l'adonai

Where my heart beats "home"

2010-04-29T21:51:00.000-05:00

So there's this famous scene in Dirty Dancing where Johnny is teaching Baby how to do the meringue or whatever and (because Johnny is VERY deep) he tells her that the meringue isn't just about the movements of your feet. It's a feeling... a heartbeat. Guh-gung. Guh-gung. Guh-gung.

Well, I gotta be honest. My heart was Guh-gung Guh-gung Guh-gunging all OVER the place last week when I was in California. I don't know what it is about that place! The sun, the trees, the hills.... the relaxed culture, the organic everything, the crazy-hippy-liberals... My heart just feels at home there.

Because my life is awesome, I got to spent the WHOLE week last week doing the Tour de NorCal to spend time with some of my favorite girlfriends of all time. I stayed with Lindsay in Menlo Park, met Cara for lunch in Los Gatos, stayed a night with Kit and a day with Heidi in Mount Hermon... and then spent a whole weekend with ALL the girls on a beautiful mountaintop between Santa Cruz and San Jose. Pretty much, I spent a week in heaven.

So needless to say, it was more than a little difficult coming home to... well, it's not hell, but it ain't no Promised Land neither. Nightlife so hip, we're in bed by 9! Culture so diverse, we've just "discovered" this new wave that all the kids are talking about- "Bubble Tea"! Land so flat, our topo maps include park benches! My heart does very little guh-gunging here.

So what do you do when your heart beats home in one place and you live in place that is quite another? You whine about it on blogs, I guess. You dream of winning the lottery and buying a house in such guh-gungy places. You pray that God might someday be gracious enough to bring you home... or at least make your heart guh-gung wherever it is He has called you to be.

A lonely extrovert

2010-04-16T11:03:00.002-05:00

A couple years ago, when Dave and I were moving from Minneapolis to Blormal, we rented a moving truck and drove that and our Honda Civic in tandem. For 8 hours, we were each all alone in our vehicles. For the first 30 minutes or so, that was fine with me. But then I started getting lonely. (Using my safety-first hands-free device, of course) I called every friend I could think of. But since it was a weekday, pretty much everyone was busy at work. I didn't reach one person, so essentially I had to spend 8 hours in complete solitude, which for an extrovert like myself was COMPLETE misery! I was so TIRED by the time we got to Illinois, I just wanted to sleep forever... not from the driving, but just from the experience of solitude.

Yep. I am an extrovert. (Surprise!) And most of the time, it works for me. Especially as a pastor. Overall, I'd say that introverts have a harder time with ministry than extroverts. Being a pastor is definitely a job that requires a LOT of people time. Which is perfect for me because I LOVE people time! However... I am discovering that there is one crucial element of pastoral work that requires a LOT of alone time, and I can't say I am digging it.

Preaching! Preaching requires SO MUCH alone time! Well, not the "preaching" per se, but the process of thinking, praying, reading, writing, practicing and perfecting the sermon... they all have to be done pretty much all alone. And while I LOVE to preach and feel like I am pretty good at it, on the weeks when I am preaching, by the time Friday rolls around, I am WIPED! I'm drained from being by myself so much.

I am not sure what to do about this. Is this simply something I have to deal with as a pastor or is there some kind of solution to make the sermon-prep time more tolerable?

Easter Sermon 2010

2010-04-04T16:21:00.003-05:00

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John 14:18-23

18 ‘I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. ¹⁹In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. ²⁰On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. ²¹They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.’ ²²Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, ‘Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?’ ²³Jesus answered him, ‘Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.

Matthew 28:1-10, 16-20

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. ²And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. ³His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. ⁴For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. ⁵But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. ⁶He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. ⁷Then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” This is my message for you.’ ⁸So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. ⁹Suddenly Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. ¹⁰Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’

16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. ¹⁷When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. ¹⁸And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. ¹⁹Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, ²⁰and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’

************************************************************************

Hoping For, Hoping In

This morning I want to talk to you about HOPE. Specifically about two different kinds of hope: hope for Something and Hope in Someone.

When you hope for some thing, you are hoping for a particular outcome- for a particular circumstance to turn out the way you want it to. Hope I get that job. Hope I get that guy. Hope I get that house. Hope I get that guy, and he gets that job, and we get that house. Sometimes the things we hope for is trivial, but sometimes it’s life or death. Hope she comes back. Hope we don’t lose him. Hope it’s not cancer. But someday, for some of us it will be cancer. And if it’s not cancer, it’ll be something else.

The thing is, someday every thing we hope for will eventually disappoint us. Every circumstance, every situation we’re hoping for is going to wear out, give out, fall apart, melt down, or go away. When that happens, the question then is about your deeper hope... your fall back hope when all your other hopes are disappointed.

When you’ve lost the some thing you were hoping for, do you know the Someone you can put your hope in?

He’s the reason we’re here this morning! The entire Bible points to this One Man… not because He’s going to give us this thing or that thing we’re hoping for (because that’s always going to give out eventually)… but because He is the One that we can put our hope in.[i]

The Thing They Hoped For

You know, this is a story about hope. The people in this story, Jesus’ followers, they too had hoped for some thing. The thing they’d hoped for was that Jesus would be their king- that he’d storm Jerusalem and take it over; he’d force out the Roman occupation and all their pain and all their struggles would be gone for good.

But then they watched, as the thing they’d hoped for died, right before their very eyes; Jesus, their KING, was crucified. They watched Joseph of Arimathea lift Jesus’ lifeless body from the cross, wrap him in linen burial cloth and place him in a tomb. They watched as that giant stone was rolled across the opening to that tomb, sealing off the thing they had hoped for forever.

Amanda Cryer recently told me about how she shared the story of Jesus with her 3-year-old daughter, Ella. They read together from Ella’s picture Bible. And with every turn of the page, Ella would excitedly point out her favorite character. “There he is! There’s Jesus!” “There he is!” healing the sick. “There he is!” feeding the 5,000. “There he is!” riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, adoring crowds all around. But then the pictures started getting darker. “There he is,” sharing a final meal with his friends. “There he is,” praying in the Garden. “There he is,” surrounded by a very unhappy crowd. And then they turned the page and, all of a sudden, Jesus wasn’t there anymore. Distressed, Ella turned to her mom and asked, “Where’s my Jesus?”

Where’s my Jesus? That’s exactly what Jesus’ followers were asking. Where’s my Jesus? He said he’d never leave us orphaned; he said he’d be with us always! Filled with inexpressible grief, a few of them went out to Jesus’ tomb that first Easter morning, not because they expected to see him, but to prepare his body for final burial. They went to say goodbye. To their friend. To their teacher. To their hope.

But that’s not where the story ends! Because when the something you hope for dies, that’s when you really learn the Someone you can put your hope in. As the women approached Jesus’ tomb, a mighty earthquake shook the ground and a dazzling angel rolled away the stone. “Do not be afraid,” the angel said. “I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.”

Risen Indeed!

I know. I know that the thing you had hoped for has died. The circumstances you were hoping would play out a certain way have fallen apart. But don’t be afraid, “for he has been raised.”

Now there are a lot of things I could say right now to tell you why I believe that angel was telling the truth, why I believe in the resurrection. There are at least three things that have happened that tell me that Jesus did, in fact, rise from the dead.

First, there’s the empty tomb. If anyone ever wanted to prove the resurrection to be false, all they would have had to do would be to produce Jesus’ dead body. Yet for the last 2,000 years, no one has.

Second, the resurrected Christ was SEEN- by over 500 people. 500 people who, even as they were persecuted, imprisoned and even killed for doing so, testified to what they saw.

But the greatest proof we have of the resurrection is in the disciples themselves. They saw the risen Christ and they were definitively CHANGED. These guys who were once so unsure, so afraid, and frankly kind of dim, within 2 months time of their seeing the risen Christ, they are out in the city streets, full of joy and courage, preaching confidently and ARTICULATELY that Jesus is alive! This Jesus, their teacher, their friend, whom they saw die on a cross, whose body they saw laid in a tomb- he was ALIVE. He did what He said He would do. He is who He claimed to be. The Lord is risen! It really happened![ii]

What Resurrection Means

The resurrection happened. What does that mean for you and me? I think it means at least three things. First, the resurrection of Jesus Christ means that your future is secure. You know, there are a lot of things we humans fear in life- heights, dark, spiders… but nothing scares us quite so much as the unknown. When we don’t know or can’t see what’s to come, we imagine the worst. So it makes sense that the thing that scares us the most in life is the one thing about which we know the least- and that’s death.

There’s this house out in California called the “Winchester Mystery House” that was built many years ago by Mrs. Winchester. And Mrs. Winchester was deathly afraid of well, death. And she convinced herself that as long as she kept building onto that house, death would be confused and would never come for her. She’d be safe. So BUILD, she did. Sixteen carpenters worked on that house every day for 38 years, adding room after room after room! The house has 2,000 doors and 160,000 windows. The front door alone was valued at $3,000 (which was more than the cost of a brand new house in that day)! There are stairs that lead only to a ceiling, doors that lead to brick walls. It’s a mess! But Mrs. Winchester was convinced that, by doing this, death would be confused and therefore it would never find her.[iii]

But, of course, it did; death came for Mrs. Winchester just as it will eventually come for us all. And that scares us. But I’ll tell you what, it doesn’t scare Jesus ONE BIT. Because on the cross, Jesus took on Himself the worst that death could do, and in his resurrection, he defeated it! Jesus took on our GREATEST fear and he won! Everything else is cake! If you are here this morning and you are AFRAID, because you don’t know what the future holds... in your job, in your family, in your health… please know this: though we may not know the future holds, we KNOW who holds the future. Because Jesus rose from the dead, your future is secure.

Another thing the resurrection means is that your past can be forgiven. No matter what you’ve done, Jesus wants to wipe the slate clean.

I love what Jesus says when he encounters the women on the road on that first Easter morning. “Do not be afraid,” he says, “Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

“Go and tell my brothers.” Remember, these were the guys who’d fallen asleep when all Jesus asked of them was to stay awake and pray. These were the guys who’d turned their backs on Jesus in his greatest moment of need- they’d denied him, betrayed him, abandoned him; left him to die utterly alone.

Jesus could have said, “Go tell that lousy bunch of backstabbers: We’re done.” He could have said, “Tell those loser, so-called ‘disciples’ that they better watch their backs.” No, he says, “Go tell my brothers…”

This morning, YOU might be feeling a bit like those disciples did… you’ve messed up, made some mistakes, maybe even some major ones, and you’re not sure the wrong you’ve done can ever be made right.

Ernest Hemingway tells a story of father in Madrid who was estranged from his runaway son. After many years of searching, the father took out an ad in the city’s paper that read, “Paco: All is forgiven. Meet me in front of the Hotel Montana at noon on Wednesday. Love, Papa.” And at noon on Wednesday, there were 800 boys named Paco on the street in front of the hotel.[iv]

How desperately do we ALL need to hear those words. All is forgiven. The Bible says, “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners Christ died for us.” He bore in his body the punishment that ought to have been ours and he bore it away. Gone. Done. Brothers. Sisters. There is nothing you could have ever done that is beyond God’s ability to forgive. NOTHING. Jesus’ death and resurrection means that your past can be forgiven.

And one last thing… The resurrection means that your future is secure and that your past can be forgiven… and it means that you can experience Christ’s power in the present.

The last thing Jesus says to his disciples is, “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

That promise he made to his disciples on the night of his arrest, that he would not leave them orphaned… he meant it. For them and for us as well. The resurrection means that Jesus is with us, ALL of us, always.

For the last 6 weeks, we have been preaching through this little book My Heart Christ’s Home. It’s a story of a man who opens the door of his heart’s home to Jesus. The two walk through the house, room by room: the library, the living room, the dining room, the hall closet- and Jesus makes some serious renovations in each.

And as the book draws to a close, this man comes to the conclusion that it just doesn’t work to have Jesus come in as a guest. In order to fully experience the joy Jesus came to bring, he realizes that he needs to hand over the deed, to transfer the title, giving Jesus full access to his heart, complete control.

So that’s exactly what he did! The author writes, “He took my life that day and I can give you my word, there is no better way to live. Jesus knows how to keep my heart and use it. A deep peace settled down on my soul that has remained. I am his and he is mine forever!”[v]

I couldn’t say it better myself. Friends, this is the good news of Easter! When we’ve lost the some thing we were hoping for, we KNOW the Someone we can put our hope in. And when we do, when we put our hope in the resurrected Lord, Jesus Christ, we can experience his power in the present!

When we encounter the risen Christ, when we invite Him into our hearts and give Him command over our lives, we experience POWER. Something CHANGES. This same Jesus, who captivated the people of his day and transformed those who trusted in him- this same Jesus is alive and on the move. The same mighty power that defeated death is available TODAY. Power to pardon our sin and remove our guilt. Power to break the chains of addiction and abuse. Power to heal our broken hearts and restore broken relationships. Power to fill our lives with meaning and purpose.[vi]

When we put our hope in Jesus Christ, we know that our future is secure. Our past is forgiven. And we have power in the present. And that present can start today. This very moment, if you’ll put your faith, your trust, your HOPE in Him.

[i] John Ortberg, “Life with God,” Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, April 8, 2007

[ii] John Ortberg, “Resurrection: Myth or Miracle,” Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, April 12, 2009

[iii] John Ortberg, “Transferring the Title,” Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, June 19, 2005

[iv] Ernest Hemingway, The Capital of the World

[v] Bob Munger, My Heart Christ’s Home

[vi] Bob Sanders, “Idle Tale or Saving Encounter?” Lake Grove Presbyterian Church, April 11, 2004

2010-03-27T07:45:00.003-05:00

Well, I suppose it's appropriate that I waited until after Friday to continue writing, since Friday was NOT my favorite day last week. Saturday was when everything changed. After "giving" God my fear of failure, my sense of inadequacy, my belief that I earned the favor of God and others through my actions- I felt set FREE to just be myself. I stopped worrying about if I was being too "pastor-y" and started asking people more questions and caring for them as people- not because I HAD to, but simply because I felt like it would please God.

My inner theater-dork came out in FULL-FORCE as my table-group and I devised a couple of seriously stupid skits in which I played a superhero and a fish, respectively. I may or may not have run around in a cape and mask, doing barrel rolls on the ground and/or turned my hands into gills on my cheeks and flailed like a fish caught in a line. This is how one earns the nickname, "Crazy Lady." This is also how one ends up with bruised knees and a strained gluteous-maximus. Guess I'm old. But hey-it's all for Jesus.

There were a couple women from my church also attending this weekend with me, and at first I thought, "I don't want to be their pastor on this weekend. I just want to be me." But I realized on Saturday that "me" IS their pastor. And I wanted to be a part of their lives. As I tried to just follow where I felt the Holy Spirit leading me, I got to have some AMAZING conversations and times of powerful prayer with not only these women, but some others as well!

I was reminded of when I first really felt called into ministry- it was back at the end of high school. On my very last mission trip, there was a kid who was new to the church who decided to give his life to Christ at the end of the week. And somehow, I got to be a part of that conversation and prayer! I remember thinking how amazing that was and how THAT was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I know now that ministry is much more than those mountain-top moments- there's a lot of seed-planting, for which you don't always get to see the fruit. But man- it was SO GOOD for my heart to see some harvest last weekend. It made me remember why I got into this business in the first place!

By the end of the weekend, I felt extremely overjoyed for the amazing work I saw God doing in so many women's lives around me. And I was so grateful for the ways I got to participate in some of that. I felt very affirmed and confirmed in my call to ministry. My greatest joy is pointing people to Jesus and that's what I got to do all weekend, and that's essentially what I get to do everyday! With no sense of sadness or "what about me?" I really felt like I got to witness God powerfully at work in OTHER people's lives last weekend.

But after a week has passed, I am realizing more and more that God was and God IS doing some amazing things in MY life as well....

Through a series of events (and a lot of prayer), last weekend led to a conversation of reconciliation between me and one of my coworkers with whom I'd had a long-strained relationship.

