Rules of Engagement

To paraphrase fellow APTS blogger, BCDees:

...happiness is being engaged to your best friend...

He asked, I said yes!, and less than a year from now, I'll be Mrs. Ryan M. Pappan!
(or Mrs. Meredith Kemp Pappan, or Mrs. Meredith L. Kemp-Pappan, or...)

MySpace

Just to let you know, and brag to all my friends and companions, that Karl Barth is now my MySpace friend.

Dude has a MySpace page. Awesome. Just because he's dead doesn't mean he can't keep up with the kids these days.

Shouting Silence

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.

-- from the liturgy of St. James

I recently attended a leadership conference sponsored by the Willow Creek Association. Regardless of how I personally feel about the WCA, it was apparent to me that everyone--regardless of denominational affiliation or political ideology--is scared to death that the church is irrelevant in today's society. One of the prevailing themes of the conference was innovation, and though the conference did not address worship explicitly, many of the reading materials passed around discussed innovation and worship.

When anyone discusses innovation in a worship setting, what they usually mean is, "let's do away with stained glass windows and pews and create a post-modern sanctuary, complete with video screens and stadium seating." Popular buzz-words associated with innovation are "multi-sensory," "high-octane," "relevant," "culturally-savvy," and "engaging." Ok--I may have been stretching it a bit with "high octane," but the prevailing assumption is that worship needs to be exciting, electrifying, and mesmerizing, or people simply won't come.

I suppose I don't have a problem with innovation in and of itself. We are a church that is "reformed...and always reforming." One way to perpetually reform is to be perpetually innovating. Innovation means that a new, creative idea is introduced into an environment. Innovation begets innovation. Dead innovation is stagnation. Worship should never stagnate, the water in the baptismal fount should never sprout algae.

But I am alarmed that innovation has to mean moving forward with technology. "Wait, isn't that what innovation is?" you may ask. Well, yes and no. In computers or cell phones, the latest innovation means new and improved technology, stretching the limits of our technological imaginations. Yet, in a worship setting, innovation does not necessarily mean that the traditional format and styles of worship need to be replaced by MTV-esque video screens and praise bands. Some technology in worship is a good thing--microphones and air conditioning, for one. But a deluge of technological acrobatics is not only distracting in worship, it is an insult to our intelligence.

To assume that human beings need to be constantly aroused by "shiny objects," as if we were a pack of raccoons in a sanctuary, is insulting. We have been worshiping in a similar format for hundreds of years, dozens of generations. Worship needs to be innovating, true, but should "innovate" by returning to the basic spiritual disciplines and practices upheld by our religious forbears centuries ahead of our time.

Instead of adding screens and rock music and slick digital imagery, the church should focus on--silence. Yes, you heard me correctly (pun intended). Good, old-fashioned, crickets chirping in the background, sunshine on my shoulders silence. We should structure our worship services around the sound of silence. Our prayers should take time for silence. We should breathe silence, watching it expel from our mouths like breath on a frosty winter morning.

Our culture detests silence. We fill our households, automobiles, offices with iPods and Bose stereos; we equate silence with boredom or emptiness. We are nervous--especially in worship--when there is silence. Did someone forget something ? Is there a technical difficulty? Why isn't anyone talking?

However, it is in the uneasy feeling of silence, the prickly sensation in our gut, that we are in a condition to receive the Holy Spirit. Our God often chooses to speak not in a roar, but in a "still small voice." The uneasiness--the void we may feel--is the void invites God in. When I was learning how to breathe properly (breathe like a singer) in voice lessons, my teacher explained to me, in very elementary terms, the Bernouli effect. "Think of a plastic bottle," he told me. "When you squeeze it, and remove all the air, you create a vacuum. But when you release your grasp, the vacuum effect causes air to rush back into the space."

When we squeeze all the extraneous noise from our lives, the silence creates a vacuum and draws in the Holy Spirit. But only when we are centered, and silent, can there be room for Spirit to enter into us and allow us to focus upon God.

I'm not convinced that worship needs to be "more exciting." Instead, worship needs to be more mindful and increasingly intentional, carefully planned and joyfully executed. Silence as opposed to noise--what can be more radical and innovative than that?

Burnout

"Can I admit something to you?" I told my SPM supervisor during our last weekly meeting.

"Sure, go ahead."

"I have SPM burnout. It's not you, it's not the church, but I feel burned out--like I can't possibly write anymore or think anymore. I miss my boyfriend, my friends, my room. I miss my routine. I'm exhausted and I'm ready to go home." With a large sigh, I slumped in my chair, nervous to make eye contact.

He smiled. "It's understandable. This isn't where you are right now. You have a life waiting for you back in Austin, you have so much that awaits ahead. When you are the pastor of a church, and the church is your life, you'll feel different."

***

A summer internship is a strange; you become embedded in a worshiping community but you do not have time to build many relationships. I feel more like a pastoral voyeur than a real, live minister. An SPM is like a tasting buffet--you get a sample of the preaching life, but never a full course meal.

Even if I were able to be ordained tomorrow, I know I am not ready to be the solo pastor. I need more classes, more insights. The lessons from this summer need to stew and incubate.

And yet--maybe becoming a pastor is like becoming a parent for the first time. No one is ever "ready" for parenthood; you learn on the fly, you make mistakes, you triumph in your small victories and try not to sweat the stings and arrows of defeat.

Regardless,I find myself lifting mine eyes unto the hills of the upcoming Fall semester. During August alone, I have ordination exams, new student orientation, a CPM meeting, the first Kairos [school newsletter, of which I am editor] of the year...plus meeting at the C&A to visit friends and enjoy a pint (or two, or three) of that sweet ambrosia known as Shiner Bock.

Just under two weeks left...let's hope I can muster enough energy to complete my final sermon...