Blessed are you when people insult you…

Thomas Merton collected several sayings from the desert fathers. Here is a saying/story I came across last week. As you read it, I ask you the question: How are insults a path to wisdom?

Once there was a disciple of a Greek philosopher who was commanded by his Master for three years to give money to everyone who insulted him. When this period of trial was over, the Master said to him: “Now you can go to Athens and learn wisdom.” When the disciple was entering Athens he met a certain wise man who sat at the gate insulting everybody who came and went. He also insulted the disciple who immediately burst out laughing. “Why do you laugh when I insult you?” said the wise man. “Because,” said the disciple, “for three years I have been paying for this kind of thing and now you give it to me for nothing.” “Enter the city,” said the wise man, “it is all yours.” Abbot John used to tell the above story saying: “This is the door of God by which our fathers rejoicing in many tribulations enter into the City of Heaven.”

So… how are insults a path to wisdom? Are they? So often we think of God speaking to us through people – and usually, I think , it is in their words of encouragement that we hear God’s voice. I don’t believe that God is in the insult-business, but might God shape us through insult and criticism? Or is it only in spite of these things that we grow in wisdom?

Boys in Beards

I’d like to bring our discussion of age and authority up to the front of this blog. For a little extra context, read the comments on “Being perfect: it’s not your job…” starting with the question in Chelsey’s comment.

For those of us who are young(ish) people in ministry or young people preparing for ministry, we may, because of our age, find it challenging to live into the clothes of our calling. We may feel like we’re playing dress-up – like the clothes are too big for us. Or perhaps some of us feel prepared and ready – but not perceived as prepared or ready because of our age (which serves to decrease the feeling of preparedness and readiness!).

My husband and his father both looked rather young when they graduated from seminary. Both of them grew facial hair while they were waiting to be called to a church – so that they would appear older. I can’t grow a beard, but I have often felt the insecurity of my youth in my ministry.

There is a difference, isn’t there, between an authority that has grown over time and an authority that is bestowed upon us. The authority that someone has who has been in ministry for a long time is received well because it has stood the test of time – that person has earned the respect of congregants and communities. But when one is ordained, words are said to the congregation that may sound strange when spoken of a 26 year old – or when spoken of someone who hasn’t had a chance to prove himself or herself.

The Christian Reformed Church’s form for ordination of a minister of the Word charges the congregation in this way:

And you, brothers and sisters, joyfully receive your minister in the Lord and honor her. Remember that through him God himself speaks to you. Receive the Word which she, according to the Scripture, shall preach to you, not as the word of human beings but, as it is in truth, the Word of God… Submit to those whom God has placed over you, for they care for you as those who will give account.

This is the amazing reality of God. When God calls us to something, he works through us to do more than what we could ever possibly do on our own. Rachel said it well: “Sure, I may not have the life experience of half my congregation but if God calls you to do something, He’ll equip you with the proper wisdom and knowledge you need.”

What do you think? About age and authority? What about authority and gender? Looking forward to continuing discussion on this topic.

Not all who loiter are lost

First, I invite you to the discussion about pastoral authority and youth that sprung up in the comments on the last post. Follow the discussion, if you’d like!

And next: I learned a new term in a book I read recently on the subject of discernment. The term is liminal space: “that anxious space of ‘not knowing,’ that in-between time when the known and familiar have passed and the new has not yet come into being.” (Wilkie Au and Noreen Cannon Au, The Discerning Heart. New York: Paulist Press, 2006, p. 205.)

Are you there in that in-between space? Perhaps you’re between jobs or relationships. Maybe you are graduating this year from a school and you’re looking ahead to that liminal space. Like nature, we abhor vacuums. We don’t like unfilled space. We want to get to the next thing or the next person as soon as possible. When someone asks us what we do for a living, we want to have an immediate answer. It’s hard to say, “I’m not really sure what’s next.”

The authors of A Discerning Heart encourage us to think positively about ‘liminal space’: “liminal space is psychologically and spiritually significant because it is where real transformation can take place” (p. 208). They go on to quote Jesuit Anthony de Mello:

Some people will never learn anything because they grasp too soon. Wisdom, after all, is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling…. To know exactly where you’re headed may be the best way to go astray. Not all who loiter are lost. (p. 209)

This is kind of a different way to think about being unsure. Maybe not being somewhere is exactly where you need to be.

