This is from a book by Barbara Brown Taylor that I read this summer for one of my classes: "Over the next five years, I struggled with the ordination question. I read books, prayed, made appointments with my bishop, and canceled them. I entered diocesan programs and dropped out of them. I worked as a seminary administrator and a hospital chaplain. I took part-time jobs at churches. I moved a thousand miles away and back again in eight months. I listened for voices in the night and searched the sky for signs. If lasting preoccupation with the church constitutes a call, then I was called, but called to what? To be a priest, or to be a Christian? One midnight, I asked God to tell me as plainly as possible what I was supposed to do. ‘Anything that pleases you,’ That is the answer that came into my sleepy head. ‘What?’ I said, waking up. ‘What kind of an answer is that?’ ‘ Do anything that pleases you ,’ the voice in my head said again, ‘ and belong to me .' That sim...
for this garbage day I can find no good in today, and I don't want to try. It feels like a lie to sugarcoat reality, instead of naming what is. When there is much to grieve, too many losses and disappointments to name, too many things going wrong, when I'm better off climbing back under the covers and trying again tomorrow. Blessed are we, the Debbie Downers and Negative Neds, who come to you just as we are, with our loneliness and loss, our scarcity and sorrow, and say, God, there is just not enough, Not enough money to pay bills. Not enough jobs or safety for those who have them. Not enough wisdom to find solutions. Not enough strength or comfort or connection. Not enough patience to deal with these people. Things are hard today. Perhaps it is too much to say, "God, thank you for today," because today is already topped up with frustrati...
As you start this next chapter of college, I wanted to carve out a time once a week to send you something to bring you a little encouragement through the week and to remind you of your roots that run deep. Here's the passage that I read out loud in the kitchen to you last Sunday night as we were cleaning up from dinner that you resonated with. HAPPY SUNDAY! When I wake up in the morning- regardless of the temperature, whether the sun is shining or the rain is pouring- I go outside. I speak aloud to the predawn darkness or the tail end of the moon just kissing the edge of the horizon or the 9 a.m. bright sun of a sleep-in Saturday morning. I say, “This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.” I say it out loud because I’m groggy. I say it out loud because I’m speaking it and hearing it. And I don’t just say it once. As the cobwebs and sleepy confusion start lifting from my brain, I keep saying that phrase, accenting different syllables, placing va...
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