tr.v. sal·vaged 1) To save from loss or destruction. 2) To save (discarded or damaged material) for further use. Welcome to the blog of Rev. Katie Z. Dawson, pastor at Immanuel United Methodist Church
Last year I took four weeks of spiritual renewal leave and wanted to focus on cultivation… in relationships, in my spiritual life, and literally, in my back yard.
I had far more intentions than time, but I was able to manage to clear out one entire section of the retaining wall (seen behind the owl mug in the picture). Vines and weeds and trees were growing in the midst of the mulch and rocks. I wanted to start from scratch and add some order to the space.
The question put forth today in “Growing A Rule of Life” is simple: In your garden, what will thrive… what can thrive if you let it?
What I discovered last summer was a whole lot of things were thriving I didn’t really want anymore.
So the English ivy was pulled and I discovered day lilies hiding under all the vines.
I cut back and cleared volunteer mulberries.
I destroyed a viney, busy mess of poison ivy, and cut out growth on a tree that had been cut down long before we arrived.
By clearing away the clutter in my garden, I created space for other things to thrive. Like the lilies and a lilac bush I discovered hiding in the mess of it all.
It was hidden in the very back corner, with volunteer trees suffocating it and so I moved it to a better spot and now it will have more sun. I’m anxious to see how it has weathered the winter and whether it will thrive in its new location or not.
I also am trying to figure out what to do with about 20 volunteer redbud trees in the space. They are thriving, but will need pruning and support in order to grow into proper trees. And they simply cannot thrive so close to one another, so the majority will have to be pulled. That is still a project for another day.
In the space I cleared, I also tried to plant wild ginger. Yet, it seemed to yellow and fade as the summer went on.
Just because we want to cultivate certain things, doesn’t mean we can.
As I build a rule of life, these lessons are helpful. There are all sorts of things I might want to plant, but I simply don’t have time or room for it all. Focusing on a few things that can thrive and will help me thrive in my journey of discipleship is wonderfully freeing.
Some things I think can thrive:
Intentional Sabbath: setting firm boundaries between work and home/rest
Blogging as a spiritual discipline: a place for reflection upon the Word, our faith lived out in the world
Prayer time and space: physically creating a space to spend time listening to God both at work and at home.
It speaks to the importance you place on it and the function it serves.
My smart phone has the ability to create folders for my home pages and various apps go in them.
I have one for tools (flashlight, calculator, etc.).
There is one labeled fun (Netflix, Pandora, and whatever game I have loaded – currently 2048).
A folder called work contains my Bible app, pages manager, and the link to our CMS software.
Social media apps like Facebook, twitter and Snapchat are included in social.
And then there is my self care folder. It contains fitness and running apps, a link to our insurance app, and WordPress.
For a long time, I couldn’t figure out where to put my blogging app. For a while, it was with the social apps. Relationships, community, conversation are all part of the reason I blog. It could fit with work, because I usually blog about things related to ministry.
But I realized that primarily, I blog for me. I blog to think. I blog to let go of things. I blog to discern. It is a spiritual practice, as every bit as important to my self care as what I eat, or how much sleep I get.
Why do you blog or write? How would you label your practice?
This year at our Iowa Annual Conference one of our major topics of discussion will be the vision, mission, and strategic priorities of our Iowa Conference.
As part of getting people across the conference to think/pray/discern where we are heading with this document, I’m hoping YOU might think and write about the document this next week. I want to invite you to prayerfully read the full document and craft your response. If you blog, let me know where and when your post shows up! If you don’t blog, I would love to invite you to be a guest on my blog and will share your responses.
In this exercise, some questions we might wrestle with are:
What kind of difference would this make in the Iowa Annual Conference?
What are the obstacles to passing the vision/mission/priorities?
What are the obstacles to living them out?
What are some lingering questions you have or places you feel led to push back?
What excites you? What inspires you? What stirs your soul so that you can’t wait to get started?
What are we missing?
Up front disclosure: I was on the writing team for this project and have spent a lot of time invested in the work. It’s not perfect. It isn’t even really finished… that will happen on the floor of the Annual Conference as we adopt the priorities and then work to perfect the goals as a legislative body… and even then, we are creating a working document. I’m hopeful and prayerful that God truly is leading us outside of our old structures and into a new reality – focused on relationship, mission, discipleship, and life in our community. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have and/or talk about where I’m still struggling!!!
I’m not looking for your approval, but your deep engagement and conversation… and to invite those who respond in your own circles to do the same. I want us to be as informed, prepared, and above all SPIRIT LED as we get to the actual conversations on the floor of annual conference as we can be. And that takes connection and holy conversation.
PLEASE seek out others who are writing and read and interact with their thoughts and responses!
PLEASE invite others to blog also! And if you have friends/colleagues/church members/neighbors who don’t blog, invite them to write a guest post for your blog to broaden the engagement!
All in all… thank you. And let me know when you post next week so I can link your posts and share them broadly.
