Sermon

Today I leave Belfast. It is an incredibly bittersweet feeling. On one hand, I am SO excited to see my family and friends back home, but on the other... Belfast feels like home to me now.

In honor of my final day in Belfast, I will let you viewers at home read the "sermon" I gave on my final week at Fortwilliam and Macrory (further proof that the way I write and the way I speak is not actually too dissimilar):

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A few weeks ago, Lesley asked me if I would be willing to give the message this morning. No pressure, I was free to speak for as much or little of the service as I'd like. Not one to back down from things that scare me, I agreed and began immediately... to procrastinate.

So this week began, and I still had no idea what I would say to you, the people who have become my family away from home for a year. Most of what I'd be inclined to say to you was already covered in my newsletter piece (I shouldn't have given it all up in one go!), so I was back at square one.

...So I did what I imagine most people do when they have to give the message on Sunday - I began with the lectionary. For those who aren't aware, there is a list of Bible passages each day - you can find the list anywhere online - that are used as a sort of guideline for churches around the world. So I settled in with my YAV worship CD in the background and began to read: first up, Psalms 103 and 150. As the "Morning Psalms", these are typically very praise-the-Lordy. So I made a mental note and moved on to the "First Reading" - 1 Samuel. Picking up just after David beat Goliath. I imagine that I could have made this into something interesting, but probably not appropriate for a fond farewell... on to "Second Reading" - Romans 10:4-17. Sent by the Lord to share his love with others. Check. As you can tell (since we just read this one), I liked this one best of my options thus far and set it aside for the service. Now to find a second reading. The Gospel reading was all about shaming those Pharisees, and the Evening Psalm was another praise-the-Lord standard. I thought that was it and got ready to scroll back up through the Psalms to pick my favorite. At that moment, two things happened that seemed like a pretty clear message - the song changed, and my finger slipped.

So what does this mean? Well, my finger slipped onto the down arrow - and I realized that there was one more option available to me in this long lectionary list... and the song changed to a worship hymn we sing often at YAV events. Both were Psalm 139.

Sometimes, things just fall into place. In those rare moments of perfect timing, I know that God's hand is at work. Moving to Louisville after college was just a little too easy. Choosing the YAV program was easy when everything fell into place. This Psalm, especially verses 7-10, have been particularly important to me this year. I'll read it for you in the version I've learned by heart:

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

I was first introduced to this passage at our placement event - the weekend that changed my life by confirming that I would be spending this year with you here in Belfast. The 3,746 miles between my house and Skegoneill Drive (as the crow flies) felt insurmountable. The "far side of the sea" in this case felt particularly far away. But the song served as a reminder that I wouldn't be alone. God's hand would guide me, even in Belfast.

After some time here, I realized something about myself - as much as I hated to admit it, part of my decision to join this program was selfish - I had a lot of baggage that I thought I could leave behind in Louisville, and getting away for a year felt like a good way to forget some of that. Singing this song on a retreat with other YAVs reminded me that there is no where I could flee from God's presence.

Each time I come across this passage or this song, it holds a different meaning for me. Following the passage along farther, we praise God for making us just as we are: fearfully and wonderfully. We implore God to search us, to know us and learn our secrets. Dark is made light in his presence. We are reminded that there is no escape from God. We may try and run, or hide the bits we're ashamed of, but He is here. He loves us still, and encourages us to be better.

... So I heard this call and moved to Belfast. Does this mean that's the only way that you can fill God's call? Packing up your life and moving somewhere drastic? Of course not. Romans 10:8 reminds us that "the message is as near as your mouth or your heart." We carry God's love with us, and it is our charge to share that message with those who haven't heard it, or may have forgotten. You can show this love in simple ways - calling in to check on a friend who is having a hard time. Suspending judgement on someone before you get to know their lives and their circumstances. You don't have to travel half a world away to do it.