Being Perfect: it’s not your job. Being Public: it is.

Chelsey wrote this in her comment on “Tattoos on the Soul”:

Most of the time, “tattoos” (both in the real, ink on the body, and in the experiential, things that have marked me in life, sense) are extremely personal; but their messages are extremely public. How do we balance these two extremes that seem to represent so many aspects of the ministry?

I’ve heard several variations on the theme of this question. Often, people are concerned about the pressure that comes with the calling to ministry. When you live a life of ministry, you lead. When you lead, people look at you. When people look at you, they critique and measure. They call it like they see it – inflating your head with praise or popping your spirit with criticism.

In a sermon that she delivered to young people contemplating their calling to ministry, Barbara Brown Taylor shared a conversation that she’d had with a respected pastor and professor:

One day I told him that my biggest fear about ordination was the perfection thing—impersonating Jesus in front of a whole lot of people who would see right through me—and he said, “Oh lovey, that’s not your job. If you decide to do this, then you’re not promising to be perfect. You’re just consenting to be visible—to let other people watch you while you try to figure out what real life is all about.”

“On This Rock” in Awakened to a Calling: Reflections on the Vocation of Ministry. Nashville: Abingdon. 2005, pp. 55-56.

This is the reality. The public eye is a part of ministry. If you are sensing a call to ministry – or are acting on this call, ask yourself, are you attracted to this spotlight? Are you afraid of it? Is there a clash between your private and public selves? Are you ready to submit your life to Christ and to lead others in this submission?

What are your thoughts on this call to the public life? What is the place of the private self in ministry? I’m eager to hear your thoughts… your wisdom.

Bloom Where You’re Planted

“I am God’s Project.” This was the title of one of my siblings and my favorite cassette tapes when I was a little . We referred to it lovingly as ‘the yellow tape.’ My mom told me that she just saw that tape out the other day in my dad’s study! One of our favorite songs on the tape was Bloom Where You’re Planted. My sister and I even sang the song in church for ‘special music’ one Sunday. The words have become so much a part of me that, 20 years later, they were readily available at the hospital bedside of a woman I ministered to as a student chaplain a few summers ago. I still remember the words now:

Bloom where you’re planted;
Show what you’re worth.
God has his flowers all over the earth.
Bloom where you’re planted and if you’re sincere,
You can get anywhere on earth from here.

Bloom where you’re planted
And become a part
Of God’s lovely garden – the pride of his heart.
Bloom where you’re planted and if you’re sincere,
You can get anywhere on earth from here.

Bloom where you’re planted. What does this mean?

I’ve been meeting with a woman in her early fifties. She is sensing that God might be calling her to seminary. She’s had conversations with a few people and some have encouraged her to ‘bloom where she’s planted.’

She thought she’d come to some peace about staying right where she’s at – following God’s will in the little things of life and ministering quietly by writing prayer newsletters, mentoring a woman, and correcting Bible lessons for a prison ministry.

But then, one evening, she read Romans 10 as a part of her daily devotional and her eye fell on these verses:

“‘Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’ How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’”

She can’t shake her sense that God is calling her to preach. And so she continues to wonder. Is God calling her to stay in one garden, or to move to another?

What are your thoughts about blooming where one is planted? Your questions? Your experiences?

Tattoos on the soul

Welcome to the very first post on a brand-new blog. My name is Heidi De Jonge and I am the pastor for discernment at Calvin Theological Seminary. I’ve started this blog in order to facilitate a conversation for all of us who are in the midst of discerning God’s leading in our lives. I will be posting regularly: posing questions, sharing resources, and searching for wisdom.

I invite you to plumb the depths with me – to ask questions of each other and to share your thoughts and your experiences.

I begin with a quote that I heard on Talk of the Nation on NPR yesterday afternoon…

Paul Roe, a tattoo artist in Washington DC, smoothly defended his trade by saying that “irreversible decisions are good for the soul.”

Irreversible decisions are good for the soul.

I suppose he meant that it is good for a person to take a risk – to cross a line which, once crossed, cannot be uncrossed. Getting a tattoo marks your body, and perhaps your soul, in a defining and irreversible way.

And I began to wonder. What other kinds of decisions are irreversible? Suicide, crossing the Rubicon…

But what kinds of decisions are reversible? Don’t all decisions, like tattoos on the body, leave marks on our souls?

What are your thoughts? Your questions? Your experiences?