More than blessing needed

I just read through an appealing little book called Bless Her Heart: Life as a Young Clergy Woman (Chalice Press, 2011). It's written by Ashley-Anne Masters and Stacy Smith, both of whom are ministers in the Presbyterian Church (USA) and active participants in the Young Clergy Women Project (which produces a delightful e-zine called Fidelia's Sisters).

Obviously,  I'm neither young, female, nor currently in a clergy position: but I am interested in doing what I can on the blessing end: I want to encourage, support, and bless women who believe God has called them into ministry.

Bless Her Heart is worth reading by a wider audience than young clergy women alone, because it reminds readers that women ministers, whatever their age, face all the challenges of ministry that men face, with a few extras thrown in. Do men have to worry about being criticized for wearing sparkly earrings or open-toed shoes with red toenail polish? I rest my case.

Masters and Smith devote chapters to issues related to pastoral identity in a man's world, dating and romance in a very public position, personal appearance or even pregnancy in the pulpit, the extent to which one can be emotionally transparent, and the sometimes particular challenges of working with other women.

The authors polled a number of sisters in ministry, and as one might expect, each chapter contains anecdotes based on real parish experience. Masters and Smith then flesh out each of the various issues, explore them from a biblical perspective, and offer suggestions for learning.

The book provides non-whiny commiseration and supportive encouragement to young women ministers, and I'm glad for it. Kudos to the authors, and to Chalice Press.

The saddest thing about the book, from my perspective, is that its target audience is so small. In Baptist life, at least, there are many women who are called of God, prepared to serve, and anxious to take their places in church leadership despite the extra obstacles, but they are not given the chance, especially in pastoral roles.

We need to do more than bless their hearts as women ministers: we need to hire them.

Beware unlimited certainty

Walter B. (Buddy) Shurden spoke twice at Campbell University this week. Both addresses were perceptive and challenging, worthy of a wider audience. I want to hit a few of the high spots from the Monday evening service of "Celebrating Our Baptist Heritage," part of Campbell's 125th anniversary observance.

Shurden is well known and often honored for his work as a Baptist historian, educator, and defender of bedrock Baptist principles. He is officially retired, but remains active as "Minister at Large" to Mercer University, through speaking and writing, and through volunteer activities, including his work as chair of the board of directors for Baptists Today. Shurden has often pricked the conscience of Baptist Christians, and continues to do so.

In reflecting on the history and challenges of Baptist higher education, Shurden focused on place, purpose, and people. "Place matters," he said, noting that early Baptist schools across the south were intentionally secluded in rural sancuaries so students could focus on their studies and not be tempted by worldly allures.

While place matters, Shurden said, purpose is more important. No matter what requirements are handed down from accrediting agencies, he said, Baptist higher education should focus on teaching students to read critically, think logically, communicate effectively, honor mystery, and act compassionately. That string is worth repeating: a true education helps students learn to read critically, think logically, communicate effectively, honor mystery, and act compassionately.

Finally, Shurden offered, people are more important than either place or purpose. Ordinary people with passion can accomplish extraordinary things when they are willing to invest their lives in others, he said. Teachers who may remain completely unknown outside of their local setting can have an influence that reaches as far as their students will go.

As usual, Shurden's comments were right on the mark, and I wished the audience, mostly students, had included more faculty, pastors, and other church leaders. Those are the kind of folks who would have benefitted most from his take-home observation that Baptist schools have graduated too many students "with unlimited certainties and limited sympathies."

Good food for thought, that is.

Opportunity makes a difference

If you want to see a movie that will clench your viscera, lift your spirits, and remind you of something very important, check out Red Tails, George Lucas' movie about the Tuskegee Airmen of World War II. 

Samuel and I went over the weekend, and it's a movie people ought to see, sort of a male version of The Help, in that it chronicles the long time struggle of African Americans to find a place at the table when the American dream is on the menu.

The movie appeals on several levels. World War II was before my time, but I spent many an hour painstakingly constructing and painting -- complete with oil stains and flak damage -- plastic models of WWII-era planes, including the P-47 Thuderbolts, P-51 Mustangs, B-17 Stratofortresses, and the occasional military DC-3 featured in the movie. The dialogue is surprisingly clunky, and I don't know how realistic the impressive fight scenes are or how accurate some aspects of the "inspired by" story might be, but the jolting portrayal of America's racist past is a helpful reminder that we still have a long way to go.

The heights we achieve in life are clearly related to the opportunities we are given. It's still up to each individual to make the most of his or her situation, as members of the 332nd Fighter Division did, but the people who hold the power or the purse strings have an equal obligation to give them the chance.

Movies like The Help and Red Tails remind us that white folks also need to make the most of their opportunities, including the opportunity to overcome whatever ingrained prejudice we might have inherited, and act like we believe that all people are made in God's image.

[An aside: If they pay attention, patrons connected with Campbell University will note that the school's motto (ad astra per aspera) shows up in the pilots' pep-rally style huddle before missions. The chant includes the line "Through adversity, to the stars!"]

So, how do you define "evangelical"?

I've been grousing for some time that the word "evangelical" has been hijacked, misunderstood, or otherwise transmogrified into a synonym for "Christian fundamentalist," which has led to all sorts of confusion in political discussions and in media coverage of the same.

In some ways, the meaning-mangling is due to reporters who are often called on to write stories about things they don't understand, and they hear a word used a certain way, and then perpetuate that nuance in their writing.

Even the respected George Barna has contributed to the word's transformation from a functional to a doctrinal term: in Barna organization surveys, the criteria for labeling respondents as "evangelicals" includes nine specific characteristics (listed in this earlier blog) that are mainly doctrinal and together describe a very conservative Christian position, if not outright fundamentalist.

Yet, many mainline or more liberal Christians self-identify as evangelical. A recent blog at Sojourners.com explores the question and offers definitions by a variety of folk. It's worth a look.

In my mind, the word's derivation from the Greek term that means "good news" or "gospel" should make the meaning clear: an evangelical is someone who has trusted in the good news about Jesus Christ and who believes that news is good enough and important enough to share with others. 

How would you define "evangelical"? Do you think of it as a doctrinal or a functional term? Do you consider yourself to be an evangelical, at least by your own definition?

Feel free to offer your definition or observation in the comments section below. The word is both used and misused by politicians and media alike. Meaning matters: what do you think it means?

Eighteen years ...

Could it really be 18 years? Eighteen years since the cold January morning when seven-year-old Bethany and I happened along as a hopelessly drunk young man pointed his truck from bar to home, only to meet us in between?

Could it be 18 years since that sweet girl flashed her last smile, giggled her last laugh, drew her last breath?

It must be, unless all the calendars are wrong and time has turned back on itself.

Time is a fascinating notion. We know that the length of a minute or an hour does not change, but some days drag on like a trek through knee-deep mud, while others flit away long before we're ready.

I have come to understand that however time may seem to move, every moment of it is a gift. Every hour, every day, every year is chock-filled with chances to cherish people, to celebrate life, to contribute to something bigger than ourselves.

Time is far too valuable, I think, to spend on regrets, what-ifs, and might-have-beens. Time moves on, and if we want to find joy in life, we have to move with it. If that calls for hope, we hope. If it requires risk, we risk. If it offers love, we love. In all of that, we live. 

And give thanks.