--or--
What Happens When You're Neither Here nor There?
Home again, home again, jiggity jigg—I write this blog entry not from the comforts of my seminary subsidized housing, but instead from the couch in my parent’s living room. Yes, my friends, I am home yet again, immersed into a mélange of childhood memories, old behavioral patterns, and expected familial roles. Although I am comforted by the familiar surroundings—framed Ansel Adams posters, graduation photographs displayed proudly on the mantel, ancient grade-school citizenship award magnets clinging to the refrigerator by means of grime and not magnetic attraction—a visit home is a visit to Bizarro World.
In Dante’s Divine Comedy, the afterlife is split into three realms: Hell (the Inferno), Purgatory, and Paradise. Obviously, the righteous are rewarded with eternal glory and the wicked are condemned to various circles/levels of hell according to the degree of his or her infraction(s). Purgatory, however, is neither inferno nor paradise. I like to think of Purgatory as an existential “green room”—your soul, not ready for an on-stage appearance, is also no longer relegated to the dressing room, carefully applying Ben Nye theater makeup and wishing the girl sharing your makeup mirror would shut-the-fuck up about her loser ex-boyfriend. Instead, your soul waits in the green room, flipping though magazines, engaging in banal conversation, and nervously glancing at your watch, waiting....waiting....waiting.
At this stage in my life, visiting home feels like Purgatory. What in the hell [pun not intended] am I supposed to do here? I no longer “fit in” with my old social circles. The chasm between me and my association with my hometown widens exponentially the longer I reside in Austin. Home is no longer Sweet, through no fault of my parental units or the home itself. Home is…well…home “is what it is.”
I am, after all, Meredith Kemp, eldest of the Kemp children and wayward West Texan forging a life the “big city” of Austin, Texas. I left a comfortable life here because I, much like Alice during one of her Wonderland adventures, had outgrown my surroundings. Rather than stay and stifle my maturation as a human being, I chose to leave. My departure, though heart-wrenching, was required.
I suppose that all I can do at this point is “keep on keepin’ on,” relax, read, and enjoy the frenetic (and often awkward) ride we call Life. Besides, I’ll be home tomorrow…
***
Another note: I had an opportunity Sunday morning to hear the illustrious Fred Craddock preach at a local church! Truly, Craddock is an amazing orator with a gift for preaching the word of God.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Retreat!
Classes are over, my birthday is past, and nothing is occupying my "to-do" list until June 05, when Greek begins. Am I resting, delighting in the blissful repose of a slumbering giant?
No...absolutely not! The end of academic obligations liberated the otherwise oppressed arenas of my existence: laundry and other sundry domestic chores, familial duties, etc. A retreat for my Presbytery's Committee on Preparation for Ministry absorbed the past 48 hours, although the foray into the wilderness [and by wilderness, I mean lack of internet acess and cell phone usage] proved a "spiritual shot in the arm. Now I sit in my parent's living room, typing this blog update, desperate for a good night's rest.
...I guess I will sleep when I'm dead...
No...absolutely not! The end of academic obligations liberated the otherwise oppressed arenas of my existence: laundry and other sundry domestic chores, familial duties, etc. A retreat for my Presbytery's Committee on Preparation for Ministry absorbed the past 48 hours, although the foray into the wilderness [and by wilderness, I mean lack of internet acess and cell phone usage] proved a "spiritual shot in the arm. Now I sit in my parent's living room, typing this blog update, desperate for a good night's rest.
...I guess I will sleep when I'm dead...
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Grace? Amazing!
Anne Lamott writes in her book, Traveling Mercies, “I do not at all understand the mystery of grace—only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.” Her quote immediately brings to mind the first few lines of the immortal hymn, “Amazing Grace:
“Amazing Grace!
How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.”
