and his kindness and for the witness that he had been to me that day. I knew that my heart would never be the same! During that time, I also spoke to a man from Kenya, who also urged me to speak on his behalf. He asked me to “be a voice for us who cannot speak” and to advocate on his behalf. The words of these two men touched me deeply and to be quite honest, I’m not exactly sure what all to do with them yet… that’s still something I’m thinking and praying about!

The other part of the trip that touched me deeply was when the poet Quique Aviles came and shared his poetry and monologue with us. He was so inspiring and his work touched my heart as well! But even more than that, you all touched my heart!! After we dispersed and came back together with our creative writings, I was amazed to find that a majority of us were willing to share our work. Usually, that is not something I would do, but after listening to several beautiful and indescribable works, I felt as though I should share. I was blessed by the vulnerability of each of us in that moment. That we were willing to share with one another a piece of our heart and soul, and that we trusted one another to take a piece of our heart with them. So to all of you who shared and to all of you who chose not to share, thank you for being a blessing to me! :) And, as others have done, I will share my work as well:

I Ran

I ran. As fast as I could run.

Some men and women in uniforms ran after me.

They shouted in a tongue I could not understand.

I ran.



Along the way I saw others, they were running with me.

A child, a father, a family. Running for their freedom.

“It will be better there” - that’s what they tell us.

“It won’t be so hard.”

“You won’t be so poor.”

I’ll finally be free.

I ran.



Then it happened.

The child fell.

Crying and hurt, bleeding where his knee hit the dusty, rocky ground.

He didn’t run anymore.

But I ran.



Something in my heart broke for him.

I wanted to stop but I knew I couldn’t.

I just ran.



The people in uniforms raced toward them,

Picking them up and dragging them back to that awful place.

But I just ran.



I couldn’t help it.

I couldn’t go back.

I couldn’t let them catch me.

So I ran.



I will never forget their faces.

We were friends, the other runners and I.

We were friends and I just ran.

We were brother and sister, but I just ran.



Now I work in the fields.

They pay me poorly - but it is enough to live.

They treat me badly, but I endure.

It is better than being back there.

I can eat.

I can live.

I can breathe, and I can run.



I can take care of my children.

My son, my daughter.

They can go to school.

Life is better for them here - they can run.



To this day I can’t forget - I won’t forget.

The face of that man and his son.

My friends.

I watched their tear stained faces as the border patrol led them away.

I could have tried to help.

And I just ran.

Okay… so I know this is the longest blog post ever… (haha, sorry! I hadn’t updated in a while, the blog was down, and I’m one of those crazy people who processes by writing… so I blog outside of this anyhow!)

Life at Ginghamsburg has been busy the past few weeks! I’ve spent a lot of time making and taking phone calls about the resources and services that we have available here at New Path (the Outreach ministries of the Church) and working with Paws4Hope, a pet food pantry and reduced fee veterinary clinic. I’ve been writing a lot of policy and procedures for the clinic, helping to get things organized for the new policy, and creating client files that we can refer to each month at the food pantry. In addition to all that, I’ve been working in the food pantry and on Monday nights at Gateway Cafe, a community dinner and interview process for the clothing ministry, food pantry, furniture ministry and much more! Last week at Gateway, we did an altar call during the worship portion of the evening and I had an opportunity to serve as one of the persons who would pray with people as they came forward. As a part of that, I had the opportunity to pray with three individuals who accepted Christ for the first time, and one young man who was rededicating his life to Christ! YAY GOD! :)

So… this probably is the longest blog post ever (sorry!) but it certainly was an update of what I’ve been up to lately, and the things that have touched my heart and life! :)

Blessings, grace, and peace to each of you, (and see you in 6 days interns!)

Lorrin"

Ezekiel, Fear, and Calling

Today I was reading in Ezekiel, 1:25-3:27, when God asks Ezekiel to go speak to the Isrealites as a prophet to deliver God's message to the people. One of the questions asked was "Three times God told Ezekiel, "Do not be afraid." What in this account would have been intimidating or fear-producing for Ezekiel?" My intent was only to answer the question, but then as I wrote, God spoke to some of the questions in my heart. As God always speaks to those questions, time and time again. One would think that by now, I would be satisfied with God's answers - by now I would know what my Creator has spoken into my life so many times. Yet it seems as if I needed to hear it yet again. The questions continue, and my God is faithful in answering them as if I had not already asked them countless times. So for tonight, here is the text of my answer to the question, and the conversation/analysis that followed:

If I were Ezekiel, I would have been afraid for a multitude of reasons. God was planning to use me to speak to people who may not have wanted to hear my message, and who may harm me as a result of that message. God tells Ezekiel not to be afraid of the Israelites or their words, the briers and thorns around him and then God reiterates not to be afraid of them or what they say. God sent Ezekiel to tell his own people that God was angry with them and that they better "shape up" or God would have to deliver the consequences, which for most of them, meant death. I can't imagine the fear Ezekiel must have felt as he listened to God. Are you sure you really mean me, God? Really?! Why me? Isn't there someone else who is better suited to do that? -- I know those are questions I ask God frequently as I discern the calling that God has for me. Is that really what You want me to do, God? Couldn't you find someone else? Someone less broken, less messed up? Someone who feels more in control of themself and their emotions? But then God gently reminds me... Lorrin, you're all broken. You're all messed up... and why do you need to be in control of yourself and your emotions anyway? That task is far too large for you to handle... you weren't meant to. Why don't you let me handle that. And Lorrin.... this is what I created you to do. I created you to speak, I created you to be My voice to My people. I created you to lead, I created you to sing, to preach, to care for My children. To heal broken hearts and minds. This is what I made you for! This is what I spoke you into existence to do. Every step of your life has been ordered in such a way that you have been prepared for this, good and bad. I took the awful things of this world, the things that no one wishes to speak about and used them for My glory. And although I did not allow them to happen, I was there when they did. Although I saw your hurt and pain, I did not stop it because I love all of my children enough to give them free will, and with that free will, too often you hurt each other. But I loved you through it, even when you refused to love Me. Even when you were angry with Me, and even when you turned your back and ran in the other direction. I loved you all that time, and guess what.... I still love you, more than you could ever comprehend! Don't be afraid, My child, My beautiful daughter, don't be afraid, even for a minute! Let Me fill you, let Me surround you with My love, and let Me cause you to overflow with My love. Let Me hold you.... and let Me comfort you beyond what anyone else could ever do. I am your Creator, I am your Father, and you are my daughter. Come.

Wow... sometimes God and I have really great conversations, and I never know when they're coming. Sometimes it's just in my head, sometimes (as this one) it gets written out during my journaling. What a wonderful and incredible God I serve that God can be so close to me, as close as the very breath I breathe. And God knows my thoughts, my heart. Every moment I begin to think that ministry is not for me, each time I doubt, each time I am afraid, God comes to remind me of my great purpose, which can only be fulfilled in God.

So this is my prayer for tonight, Gracious and Loving God, use me. Fill me up until I overflow with Your love. Thank You for gently reminding me of the purpose You have planned for me - for each of us. Thank You for equipping us, for never leaving us, not even in our darkest hours and when we turn our backs and run from You. Fill us, God. We are Yours and You have so graciously given of Yourself for us. Thank You for Your sacrifice and for reminding us how special each of us is to You, our King. In Your most Holy Name, Amen.