In fact, many of you have done this with me this year. I'm so grateful for those with whom I've had the opportunity to share a meal or conversation. I may be biased, but I feel that taking the time to get to know "the YAV" as a person rather than just a function makes the year that much richer for both parties!

You have so many exciting things coming up in this coming year - I've had the opportunity to spend time with Becki, and I'm insanely jealous that Sarah will get to spend more time with her. The outreach projects of this congregation are beginning to gather momentum, and you have the possibility to really impact people's lives. I'm so glad to have had the opportunity to walk along with you, if only for this short time. It is going to be really difficult to leave you all!

I close now with another YAV standard-issue prayer that has meant a lot throughout this year, and even more so as I leave this place with no idea of where my next steps will take me:

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Amen.

Reflections from Scotland

We returned from our final YAV retreat earlier this week, and after some consideration I don't think I can do it justice with one of my typical rundown posts. In short, I LOVED Scotland... which surprised me for some reason. We spent time as a group in Edinburgh and Iona, then the boys and I spent some extra time in Glasgow. Each city had its own flavor and special moments, so I will just pull a few excerpts from my private journal:

On a train, click-clickity-clacking through the Scottish countryside. I love it here.... I have this intense desire to never leave this place. 

Kathryn and I at the Storytelling Centre

We spent the past two days in Edinburgh. I never really left the touristy areas, but loved the city all the same.  ... The city itself seems to have pride in storytelling. Kathryn, TJ, David and I went on a ghost tour last night, after a day that involved hiking Arthur's Seat, learning about a social enterprise for homeless people in the Grassmarket, lunch at the place where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, ... and an afternoon exploring Edinburgh Castle.

Even with my camera there's no way I could adequately capture fields of wildflowers against a soft blue sky. Grass so green. Do these colours even exist back home?

(OK, you caught me: this photo isn't from Scotland)

(after a service loosely based on Ecclesiastes 3)
We went to the evening service at the Abbey, and as a part of the prayer the officiant read out the familiar "a time for..." and we were meant to add our wordless prayers. So when she said something, I tried my best to feel it - as a way to see what I associate with that emotion ... A time for gratitude: C.'s smile. 

I sit now on a ferry, watching Mull slip into the distance as we return to the mainland. Iona was like a dream.

We took a trip today through the Scottish Highlands to Glen Coe and Loch Ness. The thought of following in the footsteps of my ancestors on this trip (first Iona, now this place) is so strange, but incredibly powerful.

Photo credit: David Mills

As we entered the bus terminal, we saw a chilling sight: groups of well-dressed men and women with signs and brochures proclaiming the gospel - ignoring the shivering, barefoot man sitting just feet away. How often do I do the same - literally, or figuratively? 

To see the rest of my Scotland photos (warning: there are several!), click here.

Pentecost

Today is Pentecost. The story that any of us who grew up in the church will likely associate with those photos of cartoons with fire above their heads, or crafts involving glue sticks and plenty of tissue paper (or popsicle sticks, as all the best are).

Over the years, I've been to plenty of different Pentecost services - some done really well, some less so. My favorite, of course, will have to be the Sweaty Sheep service that included water balloon fights, liturgical dancers and communion using breads and foods from all over the world.

Photo by Michael Whitman

Today, Fortwilliam and Macrory had a guest preacher, the Rev. Dr. John Dunlop. His message addressed waiting: how none of us like to wait, but when the thing that we are waiting on is the Spirit of God, we can't move forward without it. He focused on the diversity of the crowd gathered that morning, waiting together, gathering in God's name. All of those different gifts, opinions and personalities in one place. Each person gathered in that room was unique, but they all had names. They were all touched by the Spirit.

This message reminded me of the YAV program, which is appropriate since much of the funding for this program comes from the Pentecost Offering. We are young, we are exuberant, and we are sent out in the name of God despite our differing gifts, opinions and personalities to join in the celebration of the global church.

