Truth: Hospitality.

I first met Kallie during our seminary’s orientation – with both southern accent and charm she handed me her calling card as she introduced herself, and I was excited because she was the kind of southerner I’d hoped to meet in Texas.  As our first semester moved along, I quickly came to understand that she was more than my simple pre-conceived notions.  She’s a people-person, she’s outside-the-box brilliant, she’s grossly generous and, most importantly, she embodies Christian hospitality.  That last one is what I admire so much about her: with open arms and heart she welcomes strangers into her life without complaint.  She seeks to entertain angels and she prepares tables with bountiful feasts of love.

I heard the song “Crowded Table” by The Highwomen the other day and I immediately thought of my friend.  The song’s chorus rings out: “I want a house with a crowded table / And a place by the fire for everyone / Let us take on the world while we’re young and able / And bring us back together when the day is done.”  For me, this is Kallie, and this is her hope for the Church.  She wants the table in God’s house to be crowded with people who love and care for one another, and she is doing her best to bring Heaven to earth in the here and now at her table.  She has friends and acquaintances and strangers over for dinner.  She brings people together who would never find reason to speak.  She gives herself to those around her.  Kallie gives me hope.

She gives me hope that there are ways for us to come together in spite of our differences.  She gives me hope that we can take on the wrongs of this world and make them right.  She gives me hope that a little hard work can produce great, life-giving benefits.  And Kallie gives me hope for the Church.  She – and others like her – are so desperately necessary.  In spite of the hatred and divisiveness in this world, she has shown me – and continues to show me – that it is possible to love the stranger, to invite others in, to be Christ in this world.  She reminds me that there are others just like her who are exceptionally giving, who extend goodwill, who unconditionally entertain guests, visitors, and strangers. 

The world needs more hospitality…the world needs more Kallies: people who work to make their tables crowded…people who make space by their fires…people who do the work needed to bring Heaven to earth.  Thank you, Kallie, for feeding the hungry, for giving drink to the thirsty, for welcoming the stranger.  I pray that we can all be a little more (or a lot more) like you, seeking out ways to serve Christ in the here and now.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Heart, Pt. 2.

A while back I had to have a few tests done for my heart (I wrote about my heart stuff here).  The first test was a treadmill stress test which showed an ‘abnormality’ and necessitated a second, more complete test (which should have been the starting place, but the healthcare system is broken and out to make money blah blah blah). 

This second test was called a CTA scan – a technicians injected me with dye and then they took very detailed pictures of my heart as it was functioning and working.  After the test I was discharged from the hospital and sent home to wait for the results, which came back a few weeks ago.  It turns out that I have a ‘grossly normal’ heart, meaning there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with it at all – it’s ‘right as rain’ as they say.  I’m fine!

And honestly, I was slightly disappointed.
Disappointed that there were no abnormalities…
Disappointed that there was nothing wrong with my heart…
Disappointed that the only explanation for my chest pain is high blood pressure…
…and that I did this to myself.

It’s because of my poor choices that I am in this situation and I can’t blame anyone else, which makes it hard to not beat up on myself.  I don’t know where else to put the blame, the anger, the sadness that this is what my life has become – it’s solely my fault.  I am to blame, and it’s hard to not be mad and disappointed at me.

 

But somehow I thank God for that.  I thank God that as I go through this process of medications and walking and dietary changes, I know that I got myself into this mess and I can get myself out of it.  I know that I have the power to make poor choices and I have the power to make good choices.  I know that God is there with me through it all – disappointed in my choices but never in me – and will give me what I need when I need it.  I just have to listen to God’s still, small voice – or the really loud one that I definitely hear!  It’s not easy to make lifestyle changes…nor is it easy to make internal dialogue changes…but it can be done with time, patience, and persistence.

And grace – lots of grace.

much love. sheth. 

Truth: Grackles.

I stepped out into the quiet of the early morning, the sun hidden behind a dense fog that had settled low and covered the tops of the buildings around me.  The temperature was cool – but not too cool – just right for a peaceful walk through the University of Texas’ campus on that Sunday morning.  And, within three seconds, that peace was immediately shattered by the cries of the grackles in the oak tree that stretched out above me.