On the weekend, my Crazy-Lady antics caught the attention of one of the leaders, a woman who has given much of her life to leading Young Life here in town. As we talked and got to know one another, the thought popped into my head, "What if SHE is the mentor you've been praying for?" You see, for almost a year now I have been praying that God would provide an older woman NOT from my congregation to guide and care for me; a person with whom I would not be "Pastor Becca" but just Becca; a person who loved Jesus and could help me do the same. I asked her if maybe we might go to coffee sometime and chat. And Chat we did! Yesterday we met for a coffee-date and we talked for two-and-a-half hours! She invited me to be a part of a Bible study she leads AND invited me to do coffee again in a couple weeks. I left so full of joy and excitement and hope. I don't know yet what this relationship will look like, but I am so GRATEFUL for it!

The weekend also answered an even longer-standing prayer for me. During seminary, like many others before me, I had a hard time really FEELING much passion for Jesus. The Bible was a textbook and God was a specimen under a microscope. I studied and studied and learned many important theological ideas... but I had a hard time connecting those ideas to real life. I knew I BELIEVED the Christian faith, but I couldn't wrap my heart around why it all MATTERED. What difference did all this stuff make anyhow? These questions bothered me tremendously, and yet I could not shake them, nor could I find the answers. This weekend gave me the answers. I got to see the big ideas we learned about- ideas like Justification, Sanctification, Eschatology and the Kingdom of God- lived out in people's lives. I saw people transformed and set free as they invited Jesus into their lives for the first or 50th time. I saw people commit themselves to pursuing life with Christ, not just an hour on Sunday. I saw people with real, significant burdens find hope beyond this life. And I experienced worship and self-sacrificing love in a community of people who were so different from one another, yet shared the bond of Christ. THIS is why all THAT matters.

I didn't expect all this to happen. I did not anticipate becoming one of those people who can't help but GUSH about how cool Jesus is when people ask, "Hey, how was your weekend?" I didn't expect it. But Jesus IS cool! And boy am I glad I got to see it.

2010-03-25T21:17:00.006-05:00

It's Thursday night (which is our Friday night) and Dave and the boys are downstairs drinking whisky drinks while watching mobster movies. It's guy time in Casa Bruner, so I've been exiled to the upstairs. Which seems somehow appropriate since it was just one week ago that I was sent into a different kind of exile, out at East Bay Camp, for a 72-hour retreat called the Great Banquet. At least tonight I have wine to console me. Last Thursday night... not so much.

This retreat is known by many names... Cursillo, the Walk to Emmaus, TEC, Chrysallis... but the idea's essentially the same across the board. 72 hours of teaching, singing, prayer and all kinds of goofy adventures to get people to experience a relationship with Jesus.

I went because I've seen the positive impact it's made on many members in my church, and I wanted to know more. Before I told anyone else that I thought THEY should go, I figured that I should go. But, if I'm honest, I did not expect to "get" all that much out of it. I mean, I've gone to LOTS of Jesus camps over the years. I went to seminary which, at times, felt like a 3-year-long Jesus camp! What would a grown-up version of Jesus-camp have to offer ME anyhow? I was going as a scout... to check this business out, make sure everything was legit, and return home with my report.

And to be honest, on Friday night, after a FULL day of talks and discussions and WEIRD activities, I wasn't sure I was gonna make it 2 more days. There I was, exiled to this retreat center, no phone, no car, no internet.... not contact with the outside world... and it seemed to me that everyone else around me was having a GREAT time! So I couldn't even turn to some other Negative-Nellie nearby to bitch about how LAME this whole thing was. All I could do was vent/pray in my journal and tell GOD how lame this whole thing was.

And C.S. Lewis says it best... when we pray we don't change God; when we pray we ourselves are changed. Cause as I vented to God that night, a point that someone had made in one of the MANY talks I heard that day came rushing right back to me. "When we live in a relationship with Jesus Christ, our motivation changes from 'what can I get out of this?' to 'what will please God?' Huh. Well God, I prayed, then YOU are gonna have to change my motivation, cause I sure am not getting much out of this. Thank you, amen.

Well, wouldn't you know it, God answers prayer. Throughout the next morning, I felt my motivation changing. We had a time of handing our "burdens" over to God and receiving forgiveness and restoration from the leaders. We did this by dropping rocks into a bucket and having its dust washed off our hands. As I thought about it, the major burden I feel like I carry around is this sense of duty: I MUST be a good Christian, a good person, a good pastor, a good preacher, a good EVERYTHING in order for people to like me and for God to love me. And it was harder than I thought to actually hand that over to God. What would that mean? Would that mean that people WOULDN'T like me anymore? Would that mean that I would suddenly SUCK at ministry? I can sometimes rely so heavily on the praise I receive... did giving this over to God mean that I would no longer receive the praise I so desperately crave?

But as I walked over to the leader for her to clean my hands off, she gave me a giant hug and told me how glad she was I was there. And much to my surprise, a couple tear sprung (sprang?) to my eyes. Here was a woman for whom I had DONE nothing. I hadn't earned her love in ANY way and yet here she was, giving it to me freely. And that to me was such a clear picture of God's love. Even though I sometime THINK I've earned it, I am fooling myself. God doesn't love me for what I DO for Him. He just loves me. Period.

From that point on, the weekend was a totally different experience for me....

And now the wine has kicked in and I am POOPED! To be continued...

Back to the big city

2010-02-24T21:35:00.002-06:00

Not gonna lie. I'm STOKED to be heading back to Chicago tomorrow. Gonna go hang out with some of my favorite girls EVER for a couple days. Big city, here I come! I am ready for your delicious food, your fun bars and your ample cultural diversity! Bring it!

In the mean time, the thing that's been taking up the majority of my life and time has been this...

http://fpcextrememakeover.blogspot.com/

... a class I put together and am teaching at my church on the Spiritual Disciplines. It's been a lot of work, but I'm really loving it.

Also... the Olympics. They are crack. I'd stop if I could. But I can't. Gotta get me some more figure skating. I'm gettin' the shakes.

Little Town

2010-02-20T20:18:00.003-06:00

Back when I was in 8th grade, I thought it would be super cool if I spent a good portion of a Saturday committing to memory all the words of the opening song of the epic Disney classic, "Beauty and the Beast."

Little town, it's a quiet village. Every day like the one before. Little town, full of little people, waking up to say....
Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!
There goes the baker with his tray like always; the same old bread and rolls to sell. Every morning just the same, since the morning that we came to this poor provincial town-
Good morning, Belle!
Good morning, monsieur!
Where are you off to today?
To the bookstore. I just read the most WONDERFUL book about a beanstalk and an ogre and-
That's nice. Marie! The baguettes! Hurry up!

And so it goes. (If you ever wondered if I was one of the "cool kids" in junior high, I think you have your answer right there.... Absolutely YES. All the cool kids spent their weekends playing and rewinding and replaying their VHS copies of Beauty and the Beast so they could write down all the words in their Trapper Keeper notebooks. I was the epitome of cool.)

Anyhow, I have a point. This song which STILL holds a place in my memory came to mind this afternoon as we drove back to OUR little town from a couple days away in Chicago. I channeled the spirit of Belle as we drove through the vast corn and soybean fields of central Illinois that line the highway between Chicago and Bloomington.

Little town, it's an overgrown suburb. Every day, like the one before...

Bloomington-Normal, Illinois is a city...town... suburb-in-search-of-a-city that I had never even heard of 2 years ago. Our friends Dean and Andrea got pastor jobs at a church here while Dave and I were living in Minnesota. Since we were just 8 hours away, we drove down for their Installation service and thoroughly enjoyed seeing their new life in this new (to me) town. And as we drove away on Sunday afternoon, I turned to Dave and told him approximately this....

"I am so glad for Dean and Andrea. This is so great for them. I'm so glad that they found the jobs they wanted, that they have bought a house like they wanted, I'm so glad for them. Aaaaaand I am so glad that WE do not live in this town."

Bum bum BUM. Famous last words. Cause 6 months later, Dave and I were packing up boxes to move here as ANOTHER church in town asked me to be their pastor.

And while there is much to be grateful for in the situation we are living in (Dave and I also found the jobs we wanted, we bought a house like we wanted, we have pre-set friends already in town, etc, etc, etc), NONE of these things have anything to do with this actual TOWN.

I gotta say, I do NOT love this town. Sure, it's got its positives: good people, amazingly low cost of living, very little traffic/crime/pollution, etc. But it's just a LITTLE town with not a lot for DINKS like us to do!

Going to Chicago always crystallizes this for me. As soon as we step out of the car and on to the streets, something in me just feels more alive. I love the busyness, the constant movement, the sense that there's always something going on somewhere. I love how normal it is to walk from one place to another, or if it's real far, to take public transportation, which is readily accessible most times of day or night. I love that there are distinct neighborhoods with different personalities. I love that there are radio stations that play music that is hipster enough that I know it, but not so hipster that I feel like I'm 52. I love the parks, the museums, the bars and restaurants, the PEOPLE who have varied lives and interests. I just LOVE being in the city. When I'm there, I get so excited, I just turn to Dave and yell, "CITY!!!" I breathe it in deeply and smile because I feel like I am at home.

And then we get back in the car, meander our way back to Interstate 55 and drive south. And my heart sinks a little. Not because our life here is so bad. It's just not all I want it to be. I don't love that we have to drive everywhere. I don't love that there are approximately 3 bars/restaurants that we enjoy hanging out at. I don't love that there's relatively no music/art/culture scene that we feel a part of. I don't love that most of the city goes to sleep goes to sleep the same time I do. Like Belle says,

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand, I want so much more than they've got planned....

Sing it, Belle. Sing it.

2010-02-04T16:20:00.007-06:00

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

But my SHOES are so delightful!

It's February. Worst. Month. Ever.

A girl's gotta so SOMETHING to brighten it up.

Today purple frilly shoes from Target are doing the trick. Take THAT, winter!

My new "office"

2010-02-02T16:25:00.005-06:00

So I have discovered that I can sometimes hate my office at church. Don't get me wrong. It's a nice office. The walls are painted nice colors, which took painstaking efforts to choose (Texas Leather and Dove White!) and I have a comfy couch and pretty pictures on the walls. There are nice people who work near me in my office, and sometimes we do fun things like go out for sushi in the midst of our work. And on really special days, fun people drop by the church to see me and I get to have amazing conversations with really cool folks.

But the majority of the time, when I am in that office, I am in there ALONE. And something feels wrong about that to me. On the weeks that I preach, I can sit in that office by myself for hours on end. And while that MAY be conducive to productivity for some people, for an extrovert like me that starts to feel like the worst punishment ever. Just make the office cold and drafty and you've got my version of hell.

And because I am NOT at my best when I am alone, I've discovered that I am way UNDERproductive in my office sometimes. I get a lot done... lots of little to-do things... but not much of substance. I go home at the end of the day, knowing that I was BUSY, but wondering what I actually DID all day.

It reminds me of seminary days. Honestly, the WORST place for me to study was the library. I found it's total LACK of distractions to be SO DISTRACTING! I'd get all antsy in the silence, looking around for something-ANYTHING to happen. But when I'd go to Starbucks on Nassau and be smushed in the corner, surrounded by annoying undergrad girls in sweats and tres-chic soccer moms, I'd get a ton done!

So I decided last week that I need a new office. One with wifi, coffee and soda, an abundance of people and a LOT of bread... Panera!

For several afternoons last week, and several hours today, I've camped out with computer, books, ipod, and papers galore and actually gotten a lot DONE! All interspersed with conversations with Panera employees (Ronna's the best- she knows my name), random table-neighbors and folks from my and Dave's churches. It's great!

So thank you, Panera. Thanks for being pretty much THE most popular restaurant in our town. Thank you for your bottomless soda, coffee, and tea. Thank you for your "You Pick Two" special with Black Bean Soup and Asian Chicken Salad. Thank you for providing the bustling environment I need in order to tune out and listen to God.

Mr. & Mrs. Rev & Rev Bruner

2010-01-15T09:40:00.017-06:00

It's official! Dave and I are now BOTH ordained pastors! We can marry! We can bury! We can baptize, serve the sacraments AND when buying plane tickets, we can BOTH choose Rev. as our title! I don't know if life could get any better than that.

After all the preparations, stresses, worries, planning, and prayers, we pulled it off: THE Ordination Weekend. Dad flew into Chicago on Friday afternoon where he was picked up by
Mom and Dad Bruner. They drove down together to spend a FRIGID weekend with us in Blo-No. Seriously... the WARMEST temperature all weekend was something like 8 degrees. Not okay. We did our best to entertain the parents warmly, which is difficult to do even in the hippest-happeningest town. Basically, we spent a lot of time sitting and chatting in our living room with the heat cranked way up. And eating. And drinking wine. And eating some more. It was tough, but someone had to do it.

Sunday was the big "O-Day," as one friend coined it. After morning church and a quick lunch from Subway, we sprang into action, getting last minute details ready for the service and party afterward. And at 3:00pm, Dave and I stood in the narthex of St. John's Lutheran Church, ready to process... before us were a whole crew of alb-clad Lutheran pastors there to lend their support, behind us stood the bishop there to make the ordination official... We grabbed hands as we walked into the church together, singing God's praises for all that had been and all that is to come.
The bishop posed a whole bunch of questions to Dave, led him in making promises of faith and fidelity to Jesus Christ and his work in the world. "I will, by the grace of God," were Dave's answers (emphasis on that grace... boy, do we need it!)

The whole service was beautiful... the prayers, the Scriptures, the songs... very Lutheran-liturgical, but all done with so much heartfelt devotion. There were MANY wonderful elements, but I'll just give you the Becca-Highlight-Reel...

Dad preached a kick-ass sermon, challenging and encouraging Dave (and ALL of us) to BE the pastors God has called us to be.

All us pastor-types present at the service got to come forward and lay hands on Dave as the bishop prayed. Even though I am a pastor, sometimes I get skeptical of these rituals and don't really expect anything to actually happen. It's just something we church-folk do. But MAN, I gotta say, there was some SERIOUS power there. I felt it. God was doing something and it was awesome. I was so glad to be able to be one of the people to come lay hands on Dave and ask the Holy Spirit to empower him for ministry.

I got to present a few surprise gifts to Dave, encouraging him to remember God's good work in his life from beginning to end.

Because it is what we DO to mark special occasions, Dave and I sang together- both during Communion and as the final benediction. Just like when we sang at our wedding, a lot of people commented, wondering "How did you DO that? I would have been CRYING the whole time!" And I realized that I think that, at least for me, singing is what I do instead of crying. That's how I express those deep emotions. And I love it.

AND... the applause. When the time came in the service when the bishop oh-so-formally invited the congregation to show their appreciation by offering a round of applause, they responded by nearly blowing off the roof! These normally somewhat staid midwestern Lutherans started hooping and hollering, and that went on for a good 3 minutes before they finally calmed down. What an amazing show of unabashed love for Dave and gratitude to God for bringing him to St. John's! I was so proud of my rockstar-pastor husband.

After shaking a lot of hands and receiving a lot of hugs, we finally went back home to a houseful of friends, family, and DELICIOUS Mexican food. We raised a toast, IPAs in hand, and said THANK YOU GOD for all you've brought us through. 5 years. 3 states. 2 seminaries. And 2 ordained "Pastor Bruners." Amen to that.

Also... it's a good thing that being a "Reverend" does not require one to be mature. Cause I'd definitely be out then.

Thanks God

2010-01-03T21:18:00.003-06:00

We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers. We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.
-1 Thessalonians 1:2-3

Tonight I am very grateful to God for delicious meals, frozen wine, shared stories, encouragement from Scripture, Nestle Crunch Bars, rambling prayers, and damn good friends. We may not love living in Bloomington-Normal all the time, but the gifts God has given us in the community we have here is beyond what I could have ever hoped or prayed for.

Tonight, we had our first "fo-reals" small group together. This group of friends that has been forming over $3 beers, games of Scrabble, Contract Rummi, and Dutch Nuts, obsessive viewings of Friday Night Lights and Big Love... we've decided to get together twice a month to eat, to read Scripture (but NOT do intensive, uber-Bible study), to share and to pray. And I am so very glad.

Thanks God. This is a good gift.

Dave's 30th Birthday Celebration
As "hipster" as we could get in Central Illinois

Five Stages of Winter

2010-01-01T14:43:00.014-06:00

There have been some who have said that winter is a time of death. Come late November, early December, all things living begin to hide away, lose their leaves, batten down the hatches, and/or die away until March or April. The trees are barren. The grasses are brown. A few brave (some might call them foolhardy) birds and squirrels remain, subsisting off of what spare nourishment might remain.

