The Face of God in Philly

Sunday evening three of my new seminary friends drove into Philly to attend service at Broad Street Ministries. I have been wanting to check out Broad Street Ministries for a very long time and when we learned that a classmate, Andy Greenhow, would be preaching, it was clear that we would be attending. I am so glad I went.
Broad Street Ministry is located on South Broad Street in Philly. It is a community that emphasizes hospitable outreach, passionate civic involvement, courageous discipleship, and creative expression. If you are anywhere near Philly, I would suggest dropping by some Sunday evening. When you walk up to the building it looks like a giant traditional church, but I'm not sure that there is anything traditional about Broad Street and that is why I liked it. 


During the service I was looking around and realized that those gathered there truly were the body of Christ. There were young people and old people. Students, professionals, and those without a job. There were people from Philly, people from other states, and people from other countries. There were black, white, asian, hispanic. There was the uneducated and the well educated. Those who are illiterate and those who have published books. There were those who came dressed up for church and those who wore what they had. There was what I feel to be every variety of person. I think I like how the BSM website puts it best, "BSM also welcomes into its body not just those who are on the margins of faith but those who are on the margins of society. The member of prestigious private clubs worships alongside the homeless person. The gay and lesbian activist passes the peace with the Pentecostal lay preacher. The possessor of a PhD. In theology prays alongside the summa cum laude graduate of the School of Hard Knocks. " All of these people, from so many different walks of life joined together with the purpose of worshiping God and sharing a meal. 


I was afraid to attend BSM. Not because I was afraid that I wouldn't like it. Not that I was afraid that I would be uncomfortable. I was afraid to attend because I was afraid I would like that, and that is exactly what happened. That is the type of worship I have been looking for. It's real. It's nitty gritty. It's not about keeping with tradition and doing things in a particular way. It is about ministering to the people and being ministered to. It's about seeing the face of God in those gathered. It isn't about inviting God into the space because God is already there and waiting for you. I felt more in touch with God and with myself, felt more convicted and felt more dedicated to Christ than I have in quite some time than I did in that short service Sunday night. 

I Give Myself Away

If I am being perfectly honest with myself, and whoever is reading this, I am scared about tomorrow. After Greek tomorrow I have another doctor's appointment. We are going to evaluate the results of last week's blood work and do some more blood work. The doctor is supposed to tell me whether or not I have to go see an endocrinologist. As I have said before this is a perfectly shitty time for this to be happening. I'm in class everyday and the class is kicking my ass so having something big distract my already distractable mind is bad.
On top of that the people I love and that I ordinarily have around me to lean on are five hours away. David called me while I was in church (we went to Broad Street Ministries to hear Andy preach and I absolutely fell in love with the place. I want to go back many times. It's what I was looking for. But a post will come later about that.), and so after the service I called him back. It was very difficult to talk because I was practically running through Philly, felt like I was going to be sick, and was surrounded by people. There was all kinds of things I wanted to talk to him about and things I wanted to hear about. I felt like I was being a crappy girl friend because I haven't gotten to speak to him all weekend. He felt like he was bothering me and intruding, which he wasn't at all, it's just difficult to have a conversation as I am trying to hurry through a city with people that don't know what is going on.
I was thinking of going to talk to the campus chaplain lady. Part of it is because I'm just freaking out in a huge way. I have never had any serious health problems. I've broken bones. I've gotten a concussion. I have sprained and twisted and dislocated things. I had a while where I had to go to physical therapy for my knee. I've never been faced with a disease before. I've never possibly had an on going medical condition. Well, I suppose that is not true. If I do have something it's not like I just developed it today, I've possibly had it for a while and just not known about it.
 Going to two services today (Nassau Presbyterian in the morning and Broad Street Ministries this evening) gave me time to reflect. In a way this is a bit like when Dad died. I know that sounds extreme but hear me out. I was a freshman in college and had decided to switch schools and major in theology. I was fully prepared to serve God and do whatever God deemed me fit to do. And then Dad died. And it made me question my faith and doubt everything I thought I knew. It was a time where I constantly wondered why I should be doing this if God is going to do horrible things in my life. Now I am smarter and hopefully I have more faith and trust in God. I'm starting Seminary. I am going to fully serve God. And a big medical event is happening. But now, I fully trust in God. I know that God is going to do what God is going to do and regardless I am a child of God and God loves me. Tonight, at Broad Street, the Song of Affirmation was "I Give Myself Away" and it really hit home for me. This is what I'm working on and though the things that are currently going on in my life may challenge me, it is all about giving myself away, putting my life in the Lord's hands and being open to being used in whatever way possible.