Pentecost is being celebrated today across the world in a vast array of cultures and languages, and my fellow YAVs are there: in Guatemala, in Kenya, in Tucson, in New Orleans and so many other communities. Learning, sharing and growing with others because of our shared purpose.

In the spirit of this global sending, I ask a favor: if the Pentecost Offering is not taken in your church, click the link above or text "young" to 20222 to give $10 to the PC(USA). To fund this program more directly, there are still a few NI YAVs who need a little help with their fundraising requirements. Please consider a donation in honor of Pentecost to Kathryn, who is doing great work this year at the East Belfast Mission.

For those interested in learning more about the YAV program, please visit http://www.presbyterianmission.org/ministries/yav/.

All Being Well

"All Being Well" - a phrase I've come to know and love during my time here in Belfast. Typically, it's used when making plans: "I'll see you Sunday then, all being well." I love it because it serves as a reminder that things happen... plans change.

It brings to mind a similar concept I learned during my time in Morocco: Insha'Allah (Inshallah), which means God willing, or if God wills it. This was said whenever we made plans. A constant reminder that our plans are not really our own, that we are reliant on God's will in everything we do.

Part of this was entirely practical in a culture like Morocco, because plans often changed due to unforeseeable circumstances. We became used to saying, "Tomorrow we will go into the city, Inshallah," knowing that in reality our bus might be broken or the person we were supposed to meet was no longer available. I've tried to remember this concept over the years, which at some times is easier than others. There are many variants on the theme: Inshallah, All Being Well, and my personal favorite, "God Willing and the Creek Don't Rise."

13 Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city. We will spend a year there. We will buy and sell and make money.” 14 You don’t even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? It is a mist that appears for a little while. Then it disappears. 15 Instead, you should say, “If it pleases the Lord, we will live and do this or that.”

James 4:13-15 (NIRV)

I'm trying to extend myself grace as I make plans for the next few months. The honest truth is that I don't even have an inkling of what the future holds for me. And I'm getting closer to being okay with that. Inshallah.

A glimpse of heaven...

This week in JAFFA*, we asked the kids to draw us what they thought Heaven looked like. The results were predictably adorable, so I brought them home and compiled them all into one picture. My favorite might be the dog in the top right corner... because as we all know, All Dogs Go To Heaven!

*JAFFA = Jesus A Friend For All, a weekly club for children at the Vine Centre

On the Mountaintop

This week, we made the journey to the Republic of Ireland for our second of three YAV retreats. We stayed at a lovely house in Donegal on Lough Eske, and filled our days with walks by the lough and hiking the nearby Slieve League (highest sea cliffs in Ireland). Our nights were filled with movies, laughter, music and introducing Doug to the television show Arrested Development.

As I prepared this week's service (proofreading hymns and the like), I found myself singing aloud in the empty sanctuary and reminiscing on the awesome majesty I'd experienced with my friends. I know you're all here for the photos, so I'll intersperse them with hymn 187, verses 1-2:

O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder
consider all the works Thy hands hath made,
I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed;

When through the woods and forest glades I wander

and hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
when I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur,
And hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze;

Then sings my soul,
my Saviour God, to Thee:
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art!

Then sings my soul,
my Saviour God, to Thee:
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art!

Photo credit: Beth Thompson

 

 

 

 

More photos can be found here. 

Anyone can love the loveable

Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope you are all feeling happy and sufficiently loved today. If no one has told you they love you yet - just let me know and I'll send you a Valentine ;-)

In the spirit of this day of love, I thought I'd share a bit from my personal study. I came across Matthew 5:43-44 recently:

43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor. (Leviticus 19:18) Hate your enemy.’ 44 But here is what I tell you. Love your enemies. Pray for those who hurt you. ..."

Many people who read this passage feel a bit of a kick in the gut whenever they hear this. Loving mean people is HARD! I think it's important to remember these words, but also to remember that it's not difficult to love those who are kind, or those who fit easily into our categories of "acceptable" behaviour and appearance... but sometimes, it's those who don't seem "loveable" that need it the most.