These birds are loud and annoying, they congregate in large flocks, and they poop so much!  Dubbed the ‘unofficial bird’ of Austin, they even have their own Yelp reviews (“…grackles suck and they’re a bunch of noisy, messy bullies” or “great in theory, but in practice…are more problematic that other trash birds”).  People either think they’re fun and adorable in their own way, or people want them eliminated from the face of the earth.  I fall into the latter group and think the world would be better without these loud and annoying flocks.

Photo: Brad Lewis/Audubon Photography Awards https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/great-tailed-grackle#photo1

I walked under that broad-branched oak tree that morning, drips landing on my shirt and, as I wondered whether it was rain or bird poop, I longed for the small, quiet birds: hummingbirds, robins, chickadees, finches, sparrows.  Those birds that sing beautiful songs, or quiet songs, or that don’t sing at all but eat the annoying mosquitoes and gnats.  Those birds that build amazing nests and show off their fantastic plumage and break the monotony of the landscape.  I prefer those birds that I enjoy most and bring me happiness.

As I went about my walk that morning with the grackles shattering the peace and quiet I had hoped for, my mind drifted to that passage in Matthew 10, “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.  And even the hairs on your head are all counted.  So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows” (v 29-31, NRSV).

With a cry from the grackle above me (seriously – they make so much noise), I somehow hoped that Jesus intentionally chose to use a sparrow in this allegory for a reason.  I hoped that Jesus was saying “God loves the quiet, peaceful, beautiful and beautifully-singing birds.”  I also hoped that, in Jesus supposedly saying this, he was also saying, “God doesn’t love the loud, the brash, the bully, the annoying – like the grackle.  God actually forgets about them!”  Honestly, I’d rest peacefully knowing that my time in eternity would be spent with the sparrows that I enjoy, and not with the grackles in my life – both bird and human.

The loud grackles who shout their deceptive and misinformed opinions from the branches.
The annoying grackles who ruin the good things in life (and poop on everything…metaphorically).
The grackles who flock together – never welcoming outsiders – because it’s safer and easier.
The grackles that bully others and steal from the vulnerable.

As much as I wish that Jesus would say the things that would make me comfortable, he doesn’t.  Because God values both the sparrows and the grackles (and the peacocks and the raptors and the ostriches…and…and…) equally.  While I often hope that God would look on with contempt at the people who annoy me, or are rude to me, or seem to ruin all the good things in life, I know better.  I know that God looks on…and loves…and cares for them just as much as God looks on, loves, and cares for me. 

For God, the sparrows and the grackles are the same – both beloved creations, both tended with grace, mercy, and love, both adored and sought after.  And that’s good news, because honestly, we are each a grackle to someone’s sparrow!  There will always be grackles in our lives: people we don’t like…people we find messy…people we disagree with…but God loves us all.  And we should do our best to do the same.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Not Advocating.

Earlier this week, Chelsea May and I waited patiently in a building’s lobby as a morning game show played on the TV; we were there for an introduction and potential interview at a small, rural hospital for her future work as a chaplain.  Neither one of us were quite sure what to expect, but she hoped to have some general questions answered and perhaps we’d receive a bit of hope that this location could hold a potential position in her future.  She had been my cheerleader in other things that weekend, but this was my time to stand with her and cheer her on as she explored her calling.

With substantial coffee breath, the man we were to meet with arrived and apologized for his tardiness, then introduced himself to us, “I’m _____.  You must be…Sheth?”  Then, turning to Chelsea May, “And you must be [mumbled/jumbled name]?”  She corrected him, “I’m Chelsea May.  It’s nice to meet you.”  Before she could get that little line out, though, this man had turned to face me and began the conversation: “So you all are hoping to volunteer here as a couple when you move to town?”

Obviously there was a communication breakdown somewhere.  I looked at Chelsea May and she clearly said that she was hoping to do a CPE residency in the nearby large city and she was looking to do her clinical experience remotely, either at this particular hospital or at one nearby.  She wanted to know how she could do this residency without having to drive long distances every day, a valid question with a (hopefully) simple answer.