Winter is a time of death. And though there are some who jump for joy at the first sight of snow, I'm with my boy, John Donne. Death (aka winter) is not welcome in my house.

This realization, this relatively new understanding of the truly necrotic nature of this sinister season has helped me better understand my own reaction thereto. A very smart lady once wrote a while book on the process a person goes through when faced with the reality of death. And here's how that's worked for me this winter.

1. Denial "It's not really winter yet. It's only OCTOBER!"
This is the phase when you see the really "cool" guys wearing shorts and flip-flops, even though it's 30 degrees outside. For me, denial takes hold as I obsessively check weather.com, HOPING that maybe tomorrow's forecast will be better. I refuse to bring my winter-clothes box up from the basement yet. There are still sandals and sundresses in my closet. Denial.

2. Anger "I hate winter! I hate winter! I! HATE! WINTER!"

This has pretty much been my standard operating procedure this year. Since our first real cold day and ever since, if I get as much as one goosebump, I'll just stop and yell at whoever will listen (typically Dave- poor, compassionate Dave). I yell and curse about how much I HATE winter, how winter is a dirty bee-otch who needs to return to the hell from when she came, how if winter was person, I would punch it in the throat. Anger.

3. Bargaining "Maybe if I eat all these carbs, I will get fat and then I won't feel cold. Then maybe I might even LIKE winter!"

If winter had an official food in my house, I think it would be bagels. Bagels, eaten two at a time (one for each hand), while snuggled under a blanket. Basically, I figure if winter thinks its okay to be less than 20 degrees outside, I think its okay for me to load up on carbs and never go outside again. Fair's fair, right? Bargaining.

4. Depression "Member that time we were somewhere warm? Siiiiiiiiiiigh. I might never be warm again. Siiiiiiiiiiigh."

Winter's here. I can't deny it, I can't scare it away with my threats of violence, I can't make any deals that will make it any better. It's freaking freezing and that's just the way it's going to be. Build a fire in the fireplace, sit as close as you can and obsess over pictures of last year's vacation. Give up hope, cause it ain't gettin any better. Depression.
5. Acceptance "Well EFF, it's colder than a toilet seat in an igloo. Eff.......Might as well get used to it."

Acceptance came to the Bruner house today. Dave and I woke up, promptly turned the heat up to a balmy 71 degrees and were happily lounging on the couch reading for a good few hours. But because I am wholly incapable of actually relaxing for an entire day off, after awhile I got itchy to get up and move. And of COURSE, our gym was closed today. Who wants to deal with a bunch of post-holiday pudgsters truing to get a jump on their New Year's Resolutions? So after a few moments of hemming and hawing, I decided to sack up and hit the pavement anyhow. Sure, it took me approximately 3 hours to pile on the 8 layers of clothing necessary to run in 12 degree weather. But in the end, it was all worth it. Frozen eyelashes and chapped face and all. Winter's here. If you can't beat 'em...you know how it goes. Acceptance.

At least SOMEONE'S happy about it.

Christmas Morning

2009-12-25T08:07:00.002-06:00

Respite. A serene moment. A calm in the storm. Time to breathe, time to yawn, time to sit on the couch, to look at the fire, to savor my coffee and to let the beauty and the wonder of the season begin to sink in. These are the Christmas gifts I am treasuring most this morning.

The craziness will recommence shortly- there are more good things to come... but they are still THINGS. Things to do, things to pack, things to mark off checklists. This morning, it's just me.

This morning, I am not a pastor. This morning, I am not a daughter. This morning, I am not a wife (at least not until my husband awakes). This morning, it's just me.

Me. Loved by God. Me. Invited to the stable. Me. Peering into the manger and blown away once again by the fragile child therein. He came for me.

2009-12-06T20:15:00.007-06:00

Last week, I tried something new. I polled Facebook for sermon illustrations. I've seen others do it and, to be honest, I've NEVER answered. So if karma ruled the day, my little experiment should gotten as far off the ground as a fat kid on a pogo stick. Lucky for me, that was not the case. (Karma-0, Becca-1)

Something I've been thinking about lately is how LONELY the preaching endeavor can be! At this point, I'm not an every-week preacher. Mostly, I just preach once or SOMETIMES twice a month (but my boss has pretty much told me that I could do every other week if I wanted!) But this is enough for now.

The weeks that I preach are spent with MUCH more solitude than is my norm. I read, read, and read some more. I take notes and I read again. All in the solitude of my office. I fill legal pads with scratchy notes that only I can decipher, which get messier and more DRAMATIC as the week progresses. Case in point: a couple weeks ago, when preaching on the resurrection, I wrote in big scratchy uppercase letters, WHY DOES THIS MATTER??? WHAT IS THE POINT??? (Oh, the angst of it all.)

Preaching has always been a pretty angsty process for me. Back in seminary, even though we weren't supposed to KNOW which profs were teaching which preaching sections, I sneakily made sure that I got into the BEST professor's class- Dr. Cleo LaRue... a older (but still fiery as all get-out) African-American man who CLEARLY knew his stuff. Because I respected Dr. LaRue so much, I really wanted him to like my sermons. And not only that, even though I KNEW that this was just preaching CLASS, that these 12-minute sermons REALLY didn't matter in the long run, I still freaked out over every one. Literally, I CRIED somewhere in the process of writing all 4 preaching class sermons. I'm glad I had a very patient and loving small group.

Fortunately for all my co-workers, I've found ways other than breaking down in snotty tears to deal with my sermon-angst these days. One of my saving GRACES is my husband. (Yes, I am writing about him again. I kind of like him.) After a week of wrestling and writing, I bring a rough-draft of my sermons to Dave for him to review. Sometimes I nicely hand him a draft I feel pretty good about and eagerly await his minor tweaks. Other times, I am SURE that the sermon I've just poured my life into is certainly a steaming pile of poo and I avert my eyes as he reads, wincing at every tiny little eyebrow tweak he makes as he reads.

And inevitably, Dave always comes back with something good and encouraging to say. Even if the draft still needs some work, he assures me that it is indeed GOOD. And that it WILL communicate God's GOOD NEWS to my congregation. His words fill me with the courage I need to actually get up in the pulpit and preach, instead of locking myself in my office 30Rock style. (It's a good thing. I've got no Liz Lemmon who'll come talk me about my telling me that I have pretty hair.)

Preaching. It's a lonely business. And if I didn't have Dave now (or my small group back then) to build me up every time I do it, I think I'd be tempted to despair, flinging myself on my bed for a cry in my pillow every Sunday afternoon.

Which brings me back to this week... I didn't want to write ALL by myself. I was so grateful for the chance to bring in a multiplicity of voices into this sermon. Even though I only shared a few individual stories outloud, I felt like I was proclaiming God's GOOD NEWS, not just from MY head and MY heart and MY experiences, but from the lived experiences of a real "great cloud of witnesses."

So, thanks friends. Thanks for those of you who shared such wonderful and touching and amazing stories about how you've seen God do the impossible. I was encouraged, and I got to encourage others with your words. And unless you count the moment I got a little misty watching Kurt and Rachel "diva-off" for the solo in Defining Gravity on Glee, I didn't even cry this week. So... thanks for that too.

2009-12-03T19:07:00.003-06:00

"You can rest now. This is the time when you stop and rest."

These are the words that my loving husband turned and said to me as we were turning out the lights last night. "You can rest now."

My first thought was, "No DOY, Dave. Clearly it is bedtime. You're not the boss of me. I KNOW it's time to rest."

But then it occurred to me... I DON'T know when it's time to rest. Something crazy happens in my brain... it turns on overdrive. I can't stop thinking. About everything. And worse, about NOTHING.

Seriously, I have lost HOURS of sleeping hashing and RE-hashing everything from what I need to get at the grocery store to ideas for how I might save the world. The latter get better and better the later the night gets. Seriously, I am a genius at 3am. I think my Pulitzer may be the way any day now.

I've tried deep breathing, praying, reading, singing "Jesus Loves the Little Children" over and over again in my head (ACTUALLY true), but none of it has worked for long. My brain still has not gotten the memo that bedtime is rest time. If someone could help a sister out... send a sheep or 6 over for me to count, knock me over the head with a cast-iron skillet, something... that'd be greeeaaaat.

Also related to nothing, this commercial makes me die a small death every time I see it. Honestly, this is everything that is wrong with American consumer-culture. Shooting! Daggers! At stupid, crazy wife!

All In

2009-11-22T21:33:00.002-06:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking, praying, journaling, stewing, and (let's be honest) navel-gazing about a particular question as of late.

I'm just over one year into being a pastor. When I started in August 2008, basically the question I asked every day was, "How in the heck do I do this job? How do I be a pastor?" And as the year has gone by I've learned some answers to that question, but have also discovered, somewhat to my dismay, that the more I learn, the more I HAVE to learn. The more answers I unearth, the deeper and more profound the questions get.

The question that has been plaguing my conscious as of late is not, "How do I do this job?" but rather, "How do I WANT to do this job? What KIND of pastor do I want to be?"

Pastoral ministry, I am discovering, can like attempting to be a professional plate-spinner than I ever knew. You get one plate spinning on it's stick and then you move to another... and another... and another.

Until you realize that your first plate is slowing down- "Holy crap! There's no water in the baptismal! Run quick, before the baptism! Whew... crisis averted."

And other plate wobbles... "What's that you say? A quasi-crazy lady just asked to hold the babies in the nursery? BRB."

All while 19 other plates are still going strong... "To Do This Week: Write sermon. Go to 3.5 lunch/coffee dates. Attend committee meetings. Plan Bible study for Tuesday, develop curriculum for winter, envision mission opportunities for the future, write approximately 92 emails, wash, rinse, repeat. Oh, and be ready at any moment for something or someone to come in and totally upend your to-do list for the week."

Basically, what I am discovering is that there are myriads of options for how I COULD spend my time and energy. But not all, probably not even MOST of it, is what got me into pastoral ministry in the first place.

So because my dad is wise and all-knowing, and because I want to call him pretty much everyday to talk through ministry issues, I am trying to follow his advice for figuring this whole thing out. He encouraged me to make a list every day... to write down the thing(s) that were Life-Giving that day and the thing(s) that sucked life away. And after a few months, to look back at that list and see what really gave me life. That list would provide a pretty good picture, a clearer answer to the question, "What kind of pastor do I want to be?"

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night, which (sad to say) is not an unusual occurrence for me anymore. And my normal routine consists of tossing and turning a bit, whining a bit more, feeling sorry for myself for a mo, and eventually falling back asleep. Sometimes I sing a song over and over in my head just to distract my brain from thinking too much. (True confession: the chart topping hit of 2008 is probably gonna be "Jesus Loves the Little Children." I have no idea why, but singing that song over and over again lulls me to sleep like nothing else can. "Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight...")

Okay, so back to last night. Last night, I woke up. Normal. But instead of following my normal routine, I began to pray. This wasn't so much a choice. My head and my heart just kind of went for it of their own volition and I followed along. I prayed for my husband. I prayed for my church. And I prayed for the ministry God has called me to do there. And somehow in the midst of all my praying, a phrase popped into my head and hasn't left since. "All In." That's what I heard in the middle of the night. "All In."

I've been thinking about it all day. I took it as a blessing and an exhortation as I preached about the resurrection this morning. I didn't hold back. But I think it means more than that. As I seek God's guidance and wisdom to figure out what kind of pastor I want to be, what kind of pastor HE wants me to be, I think there is some wisdom in "All In."

Being a pastor is a strange vocation. When people ask what you do, you get nervous to answer because you never know what their reaction is going to be. I get embarrassed. Ashamed. And because I feel nervous about what people will think of me, whether they will think I'm a cheesy, crazy, fundy, nerdy Christian, I tend to downplay all of it. "Sure, I'm a pastor, but I am also fun and normal and... what's that over there?" Changing the subject as quick as I can, I try to turn the spotlight off of me, lest the conversation go deeper and I really have to say something about what got me into this calling in the first place.

But I think that's not the kind of pastor I want to be. I want to be a pastor (scratch that) I want to be a Christian who is all in. Yes, I want to be normal and funny and cool, but I want more than that.

I want to be all in. I want to be okay with the fact that I live and die for Jesus Christ and His people.

I want to be all in. I want to love the people in my church with complete abandon.

I want to be all in. I want to do ministry with my eyes and ears open to where God is already at work and to join in what He's doing in people's lives.

Whatever that means, whichever plates I keep spinning and which ones I let fall, I have no idea... but I know this. I want to be all in.

Our house is WARM!

2009-10-12T21:46:00.008-05:00

It's official. Our house is now definitely, officially, completely our home.

Not only because have we done minor damage to it already.

Not simply because we've repainted a room or two. Not even because we've unpacked more boxes and hung pictures on the walls. This house is our home now because we invited people into it.

On Friday night, we had a House-Warming/Blessing Open House. We invited lots of people from both Dave's and my churches and random friends from around town. We even got a lovely surprise visit from some friends from Indiana!

What a great night we had. It was CRAZY, no doubt. There were some moments that I wondered if fire-code laws apply to private homes. Had there been a fire, I'm not sure any of us could have made it out our 2 small doors! But it was so fun and so fulfilling to get to open our doors to friends, to serve them food and wine, and to simply enjoy their company.

At the height of the party, Dave and I invited people to join with us in officially blessing the house. Dave wrote an awesome prayer of blessing, in which we read 3 Scripture passages, each one representing the variety of hopes we have for this house.

As a prayer of thanksgiving for the incredible GIFT of this house, we read from Isaiah:
But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create, for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy....They will build houses and dwell in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit.

As a prayer for hospitality, a reading from Romans:
Welcome one another, then, just as Christ has welcomed you, in order to bring praise to God,

As a prayer for friendship, Acts...
Then Paul went upstairs, and after he had broken bread and eaten, he continued to converse with them until dawn; then he left.

And as a prayer for peace, the Psalms...
The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.

It was such a gift to be able to invite people from our communities to join us in asking God's blessing on this house in this way. For these are truly the prayers of my heart for this house... I am SO thankful to God for it! Truly, it felt like God dropped the perfect house into our laps. And I want so much for it to be a place of welcome and hospitality and friendship. Food is one of my love-languages, I think. And in what can sometimes feel like a chaotic windstorm that we call "being pastors," I pray that our home would indeed be a place of peace and respite and rest for all who enter... especially US!

PS- Our Indiana friends have vouched for the guestroom. It's comfy! And it's open! Come bless our house some more with YOUR presence therein!

I like...

2009-10-01T22:25:00.002-05:00

I like waking up the morning, thinking it's going to be rainy and gross, only to be surprised by clear skies and a pink sunrise, which means that I get to go on a run in the crisp fall air instead of the gym.
I like running past the local bakery and drooling over the Bear Claws inside, but having the self-control to keep running.
I like talking about other people "behind their backs" when the content of our conversation is how amazing that person is and how cool it is to watch what God's doing in their life.
I like that I get paid to read about, talk to, think about, angst over, and love God and people all day long.
I like living in a house that feels like a home.
I like that it's the end of a very long work-week.
I like the look my husband gets in his eyes when I can tell he really, really loves me.
I like losing the aforementioned self-control to a plate of fresh sugar cookies and a can of Cream Cheese frosting.
I like that we have friends with whom we can lounge in front of the TV, eat too many cookies and laugh about the most ridiculous things.
I like that we have a good life.
I like my life.

There's a tent in the center of town...

2009-09-15T15:06:00.002-05:00

This last Sunday we had our Fall Kickoff and it was a BLAST! We planned an outdoor worship service on the church's lawn (for which the weather was PERFECT, thank you Jesus). I preached, the choirs sang and we had a baptism and communion. Awesome.

Since we were outside, there's no recording for this one for pastorbecca'spodcast. Sorry, adoring fans (aka Mom). The text will hafta do for now....

"I Believe"
Pastor Becca Bruner
First Presbyterian Church of Normal
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Mark 9:14-29
s.d.g.

I want you to try a little experiment with me: start a sentence in your minds with the words “I believe…” and then finish it with something deeply heartfelt. It is hard NOT to feel moved. All humans share a need to declare our deeply held beliefs, our own personal “credos,” if you will.