Reading this certainly made me take a second look at the people I see on a daily basis, and evaluate my actions toward them. I hope you'll do the same.

Love you!

Lenten reflections

Today is Ash Wednesday, which is strange here.

Rather than heading to chapel at lunch for the imposition of ashes, today was a day just like any other: prep the crock pot for our community dinner before rushing to mums and tots, work on lesson plans til JAFFA in the afternoon. The lesson today was on love and St. Valentine.

I might have forgotten Ash Wednesday altogether if it weren't for the boys from St. Malachy's College (a Catholic HS) at my bus stop on the way home, with the familiar smudges on their foreheads. Even though we didn't practice the imposition of ashes at the church where I was raised, it's a tradition that I have come to enjoy in later years. Not because I feel that everyone needs to see how holy I am for attending services on a Wednesday 42 days before Easter, but because it sets the tone for me: the silence of the chapel as we offer our foreheads sets the somber tone. Trying not to smudge the cross for the rest of the day keeps me in constant reminder of the journey I am beginning.

But today's reading from my Lenten devotional was Matthew 6:1-6, 16-28; which seemed strange for a day when many people in the States would be wearing their faith loud and proud of their forehead.

It was an interesting beginning to this study. How do you reconcile the idea of an outward act for your own reflection and one that could easily be seen as being showy or holier-than-thou? As with anything, I think the answer lies in the motivation of the participant - which none of us are in any place to judge.

On that note, Anna and I (and possibly a few other YAVS) are doing the World Vision Live Life Challenge, if you'd like to join us. For the next six weeks, we will focus on specific aspects of Jesus' teachings: fasting, prayer, giving, thankfulness and service. I will do my best to reflect on our study here.

Bonus Roomie Post!

So, I wasn't kidding when I said I really enjoyed the Christmas Eve service at Anna's church. For those who don't know my roomie, she is incredibly talented at just about everything she attempts, and I was in awe of her Christmas message at the service. It nearly brought me to tears (shutupIhavesomethinginmyeye), and I (gently) demanded that she post it so I could share it with you.

You can read her whole post here.

If you don’t normally attend church at Whitehouse (welcome!) or you don’t know who I am, my name is Anna and I’m not from here.

I’m over from the States to spend a year here, living in Belfast and working at Whitehouse.

This is my first-ever Christmas away from home. While I certainly miss being at home with friends and family, what I miss most these days is the familiarity of Christmas. I don’t know this to be a fact, but I would hazard a guess that Christmas has more traditions surrounding it than any other time of the year. We sing the same songs, eat the same food, and visit the same family at the same time.

One thing you may not know about me is that I tend to be a bit of a perfectionist. I like to know as much as possible before I….No. I like to know as much as possible. Full stop.

I tell you that because while I could describe to you, at length, the Christmas traditions of the state of South Carolina, in Belfast I am humbled on a daily basis, because so much of what is tradition here is brand new to me. I’m a trained singer, and I don’t know half of the beloved carols. I never know exactly what’s going on, and I often feel as if I’m working with as little information as possible.

Spending Christmas away from the familiar has allowed me to relate to the nativity story in a completely new way. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever actually related to it much in the first place. I’ve never had an angel visit me in a dream and tell me that I was going to give birth to the Son of God, for instance. But Mary and Joseph were very much away from the familiar. In fact, nothing about that first Christmas would have been familiar to anyone in the story we know so well.

In the States, we have a term for that, and it comes from the great American pastime – baseball. What happens to Mary and Joseph, as we’ve seen tonight, is known as a curveball. You see, when you throw a baseball, it normally just goes in a relatively straight line, until the batter hits it, the catcher catches it, or it hits the ground because gravity has taken its course. But there’s a technique to throwing a baseball in which the ball will curve in its trajectory, and you usually can’t see that it’s curved until it’s right in front of you. Curveballs allow almost no time for the batter to adjust his stance, and are therefore notoriously difficult to hit. 