I’ve heard about women being ignored in conversations.  I’ve heard about women being treated as ‘less than’.  I’ve heard about men ‘keeping women in their place’.  I’ve heard about blatant misogyny but had never seen it in action…

Within the first five minutes I felt a horrible pain in my soul as Chelsea May was ignored again, and again, and again as this man conversed with me – not her.  He remembered and used my name – not hers.  He asked me questions about her and wanted me to speak for her.  He acknowledged that she was present, but not-so-subtly indicated that she should remain silent.  He inferred that she was my partner, that she would follow my ministry, that she would do and say what I would tell her to do and say.  His ignorance said that she shouldn’t/couldn’t work and indicated where he thought her place should be: at home making babies.

I was stunned as the minutes ticked by and this man talked with me about chaplaincy, a vocation that was definitely not mine but is hers – the woman who was walking with us.  She is the one called to this ministry.  She is the one who wants to work in hospitals.  She is the one who wants to care for the sick and walk them to health or to death.  She is the one who wants to care for people and their stories.  This was supposed to be for her and her calling, not me.

 

 

We endured the conversation through the hospital and steered it to an end because we had to catch a flight.  As the conversation closed, he told me he looked forward to talking with me in the future and was glad to meet me; he barely acknowledged Chelsea May and offered her a cursory handshake.  She and I exited the building and I immediately apologized for I-don’t-know-what…

…for wasting her time…
…for this man treating her as less-than…
…for not uplifting her vocation…
…for this man being a jackass…
…for all men who have treated her in this same manner…
…to all women who have had to experience this attitude and treatment day after day after day.

I apologized for not saying something more direct at the beginning
for not standing up for her and her right to be there
for her and her right to be in ministry
for her and her right to be a chaplain
for her and her right to be an equal.

Chelsea May, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that this man assumed you would be who you are not and denied who you truly are.  I’m sorry that this man ignored you and deferred to me.  I’m sorry that this man refused your presence, your call, your vocation.  I’m sorry that this man was the epitome of a hypocritical Christian, who “acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle.”[1]

I’m sorry that this wasn’t the first time you’ve experienced this, but is just one of many moments that you’ll undoubtedly forget because it’s such a frequent occurrence.  I’m sorry that men have treated you this way in the past and that you have had to struggle and work and push so much harder than I ever imagined just to have your voice heard.  I’m sorry that we are not – and probably never will be – treated as equals.  I’m sorry that this happens again, and again, and again.

I’m sorry that I didn’t say something at the outset when we both recognized that this man viewed women as submissive beings for men’s enjoyment.  I’m sorry that I didn’t correct him and his thinking…I’m sorry that I didn’t steer the conversation to you… I’m sorry that I didn’t make room for you to stand up for yourself.  I’m sorry that I didn’t end the conversation but instead played the game to protect some future interest, when the higher priority should have been to protect you and your interests.  I’m sorry that I failed you in that moment.

Chelsea May, I hope that I will be better and do better.  I pray that I will heed the Sprit’s voice calling me to advocate for you – and all women – in all situations.  I pray that I will rely on God to empower me to use my influence and privilege for the benefit of others and not myself.  I pray that I will be a true partner with you – lifting up and encouraging you equally in all things in all moments.  I pray that you can live out your calling to serve God in chaplaincy and can face these misogynistic attitudes with strength, boldness, and resilience.  And may we both call out the jackasses when we see them.

much love. sheth.

 

[1] Brennan Manning

Truth: Heart.

Nearly two weeks ago I passed the Bible Content Exam – a feat that has taken me four times to complete.  As I made my way to the classroom’s door that morning, my school’s dean of students told me I could celebrate by eating some free breakfast tacos.  Passing a hard exam and getting free tacos is usually a joyous occasion, but I, instead, broke down crying, sputtering out, “I can’t eat anything!”

“Stress has your stomach upset?  That’s understa-“

“No (sniff) I can’t eat because I’m fasting because I have a (inhale) stress test today because my heart has been hurting (wipe nose on sleeve) and I’m terrified that I’m going to die.”

I’ve been having some chest pain for over a year – lately it feels like someone has their thumb against my chest all the time, but for the past few years there’s been other weird feelings in my heart.  Practically speaking, I have avoided the doctor because paying for deductibles, co-pays, and medication as well as finding time to make an appointment is all overwhelming.  But emotionally, being scared to know the reality of what may be wrong with my heart has kept me from going to a doctor (ignorance is bliss, after all); but not going to a doctor has exacerbated my fears and potential health issues.  It’s a terrible cycle and place in life, but it’s my life.