A brief stanza, yet I find it accurately sums up the enigma of God’s grace. The first word used to describe grace is “amazing” and then quickly describes grace as a “sweet…sound.” But I think the most humbling and poignant section of the stanza is the phrase “wretch like me.” Even the sound of the word “wretched” is grotesque, harsh, discordant. We all like to think that we are nice, decent, God-fearing people, but the truth is that because of sin, we are wretched and utterly depraved.
All of us are guilty of smug self-righteousness, as if sin is a beast that exists only in dark alleys of inner-city ghettos, crack houses, or dark and dingy taverns. No one wants to think they are a bad person—would that not be a form of self-deprecation? We publicly admit our corporate sin each Sunday in church, but secretly, we believe we are praying on behalf of our most sinful sisters and brothers, rather than ourselves.
I admit that such false feelings of self-righteousness are a twisted web I willingly and diligently spin. Rather than face my own sin firsthand, I shift my focus to the silvery threads of my personal web of depravity, not noticing that the web originally intended to catch the sins of others is instead capturing me. Bound by the threads like an ensnared fly, I cannot move nor can I act without the liberating Grace of God.
Nothing removes overwhelming hubris like a good kick in the spiritual butt, which is why Ash Wednesday is particularly meaningful- as we receive the ashes on our foreheads, we are humbled as we are reminded that we are nothing but soot. I grew up on the windy plains of West Texas where the dirt would blow with hither and yon and a fine casing of dust perpetually lined windowsills and door jams. Though we may spend our days pursuing riches, fame, prestige, and power, eventually we become [as the rock group Kansas reflected] “dust in the wind.” Self-righteousness and hubris become burned and charred when we lament with ashes.
While it is dangerous to become haughty and self-righteous, it is also dangerous to dwell in eternal despair and remorse. God wants us to recognize and acknowledge our iniquity but that does mean spending our days sequestered from the outside world, eternally depressed and plagued by general feelings of unworthiness. We all sin, we all fall short of God’s demands and therefore, we are unworthy of God’s love. But God’s benevolent grace rattles the equation and allows us to escape the despair of sin. God’s grace allows us to recognize our shortcomings and yet, at the same time, overcome the same shortcomings so we may be servants to our neighbors.
Grace is sort of a theological equivalent to a “Get out of Jail Free” card in Monopoly. We do nothing to receive the gift of grace and yet grace is given to us freely. BUT- we must not assume that because grace is free, we are justified in our sin. We cannot behave as rebellious children who continue to disobey their parents even after the children are repeatedly forgiven. Dietrich Bonhoeffer refers to the unwillingness to repent as “cheap grace”. According to Bonhoeffer in his book The Cost of Discipleship, “grace is costly because it calls us to follow and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.” God forgives us of all our iniquities but expects us to repent and be faithful disciples. The gift of grace is free but cannot be taken for granted. With great power comes a great responsibility; with a great gift come a great responsibility to share our gift with others.
What is “amazing” about grace is that it “meets us” wherever we are on the journey of life, but will never “leave us where it found us”. Grace seeks us though we may be hopelessly lost and will find us and carry us to paths of righteousness. Even when we become blind with sin and our own selfish desires, grace opens our eyes so that we may see the love of God.
“Amazing Grace!
How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.”
A brief stanza, yet I find it accurately sums up the enigma of God’s grace. The first word used to describe grace is “amazing” and then quickly describes grace as a “sweet…sound.” But I think the most humbling and poignant section of the stanza is the phrase “wretch like me.” Even the sound of the word “wretched” is grotesque, harsh, discordant. We all like to think that we are nice, decent, God-fearing people, but the truth is that because of sin, we are wretched and utterly depraved.
All of us are guilty of smug self-righteousness, as if sin is a beast that exists only in dark alleys of inner-city ghettos, crack houses, or dark and dingy taverns. No one wants to think they are a bad person—would that not be a form of self-deprecation? We publicly admit our corporate sin each Sunday in church, but secretly, we believe we are praying on behalf of our most sinful sisters and brothers, rather than ourselves.