When Mary receives the news from the angel Gabriel that she’s going to be pregnant with the Son of God – that’s a curve ball.

When Joseph realizes that his fiancé is pregnant and he isn’t the father – that’s a curve ball.

When they can’t find a place to stay on their journey and the baby is born amongst dirty, stinky animals – that’s a curve ball.

Life is constantly throwing us curve balls. We lose our jobs. Our relationships end. Our loved ones die suddenly. It’s chaos. It’s messy. It’s scary.

You know, the Son of God had been predicted and prophesied for hundreds of years. Religious leaders of the time believed that God would come down in a blaze of glory – a man who would be larger than life, atop a flaming chariot with a horse made of gold or something. But this God, our God, chose to enter our world as an infant; born to two people who just went with the curve balls they’d been thrown.

I’d like to see the real nativity portrayed. A terrified, teenage girl with no midwife; a young man who would have never been present at a birth, pacing backwards and forwards, mopping the sweat off of his brow and muttering to himself; animals and all of the sounds and smells that come with them. This is the scene where God puts skin on. This chaos. This mess.

The nativity story isn’t one that was only relevant two thousand years ago. In the same way that the Christ-child was physically born, he is born in us again – into the chaos and the mess and the fear of our lives.

We don’t have to give much. We don’t have to have much. We don’t have to be perfect or have it all together or even know what’s going on most of the time. We just have to be willing.

I hope that your celebrations tomorrow are filled with the joy and hope and love of Christ. I also hope you’ll take the time to reflect on the staggering reality and significance of the birth of the Son of God into the unfamiliar, and into the reality of our own lives. 

Over the past four weeks, we’ve lit four candles: one for hope, one for joy, one for peace and one for love. And tonight we light the one that signifies the manifestation of all of those things in the world: the Christ candle.

I hope you’ll notice, as the light from this candle moves around the room, that even though some of us are close to Christ candle and some are far away, the candles at the farthest corners will shine with the same intensity as those closest to the source.

A Lifetime of Change

I will interrupt this week's planned rehash of Belfast-ness for a moment to talk about the Young Adult Volunteer program. It's coming up on application season for 2013-14, which means it's been a year since I walked into the YAV office to let E. know my decision to apply for "a year of service for a lifetime of change".

What a whirlwind these past 365 days have been!

The decision to take a completely different path in my status quo was difficult for me, but definitely the best choice I've ever made. The PC(USA) has recently renewed its dedication to Young Adults by challenging the YAV program to triple its size and scope in the next five years. This means it's easier than ever to join this wacky YAV family, and to find a program that suits your passions. To do this, they have made a few changes to the program that I'm really excited to share:

• Additional site placements in Boston, Peru, Philippines and South Korea. Work in each site generally focuses on the major issues in that city or country - like Northern Ireland's dedication to peacemaking and reconciliation, Boston's food justice program, root causes of poverty in Peru, education in South Korea, border policies in Tucson, urban ministry in Miami, Chicago, Hollywood and others.... a complete list of sites and their work can be found here. 
• Lower funding requirements! This year I was blessed to have amazing support from family, friends and members of my congregation to raise the $8000 required for International service. Next year, funding requirements will be cut in HALF - meaning $4000 for an International site and just $3000 for a National site placement.

Becoming a part of this YAV family (which, if you'll notice, is the only way I refer to this group) has been incredible. When I walked into the placement event back in March, I felt for the first time that I had found "my people" - goofy and fun with a heart for the Lord.

This program has been in place for almost 20 years, which means they KNOW what they're doing. Discernment and placement events ensure that the best fit is attained for both the candidate and site, and I was completely prepared at orientation for the upcoming challenges of mission service. 