Chorus:
I give myself away
I give myself away
So You can use me
I give myself away
I give myself away
So You can use me

Verse 1:
Here I am
Here I stand
Lord, my life is in your hands
Lord, I'm longing to see
Your desires revealed in me
I give myself away

Verse 2:
Take my heart
Take my life
As a living sacrifice
All my dreams all my plans
Lord I place them in your hands

Bridge:
My life is not my own
To you I belong
I give myself, I give myself to you

My Modern First Pentecost

So today is Pentecost and as is expected the Pastor lady preached about the first Pentecost. There was the swooshing of spirit, flames and everyone speaking in many different languages. She spoke about how everyone would have been praising God in a language they understood but there would be many languages all at the same time. What I instantly thought of was an experience I had last summer. Last sumer I served as a Steward for the World Communion of Reformed Churches. The official languages of the WCRC assembly were English, Spanish  French, and German. The vast majority of our printed materials were in all four of these languages, including the worship materials. For close to a month I got used to hearing everything in these four languages. However, during worship people would speak in their own languages. At one point during a worship service I looked around and heard people praying in English, Spanish, French, German, Portuguese, Dutch, Thai, Korean, Chinese, Hungarian, Lithuanian, Hindi, and other languages I couldn't even begin to identify.

To me, this is a small glimpse of what I can only imagine the first Pentecost was like. 

Thoughts from a Cynical Religion Major

As a religion major we learn who wrote what, when they wrote, it and occasionally why they wrote it. For instance, in my New Testament Epistles class on Tuesday we discussed the Epistle to Titus. We spent a great deal of time discussing when Titus was written and who it was written by. Word to the wise, never debate the canonical books with these Adventist professors. I may have brought up, in class, that the canon of numerous books is constantly being debated and brought into question. My professor was none too keen on that. (Though his response was not as bad as when I mentioned modalism and I thought he might literally have a heart attack) But I digress, We spent most of the class on whether or not Paul truly wrote Titus, defining terms used, like Πρεσβυτερος (presbyteros) which means elder. (A few were shocked to see that my denomination is based in the bible). But not enough time was spent on WHY the epistle was written. The class ultimately proposed that it was written to guide the leadership of the church. 


One of my friends asked me today "Who the f*** cares who wrote what? It was written? It was written. Isn't that enough?" That's got me thinking. Should it be enough? I think that one of the problems with formal higher theological education is that we spend so much time paying attention to who wrote it and when it was written. Don't get me wrong, these are all very important details, but we should pay more attention to what it is about. What is more important, the fact that Paul wrote the letters to the Romans or that " The one who eats everything must not treat with contempt the one who does not, and the one who does not eat everything must not judge the one who does, for God has accepted them. " I personally believe that the part we ought to be paying attention to is what the letter is saying, not when it was written. So often we have students in college who are studying religion that concern themselves with who wrote it and when it was written but not with the content. Sure, they know what is in the content and they can translate it back to the original Greek and provide exegesis, but they do not truly understand the content because in their theological education the emphasis is not put on understanding the Word on a PERSONAL level. 
 

Reflections

Cameroon is unlike anywhere else I have been. Considering that it was my first time outside of North America, this should come as no surprise. Our first night Shelby and I had a conversation about the trip and how everyone told us how much it would change us and how we were unsure of what that really meant. At the same time, the timing of the trip came at a point where we both needed it. For a while, I have been trying to figure out my life and what I am supposed to be doing with it.
When I had finished packing on my last day in Bamenda, I sat on my bed in Ma's house and made a few lists. Lists of things I had to declare at customs, a list of things I tried for the first time on this trip:

• Kola Nut
• Bitter Kola
• Raffia
• Cassava
• Fermented Cassava (myobo)
• paw paw
• huckleberry
• bushmeat
• bone marrow
• palm wine
• lamb
• achoo
• ground nuts

Those were only the things I could think of in that moment, there are other things I tried that I didn't write down and because people were feeding us so often there were things I ate without knowing it. In addition to eating things for the first time I also made of list of things I had done for the first time:

• first trip to Africa
• first time in Cameroon
• First time I have ever been called Pastor (in Cameroon if you are studying to be a pastor, they call you pastor which was difficult for me because I don't feel qualified)
• I've never had my picture taken so many times
• First time dining with the head of a political party
• first time I have felt 100% completely totally and utterly confused
• First time watching and participating in traditional African dances.
• First time wearing and owning a traditional African dress
• First time visiting a palace
• first time stuck in a car which was stuck in a ditch
• first time praying over a dying person
• first time blessing a home

The second to last one (First time praying over a dying person) is the one that sticks out when I have reflected on my time in Cameroon. I have been with people that were going to die. I have visited nursing homes. I have prayed with people that were in hospice. But none of those people were facing their death so quickly. The woman I prayed with in Bafut was going to die soon. Essentially she had hours, maybe days. I'm studying and preparing for a life in ministry. I still don't know what aspect of ministry.

Being with this woman and praying with this woman freaked me out. I was petrified. I had never done anything like this and I doubted I could. I was afraid I would say the wrong thing. I was afraid I would pray wrong. I was afraid I would be the last prayer she heard. I was afraid for so many reasons. Then, a little voice in my head said "Let Go and Let God". It's weird that an AA slogan would pop into my head. Maybe it's because I've spent time sitting in on AA meetings and going to Ala-teen, or maybe it was someone specific telling me that. I'm not sure, but the voice was right. That was exactly what I needed to do.

So I let go. So I let God. I'm not really sure what I said. I honestly have no clue. I may have started with Dear God, but I'm not certain. I know that I ended with Amen. I was freaking out for know reason. It wasn't about me. I twas about God! God wasn't going to let me screw it up because God was in control.