Sometimes our credos are homespun, folksy and heart-warming: “I believe everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten.” Sometime our credos are silly. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that read, “Everyone has to believe in something. I believe I’ll have another beer.”

Sometimes we look for designer beliefs that, like designer labels, will show how cool we are. A recent issue of US Weekly quoted Jennifer Aniston’s saying, “I still believe in love.”

And then there are the great beliefs, beliefs that people have devoted their lives to studying, beliefs that they have argued about and exulted in and sacrificed over and died for. The Apostles’ Creed, which we will be preaching on for the next 10 weeks, contains some of those GREAT beliefs.

HISTORY OF THE CREED

The English word “creed” comes from the Latin verb “credo,” which means “I believe.” The earliest Christian creed on record was simply, “Jesus is Lord”. Anyone who made that declaration was considered to be a Christian. But over time, it became necessary to explain in greater detail what the statement “Jesus is Lord” fully meant. What did Christians believe about God the Father? And the Holy Spirit? And the Church? By about the 4th Century, a list of answers to those questions came into common use: what we know call “The Apostles’ Creed.” It’s kind of a misnomer, as it was not written by “the Apostles” per se, but nonetheless this creed has been recognized by all Christians, across all denominational lines, as the basic core of Christian belief. For centuries, the Apostles’ Creed was the primary text used to instruct new believers in the basics of the Christian faith as they prepared for their baptism.

PURPOSE OF THE CREED

So why study the creed now? What difference does knowing and understanding it make in our lives today? I can think of a couple good reasons.

The first is that the Apostles’ Creed provides a brief summary of the Christian faith. It’s “Christianity-concentrate.” And I think that all of us could use some buffing up on the basics. A few years back, a team of researchers conducted a study on the religious beliefs of teenagers. After conducting over 3,000 interviews, they discovered that the “religion” these teens professed could be labeled “Benign Whateverism.” You could believe whatever you want- as long as you were a nice person and you felt good about yourself. Many of these teens claimed to be Christians, but had no idea about the history or doctrines of their chosen “faith.” That’s what the creed is for- teaching us the basic foundations of orthodox Christianity. It’s not a substitution for personal faith, mind you. You don’t become a Christian by simply reciting a creed; you become a Christian by putting your faith in Jesus Christ. But it helps to know in your head what you believe in your heart. The Apostles’ Creed supplies us with some of that content.

The second reason to study the Apostles’ Creed is that it allows us to recognize and avoid inadequate or incomplete versions of Christianity. Throughout the centuries, there have been a myriad of voices claiming to tell the truth about who Jesus Christ really was. The Da Vinci Code has its view; as do the Mormons, the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and a variety of New Age religions. The Apostles’ Creed gives us a standard against which to test these teachings. It says, “For the last 2 centuries, Christians have believed these specific things to be true about Jesus.” You can choose to believe whatever you want; but the Apostles’ Creed says that if you want to call yourself a Christian, here is what that means.

I BELIEVE

You’ll notice, if you read through the Apostles’ Creed in your bulletins, one key phrase that gets repeated a few times over: “I BELIEVE.” I believe. What does that mean? What does it mean to say, “I believe in God the Father? I believe in Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the church?”

Well first off, to say, “I believe” is to give your intellectual assent. It means believing that certain things are real and true. To say, “I believe in God” means “I believe there is God,” or “I am of the opinion that God exists.” This is an essential starting point. After all, before we can begin to say anything about what God is like, we need to assume that there is a God in the first place.

To say, “I believe” is to give your intellectual assent. Faith is a pursuit of truth. It is engaging in study and asking tough questions. And the Apostles’ Creed provides a foundation for the search.

I went to a Christian liberal arts college out in Seattle. And in my 2nd year there, I took a class with a Bible professor who was famous for his penchant for delighting in challenging his students’ preconceptions about the Bible. I remember leaving his classroom one more than one occasion, reeling with these new and difficult ideas about where the Bible came from, how we know it’s true, and what it actually says, if you take the time to read it. One day, it all got to be too much. All these new and, frankly quite troublesome facts were being thrown at me, and I wasn’t sure WHAT I believed anymore. When class was over, I went straight back to my dorm room, locked myself inside and started to pray. And the words that came to my mind at that moment were the words to this creed…

I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into hell. The third day he rose again from the dead. He ascended into heaven, and sits on the right hand of God the Father Almighty. From there he shall come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit; the holy Catholic Church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.

I offered those words to God as a prayer. And in that moment I knew that as long as I had this Creed to hold on to, as long as I knew these words were true, I could handle wrestling with these new ideas because I knew that in the Apostles’ Creed, I had a strong foundation to stand on.

That’s the starting point of faith: “I believe God is.” But that’s not all there is. The Creed says, “I believe IN…” That goes a step beyond simple assent. When I declare that, “I believe in Jesus Christ,” I am not just saying that there once was a man named Jesus. I am putting my trust in this Jesus. Christians don’t just believe- we believe in someone. Faith in God isn’t so much a recognition of Him than it is a relationship with Him. And as any husband, wife, friend or family member can tell you- to be in a successful relationship requires RISK and TRUST.

Let’s look again at our Scripture lesson from this morning. Here is this father who is desperate for help. He tells Jesus how his son is tormented by a spirit that has made him mute and throws him to the ground in convulsions. This father has done everything he can for his son, and nothing has worked. So he takes a risk. He says, “Jesus, if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

And Jesus picks up on this word, “if,” and we read this amazing statement: “All things can be done for the one who believes.” Jesus, in a way, is coming back with an “if” of his own. The man says help me if it’s possible. Jesus says everything is possible- if you believe, if you will put your trust in me.

At this point, if I had been the father, I’d have been temped to conjure up some certainty, or to fake it. “Oops- did I say if? I meant since- SINCE you can do anything!”

But that’s not what this father does. Instead, he offers himself in complete trust to Jesus. He knows that his faith isn’t perfect, and he doesn’t try to hide it. He believes, and he doubts. He trusts, and wants to trust more. He places the faith he does have in Jesus’ hands and waits for a response.

To say, “I believe” means risking and trusting God enough to enter into a relationship with Him. A surprisingly large number of people who think of themselves as Christians never get further than accepting the truth of Christianity. They believe that God is there- but they have never met him. They believe that God is able to forgive sins- but they have never allowed God to forgive their sins. They believe that God is reliable- but they have never relied on him.

Think of it this way: Suppose you developed a terrible infection. Your doctor prescribes an antibiotic that can cure it. But believing that penicillin can heal you isn’t enough. It is only by swallowing those pills that you can be cured. So it is with the gospel. Believing that it can transform you is one thing; allowing it to do just that is something else.

In the Apostles’ Creed, we say, “I believe.” I believe God is. We say, “I believe in…” I trust as much of myself as I can to this God. When I say, “I believe in God…” I am taking a step of trust, betting my life on the God who bet his life on me, demonstrating his commitment to us and love for us in the cross of Jesus Christ. In the words of Martin Luther, to say “I believe in God,” is a “free surrender, a joyous wager on the unseen, unknown, untested goodness of God.”

One of my personal heroes of faith is Henri Nouwen. For many years, Nouwen worked as a professor Christian theology at Harvard and Yale, until one day, he felt God call him to leave these esteemed institutions to serve in ministry at a home for physically and mentally disabled adults. Throughout those years, Nouwen wrote some very insightful and beautiful things about what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. During a period of personal sabbatical, Nouwen wrote about, of all things, paying a visit to the circus!

He was taken in especially by the trapeze act, a team of brothers who called themselves “The Flying Rodleighs.” He watched them perform, and then he got to know them, learning more about their craft.

There were 5 members in the act- 3 “flyers” and 2 “catchers.” The flyer climbs the steps, mounts the platform, and grasps the trapeze. He leaps off the platform, swinging through the air. He uses his body for momentum, swinging with increasing speed and height. The catcher hangs from his knees on another trapeze, with his hands free to reach out. Trapeze artists usually use a safety net nowadays, but even falling into one of those is dangerous and sometimes fatal.

The moment of truth comes when the flyer lets go. He sails into the air with no support, no connection to the earth. He does a somersault or two. Picture him in the middle of a somersault and freeze the frame. There is absolutely nothing, at the moment, to keep the flyer from plunging to his death. What do you think he feels like? Do you think he feels fully alive- every cell in his body screaming out? Thing he’s feeling any fear right then?

In the next moment the catcher swings into our view. He has been timing his arcs perfectly. He arrives just as the flyer loses momentum and is beginning to descend. His hands clasp the arms of the flyer. The flyer cannot see him; to the flyer, everything is a blur. But then, in an instant, the flyer feels himself snatched out of the air. The catcher takes the flyer home. And the flyer is very, very glad.

Nouwen spent some time getting to know the flyers. He learned that flyers are small, weighing 150 pounds or less, because if you’re a catcher, you don’t want a flyer with a sweet tooth. He learned about the equipment they used. They had socks filled with magnesium dry powder for their hands, because Joe was one of the catchers. They told Henri, “Joe sweats a lot.” and if you’re the flyer, you don’t want a catcher with sweaty hands.

Here’s where the trusting comes in. Letting go is always an act of trust. One of the flyers told Nouwen, “As a flyer, I must have complete trust in my catcher. The public might think I’m the star of the trapeze, but the real star is Joe, my catcher. He has to be there for me with split-second precision and grab me out of the air as I come to him in the long jump.”

Nouwen asked him, “How does it work?”

He answered, “The secret is that the flyer does nothing. The catcher does everything. When I fly to Joe, I have simply to stretch out my arms and hands and wait.”

Henri asked him, “You do nothing?”

“A flyer must fly and a catcher must catch. The flyer must trust with outstretched arms that his catcher will be there waiting for him,”

To say, “I believe” involves intellectual assent, it’s true. Saying “I believe in God,” takes humility and honesty. But in the end, confessing your faith in God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, in the words of this creed means letting go, taking a leap, and trusting that there will be someone there to catch you.

There is no way to God that bypasses the call to let go…. The truth is that we are all born holding onto a trapeze- a little trapeze we call our “life”. We hold on to it tightly: our security, our “okay-ness”, our success, our importance, our worth, our stuff, our bodies, our heath, our influence.

Then Jesus comes along and says: “You can let go of all that. You can let go of your life because Someone is holding it. Believe him or not. One day- maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe 50 years from now- you will let go of this little trapeze of your “life,” and so will I.

Jesus believed that there is a Catcher, and he does not have sweaty hands.

Many thanks to a variety of sources for help and information for this sermon.
Alister McGrath, I Believe, Intervarsity Press, 1997
J.I. Packer, Affirming the Apostles’ Creed, CrossWay Books, 2008
John Ortberg, Faith & Doubt, Zondervan, 2008

Dilemma

2009-09-06T19:22:00.002-05:00

I have a dilemma. Perhaps the internet (i.e. the people who read my meandering thoughts) can help me solve it.

We've lived in our house for exactly 8 days now. And we've only met one of our neighbors. BRIEFLY. He was sitting out in his yard, I saw him on my way out to meet a friend, so I went over to introduce myself. We chatted about our houses for approximately 2 minutes before my ride came to get me. That's the only neighborhoody goodness we've had so far.

Now, I know that the grown-up thing to do is to know your neighbors. It's what people who own and live in houses do. You learn each other's names, chat when you see each other out in your yards, and, if you seem to get along okay, borrow a cup of sugar every now and then. But here is my question... how do neighbors get to know each other intially? Whose job is it to make the first move?

I always thought that it was the "already-live-there" folks' job to welcome the "moving-in" kids. Aren't they supposed to come over and knock to say hello? Should we wait for them to do so? Is that the correct protcol?

Or is it kosher for me and Dave to go to their houses, possibly with yummy treats in hand, to introduce ourselves to them? Is that too eager? Would we be breaking some kind of unwritten neighbor code? Would we forever be branded THOSE neighbors?

I've said it before... There really should a new-homeowners' class. I don't know how to do this business.

First Fix-it Project

2009-09-04T07:46:00.006-05:00

Dear Former-Showerhead,

I hate to say it, but it's just not going to work out between us. And it's not me, it's YOU.

When we first got into this relationship, I really thought that something might happen. Maybe it was presumptuous of me, but I began imagining what our life together might look like down the road. You'd spray ample amounts of water and I'd take long, satisfying showers. But from the very start, I was fooling myself. Instead of seeing you for YOU, I was projecting all my hopes and wishes onto you and simply hoping you'd grow and change and become the showerhead I wanted you to be. But that's just not fair to you OR me. The truth is, you are not a good showerhead. You DON'T provide amble amounts of water. You dribble. And I think you might even be spraying some other people on the side. Don't try and hide it. I know. I've talked to Dave.

So I am starting to see someone else, Former-Showerhead. It started as a casual thing, in the aisles of Menards, but I can already see that New-Showerhead is really going to provide for my needs in ways you never could. I used a wrench to make sure he was installed good and tight, so I'm pretty sure he's here to stay. I think it would be easier for all us of if you would just go. Don't go away mad. Just go away.

Sincerely,
Becca

Happy Anniversary to us!

2009-08-18T19:43:00.005-05:00

Question: What does it take to make Becca happy for her 2nd anniversary?
Answer: A fun-filled, fabulous trip to St. Louis for the weekend.

Question: What does it take to make Dave happy for his 2nd anniversary?
Answer: Pizza .

My life is admirably arranged.

Now to be fair, Dave didn't just want ANY pizza. Noticing that I had recently purchased an eggplant from the Farmers' Market, Dave forwarded me a recipe for Grilled Eggplant and Olive Pizza. Sounded good to me!

Now, Blo-No is not so much a fancy, cosmopolitan town wherein one can walk into any grocery store and find pre-made pizza dough that is not a crappy Boboli crust. So I thought myself rather ingenious to go and get some dough from Papa Murphys. They sell uncooked pizza, surely they will sell uncooked dough. Not so much. Really?? Come on, pops. So I ordered a cheese "pizza" with no sauce. That'll show them! Take my $8 for flour and yeast and water! I win!

Anyhow... BEST. Pizza. EVER. I was full after 2 pieces, but kind of wished I could expand my stomach so that I could fit 2 more pieces in. If only they made Grilled Olive and Eggplant flavored gum.... mmmm.......

2009-08-06T21:17:00.022-05:00

You know that it's time for a break when lines from the movie The Shining start to make sense... "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy!"

Last night, I was nodding my head thinking, "Yeah, I think that Jack guy might be on to something... "

Wait, no! He's scary and creepy and tries to kill his whole family. He's NOT on to something at all!

The fact is, I was getting to a point of all work and no play was making Becca a very stressed out girl. I love, love, love my job. I think that being a pastor is probably the bestest job ever, second only to maybe ice-cream taster or massage-receiver. BUT I've started to feel like my job has taken over my life. It's all I really think about some days. If it's not the next big program, it's the sermon. If not the sermon, it's the pains and issues people are struggling with. And so on and so on...

So today by a miraculous convergence of events, I had the whole day free. So I decided to escape. I took myself on a date to the big city. Chicago. And I must say, I'm a damn good date! (I just hope I understand that just because I bought myself the expensive lunch that I don't expect "something" in return once the date is over. I'm not that kind of girl.)

Got my bag, my books, my tickets... ready to ride the train to Chi-town
Beer & Edamame at Sushi Wabi
Sushi makes me happy... especially when it is so pretty!
And yet I am so sad when it is gone
Thank you, Blago, for this fine bridge. I enjoyed walking upon it.
Farmer's Market... if only I wasn't so full of sushi!

The Bean! Seriously, I've been to Chicago dozens of times and this was the first time I saw THE Bean. It was pretty magical.
Question: Why is there a creepy man face on this fountain where children play?
And why does he spit on them?
Pure joy
A little joy for me too
Wishes
Deep sigh of contentment.
Life is good.

I'm a big kid now

2009-07-14T07:15:00.004-05:00

So, the other day Dave and I discovered an extra 15K in the cushions of our couch and the pockets of our jeans so we thought, "What the heck? Let's buy a house!"

Yeah, so maybe it wasn't QUITE as simple as that... but we're still doing it. Ladies and gentlemen, the Bruners are becoming big kids. We have purchased a house.