All Shall Be Well,
Katie Z.
p.s. I hope this might be the start of deeper connection among the bloggers in our conference, as well!
This section of my blog was supposed to be the creative outlet to pull my less than admirable hobby of television watching into the realm of theologizing and spiritual reflection.
Yes, I had hoped to turn t.v. into a spiritual discipline.
No, it didn’t really happen last year.
But another season of shows that will suck me in is just around the corner and I am bound and determined to post at least once a week here. I am absolutely kicking myself for not reflecting on a bunch of episodes from this last year.
I… like quite a few other folks who read the prompt this morning on RevGalBlogPals.blogspot.com have decided to get back into the game. here are the questions, and here are my responses…
1) Have your blogging (writing/reading) habits shifted since the days of yore?
Photo By: Kriss Szkurlatowski
Absolutely. There were days that I was posting something every single day. I’d get home from work and the thoughts would be reeling and I’d hop on my computer and post something. Or I’d wake up in the middle of the night and run to my computer and post something. They were sometimes funny, sometimes simple, sometimes deep, but I was doing it regularly. My reading was definately more sporadic… usually whatever popped up at the top of my google reader page… so the more you posted, the more I read you.
Lately, my blogging has NOT been a habit at all. It’s something I do when I have nothing else to do and it’s still “work time.” At home, I have to cook, clean, garden, and sometimes I’m just exhausted. I miss the processing time that more regular blogging gave me.
2) Do you have some favorites that you miss?
The bloggers I miss most are my food bloggers… Bread and Honey was an absolute favorite for me and the posts are more sporadic. I also haven’t done the best at staying in touch with others that aren’t listed here.
3) Are there some blogs you still put in the ‘must read’ category?
4) If we gathered at your knee, what would you tell us about those early days of blogging?
I started with things like livejournal, and I’m not sure that I ever cared very much about comments. But then I began to see that blogging can be a conversation and a relationship with other people over the things that we write about. And I have been a very bad friend lately.
5) Do you have a clip or a remembrance of a previous post of yours or someone else’s that you remember, you know an oldie but goodie?
for your perusing pleasure, a link to an early post, and the first post after my introduction to RevGals… I think I chose this one because it brings up the kinds of questions that I try to ask on my blog, and also because it was one of those moments when I knew I had found something special with the community at RevGals… It is also a reminder for me that I really do need to start doing this more regularly.
As we started this journey of Lent yesterday with Matthew, we entered the place of wilderness and watched as Jesus wrestled verbally with the devil. It was a rich dialogue of temptation and power and scripture… with some magical teleportation thrown in there for good measure. But as Keith Mcilwain reminds us, the devil is not all pitchforks and fireworks. (For yesterday’s Lenten Blog Tour reflection click here)
Today, though, we find ourselves in the gospel of Mark. He is terse with his words. He is urgent. In less verses than sum up the verbal banter of yesterday, we get Jesus’ baptism, the wilderness and the first description of his ministry.
About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: “ You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness. ”
At once the Spirit forced Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among the wild animals, and the angels took care of him. After John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee announcing God’s good news, saying, “ Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news! ” (Mark 1:9-15, Common English Bible)
I find myself caught up in a whirlwind when I read Mark. I find him taking me places faster than I am prepared to go. I am still back in the wilderness… heck, it’s only the second day of Lent – I’m barely IN the wilderness!And here we go rushing back into the world again?My own life has been so chaotic lately, that to spend time with this hurried verion of the gospel exhausts me. And yet, here I sit, with this passage assigned.
(deep breath)
The wilderness keeps calling out to me. And in Mark’s text, the wilderness was somewhere Jesus was forced to go. Other translations have used words like “sent,” “impelled,” “pushed,” “drove.” But “forced” feels different. Just because you are sent doesn’t mean you have to go. You chose to obey. To be impelled or driven gives me the sense that there is something that urges you on, be it internal or external, and your own will aligns itself with that push. But to be forced… it means I don’t want to do something but I don’t have a choice. Did Jesus want to be in the wilderness? Did he want to spend forty days wrestling with Satan? Sure, there were angels watching out over him, but it was also the wilderness! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
I get the sense that any rational person wouldn’t choose this situation. Jesus didn’t want to be there, but he had to do it. He had to spend this time apart. He had to get ready for what was to come. Jesus had to make sure his head and heart and body were aligned before his ministry started. It was going to be a rough journey and he was going to be working with some knuckleheads of disciples… not to mention the cross that would loom before him.
He had to be forced to take this time apart, because after the wilderness, there was a job to do.
I sometimes have to force myself into the wilderness of Lent, too.
I’m really too busy to spend any extra time in prayer and fasting and study… I’ve got a job to do. I have important ministry that takes place.
But when I force myself to stop… when I hand a piece of my life over to God for a while… I find that all those priorities re-align. I suddenly remember it’s not about me.
Maybe it is a good thing that before we can even blink Mark has led us through the wilderness and back out again into ministry.