I admit that such false feelings of self-righteousness are a twisted web I willingly and diligently spin. Rather than face my own sin firsthand, I shift my focus to the silvery threads of my personal web of depravity, not noticing that the web originally intended to catch the sins of others is instead capturing me. Bound by the threads like an ensnared fly, I cannot move nor can I act without the liberating Grace of God.
Nothing removes overwhelming hubris like a good kick in the spiritual butt, which is why Ash Wednesday is particularly meaningful- as we receive the ashes on our foreheads, we are humbled as we are reminded that we are nothing but soot. I grew up on the windy plains of West Texas where the dirt would blow with hither and yon and a fine casing of dust perpetually lined windowsills and door jams. Though we may spend our days pursuing riches, fame, prestige, and power, eventually we become [as the rock group Kansas reflected] “dust in the wind.” Self-righteousness and hubris become burned and charred when we lament with ashes.
While it is dangerous to become haughty and self-righteous, it is also dangerous to dwell in eternal despair and remorse. God wants us to recognize and acknowledge our iniquity but that does mean spending our days sequestered from the outside world, eternally depressed and plagued by general feelings of unworthiness. We all sin, we all fall short of God’s demands and therefore, we are unworthy of God’s love. But God’s benevolent grace rattles the equation and allows us to escape the despair of sin. God’s grace allows us to recognize our shortcomings and yet, at the same time, overcome the same shortcomings so we may be servants to our neighbors.
Grace is sort of a theological equivalent to a “Get out of Jail Free” card in Monopoly. We do nothing to receive the gift of grace and yet grace is given to us freely. BUT- we must not assume that because grace is free, we are justified in our sin. We cannot behave as rebellious children who continue to disobey their parents even after the children are repeatedly forgiven. Dietrich Bonhoeffer refers to the unwillingness to repent as “cheap grace”. According to Bonhoeffer in his book The Cost of Discipleship, “grace is costly because it calls us to follow and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.” God forgives us of all our iniquities but expects us to repent and be faithful disciples. The gift of grace is free but cannot be taken for granted. With great power comes a great responsibility; with a great gift come a great responsibility to share our gift with others.
What is “amazing” about grace is that it “meets us” wherever we are on the journey of life, but will never “leave us where it found us”. Grace seeks us though we may be hopelessly lost and will find us and carry us to paths of righteousness. Even when we become blind with sin and our own selfish desires, grace opens our eyes so that we may see the love of God.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Hiatus
I always found it annoying when certain TV stations place popular shows on hiatus simply because the network execs want to put some more lucrative programming in its place. NBC did it during the Olympics this winter. Now, I realize that curling is exciting and all, but I love My Name is Earl and having to do without it for two weeks just so people can get their winter sport fix tested my patience and Christian good will.
Now, I'm not so selfish to think that nothing should interrupt the regular flow of my favorite television programming. The Olympics come every four years and deserve the manipulation of schedules and what-not in order to honor its presence. I'm not saying its right or wrong, it just is. The fact of the matter is, sometimes certain things take precedence over others. Its a sometimes unfair truth of life that priorities have to shift and routines must be broken.
Thus, this blog is officially on hiatus. Well, I suppose that it has been on hiatus for well over a week now, but I thought I might explain its lack of activity. Until I get a few of these papers under my belt, I cannot muster superflous creative energy.
Back to my exegesis paper...
Now, I'm not so selfish to think that nothing should interrupt the regular flow of my favorite television programming. The Olympics come every four years and deserve the manipulation of schedules and what-not in order to honor its presence. I'm not saying its right or wrong, it just is. The fact of the matter is, sometimes certain things take precedence over others. Its a sometimes unfair truth of life that priorities have to shift and routines must be broken.
Thus, this blog is officially on hiatus. Well, I suppose that it has been on hiatus for well over a week now, but I thought I might explain its lack of activity. Until I get a few of these papers under my belt, I cannot muster superflous creative energy.
Back to my exegesis paper...
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