International Placement Event at LPTS - March 2012

Orientation at Stony Point - August 2012

Things you should know if you're considering the program:

• Young Adult Volunteers are between the ages of 19-30. Sometimes you need to be 21 for specific / international sites, but they even accept second-career old fogeys like me.
• The Louisville office is there to help you make the best decision for you, and to ensure you're in the right place. I had the benefit of proximity, but they were SO helpful when I started the discernment process.
• You don't actually have to be a Presbyterian. You will be doing the work of the church, but the PC(USA) partners with other denominations to do their work around the world. Members of this year's YAV group alone come from the PC(USA), Methodist, Mennonite and Catholic churches. 
• I'm sure it's obvious, but: I am always happy to answer questions about my journey. Feel free to email me any time!

Courtesy Jeff Moles (@jeffmoles)

For the Love of Saint Patrick (retreat day 1)

So, I'm a little behind on posting ... it's been a busy 10-ish days!

When I left you last, I was preparing to spend 4 days on retreat with my fellow YAVs. We had a great time! We began by heading from Belfast to Armagh, which is the seat for both the Catholic Church and the Church of Ireland. Both denominations have Cathedrals, both named St. Patrick's, in the city. Fun fact: this gives Armagh the honor of being the only city in the world with two cathedrals of the same name!

St. Patrick's Cathedral
(Church of Ireland)

Our first stop was St. Patrick's (Church of Ireland). We were welcomed by Rev. Grace Clunie from the Centre for Celtic Spirituality (an ecumenical mission project of the church), who gave us a tour of the Cathedral. We learned about the history of Armagh, as well as the church site - the hill where this church is located has been a holy site for over 1500 years. Originally a site for pre-christian tribal worship, St. Patrick founded his first stone church in Ireland here in 445.

Grace also taught us about Celtic spirituality, which draws its inspiration from the early prayers of the Celtic world. I could paraphrase the brochure, but since this is already looking like a post of epic length (even after breaking the retreat into several posts), I will direct those interested in learning more directly to the site for the Centre for Celtic Spirituality.

Stained glass featuring
Ferdomnach of Armagh
with Sts Brendan, Brigid,
Patrick and Columba 

After the tour, we spent some time in the practice of Celtic prayer, which focused on awareness of the sacred presence in this place. It was a great way to begin a retreat, especially one that would take place in such beautiful surroundings as the Mourne Mountains. We were even able to share the YAV tradition of Psalm 139.

I will include a few excerpts of our worship below:

Affirmation of Faith

I believe, O God, that you are the eternal Creator of life.
I believe, O Christ, that you are the eternal source of love.
I believe, O Holy Spirit, that your presence fills the universe.
I believe, O Holy Trinity, that you created my soul and formed all my days. Amen.

St. Patrick's (Catholic)

Final Prayers

Circle us Lord, keep light and love within, keep danger without. 

Circle us Lord, keep childlike trust within, keep fear without. 

Circle us Lord, keep health and peace within, keep dis-ease without. 

Deep peace of the quiet earth. Deep peace of the flowing air. 

Deep peace of the ocean's depth, deep peace of the God of peace. Amen.

After sharing a meal (and some great discussion) with Grace, we headed to ... St. Patrick's (Catholic).

We didn't get a formal tour here, so it was more of a self-guided affair. We spent our time here just soaking in the intricate mosaic work and gorgeous stained glass. There is something about a Catholic church that hits all your senses, and just walking through in silence was a profound experience.

This building was not as old as the Anglican cathedral, but also claims a link to Saint Patrick. The story of St. Patrick and the fawn ends at this spot, known as Tealach na Licci (Sandy Hill), which is considered a prophetic reference by the Saint to the second cathedral built in his name. I was glad for the opportunity to explore both of these historic cathedrals during our visit.

We left Armagh and headed to our rented house in Mayobridge, Co. Down. We took a moment for excitement over the presence of the elusive BATHTUB, and rooms were quickly assigned. We went for a walk before dinner, where a few of us realized our true potential as sheep-whisperers. I know you were worried that I might not get this on film, but never fear:

I know, you're impressed. 