When I stop to think about it, I am comforted by the fact that the wilderness is not forever. It is not something we do just for the sake of doing it. We don’t even spend time in the wilderness to please God… as our passage reminds us, Jesus has already done that before the time “out there” has begun.
This time apart gets us ready to come back out of the wilderness.
I have recently re-discovered that old song, “Come Out the Wilderness.” Unlike some versions that are jubilant, I prefer this rendition that is minor and plaintive. It reminds me that I’m going to come out of this time in the wilderness.
It reminds me that sometimes the wilderness will make us want to weep… or pray… or shout.
It reminds me that most importantly… when we come out the wilderness, we do so leaning on the Lord.
My ministry is not about me. It is about proclaiming something that is far greater than I will ever be. I am only one small part of a much bigger body. Even Christ when he came out the wilderness didn’t point to himself, but to God’s kingdom that was coming our way.
We sometimes have to force ourselves to spend time in the wilderness to get our heads and hearts screwed on straight. We have to force ourselves into this time of discipline, this time of waiting, this time of dependence upon God and God’s mercy, so that when we come out the wilderness, we will remember it’s not about us.
In her book Reframing Hope: Vital Ministry in a New Generation, Carol Howard Merritt discusses the “diffusion of authority,” the empowerment of the fringes, and the “celebration of noncelebrity” in her chapter on Redistributing Authority.
As I read those words, I began to feel a strange sense of validation for what I am doing. I have a voice. I have the ability to write. I have a conversation that I want to start. I want to participate. But I don’t want to do it alone.
This whole blogging adventure has been, fundamentally, about maintaining the connections with colleagues and schools of thought that have fed my theological and ecclesiastical development. It is about hanging on tightly to those threads of tradition that have sustained my faith. It is about picking up pieces scrapped by others, deemed unworthy, and trying to figure out what we need to hear about God from them.
And at times, it seems silly.
At times, I find myself floundering around, trying to make sense of the world around me.
At times, I’m wrestling by myself with questions that have no real answers.
At times, I feel a little overwhelmed by the system and all of the things that I am supposed to do, all of the details of ministry.
At times, I really do not have the time to be a part of this kind of time intensive dialogue.
At times, I don’t have the energy to fight the man and to call out the parts of our tradition and practice that trouble me.
And at times, I really really really want to share something and it’s not appropriate to do so yet. Not enough time and space has passed to allow the insights of a particular experience to be shared.
So I give up here and there. I flounder. I don’t claim the authority I do have. I feel that what I’m doing here is not really very important.
But then, today, I find myself surrounded by colleagues in ministry at an orders event and suddenly my name is called out for all to hear. Someone has pointed to my blog as a place where vital theological reflection by United Methodists is being done.
And I feel humbled.
And a little embarassed.
And more than a little encouraged to keep doing what I am doing.
To take authority.
To keep writing.
To keep thinking.
To continue the conversation.
To accept that although I may be a young pastor, a small town pastor, someone on the fringe, someone who hasn’t yet put in my years, that I still have something worthy to say.
To give myself space and permission to keep writing.
I’m not sure that I really consider myself a writer.
Or at least, I haven’t considered it before.
When I make a list of hobbies and things I like to do, writing never makes an appearance.
When I talk about the things that I am good at, I have never thought to include writing.
But, dammit, I am a good writer! (or should that be “I write well” – ugh – I have never claimed to be an expert grammatically, and probably never will)
Over the last three years as a pastor, I have probably written more pages worth of thoughts than I did my entire college career. I wrote a lot in seminary – so I probably haven’t overcome that work yet… but I’m getting there!
It is a completely different sort of writing, however. I’m writing not for a teacher and not an academic paper, but I am writing for an audience. I am writing things that are meant to be read. I am writing things that I read/preach out loud – writing that becomes spoken and heard by many. I write for everyday folks. I write to make connections with other people and to bring things to life. And besides the sermon writing I do – and many times I would include sermons, also – I write because it brings me enjoyment.
And I love doing it. I love bringing together different sorts of situations and concepts and making connections. I love telling some one’s story – whether it is someone in scripture or a stranger who has passed away. I love to write! I AM A WRITER!!!
So when I think about the prompt for December 2:
Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?(Author: Leo Babauta)
I think first and foremost that I do (did) not believe I am a writer.
And if I don’t think of myself as a writer on a daily basis, then I do not practice my craft. I don’t work on it. I don’t give myself time to write. I see it as something in the background, rather than a central part of who I am.
I have tried at various times to be a musician and a chef and an artist and to play guitar and to sing and what not… some of those things I can do – and am getting better at doing the more I do it. But I think if I look at all of those things, nothing really gives me the kind of satisfaction that I receive when I sit down and let my thoughts pour out. None of them have allowed me to connect with other people the way that my writing does.
What I appreciate the most about this whole reverb10 enterprise is the fact that I am discovering so much about myself. I’m letting go of doubts and self-denial and I’m just taking the risk. I’m putting it out there. And it feels so freakin’ good to say it!
I am a writer! And I can’t wait to see where this realization takes me.