As I unloaded my ever-so-brief medical history on her, I could tell it was not what she was expecting in that moment – she has been with me in all my previous attempts at this bible exam and she was hoping for more…joy…because I had finally passed.  This health exam news was new territory for both of us and she did her best to pour on pastoral care mixed with an overabundance of re-framing of the situation.  She suggested I look at some pictures of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and meditate on the humanity of Jesus’ heart.

This suggestion has been on my mind these past two weeks as my heart continues to ache and test results show ‘abnormalities’, forcing me to even more tests and unexpected unknowns.  But it’s made me ponder about the humanity and physical body of Christ.  I wonder if Christ ever felt weak as he trudged up a mountain to get away from the crowds…did his heart pound in his chest as he weaved through the brush?  I wonder if his chest felt like a thousand elephants sat on it as he prayed in the garden, knowing what would happen in the coming hours…did he have trouble catching his breath as he knelt on that rocky ground?  Did the stress and pain of his work ever affect his physical body?

The mystery of Jesus’ heart is just as mysterious as mine, but perhaps the mystery is where I can find my rest in these uncertain moments.  I don’t – and won’t – know the answers to these questions about Christ, nor about my heart, for some time.  Answers to tough questions require a bit of time, a bit of knowledge, and a bit of trust: trust that answers will come…trust that I’ll know what I need to know…trust that God, indeed, is in control.  I find it assuring that my God might have experienced something I am experiencing and that we have something in common…something we can talk about…something we can complain about.

There are some things I know are coming next for me: more tests, more doctor’s appointments, more leafy green salads.  And there are still a lot of unknowns, and I will work to rest in those unknowns.  And I’ll hope to find comfort that God had a body like mine, and perhaps it, too, had some issues like mine.

much love. sheth.

Truth: Man.

There was a question posed on Reddit this past Sunday: “Men of Reddit, what’s a thing that can be scary about being a man?”  I thought it was an intriguing question, and the answers that were given didn’t entirely shock me:

  • It is terrifying how lonely middle age is…
  • People expect you to be ‘okay’ in obviously dangerous situations…
  • Expected to make the first move…
  • She (my ex) spread rumours that I was abusive and violent…
  • Being told to ‘man up’ when you’re having a terrible day…
  • You could be the most depressed person on the planet and no one would give a shit…
  • I don’t want to be seen as a thread by people I would never hurt…
  • People don’t believe when we express sexual assault or abuse…
  • The sheer expectation that we can shoulder everyone’s stress…
  • The loneliness of it…[1]

Yes, as a man I’m comfortable walking down the street.
Yes, as a man I’m comfortable on payday.
Yes, as a man I’m comfortable leaving my drink at the bar.
Yes, as a man I’m comfortable accepting a first call to a pulpit.
I’m comfortable when these things happen because, as a man, life is sometimes easier.[2]  But…

If I’m honest, I’d have to admit that this Reddit thread’s answers and the stories surrounding them are not just heartbreaking…they are my answers and my stories as well, landing terribly close to home.  It’s scary as hell to be a man.

It’s scary, not just because of these things, but because there’s a lot riding on maintaining my manliness.  I must protect.  I must fight.  I must conquer.  I must be the god that is portrayed and passed down because there’s an “invisible male chorus of all the other guys who hiss or cheer as he attempts to approximate the masculine ideal…the chorus is made up of all the guy’s comrades and rivals, all his buddies and bosses, his male ancestors and his male cultural heroes, his models of masculinity…”[3]   I must maintain this idea of ‘man’ and ‘manliness’ because I dare not face the scrutiny of that chorus of ancient voices.

It’s scary because I’m supposed to be an autonomous machine – no feelings, no emotions, no tears (crying is a sign of weakness!) – the world depends on me sucking it up and dealing with it.  I try to talk to women about how weird it is for a man to cry and sometimes I feel like I’m speaking a foreign language to her.  It’s utterly unexpected when a man cries, when a man expresses his heart, when a man exposes his most inner heart.  It’s scary that men don’t have more opportunities to express themselves, and it’s scary that it’s expectedly-unavoidable when men are crushed by the burdens of un-expression.

