Rogue Reverend

Mentor-Friend

I had a mentor once. Actually, she was more than a mentor. She was a friend, just a few years older than me, with a lot of life experience.

Her name was Jan. She sang in an a capella band, with radical feminist roots, which I didn’t even understand. She taught me about money, making a living wage, listening to myself, and the scourge of waitresses. She was smart, funny, fiercely protective and used to make me laugh.

Most of all, she was kind. Thank you, Jan. I needed you and you were there.

I’d like to tell her that, but I don’t know where to find her. She worked with me in a sports bar in Hillsboro Village, back in the day. She has a pretty common name, so finding her in the white pages and on facebook seems to elude me.

Heckling for Jesus

I went running in New Orleans on December 17, along the riverfront right at the French Quarter. It was 5:00 on a Friday afternoon, and I was only blocks away from Bourbon Street. Maybe I should have known better. As I ran down this beautiful brick boardwalk, people starting heckling me. Yes! Heckling!

They yelled things like, “What are you running from?” and “What are you afraid of?” My favorite, though, was, “You can’t run from your problems!” This one tripped me up so much (literally) that I fell right there on the bricks.

This morning I’ve been thinking about a hate letter I received from an anti-LGBTQ Christian. He wrote, “You put your soul in danger of eternal damnation for welcoming unrepentant homosexuals into God’s house. You blaspheme the Name of God.”

Then I read about the Alabama immigration law and its effect on churches. This community of believers are complacent, at best, about the loss of their Christian brothers and sisters who are in the United States illegally. The church supports the new immigration law, and seems to only be worried about their own liability. It’s a sort of “we’re glad to have you in our church as long as you don’t get us in trouble” take on Christianity.

Compassion, hell. It seems that everybody has to have somebody to hate.

My prayer for the morning has been:

Loving and compassionate God, I know there is indifference in my heart, please replace it with compassion. I know there is prejudice in my being, please root it out. I know there is cruelty, please heal me so that I may love others better. Amen.

The Absence of Graces

I awoke with the idea this morning that some days are full of grace, and some days have none. And while I know perfectly well when there are no graces, I have a hard time seeing the graces when they are present. Oh, and when I say grace? I mean those moments when you feel like you are right—right with God, right with family, right with friends and loved ones. And the absence of graces? When you are wrong—wrong with God, wrong with family, wrong with friends and loved ones. You can just be out of step, or you could really feel like you’ve stepped in something.

But even on the days where it seems like there is no grace, I am convinced that there is. You still have God. You still have family and friends and loved ones. It’s just harder to remember…

Today, I hope for the grace to remember.

Life Beckons

For the last year, I’ve been working during the week in Washington, DC, and living weekends in Richmond, VA. I worked 40 hours a week and was on call 24-hours-a-day. The commute was about 16 hours a week. In addition, I was pastoring a church in Richmond.

And trying to have a life.

The downside to the life was that I didn’t have enough time for myself. And I’m not talking about alone time, or time to get my hair done, or time to get all the errands of normal life done. I had that.

But I didn’t have enough time for my self.

My self requires spending time alone. My self requires spending time with the people who I love. My self requires that I have time to think through my principles, time to act as I believe is right, and time to build caring relationships.

I am regaining that time now.

We had a guest preacher at church yesterday. He shared this with us:

St. Teresa’s Prayer:

May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that
has been given to you….
May you be content knowing you are a child of God….
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

May it ever be.

Writing, Blogging, Preaching, and Being Busy

I miss writing. Well, more specifically, I miss blogging.

I’m still writing sermons, although they feel more raw, more private, and even more confidential than before. So I’m not posting them anymore.

But I haven’t written here since I really got going on my new job. Maybe it’s because I’m learning so much new stuff. Maybe it’s because I’m spending 15-18 hours a week on the road. Maybe it’s because I thought my head would implode with all this new information.

Whatever it is, I’d like it to stop. I want to write.

I want to write about the interesting (read that batty) person who told me last week that the meaning of life is TIME.

I want to write about seeing the elderly woman who had been arrested for solicitation face 90 days in jail for a $10 sex act.

I want to write about the amazement of learning that you are HIV+ when you see that information as an empowering choice to get care.

But for now, I’m just going to say, “Hi.” I’ve missed you.