We're doing it. We are taking a gigantic, enormous, exciting, but also freaking scary step into adulthood. In a matter of weeks, our hearts and minds will be consumed with thoughts of plumbing and painting, weeding and spackling, furnaces and furniture.

Needless to say for anyone who knows us at all, there was a fair share of anxiety in the decision making process, but overall I'm actually pretty proud of us. When we differed (say, I wanted to buy the house within 2 days of seeing it, Dave wanted to actually make sure we could afford it... just for example) we talked and listened to each other without breaking down. There was relatively little running into our bedroom and flinging oneself onto the bed in adolescent angst. I'd say that's pretty darn good, considering our decision-making track record. We're LEARNING!

I have to say, I do kind of feel like God gave us this house. It's been a cool process. We did a few days of searching with our Realtor (my aforementioned BFF) and nothing was quite right. Just for gits, I got onto the local For Sale By Owner website and this house came up. It looked decent, so we scheduled a showing. Once we saw it, this house had me at hello. It was almost everything we were looking for. Right neighborhood, right price, right number of bedrooms. Old and "charactery", but with work already done to update it. The backyard is this amazing secret garden patio in which I can already imagine sitting with our friends around a firepit with glasses of wine and smores. (They go together. They do!)

I loved, loved, loved it. But at first I thought we were going to have to let it go because the seller didn't want to pay a Realtor. But as I mentioned before, our Realtor is a true gift from God because she worked so hard to help us get this house anyway. For free. We're trying to pay her ourselves and she won't let us!

So we went back to see it again with her and loved it all the same. But in a week, I was leaving to go on our youth mission trip, after which Dave and I were both leaving for vacation. It was either pull the trigger now or wait 3 more weeks. And we had a LOT of work to do to make sure we could afford this house, that we were ready to own a house, and SOOO many more details. So last week was a little rough. BUT.... because this house was a For Sale By Owner... there it sat- waiting for us! I fully believe that if this house were being sold by a realty company, it would have been GONE weeks ago. But since most people don't want know how to buy a house without a realtor (us included), our house waited for us until we were ready.

So Dave made the offer last week while I was busy shoveling dirt in Hazard, KY. And we got the inspection done yesterday, with a clean bill of house-health. The loan application is going through and this train just keeps chugging along. Providing everything keeps moving like it's supposed to, Lord willing, on August 21 we will own this house. That is NUTS!

Wanna see more? Click here.

My realtor made me cry

2009-06-27T17:48:00.003-05:00

Twice.... in the BEST way possible.

Honestly, I am so overwhelmed with gratitude for this woman it feels like happy, thankful feelings are overflowing out of my heart and oozing out my pores.

So we knew we liked her from the get-go. She's sharp, she's funny, she KNOWS what she's doing. She never tried to show us houses outside our price range and doesn't waste our time with houses we won't like. She's GOOD at her job and clearly loves it. I saw her face plastered on a giant billboard outside Starbucks a few months ago... she was the Realtor of the Month that month. And I thought to myself, "How did WE- poor, first time home buyers, get the Realtor of Month as OUR realtor?" We win!

So here's how she made me cry. Last week we happened across a FSBO (for sale by owner) house
we really liked. Dave and I toured it and it had a lot going on that we were looking for. Older, with character, but not a money-pit. 3 bedrooms, decent sized living room and entertaining space. And the price was right. I called the owner the next day and told her that we'd like to move forward, and asked if we could bring our realtor with us to check it out. She said that she did not want to pay the realtor 3% (that's why she was doing the FSBO thing), so I thought that was that. I know I can't buy a house without a realtor, especially our first, so I figured we'd move on. A friend pointed out to me that WE could pay the 3% if we really wanted, but I just stored that away.

Well, we went out house-hunting with our realtor again last Thursday. And we really didn't see anything we liked much at all. She told us a couple times that she thought we should think seriously about the FSBO. So I told her the 3% dealio, to which she adamantly insisted that she would not at all expect us to pay her the 3%... that she wasn't in it for the money and that she'd be more than happy to simply find us the right house. I was FLOORED. What professional person just says, "Oh, the money doesn't matter. I'll work for you for FREE."?? I stammered out a word of thanks, but got all choked up doing so. I just couldn't fathom she would be so generous!

So, today she came with Dave and I to check it out. And we were once again reminded how much we liked this house. And she agreed. A great house, for a GREAT deal. As we stood in the driveway and talked about what it MIGHT mean to put in an offer, she just stopped and said, "Hey, can I pray for you guys?" And right there in the driveway, she prayed for us... prayed for wisdom, for discernment, for provision. And I just lost it. I tend to cry whenever someone prays for me, but this was just icing in the incredible cake that is our realtor. Not only is she good at her job, not only is she generous with her time and her money, but she prays for us!

Whatevever happens with THIS house... if we put in an offer and end up buying it or if we don't... I am so, so, so grateful to have this amazing woman working with us. I would have never imagined that my realtor would make me cry 2 times in one week. And that I would be so glad that she did.

2009-06-23T19:49:00.003-05:00

So the other night, Dave and I went on a HOT date to see the Parks and Rec presentation of "Beauty and the Beast" in a local park. We packed a picnic in a cute little wicker basket I bought at Target that afternoon, ate Chicken Salad and Watermelon, and drank "punch" from little plastic cups. We sat on a hillside at the back of the audience and munched on our treats while we watched the field fill with more and more audience members. At the last minute, a family came and sat in the grassy space right in front of us. A mom. A daughter. And a dad with the hairiest, sweatiest back I have seen in a LONG time.

The play began. Belle sang about wanting more than this provincial life, etc, etc, etc. Shortly thereafter came Gaston's big song. You know the one where he and his little sidekick sing about how awesome Gaston is. And then came this line, "And every last inch of me's covered with HAIR!"

At that moment, mom turns to hairy-sweaty dad and they exchange this LOOK. Like they're saying, "Yeah! That's me!" and "Hey honey, look! Excessive back hair is a GOOD thing!"

Beauty and the Beast. Affirming and encouraging poor follicular choices since 1992.

Spoiler alert!

2009-06-09T06:50:00.003-05:00

This evening I am going up to our church's 4th-8th grade camp to speak. Their theme for the week is "Heroes". Therefore, for the glory of God and the work of His Kingdom, I may or may not be donning a full-on Superman costume, complete with unitard, booties, and cape.

It's all for Jesus.

“Chocolate, Chocolate, Chocolate-ACCK!!!”

2009-06-07T14:18:00.007-05:00

A friend from seminary, Carmen, wrote a great blog piece of the strange and startling difference between our American culture and that of places like Zambia, where Carmen lived all last year. Upon her return from rural Africa, Carmen moved to the upper east-side of Manhattan. I think that is literally just about as far from Zambia as one can get!

In the post I'm referring to, Carmen talks about the strange obsession we find in American culture with skinniness. We have access to an abundance food- gourmet cuisine, fast food, and everything in between- and yet we still hold up flat tummies and toned arms as the perfect human ideal.

A couple years ago, I spent 8 weeks in Zambia; and I remember being aware that my body-image issues were an anomaly, to say the least. Women would "compliment" me, telling me that they thought I was putting on weight while I was there. I'd smile confusedly and say "thank you?" but in my head, I was thinking, "God, I hope not!" I did everything I could to be healthy and NOT pack on the pounds. But all the while, I felt guilty for caring if my thighs got a little thundery when surrounded by children who didn't know where their next meal was coming from.

When I returned home to the United States, one of the moments of reverse culture-shock that I experienced was being startled by overweight kids. Not "startled" like they'd jump out and say "boo!" but surprised and taken aback. I literally hadn't seen an overweight child in 2 months. No child that I saw in Zambia got nearly enough to eat, nor had enough sedentary time to pack on the pounds.

I write all this because I've been thinking about weight and body image and my own issues there-with. I got to a point several years ago where I wasn't happy with my body, so I finally decided to do something about it. With the help of good old Weight Watchers, I lost some significant poundage. And I kept it off for a good few years. And I was generally pleased with how I looked and felt. Now 5 years later, I've put SOME of it back on. Not all of it. Not even MUCH of it. But enough that I get displeased by the little imperfections I see in the mirror.

I do get annoyed that I don't always love everything about that reflection I see. But I am way MORE annoyed that I care so much- that I let myself get all sad and mopey over a stomach that's less rock-hard washboard and more warm-cuddly pillow. I am annoyed that though I KNOW in my head that there are way more important things to worry about than love-handles, that's what I spent a good 10 minutes whining about last night. I am annoyed that my life and my relationship with food is starting to resemble a Cathy cartoon. (Seriously- that cartoon is NOT funny. Though I guess they made fun of Cathy on 30Rock and that's gotta earn back SOME the wasted years of non-laughter Cathy spent in the newspapers.)

And so I write to you, dear blogosphere. Not to be one of those girls who say, "Oh, I'm so fat" and waits for all her REAL friends to protest. ("No, you're not! You are the epitome of beauty and all things skinny and perfect!") But to share with whoever might like to know that I am becoming a normal, almost-30-something year old American woman and I am quite ambivalent about the whole thing.

Can't we all just live in a world where little kids have enough to eat, where we who have too much give more away, and where a little pooch is considered the hottest new accessory? Let's make it be so.

So, I guess now I am THAT girl

2009-06-04T06:55:00.001-05:00

The one who posts funny videos to her blog instead of writing anything of substance. Yep, that's whats happening. But this one was far too funny to NOT post. Seriously.

Because I need a new posting after that last one...

2009-05-31T16:58:00.003-05:00

I give you... today's sermon!

"Filled, Skilled & Sent"
Sermon for Pentecost Sunday
May 31, 2009
Acts 2:1:1-13

There’s an old Native American legend about an Indian who came down from the mountains and saw the ocean for the first time. Awed by the scene, he requested a quart jar. As he waded into the ocean and filled the jar, he was asked what he intended to do with it. “Back in the mountains,” he replied, “my people have never seen the Great Water. I will carry this jar to them so they can see what it is like.”

On this Pentecost Sunday, as I endeavor to talk about the Holy Spirit, I feel a little bit like that Indian. It’s a little bit like trying to capture the ocean in a quart jar. The subject is so infinite and our minds so finite. The Holy Spirit is a tough concept for us to understand.

I was reading through our most recent confirmation class’ faith statements this last week, which was so great. And I LOVED how honest one student was in her description of the Holy Spirit. She wrote, “The Holy Spirit is a very peculiar thing. I do not understand it.” How many of us can relate to that? And how many of us would be brave enough to admit it in a faith statement? I love it.

Well, I can’t say that I’m going to eradicate ALL confusion this morning in this brief reflection. Entire sermon series’ have been preached on the subject of the Holy Spirit and STILL people have been left scratching their heads a bit. But I hope that even this quart jar will help you begin to get a picture of the big picture we’re talking about in the Holy Spirit.

We just read together the story of Pentecost as recounted in Acts 2. The day we celebrate every year when, around 50 days after Jesus had risen from the dead, the Holy Spirit was sent to the disciples. But what happened in those 50 days prior to Pentecost? What were the disciples doing before they were shaking and speaking in the Spirit?

The book of Acts begins with Jesus appearing one last time to his disciples before he ascends to heaven. We heard it read just a moment ago that he promised that the Holy Spirit WOULD come soon, but they’d have to wait. So, they wait. And as they wait, life for the disciples is pretty mundane. The 2nd half of Acts 1 is much less exciting than the first. They return to Jerusalem and they start going about the business of getting all their ducks in a row. They need to fill the vacancy left in the group by Judas. CHECK. They need a place to meet. CHECK. They decide to gather in that place for prayer each day. CHECK. They believed, they gathered, but still something was missing. There’s no passion, no power, no purpose. They’re getting things done, but they’re totally empty.

Does any of that sound familiar? It should. As far as I can tell, we are living in the most dissatisfied, detached period of history that we have seen in quite awhile. A few months ago, Christianity Today published an article entitled, “The Depression Epidemic” which reported that clinical depression is the 2nd most common cause of disability worldwide- 2nd only to cardiovascular disease. 1 in 5 adults are currently experiencing some level of sadness- from a manageable but persistent feeling of the blues to a more serious case of clinical depression. We FEEL like those bones we heard about in the Ezekiel reading- dry and dusty, weary and worn-out.

One of the symptoms many depressed people report is a feeling of emptiness. It’s not that they are sad and crying all the time. They’re not feeling ANYTHING. To feel SOMETHING (even pain) is a sign that you’re alive. But to feel NOTHING, for everything to feel empty and meaningless- that feels unbearable.

Even if you don’t struggle with depression, I’d bet you’ve had your share of empty moments and seasons; times when the everyday routine just doesn’t satisfy. You get up, go to work, care for the kids, run some errands, watch a couple TV shows, go to bed, and get up the next day to do it all again. You’re getting things done, but like those disciples, it feels like something’s missing. You don’t feel any sense of passion; no purpose; no power.

I wish I could say that this was simply a non-Christian problem, an issue only unbelievers out there struggle with, but I’m afraid that isn’t so. Even here inside the church ,we can feel pretty empty at times. Like those disciples, we can believe, we can gather, and we can set up all the systems we want and yet we can still come away empty. Theologian A.W. Tozer once said, “If God were to take the Holy Spirit out of this world, most of what the church is doing would go right on and nobody would know the difference.”

This summer we are going to be preaching a series of sermons entitled, “The Church is a Verb.” By that, we mean that the church of Jesus Christ is not simply a building. And being a part of His church means more than simply having your name on the membership rolls. When the Bible talks about the church, it always uses active language- the church is God’s chosen people gathered for worship, gifted for ministry, and sent out in service.

BUT before we are any of those things, something else must happen first. The disciples were gathered together, they’d seen the resurrected Jesus with their own eyes, so they certainly believed in Him, but still something was missing. They were empty… UNTIL the Holy Spirit showed up.

It’s hard to imagine what exactly happened that Pentecost day. Luke, the apostle who wrote the book of Acts, uses a lot of vivid imagery, trying to help his readers understand this amazing thing that happened. It was like this really strong wind, he said. There was this tangible, yet invisible, powerful presence in the room. And we all felt this burning sensation, like a flame of fire had landed on each one of us.

There are some things in this world so incredible that they defy human language: a magnificent sunset, the birth of a child, a beautiful piece of art. We can KIND of describe it, but words just don’t do it justice. The outpouring of the Holy Spirit is one of those things.

So, Luke tells us that the Holy Spirit blows into that room and fills each one of the believers gathered there and propels them out of that room to do some pretty crazy stuff. Their behavior was so out of the ordinary that the people on the street wondered started asking, “What are these guys ON?” The disciples were full of something (and it wasn’t any Boones Farm). They were filled with the Spirit!

So here’s where we get to look at who the Holy Spirit is and what it does- just a brief glance- a quart jar of ocean water, but it’s a start. When the Holy Spirit blew into that room that day, 2 things happened. First, the disciples were FILLED with POWER. And second, they were SKILLED for a PURPOSE.

First, they were FILLED with POWER. Luke tells us that they spilled out onto the streets, each one speaking in a variety of languages so that the dozens of nationalities of people in that market square ALL heard and understood what they were saying.

The Holy Spirit is God’s POWER at work in and through God’s people. When we are filled with the Holy Spirit, we are given power to do things that we wouldn’t be able to do on our own. There are some things that I am fairly confident that I am able to do on my own. I can cook a pretty decent meal, balance my checkbook, run a committee meeting, bang out a few dozen emails, and not have to think TOO hard about it. And if that’s ALL I spend my time doing, it’s pretty likely I am not going to see the Holy Spirit do its best work.

That’s because the Holy Spirit’s tends to specialize in filling believers with POWER to do things we are not capable of on our own. To see the Holy Spirit work, you have to risk trying to do something you DON’T feel capable of.

I see the Holy Spirit at work when I’m reading my Bible and my eyes are opened to read it as God’s Living Word to me, as a message that speaks directly to MY heart and my life. I see the Holy Spirit at work when He takes the words I’ve written in a sermon and carries them across the room to your ears and into your hearts as God’s Word to YOU. I see the Holy Spirit at work in the heart of a person who has been terribly wronged by another person, yet somehow finds the strength to love and forgive; in the inexplicable peace and joy expressed by the person in the hospital bed whose odds do not look good. I see the Holy Spirit at work in those “chance” encounters where you get to offer a much needed word of comfort to a person in need, those “coincidental” moments when you get to share your faith with a curious friend.