We spent the rest of the evening in front of the fire, reading and playing card games. It was pretty much how we spent all free moments of the week (that we weren't sleeping), and pretty much exactly what I needed.

Anna and I were in charge of that night's Bible Study, so I leave you with this:

Benediction

Christ has no body now on earth but yours; Yours are the only hands with which he can do his work, Yours are the only feet with which he can go about the world, Yours are the only eyes through which his compassion can shine forth on a troubled world. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

-Teresa of Avila

Prayers of the people

Words and music by Ben Johnston-Krase

Photos taken (by me) at Cave Hill Cemetery in Louisville, KY

A little treat from Stony Point

We've been learning some new songs this week, and I thought you might enjoy a taste. This is the Lord's Prayer. Fun fact, my grandpa actually took the photos I've set this to, over 60 years ago.

'night y'all.

Mission Yearbook



Stained glass at the Presbyterian Center

For those of you unfamiliar with the Presbyterian Church, we have this handy little book called a Mission Yearbook. Each day features a different ministry or program of the PC(USA), with a list of employees of synods, presbyteries and the six Presbyterian agencies to include in that day's prayer requests. It is common for those reading along with the yearbook to email those PC(USA) staff members with well-wishes on their featured day.

Yesterday was my featured day.

First off, I was surprised to be featured. Somehow my hire date managed to exclude me from last year's book, and for some reason I thought that I missed this year's book as well (obviously I never flipped ahead to check...). On top of that, I was majorly stressed out about everything that still has to get done before I go, and feeling a little sad that today is my last day in the office.

So imagine my surprise when the emails started flooding in - from Texas, Pennsylvania, Iowa, and right here in Louisville. It was such a blessing that I was featured in my last week at the Center, when I'm preoccupied and stressed and probably more than a little grumpy.

Thanks in particular to Richard, whose note was simple, short, and (according to his signature), sent via his DROID. It read simply, "Blessings today on your life and ministry: Psalm 20:1-8." While attempting to achieve "inbox zero", I re-read the message and decided to look up that verse this afternoon: 

May the LORD answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you. May he send you help from the sanctuary and grant you support from Zion. May he remember all your sacrifices and accept your burnt offerings. "Selah" May he give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed. We will shout for joy when you are victorious and will lift up our banners in the name of our God. May the LORD grant all your requests. Now I know that the LORD saves his anointed; he answers him from his holy heaven with the saving power of his right hand. Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. They are brought to their knees and fall, but we rise up and stand firm.

Psalm 20:1-8 

Wow, while I may not exactly be offering burnt sacrifices any time soon, I certainly feel distressed by the massive amount of stuff that still has to be done before I go. What a nice reminder to step back and be grateful for the experience, to go forward with the blessings of those around me, and to rise up, stand firm, and do good in the name of the LORD.

Clumsy

Anyone who has ever met me can testify to the fact that I am not exactly graceful.

Yes, I'm the girl who got a concussion playing ultimate frisbee, broke her nose playing sharks and minnows, sprained her ankle on a first date. The girl who was actually referred to physical therapy for being accident-prone.

But for once, it's not that type of "clumsy" that I'm talking about. The type of clumsy I mean is referred to in Exodus, chapter 4:

But Moses pleaded with the LORD, "O Lord, I'm just not a good speaker. I never have been, and I'm not now, even after you have spoken to me. I'm clumsy with words."

Exodus 4:10

This passage comes soon after Moses' call in the wilderness (pop over to my flat-mate Anna's blog for the particularly insightful discussion of Exodus 3 which inspired this post). While I don't have Moses' stutter, it is difficult for me to share my faith with a crowd (remember that post about avoiding seminary?). I always feel that things come out wrong or I'll say something stupid - so I avoid it. My cousin's wife kindly asked me to read a blessing at their wedding last month, and I was touched. But when I realized she meant pray, spontaneously, in front of hundreds of guests... I panicked.