None of these are things we make happen by our own strength. When we are filled with the Holy Spirit, we are given power to do things which we are not capable of on our own. Which brings me to the second thing this passage teaches us about the Holy Spirit: it fills us with power and it SKILLS us for a PURPOSE.

There are some churches out there that have gotten really into the power part of the Holy Spirit, but have forgotten about the purpose of that power. There’s where you start getting into the crazy stuff like requiring that EVERY person speak in tongues or encouraging people to handle poisonous snakes. They’re seeking the Spirit’s power, but without a sense of purpose.

The disciples were filled with power AND skilled for a purpose. They were given this miraculous gift of languages so that they could speak. About what? WHY were they given this power? Luke says that they were telling of “God’s mighty works.” They were telling the story of Jesus- of his life, death, and resurrection!

The purpose of the power of the Holy Spirit is to point people to Jesus! That is the Holy Spirit’s job description in its entirety. You want to know what the Holy Spirit looks like? It’s like this. (Grab Mons) Say this is Jesus. And I’m the Holy Spirit. Here’s what I do. (Standing behind Mons, pointing to Him.) The Holy Spirit points NOT to Himself, but to Jesus. “Look at him,” says the Spirit. “Listen to Him. Learn from Him. Follow Him. Serve Him. Worship Him. Love Him. Be devoted to Him.”

The Holy Spirit fills us with power, skills us with a purpose and that purpose is to point to Jesus Christ. As a church, before WE do anything, the Holy Spirit does something to us. We are filled. We are skilled. And we are sent out in His power.

Life doesn’t have to be empty routine. God wants to use us as a church, to use YOU as an individual to change the world: to bring spiritual life to people who haven’t yet heard the gospel of Jesus Christ; to bring physical life to people who lack basic resources; to use your best gifts for His best work in the world. It’s an exciting and unpredictable ride- it’s anything but boring!

If this is ringing true for you this morning, if there’s something about this that YOU want, for your life and for our church, maybe this morning you might sing with me a prayer, and as you sing, ask God to send His Holy Spirit into this place, into YOUR heart and into this church that WE might be FILLED with power, SKILLED with purpose, and SENT OUT to point others to him. The song is simply this…

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.
Melt me, Mold Me, Fill Me, Use Me.
Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.

2009-05-23T18:18:00.002-05:00

Call me inappropriate, but I find this to be EXTREMELY funny. You'd think that nearly 30 years of life would sophisticate my sense of humor a little bit. Guess not.

Measuring life in RPMs

2009-05-22T17:17:00.004-05:00

So I'm not a BIKER biker. My bike is a Schwinn from Target. I don't own one of those cool shirts with pockets in the back or clip in shoes or padded-butt shorts. BUT I do like to ride and I feel very proud of myself for riding 25 miles today. And here were some of my thoughts.

The Amish got it all wrong banning the bike. I find it to be the perfect pace to take it all in. Not too slow, not too fast- just right.
I really SHOULD own a pair of padded-butt shorts.
Central Illinois is really kind of pretty... 4ish months a year... so I'm glad those months are here now.
The fields I was riding beside will likely produce all kinds of ethanol, corn-syrupy goodness.
Rosie Thomas and Dennison Witmer don't get you pumped up to pedal faster. I need to get new music on my ipod. Stat.
Note to self: If you plan on stopping at a friend's house for water at mile 20, make sure they're gonna be home. Otherwise bring your own water. Hydration=important.
God has graced me with the anti-B.O gene. Even after 25 miles, I still don't stink. Thanks Mom.

And now, after a lovely DAY off, I kind of want to spend my NIGHT off collapsed in a heap on the floor. I'm pooped!

Central Illinois Barn

Awkward moment of being a Pastor's Kid #287

2009-05-11T08:27:00.001-05:00

Yesterday, the whole fam got to worship together at LGPC. Overall, it was GREAT. I love that church.

But being the "first family" has it's awkward moments. As a teenager, most of those moments came when Dad would use a story from our lives as a sermon illustration. He'd start out, "I remember when one of my daughters was young..." and I would suddenly feel every eye in the sanctuary boring holes in the back of my head. My less-than-subtle friends would swivel around in their seats in front of me and inform me in a loud whisper, "Hey! He's talking about YOU!!!!" Thanks. I'd have missed that otherwise.

So yesterday morning, we joined with our family of faith in worship and had a grand old time. Dad knocked it out of the park (as usual) in his sermon. And as we were filing out of the pews, random guy next to me says, "Man, I bet your dad came up with some really great bedtime stories for you guys when you were little."

"Oh.... well... uh.... not really," I reply. "I mean, I do remember him reading to us from Goldilocks & the 3 Bears with really silly voices. But uh.... that's about it."

Random man's face as I stammer through my awkward response: Does not compute.

I think I might have burst his bubble a little bit. Sorry random man.

Also, hooray for Mother's Day. I love my mom. A LOT.

2009-05-07T11:33:00.001-05:00

I am choosing not to succumb to internal feelings of guilt for failing to attend my final seminar of the Regent Pastor’s Conference. Instead, I am choosing to succumb to externally imposed feelings of guilt from a certain Kissinger man for failing to ever update my blog. So here I sit, in a lovely Vancouver coffeeshop, decaf latte at my side, Ella Fitzgerald in my ears, and an entire hour and a half at my disposal.

As a new pastor, I am enjoying this new luxury of having time and money given to me simply for my own continuing education. As I have perused the many possible ways I could spend these days and dollars, as I’ve read about the myriads of conferences, retreats and seminars I could attend, I’ve decided that it matters very much WHERE the conference is held. Sure, the content and the presenters are important. I wouldn’t go to Maui to learn about the intricacies of Hebrew vowel points from Urkel. BUT I kind of think that it would take having Jesus himself as the keynote speaker to get me to go to a conference in Nebraska.

So I’ve chosen my 2 conferences of the year based on 1.) where they are located, 2.) what friends I’ll get to see while I’m there, and 3.) what’s being taught. In that order.

Back in March, I spent a WONDERFUL weekend in Mt. Hermon, CA where I attended an amazing women’s prayer retreat with some of my favorite girlfriends from camp. It’s hard for me NOT to feel God’s presence when surrounded my ancient Redwood trees and faithful friends, whose roots sink deeper and deeper with each passing year.

This week, I’ve been in Vancouver, B.C. attending the Regent College’s annual pastor’s conference. This year’s theme is “Pastor as Preacher”.

Priority Number One: The Place

Vancouver is absolutely beautiful! Our B&B is located on a steep hill that descends all the way down to a bay that overlooks the downtown skyline, immense skyscrapers which are dwarfed by the mountains which serve as their backdrop. I went on a jog-walk (a “jalk,” if you will) this morning on the beach and just breathed it all in… the sand, the lapping waves, the distant bustle of the city, and the low-lying clouds every-so-often reaching down to gently kiss the mountains.

I am so joyfully and gratefully confident that Dave and I are exactly where God has called us to be in Bloomington-Normal, IL. I love being the pastor at First Pres Normal SO MUCH and could not imagine a better place for me to live into my first call to ministry. Then there’s the miracle of Dave’s concurrent call to work at St. John’s Lutheran, first as their intern and (Lord willing!!) as their associate pastor. Not to mention the fact that we have FRIENDS in town, 2 couples with whom we delight sharing beers on Wednesday nights, food on Friday nights, and the ups & downs of life whenever we feel like driving 5 minutes across town. Truly, we are so blessed to live where we do.

Having said all that, central Illinois is not… NOT… my heart’s home. It’s flatter than flat. The trees are few and scattered. The largest body of water is miles and miles away. As much as I feel like I like to find beauty anywhere, there is something unique and irreplaceable about the way the landscape of the Pacific Northwest nourishes my soul. (Don’t even get me started on the joy of being in an actual CITY; a bustling urban area rich with cultural, racial, religious, political, AND gastronomical diversity. I haven’t even SEEN a Chili’s or an Applebees since we arrived. PTL.

Priority Number Two: The People

JJ and Lisa Kissinger have been living here for almost a year as JJ is getting his M.Div at Regent. Jeremy and Katy Kidwell are about to leave for Scotland for Jeremy to pursue his Ph.D. But in this perfect, serendipitous week, two of my favorite couples are here and I got the all-too-brief joy of sitting with a room with all 4 of them, sharing laughter, life-updates and sinfully delicious Apple-Blackberry Pie.

The Kidwells and the Kissingers are truly some of my favorite people. I would give my big toe for the chance to live in the same community as these folks, to be “everyday friends”. With these friends, we don’t simple spend TIME together, we share life.

It was Katy and Jeremy’s wedding where I got my first shot at bridesmaid-dom. And I remember feeling so overwhelmed with joy for them, because over the previous two years, Katy and Jeremy had shared their lives with me, and I knew that God had drawn them to one another and was going to do GOOD things in and through their life together. And though we’ve lost touch over the last couple years, I can see that I was right. Their joy in each other and their friends, their shared love for the Lord and their commitment to the people Jesus especially loved- the poor, the disenfranchised and the hurting- is an inspiration. I want to be like Katy and Jeremy when I grow up.

Friendship with JJ and Lisa goes back over 10 years now. Hard to believe! It’s crazy to think that it was 9 or 10 years ago that JJ and I were sitting in the back of the choir tour bus with friends just as nerdy as we are, making up songs about Destiny.

I remember when JJ and Lisa first began inching toward dating one another. It was slow and cautious. Such a precious friendship they had with one another- they didn’t want to ruin it. But to those of us on the outside, there couldn’t have been a better match. They balance each other in their extremes, they encourage one another in their weaknesses, and they make one another’s strengths shine. I love spending time with JJ and Lisa because, when we get together, no matter how many months have passed, we go straight to the heart of things. Life. Marriage. Jesus. Joys. Sorrows. And everything in between. There’s no awkwardness, no pretending, no bullshit. And everything is STILL covered in laughter. (“I don’t want to fall asleep… wait, what are the words? What?”) We laugh just as much now as we did 10 years ago. With cooler clothes and hair.

Priority Number Three: The Content

Overall, I’d say that this conference has been good. It’s been a wonderful treat to listen to such gifted preachers (Fleming Rutledge and Earl Palmer) deliver such well-crafted and thought-provoking sermons. It’s been refreshing to have my voice overshadowed by other exuberant pastors as we sing in worship. It’s been interesting to meet other pastors from all over the world, all coming together to learn and connect and grow in our shared calling to the proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I’m not sure what I came here looking for. I LOVE preaching, but I am aware that I have much to learn, many ways I can improve. Many of the questions asked in the seminars have been around the process of preaching: how do you write your sermons? What preachers inspire you? Which commentaries do you read? What steps do you take to get from brief Scripture text to inspiring 20-minute sermon, week after week? Is there a magical formula? Please? And can you share it with me?

I’m not sure I’ve picked up any magical formula. Preaching is an art and a discipline and a gift. It takes a lot of work, and lot of time, a lot of reading and learning from other preachers, and a lot of dependence on the Holy Spirit. Week in and week out. Sunday after Sunday.

The one comfort I take in this somewhat intimidating venture was said by both Fleming Rutledge and Earl Palmer, each in their own way. In Earl’s words, “the truth is self-validating.” Jesus speaks for Himself and makes Himself known to people’s hearts. And according to Fleming Rutledge, “the text speaks! Even if you are dead.”

Good words. Good friends. Good place.

Good week!

2009-03-01T22:07:00.002-06:00

I find myself wanting to write SOMETHING tonight, but completely lacking words. After what had been a pretty fantastic week, this weekend has pretty much been one emotional mess after another. The latest of which has been my dear friends losing their baby boy, just 3 weeks after he was born.

It's not right. It's not fair. No one should have to go through what they are going through. We had the honor and privilege of sitting with them, praying with them, holding and kissing their baby and saying goodbye together. Dave and I were in awe to have been invited into that sacred space in these friends' lives.

But man.... what do you say? What do you do? How is it that we get to come home and go to bed in relative peace and comfort while our friends are kept awake by their tears?

Sometimes I think that becoming a grown-up is WAY overrated.

What's the Word for today?

2009-02-24T20:14:00.000-06:00

Just in case anyone doesn't know it yet, I work at a Presbyterian church. I think it's a pretty great church, as churches go, but it's definitely Presbyterian through and through. How do I know? Well, there are the usual clues....

We've got LOADS of committees that talk about talking about doing all sorts of things in and around the church.
More than one elder has Robert's Rules of Order memorized and MAKES SURE that we follow those rules in all our meetings- I mean, how ELSE will we be "decent and in order"?
We serve communion one the first Sunday of the month, and the ushers pass those plates of bread and juice like a well-oiled machine.
There are members who have "their" pew, and they all sit in the back 1/4 of the sanctuary, leaving the front pews for the new/late folks.
Though there are many wonderfully faithful people, most folks don't feel all that comfortable talking about God, Jesus, or their own personal faith in Him in everyday conversations.

That last point is not my favorite, but I am growing accustomed to it- going out to lunch with people and talking more about their jobs, marriages, kids, even the weather than we do about Jesus.

Which is why I was rather caught off guard last week, by a total stranger. I was in our crappy little apartment complex gym, doing my normal morning routine- running on the treadmill while channel-flipping between the Today Show and Saved by the Bell. Usually, I have the gym to myself, and that makes me happy (no one can judge me when I laugh outloud at Matt Lauer, or worse Screech). So I got a little bummed when this other guy came in and started lifting weights.

I finished my run and was stretching when random guy suddenly asks, "Hey, are you a Christian?" I am really not sure at all what lead him to ask. I was wearing an old youth group t-shirt, but it's not like it was a "Lord's Gym: His Pain, Your Gain" shirt. Just a Mexico shirt. But he asked, so I answered, "Yeah, actually I am."

"Me too!" guy exclaims. "How long have you been a believer?"
"Uh, well pretty much all my life," I say, "I'm actually a pastor at the Presbyterian church down the street."
"Wow, really? A pastor? Well, what's the Word for the day today?"

What's the Word for today? Yikes. Uh... Jesus loves you? Does my being a pastor mean that I'm supposed to have THE Word from God upon request? To be honest, I wish I DID have answer, but I was so flummoxed, I weaseled around his question.

"Well, I'm about to go find out," I answer. "I always come in here and run, and then go read my Bible over breakfast."

I kind of thought that would get me off the hook, but no such luck. The guy (who's name is John Paul, I've learned) asks me what Scriptures I've been reading and all about what I think of them, and he talks about how great Jesus is, and how great his church is.

And while I was a little unsure how to respond to new BFF John Paul AT FIRST, I found myself feeling so refreshed by this conversation. Even though I've been a Presbyterian all my life, there are ways I don't feel like I fit. There are ways I don't WANT to fit. And I am afraid I'm conforming too easily. I want to talk about Jesus, and not just in sermons. I want to have a Word from God on the tip of my tongue. I want this passion for God that John Paul exhibited to be the norm, not the exception.

So that was an interesting moment of my week. And interesting article to accompany my moment was this...The 30-Day Leviticus Challenge.

Starting in January, I started doing the One-Year-Bible reading plan. I read a couple chapters O.T, a snippet of the N.T., a Psalm and a few Proverbs every day. And I am deep into Leviticus this month. It's not easy reading, to say the least. But I was definitely intriguied by this idea. What IF we took Leviticus as seriously as we take John or Ephesians? What would we learn about God? What would we learn about ourselves? I'm not sure I'm ready to do it today, I'll be honest. I like my mixed-woven H&M clothes too much.

What a difference a few years makes

2009-02-14T17:50:00.004-06:00

Today has been a good day. My husband bought me a bouquet of tulips and lovingly (painstakingly) made me a delicious breakfast. We exchanged shmoopy cards that we both purchased at Target (oh Target, how I love thee!) and we reminisced about the Valentine's Days of our past.

Year One- First year of seminary. We were "on a break", but I was secretly getting pretty sad about that. I tried to ignore the fact that I really missed that guy a lot, and that maybe being "just friends" was not what I really wanted after all. I think I tried to cure my ails at the D-Bar. Never a great idea, but that's basically what Junior year at PTS is all about.

Year Two- Second year of seminary. Officially dating, though neither of us remember what we did to celebrate our love. Must have been AWESOME.

Year Three- Final year of seminary and Becca suddenly breaks down. I have no idea why this event coincided with Valentine's Day, but I just remember freaking out about whether or not we were going to get married. The planner in me was done with the unknowns, so the tears just started rolling and didn't stop until a few days later when Dave told me that the proposal was on the way.

Not the greatest story in the world, but it's reminded me something that I love very much about my husband. He never just says, "okay" to something. He waits (and sometimes waits some more) until he can say a wholehearted, 100%, let's git 'er done, in-it-to-win-it YES. He wouldn't say that he wanted to marry me until his whole heart was in it.

And even though those few days around Valentine's 2004 were so painful for me, I am now so very grateful for the wait. Cause I know now that this man of mine- this man who makes me breakfast, who sits next to me on the couch while we both surf the internet, who makes me laugh more than anyone else, who listens to me when I whine, who holds me when I'm sad, who travels with me through the everydayness of life- the husband of mine has said YES to all of this. And he's gonna keep saying yes until the day we die.

In the end, I think a couple crappy Valentine's Days are worth it for that.

Beginning the Journey... in Amish Country

2009-02-13T18:09:00.004-06:00

I spent almost the entire day in bed today. I didn't really want to, but my body wouldn't do much else. It was sunny and over 40 degrees outside today (aka t-shirt weather for central Illinois), but all I could do was get out of bed every once in awhile for another Fresca. (mmm.... Splenda-y, citrus-y goodness...)

I like to think that if I put my mind to it, I can get just about anything and everything done. As I have stated before, I like to be busy. I enjoy having almost too much to do. And throughout the month of January, I think I passed the point of "almost"- I just had plain too much to do. And when it all ended last Saturday, my body decided that I was done and I caught a cold. I gave myself a day to rest, and then tried to do business as usual the rest of the week. I could tell that I was not firing on all cylinders though. My days consisted of mostly sneezing, sniffing, and staring at emails on the computer screen, but not really having the brain power to formulate complete sentences to reply.

But besides taking a few days off of running, I didn't really change my schedule at all. I wanted to show this cold who's boss, and go on with life as usual. And I had it all planned- I'd get through the work week, get all better, and then be able to go on a run today.

But seeing as how I got out of breathe taking the car into get an oil change this morning, I figured that a run might be out. So was grocery shopping. So was any activity at all. Bah. Dammit body! Why won't you do what my brain wants you to do!?

Fortunately, there is Netflix Instant. I dried my tears of frustration at being sick with Singing in the Rain and Sleepless in Seattle. Hard work, but someone's got to do it.

Whew! All this typing's got me worn out! I think I need another Fresca...

2009-02-10T23:24:00.003-06:00

Tonight's another one of those nights. I get tired, I get in bed, and then I lay there blinking, thinking inane thoughts, NOT sleeping. It's been happening every 6 weeks or so not and it's not my favorite game. And tonight I was feeling especially sorry for myself because I have a cold, and I'd like to get better. Word on the street is that sleep helps with that business.

So there I was, wide awake and moping about how sad my life is when all of a sudden, my husband (who is occasionally prone to talking in his sleep) rolls over and says quite matter of factly, "50 Nifty United States." He then shifts a little to get comfy, but is sure to add, "And 13 original colonies."

I started laughing so hard, I had to get out of bed so as to not wake him. I guess insomnia has its benefits every now and then.

Inaugural Benediction

2009-01-20T19:38:00.002-06:00

"God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou, who has brought us thus far along the way, thou, who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee.

Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand true to thee, oh God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we've shared this day.

We pray now, oh Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration.

He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national, and indeed the global, fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hands, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations.

Our faith does not shrink though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you are able and you're willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds, and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor, of the least of these, and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that yes we can work together to achieve a more perfect union.

And while we have sown the seeds of greed - the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountain top, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together as children, pledging that we won't get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone.

With your hands of power and your heart of love, help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nations shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree and none shall be afraid, when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around ... when yellow will be mellow ... when the red man can get ahead, man; and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen."
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Reverend Joseph Lowery, on the occasion of the Inauguration of our 44th President, Barack Obama

Pre-emptive Stress

2009-01-12T23:02:00.000-06:00

It is in moments like these that I have not-so-fond memories of my final Finals week at Princeton Seminary. I had four 20-ish page papers to write and I got so anxious about whether or not I'd get them all done, that I started skipping classes 3 weeks before the quarter was over to spend time reading and writing. The utter ridiculousness of my stress was highlighted by the fact that we also had a reading week stuck in there, so in all truth, I started working on my finals an entire month in advance. And not just working, but STRESSING. I was "sure" that I wouldn't be able to get them all done in time. And then. in the end, I ended up getting all my papers completed 2 days early. All that stress, all that worry, and then POOF! Done!

Even though I can look back and laugh at my crazy, stress-case self now, I'm feeling some of those same anxieties tonight. Next Sunday, I'm preaching again... on the Trinity. Just a little 20 minute sermon on one of the most debated and misunderstood, and yet vitally important doctrines of the Christian faith. No biggie.

In my head, I know that I'll get it done between now and then. But as I try to lay my head on my pillow to sleep, my heart starts racing and my brain won't stop running. Can I use words like "perichoresis" and "homeostasis" in a sermon? What kind of hook story could I tell to really reel 'em in? Why does our upstairs neighbor insist of playing her thumping bass music right over our bedroom at 11:00 at night? (Different matter, but certainly a contributing factor to my lack of sleep.)

I kind of want to work on the sermon a little bit right now. Crazy? Probably. Pre-emptive. Definitely. That's just how I roll.

My Stay-cation: A Postmortem

2009-01-04T16:42:00.003-06:00

I can hardly believe that my vacation week is over. At this time LAST week, I was fretting and worrying about what I would EVER do with myself for an entire week at home! I was SURE I'd be terribly bored and lonely and I'd just sit in the dark and listen to emo music all week.

Not so! Even though seminary kind of took them away for a little while, I remembered that I too can have hobbies! I CAN enjoy free time again! What a concept!

So here it is- ALL the fun things I did with myself on my winter stay-cation....

Movies Watched: 7
Mama Mia
27 Dresses
Sex and the City
-These 3 movies I rented on the first day. I was bound and determined to watch chick flicks while I had the week off and Dave didn't. Mama Mia kind of made me want to die, but the other 2 were like eating Peeps. SO bad, yet SOOOOOO good.

Groundhogs Day
-Netflix Instant Play...you are my new best friend.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
Spellbound
-Netflix DVDs that had been gathering dust on our shelf for the last month. We're not real good at anticipating what we're going to want to watch.

Burn After Reading
-Oh, Coen brothers. You make me laugh, but then you fill my head with disgusting, terrible, violent scenes. Why do I keep going back to you?

Craft Projects Started: 10
I made 2 trips to the local Goodwill and found all sorts of old ugly mirrors, frames, and other home decor pieces from circa 1982. And thanks to the wonders of the internet, I learned all kinds of techniques for how to paint them and make them cool again.

Craft Projects Completed: 5-ish and counting
As usual, I bit off more than I could chew in my goal of TOTALLY revamping and coolifying our apartment in one week. BUT it is coming together. Photos will be shared once we get there.

24-hour jaunt to Chicago: 1
My friend Erin is now a chaplain at Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago, and she lives RIGHT in Lincoln Park. It is an AMAZING treat for me to go and visit her, to be with a fun girlfriend (who loves H&M and Forever21 even more than I do), and to be in an actual city. Bloomington-Normal may host 100,000 residents, but it ain't no city. And I've discovered that I LOVE cities. I love good public transportation. I love walking everywhere. I love the diversity of people, architecture, cultures, RESTAURANTS (for the love!!) and basic amenities. As I told Erin, I am so sure that I am called to this church, and for that reason, I love that we are here. But 10 years from now, I somehow doubt I'm going to look back and miss living in Walmart/Chili's/Corn&Soybean central.

Feelings of pride after a successful (and frugal) Ikea trip: 42,837
So, going to Ikea for me is like having the cartoon angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. I walk in planning on just looking, or MAYBE buying one or two things. I know that we do not have a lot of money to spend, and I want to be a good budget-keeper (New Year's resolution, much?) The angel reminds me that I do not need to be consumeristic and buy things to make me happy. But then I step on that elevator and begin walking through all the cute-y cute rooms, set up perfectly with matching everything, and the shoulder-devil starts talking. "You NEED that (insert weird Swedish word here) chair/table/pillow/curtain/cheese grater. Your life is not complete without it. Everything will be so much better if you would just pick it up and put it in your big yellow bag. What's the harm? It's SO CHEAP!" I end up wheeling a tower of particle-board goods up to the cash register and suddenly I've spent $562 dollars on chairs and cheese-graters. Not good.

BUT!! Not this time. I walked through the showroom and drooled appropriately, but I ONLY bought what was on my list. And though it ended up costing $50 more than we had budgeted, what did I discover in my purse? Oh, just a $50 Ikea giftcard from last Christmas. Boo-ya! Take that, Sven! Your attractive, cheaply produced, Swedish homewares have no power over me!

Books Read: 0.25
Yeah, it's pathetic. I was talking to my mother-in-law yesterday, recounting the week's events and she kind of gasped when she heard that I HADN'T spent my week reading. But who has time when Groundhogs Day is available for watching? I mean, this is Bill Murray we're talking about!

So now it's time to go back to work. I'm glad because I love it. But I am also extremely glad and grateful for the past week. For not knowing what I was going to do, I certainly did a lot.

Busy Bee

2009-01-01T08:29:00.010-06:00

It's been a fun couple of days over here. After a couple trips to the thrift and craft stores, Crafty-Becca has been re-awoken. I bought a bunch of ugly picture frames and mirrors and have been painting, sanding. spraying, and (hopefully) making them more attractive for use in our home.

I also got a little overambitious and decided that I could make one of these...

...because Apartment Therapy made it sounds so simple. NOT so simple. It's been a little more challenging than I expected, with hot glue, tacky glue, a little bit of swearing, and general messiness. Now that it's done, I can't quite decide if it's hot home decor or Satan's Lite-Brite.

New Year's Eve, I engaged my creativity in a more familiar context...in the kitchen. Former roommates won't be surprised to learn that fajitas (aka Becca's standby) were on the menu.

Dave was my ever-faithful dishwasher. Looking dashing in Melanie's homemade apron.

Friends came over to help eat our Mexican feast and we whiled away the hours until midnight playing cards, drinking wine, quoting Arnold, and laughing a lot.

Cheers! Happy New Year!

Also...

2008-12-30T10:21:00.002-06:00

My husband is famous.

This is him, on the COVER of our little local newspaper, "The Pantagraph" on Christmas morning.

We were in the car, on our way out of town Christmas morning, when I got a call from someone in my church, alerting me to Dave's new notoriety. We pulled a quick U-turn, drove into the nearest Circle K and bought ourselves a paper.

As I laid down my 80-cents, so much of me wanted to be like, "Hey, you see this rockstar in white? Yeah, he's my husband!" But the dude behind the counter was too busy regaling his coworker with stories of his drunken debaucheries. Soooo, I said thank you very much for the paper- AND the new insight into your life- and moved on.

Dave. Vicar. Rockstar.

Working on Resting

2008-12-30T09:46:00.003-06:00

I am a living oxymoron.

I have been working at First Presbyterian since August and really haven't taken any time off since I started. We get 4 weeks of vacation time a year, and you either use it or lose it once January rolls around. Since Christmas eve preparations were so intense, I figured I'd take this final week of December as a vacation week.

But here's the problem. I SUCK at relaxing. I get a serious high from getting things done. The idea of sitting around my apartment in my pjs all week sounded so great 3 weeks ago when I was working 12 hour days, but now I don't know what to do with myself! I get all antsy and nervous and Dave comes home for lunch to find me scrubbing the random nooks and crannies of our already clean apartment.

SO... I need to WORK on resting; I need to feel okay about wearing my pjs all day, drinking red wine at 11am while I watch Sex and the City. It's 5pm somewhere, right?

But also... I've decided that this is the perfect week to make our apartment LESS BORING! We moved in here thinking that we'd only stay 6 months and then buy a house. But since the stock-market decided to take a nosedive (thanks inflated-housing-market!!), and since Dave the Vicar/Pastoral Intern/Visiting Minister/New-Guy makes less than minimum wage (thanks Lutheran church!!) we decided to stay here awhile. But this place needs some serious perking up.

See what I mean? And due to the aforementioned financial issues, we don't have a lot of cash to do it. So I've been scouring DIY blogs and plan on heading out to the 2 local thriftstores we have in town, and HOPEFULLY I can make a little somethin'-somethin' happen in this place.

Any tips, ideas, or suggestions would be welcome.

Okay, for realsies now

2008-12-23T20:14:00.002-06:00

I am podcasting for realsies now.

Go to your itunes podcast directory and enter "pastor becca" and I will magically appear. Well, not ME so much as my sermons. Potayto, Potahto.

I think I got it.... maybe

2008-12-21T15:48:00.003-06:00

Okay, so there has GOT to be an easier way than this... but for now, this will do.

If you want to listen to my sermons (Mom, this is all for you) here's what you do...

To listen online or download the file, click on the link "pastorbecca's podcast" to your right. That will take you to the site that's hosting the file.

Or, if you want to get really fancy, open iTunes and on the top menu, click "Advanced" and scroll down to "Subscribe to Podcast". Enter the following...

http://pastorbecca.podOmatic.com/rss2.xml

And you'll officially be subscribed to my podcast! It'll be a thrill a minute, I guarantee. :)

Attempting to Podcast

2008-12-21T15:15:00.002-06:00

My mom has been getting on my case to get her CDs of my sermons. Of course, I don't want to pay 50 whole cents to send her a CD in the mail! NO! I'd rather spend 6 hours trying to figure out how to make a podcast! I am hip and with it! I know how to make stuff happen on the internets!

Ten-on-Ten

2008-12-11T12:28:00.012-06:00

A few months ago, I learned from my friend J.J. about a very fun blog called ten on ten. It's a photo journal- a way of capturing the beauty and uniqueness of our ordinary days. The idea is, you take a photo once an hour for ten consecutive hours on the tenth of each month. Ten on ten. I've never done it before, but when I heard Al Roker announce the date on the Today Show, DECEMBER 10, I thought, "What the heck? I'll give it a try!"

Now I will be the first to admit... I am not an amazing photographer. Nor is my Blackberry a particularly high-quality camera. Nonetheless, I kind of like how my 1o turned out.

Contemplate

Ice Skate

Formulate

Caffeinate & Hydrate

Lunch-Mate

Anticipate

Administrate

Masticate

Recreate

Out Too Late

Month in Review

2008-10-31T09:39:00.003-05:00

Presented in Iambic Pentameter

Ordained, Installed, and all the hoops jumped
Weddings, birthdays, and services all into one month lumped

Parents came out to see our new home
We need their "oohs and ahs" no matter how far we roam

We're officially here, the celebrations are done
Now it's time to settle in and make corn-country fun

We're citizens of Normal, and it's a little bit weird
Central Illinois is about as exciting as I feared

No mountains, few trees, fields of soybeans and corn
The lack of vistas can make a person forlorn

But I do not despair, I am never appalled
For I know in my heart to this place we are called

Living into my calling and learning a ton
Though it can be stressful, being a pastor is fun!

I'm glad God's in charge, His plans are better than mine
Wherever He leads us, we know we'll be fine

When asked about home, I say "Of course, I miss it."
Friends from the west- we want you to come visit!

We've got a guestroom and an aerobed for the floor
A weekend of friendship- who could ask for more?

This poem is lame, but its been fun to compose
Whoever said blogging had to be done in prose?

Okay, I'm done, I mean it for for reals
Cause if I don't quit now, I may never stop communicating in rhyme and then I'll never make new friends cause I'll be known as the weird poetry girl and nobody wants that

Grateful Haiku

2008-09-27T16:08:00.016-05:00

A beautiful day
Friends, Nature, and my husband
Gratitude helps stress

Stress-Test

2008-09-22T20:57:00.005-05:00

333.

That is my stress-test score. Out of 42 possible "stressful events" I could have encountered in the past 12 months, I checked off 14.