So, I get what you must be thinking: "this girl has essentially signed up to be a missionary for a year, and praying in front of people gives her palpitations. She must be cuckoo for cocoa puffs." (Your inner monologue is so sassy, Reader!)

I know that for the most part, I've kept the tone of this blog light and focused on my preparations and excitement for the adventure I'm embarking upon. But while I've always felt this year as a Young Adult Volunteer has been the response to an unmistakable calling, it's easier to get caught up in the details of the trip itself than to face my very real fears about what will happen when I get to Belfast.

In my previous work with youth, my greatest concerns have been relatively trivial: Will we have enough food at youth group? Would the kids rather play laser tag or go rollerskating? The youth I've had the pleasure of spending time with for the past 7 years have been for the most part happy, privileged and well-adjusted. I don't know how I will be able to reach kids with such a vastly different upbringing.

Together, the Northern Ireland team will be learning to understand and interpret another culture.  It's intimidating to know that I still have so much to learn about the community I'll be living in, but we are tasked with bringing an outside perspective to the communities in which we serve. I know that my mission is a ministry of presence - to be there for these kids and make them feel loved and special. But even though I consider it a special gift to love people, that doesn't mean that I know what I'm doing - I have constant fears of inadequacy and failure. I wonder if I can really do anything to make their lives better.

For those wondering, I eventually flustered my way through the prayer at my cousin's wedding with only two or three "ums" (yes, someone counted for me). I let it go to God, and while I still have no idea what I actually said, I survived the experience. People actually came up and complimented me later... I will pretend it was because I said something meaningful, and not that they saw me break into tears as soon as it was over. I figure that with this coming adventure, that's all I can do: put it in God's hands and hope I don't make a fool of myself!

Discernment and Commissioning

dis-cern [dih-surn, -zurn]

verb (used with object)

1. to perceive by the sight or some other sense or by the intellect; see, recognize or apprehend: They discerned a sail on the horizon.
2. to distinguish mentally; recognize as distinct or different; discriminate: He is incapable of discerning right from wrong.

We spend a lot of time talking about discernment in the Young Adult Volunteer program. Discerning whether to spend a year in the program, whether to stay at home or abroad, which vocation will follow your YAV year... it's a word I have become a lot more familiar with since our placement weekend in March.

I was joking with a few members of my congregation that I've been successfully avoiding seminary since graduating with a religion minor 7 years ago. Since admitting this, I've been actively challenged in this avowal - multiple times - from several different places. I was discussing this with my friend, the recently Reverend Alex, and he pointed out that I'm not the only one who has felt like running in the opposite direction of a perceived call. What's up, Jonah?

com-mis-sion [kuh-mish-uhn]

verb (used with object)

1. to give a commission to: to commission a graduate of a military academy.
2. to authorize; send on a mission.
3. to give the order that places a warship, military command, etc., in a state of complete readiness for active duty.
4. to give a commission or order for: The owners commissioned a painting for the building's lobby.

Last night, Will (future Kenya YAV) and I were recognized at a special meeting of the Mid-Kentucky Presbytery. We were reminded that our commissioning was both a privilege and a responsibility to uphold with God's help. Among the vows that we pledged were a commitment to accepting the persons we serve where they are and just the way they are, to work in glad cooperation and mutual support with other workers, to demonstrate our love of Christ and commitment to our call.

As my time here is wrapping  up, the importance of this decision is becoming clear. Feeling literally carried in love as I begin this journey reminds me so much of my ordination as a ruling elder 3 years ago. I can still feel the waves of warmth and love from those in the congregation who laid hands on our class and prayed for our service. Since that day, I still can't hear the hymn, "Here I am Lord" without choking back a tear. I particularly like the revised version we sing at Second - rather than going if God leads us, we should be open to going where.

Here I am Lord, is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord, where you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.

Daniel L. Schutte (revision in italic)