Marriage: 50 points

Yeah, so we got married more than 12 months ago, but I say it still counts. Marriage is AWESOME, but everyday I am confronted with what it means to live in a democracy of 2 instead of 1.

Change in finances: 38 points

Change in number of marital arguments: 35 points

What kind of car should we buy? When should we buy it?

Should we buy a home or rent?

Extroverts don't understand introverts. Seriously. You are a mystery to us.

I want this movie on our Netflix cue!

Change in work responsibilities: 29 points

Spouse begins or starts work: 26 points

This is where I have learned how selfish I truly am. For my first 2 weeks of work, Dave stayed home all day. He was my house-husband. He took care of the bills and the mundane details of live. And when I came home, he wanted nothing more than to hear ALL about my day. Now he works all day too. And MY life is not the most important and interesting thing in his life. How unfair is that?

Revision of personal habits: 25 points

Change in work hours, conditions: 20 points

Change of residence: 20 points

Change in recreational habits: 19 points

In St. Paul, the question was: WHICH super cool, a little too trendy for us, restaurant did we want to go to THIS weekend?

In Blo-No: Um... do you want to go to Chili's?

Change in church activities: 19 points

Change in social activities: 18 points

Change in sleeping habits: 16 points

333. Not too shabby, I'd say. Could be worse, I suppose. If I'd taken this test during the month of December, it would have been 12 points higher.... just because of the Christmas season. Stuff THAT in your stocking.

I realize that this is sounding rather whiny of me... I'm stressed, my life is hard, Wah. But honestly, taking this test was actually rather liberating. It helped explain the crazy woman has taken over my body and mind this past month, keeping me from sleep and causing me to break down in tears on a bi-weekly basis.

I'm not going nuts. I'm stressed. And stress will go away eventually. Next year, hopefully, I can only rack up 13 points- going on vacation. That's the kind of stress I'm willing to endure.

I need to share this with the world

2008-09-06T17:14:00.003-05:00

And of course by "world" I mean all 5 people who read my blog.

Jesus is my friend.

(extra)Ordinary

2008-09-02T22:14:00.003-05:00

So in my quiet times this fall, I've decided to read through the book of Acts. I figured it'd be appropriate to meditate on the beginning of Christian ministry as I myself launch into my own. And, though I've only gotten a few chapters in, God has already had a lot to say to me through the story of His church.

This morning, for instance. Over my cereal and coffee, I read the second half of Acts 9. Where Peter travels around the country and heals a paralytic and raises a woman from the dead. Pretty extraordinary stuff! I don't know about you, but so far my pastoral ministry has not included such miraculous encounters.

But before I let myself sink into ministry-envy, I noticed something. The woman Peter raised, Tabitha; she was always doing good, helping the poor, Acts tells us. All the women standing around her deathbed were wearing clothes that Tabitha herself had made! Tabitha didn't heal anyone's sight or give anyone the ability to walk. She used what she had to serve God in simple ways. She was "ordinary", yet the impact she made on people's lives was anything but.

So, I prayed that I might be ordinary like Tabitha. Sure, I'd love to witness with power like Peter, but I think I need first to serve with humility.

And wouldn't you know it, not 5 minutes after I arrived at church, a woman from the Sewing Circle came to me and said that their tables had not been set up and the kitchen was a mess. *SOMEONE* needed to take care of this. So me and Pastor Larry went downstairs together, and did the ordinary work of heaving tables and wiping down counters.

And I could rejoice because I know that's exactly the work Tabitha would have been doing. for my part, it's ordinary. It's Jesus that makes it extra....

Dave's First Day

2008-08-30T17:55:00.006-05:00

So, today is Dave's first FOR REALS day of ministry at St. John's Lutheran Church. He's helping lead worship for their Saturday night service right this very moment. And I am being a fantastic pastor/intern wife and I am NOT there. But I AM making dinner! That counts, right?

Technically, he started last Sunday at the "Festival of Faith"- their annual all-church worship service, held at the local performing arts center (read: it's big. LOTS of people). Dave was officially introduced to the congregation on that day, but pretty much all he had to do was look pretty and wave (something he accomplished with great skill and precision, I might add).

Then on Monday, he headed into the office for his first day of work. I felt that Dave needed his own photo shoot to commemorate the momentous occasion. But......... well you can judge for yourself how it went.

Awkward.

I WISH we had photos of today's event. Because today Dave is all dressed up for Luther-Town. Khaki pants, brown shoes and belt, AND a black shirt with a clerical collar. He looks for reals legit in that thing. Like he could bless babies and consecrate elements and.... other various and sundry holy activities.

It's really real, this life we're living. We're pastors in this town. We're getting to know people's stories and doing our best to point out the ways that Jesus fits into those tales. We're praying and planning and dreaming of how we might join with these churches in their work for the Kingdom. And we're coming home from work every night, saying, "I have no idea what I am doing."

At least we're doing it together.

Check ME out.

2008-08-28T21:57:00.003-05:00

I too am a Sexy Person. Don't hate me for my hottness.

Dave found this sight. Not me. He gets ALL the credit because he is amazing- a true master of the world wide web.

2008-08-27T22:39:00.005-05:00

When life gets a little stressful, nothing makes me feel better than laughing at other people's expense. Please.... laugh with me! It will make me feel like less of a sinner.
I give you... Sexy People.

Another first

2008-08-23T21:50:00.004-05:00

Deep breaths....Positive thoughts....Big glasses of cheap Trader Joe's Chardonnay.

All of these I find helpful as I think about tomorrow.

Tomorrow I preach at FPC for the first time as their new pastor. Somewhere in all my studies at seminary I read the phrase, "The proclamation of the Word of God IS the Word of God." Which means, the words that I painstakingly typed, deleted, and typed some more this past week, when I get up in that pulpit and speak them, they will BE God's Word to this congregation.

I like what good old Karl Barth has to say about preaching... We cannot do it. But we must do it. Thanks, KB. Encouraging.

BUT he also says this.... When we preach amazing sermons, God does not necessarily show up. And when we preach terrible sermons, God often shows up.*

Basically, it's not about me. It's about God. And I trust and pray that no matter how wonderful/crappy this particular sermon might be, that God will indeed show up and speak.

I can't do it. But I must. Here goes nothing!

*Obviously these are not direct quotes. What, do you expect me to go read through all the Dogmatics for a little blog quote? Puh-lease.

First Day of School.... I mean, Work

2008-08-12T21:20:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my first official day of work at First Presbyterian. I'm not gonna lie- I was nervous. Would my co-workers and congregants like me? Would I fit in? Did I pick the right outfit? Whose lunch table would I sit at? (Okay, maybe not that last one- that was what I was thinking on the first day of 8th grade.)

But it is crazy. Though I am not yet officially ordained, I have been hired to be these people's PASTOR. I'm gonna preach once a month. I'm gonna teach classes. I'm gonna marry and bury people. I will be invited into the most intimate and sacred spaces of peoples' lives and be expected to SAY something... about God, about truth, about hope... something that matters. Sheeeeesh. What have I gotten myself into?

Not coincidentally, I think, I have just begun reading the book of Acts. And I am struck by two things. The disciples who were once so dense they could barely tie their own shoes are now proclaiming the Gospel with an eloquence that no unlearned fisherman should ever have. They can't HELP but talk about Jesus and people are being saved by the thousands.

Now in my first 2 days at work I have not spoken in tongues or healed any paralyzed people, but I have prayed that Jesus would send the Holy Spirit to empower me for ministry the way He did for Peter, John, and all the rest of the disciples. They couldn't have done it on their own, and neither can I.

So, here I go. This is the life I've been looking forward to for a long time. Now, I just hope that I don't have to sit next to the smelly kid on the bus. That would really hurt my rep.

Yes, I did have Dave take my picture outside the door. C'mon, just cause I'm a pastor doesn't mean I can't be a huge dork.

VACATION!!! The lowlights.

2008-08-10T16:12:00.005-05:00

So Dave and I loved, loved, LOVED our week in the Bay area. Seriously, it was a much needed and super fun week for us both. But I brag about the awesome highlights of the week (of which there were MANY), I thought I'd share the less than shiny moments. Cause let's be honest... that's what we're gonna remember anyway.

Becca Needs to Learn her Illinois Trivia
We arrive in San Francisco on Sunday, Aug. 3 around noon. While wandering the baggage area, Dave notices the signs proclaiming, "Mayor Gavin Newsom welcomes you to San Francisco!" And the following conversation takes place....

Dave: Well, that's hospitable. In Chicago, the mayor doesn't personally welcome you. It just says his name on the bottom of the sign.

Becca: So, what? The sign says, "Welcome to Chicago!" -Dan Bane" ?

Dave: What? Who's Dan Bane?

Becca: (pause) Dan Bane. (pause) Who is Dan Bane??

Becca: OH! Dan Bane! Um, yeah... he's the CEO of Trader Joe's. Who is the mayor of Chicago?

Dave: Richard M. Daley

Becca: Huh. Why did I say Dan Bane?

Dave and Becca Visit the Men's Rehab Home
So, for the most part Beverly (our cherished GPS system) took us everywhere we wanted to go throughout our week in the Bay area. Only twice did she truly lead us astray.

Bev did us wrong the first time when we were driving to our B&B in Pacific Grove, the Old St. Angela Inn, around 8pm on Sunday night. It was dark and we did not know where were going exactly. We get in the vicinity of our destination and Bev annouces, "You have arrived." We are in front of a victorian home, but there is no sign out front assuring us that this is OUR victorian home. Dave suggests that we go and knock to find out. I am not so sure.

We creep around the house, looking for clues. Dave, the master sleuth, reads the inscription on the side of the van parked in the driveway. It says something to the effect of "Helping men pursue sober and healthy futures." Yeah, NOT the Old St. Angela Inn, but rather THIS place. I am not sure what they would have though had we knocked. That would have been a different kind of vacation than what we had planned.

Burnination Station
Just a little word of advice... if you sunburn your lips and then go out to eat Dim Sum, be careful with the spicy chili sauce. Though this sauce is delicious, it will make your lips burn so badly that you have to walk around Chinatown holding an ice cube against your mouth for 20 minutes.

Beverly fails us again
So, Bev was truly our BFF all week. Seriously, I think she saved us from many a map-argument. BUT Bev was not so sharp all the time. She was particularly struggs when we drove out of SF on Friday afternoon. We got on the Bay Bridge as she directed. But she didn't realize it. Bev somehow got confused and was certain that we were not ON the Bay Bridge, but rather IN the bay itself. She just showed our little car icon over a vast span of blue and kept telling us to "Please return to the highlighted route." Yeah, Bev... if we were IN the bay, I think that maybe returning to our highlighted route would not be so easy. But thanks?

So far....

2008-08-07T22:01:00.001-05:00

SO FUN!!!
One more day to go on VACATION!!! 2008

Adventures at the Farmers' Market

2008-07-31T22:49:00.005-05:00

This is most definitely the time of year to be living (and eating) in central Illinois. Food doesn't get much fresher or more local than this.

We bought corn for 30 cents an ear, a bunch of ugly (yet delicious) tomatoes, an eggplant, homemade brats, AND we got two ginormous zucchinis absolutely free!

Dave wants to join CSA next year, which overall I think is a GREAT idea. Who doesn't want to support local farmers and get fresh produce set aside for them each week? The only thing is, I'm kind of afraid that one week, we'll get a box full of bok choy or something and I'll have to figure out how to cook bok choy for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Bok choy pancakes. Bok choy sandwiches. Bok choy pizza. It could get real ugly, real fast.

But for now, at the height of growing season, I heart local farmers and I heart Bloomington/Normal. Who would have guessed?

We made it!

2008-07-24T19:58:00.002-05:00

We made it! Dave and I are officially living in the land of Normal... geographically speaking, anyhow.

We packed all our earthly belongings in our truck, broke the ceremonial light bulb (a much hallowed Dave tradition), grabbed a bite to eat at Brueggers Bagels, and got on the road. Dave the introvert LOVED all the alone time he got in the car. I, on the other hand, called nearly everyone I know and started to go a little crazy with no one to talk to. Ira Glass (my new BFF) kept me sane. Who else could make such ordinary, boring people sound so interesting?

Last Friday, an entire crew from FPC came out to help us move in. They barely let me lift anything! The one thing I DID get to heave in was their boatloads of treats to welcome us to town... 2 dozen cookies, caramel brownies, Krispy Kreme doughnuts.... This FKOTI* is gonna become a FKOTO** if she's not careful.

*fat kid on the inside
**fat kid on the outside

Why I Am a Wuss: A Short Reflection

2008-07-16T22:59:00.001-05:00

It's our final night in our apartment in St. Paul. Our entire life is locked up in a Penske truck outside. (If you are a robber, please ignore that last sentence.) Dave and I both felt rather guilty watching the guys we hired to load our truck sweat up a storm as they carried out all our heavy boxes and furniture. But let's be honest- I couldn't carry that couch back in September and I still can't now.

Back when we bought the aforementioned couch from our favorite local Swedish retailer, we had a rent a small truck to get it home. And this truck was JUST big enough to necessitate a loading ramp. We got the couch set up on a flat cart and we wheeled it out to the parking lot. Step one: complete. Step two would prove more challenging: actually getting it into the truck.

Attempt #1: Pick up couch and carry into truck.
Dave picked up his end with no problem at all. I picked up my end and within about 5 seconds, dropped it again. It was just too awkward and heavy for me. We tried that method a couple more times before we realized it would not work. But THEN! We looked at the loading ramp... we looked at the flat cart... and we thought... why not?

Attempt #2: Put the couch on the flat cart, have Dave get a running start, and roll it all the way up the ramp.
Ready, GO! Dave lines up the cart and goes for it. He runs, he makes contact with the ramp, he gets halfway up the ramp... and then he stalls. It won't go any further. So there Dave stands, nearly parallel to the loading ramp, his arms extended, elbows locked, holding the flat cart in place, but unable to make any further progress forward. Crap. All the while, I am standing to the side, offering whatever "helpful" advice/warnings/encouragement I can think of.

Attempt #3: Becca and Dave awkwardly switch places.
Becca is now imitating SuperMan, arms outstretched like I am ready to take to the skies. Dave gets above the couch and somehow, miraculously is able to scootch the couch from the flatcart into the truckbed. Success!! (Just please don't ask how we got it into the apartment. I was even LESS help there.)

So, needless to say, we hired movers today. And they were able to get our couch, bed, trunk, bookcase, and all 8,000 of our boxes loaded into our 16-foot truck in just over an hour. I am truly amazed.

PS- We'll be on the road for over 8 hours tomorrow. Give me a call! I've got plenty of time to chat!

2008-07-10T18:04:00.004-05:00

During the three years I spent at Princeton Theological Seminary, I occasionally referred to it as "my Ninevah". I KNEW that God had called me there.... but, like Jonah, that didn't mean I had to like it.

But now, just over one year after graduation, I wonder... was it really all that bad? I got a whole lot of GOOD out of my time at PTS (an amazing husband being top of the list, of course). I can think of at least 13 amazing blessings I got out of my time in seminary. Most of them are pictured here...

Had I fled to Tarshish (which for me would have likely been southern California), I would have never been a part of this amazing group of friends.

It's kind of crazy to say this, but I'm glad I went to Ninevah.

On the verge of Normal

2008-06-30T09:05:00.002-05:00

Bring on the jokes, everyone. Come on. Let's get them out of our system here. For Dave and Becca are moving to Normal, IL. Here's what we've heard so far...

"They want to hire YOU in Normal? Do they KNOW you?"
"Maybe now you can begin to discover what Normal is."
"I bet they're ANYTHING but Normal there."
"Now you can finally tell people that you are Normal!"

Ah, it kills me! Oh, my side! It hurts!

Yes it's true. We are officially moving to Normal. I have just been voted in as the new Associate Pastor at First Presbyterian Church of Normal, IL. I can honestly say that I never expected to be here, but I am so glad that we are. God's plans always seem to be better than my own.

A new life is about to begin. An adult life. With jobs and houses and all kinds of grownup things.

July 17 is the big moving day!

We will pack our little life into one of these

and then unload it into one of these.

Our home for the next 6 months while we start looking to buy a house!

All of this is far too exciting to be "normal".