It’s scary because as much as I’d like to, there’s not a damn thing I can do about this at all.  I don’t want to be emotionally distant.  I don’t want to ‘man up and deal’.  I don’t want to carry burdens because it’s expected of me.  I want to talk, express, cry, be free – but until the world allows me space to do so, I can’t do it.  Until the world admits that my world is scary, I will continue to bow under this weight.  It’s scary because men can’t admit that their world is scary.

Friends, talk with the men in your lives.  Help them to have expression.  Help to carry their burdens – and try to ease their burden.  Help them to overcome those ancient voices of doubt, fear, distrust, and stability.  Help the men in your lives to have friends – real, honest-to-God friends – who talk, share, cry, laugh, and be vulnerable with one another.  Help the men in your lives to understand that they don’t have to do it all…they don’t have to be it all…that they’re not alone.

May God give us vision to see the suffering of the strong.  May God give us hearts to connect to the pain of the powerful.  May God give us the ability to realize that we needn’t be strong nor powerful, but honest and real.  And when we are open and exposed with one another, may we be caring and grateful, offering peace.

much love. sheth.

 

[1] “Men of Reddit, What’s A Thing That Can Be Scary About Being A Man?” Reddit.com; Accessed 12/15/2019. https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/eaymhi/men_of_reddit_whats_a_thing_that_can_be_scary/

[2] I must say that I’m not comfortable with the idea that, because I’m a man, these things are inherently easier – I’m working for and promoting gender equality so it’s all uniformly easier.

[3] Philip L. Culbertson, Counseling Men (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994), 25.

Truth: Remember?

 

“Remember your baptism!”
said the old man with
arthritic hands, bellowing
from the pulpit.

“Remember…”
I sat in the pew, head skyward,
picking at the curled pages
of the bible.

“Remember your baptism!”
I stared at the dulled (muted)
stained glass Jesus
staring back at me.

“Remember…”
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I heard it last week
and the week before.

I sit in silence as he
drones on and on
and on, about what
I can’t remember.

I stand to leave; only
Mrs. Meyers notices.
She glares at me, but next week
she won’t remember.

Outside, the clouds are looming,
grey/black/purple
covering the sky.
They remember.

I get wet, the cold rain seeping
through my clothes, drenching,
soaking, saturating to the bone.
And I…
I remember.

 

much love. sheth.

Truth: Choices

Not too long ago my girlfriend and I were making our way to the store and I posed this question: “If you could pick three people from our graduating class to work in a church you attended, who would you pick, and what positions would they fill?”  Never turning down a hypothetical question, she pondered briefly and then quickly rattled off the three names and their positions…then quickly threw in an, “Ooh, wait!  __________ would be great in that position!  And…can I have four choices?”

We went back and forth, thinking of positions in the church and who would be good for them and how we would definitely want this person or that person.  We couldn’t be confined to the parameters of my question and we both quickly came to the consensus that we’d need a very large budget for our staffing because we’d like to have so many of our classmates working in churches we’d attend.

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of my time admiring my classmates and watching them gives me hope for the future, while simultaneously making me jealous of those lucky congregations who get to receive these new chaplains and pastors.  If my classmates are any indication of the future of the Church, I’d say it’s in good hands.

The Church has been in decline in the United States for a while and there’s been a cry for new leadership with fresh ideas to rescue the sinking ship.  I often wonder why these cries continue to come, year after year, because there has been a continual output of new leadership and fresh ideas from seminaries and divinity schools for decades.  I can’t help but wonder who’s at fault.  Have these new and creative voices been stifled?  Have these ideas been put aside for safety and security?  Has the Church rejected change simply for security despite declining numbers?  Will the Church ever come to a realization that there needs to be risk…there needs to be faith…there needs to be failure for growth and success?

As I’ve been watching and listening to my classmates talk about their hopes for the Church and their future communities, I pray to God that they don’t put it all aside for their own security.  I pray that these future chaplains and pastors don’t ‘fall into line’ simply to maintain their jobs.  And I desperately pray that the churches that call these women and men don’t stifle their creativity, their new ideas, or their plans for revitalization.

My task to the Church is this: be willing to take risks with your new leaders.  Call to your leadership positions people with big ideas, challenging ideas, wild-out-of-the-norm ideas.  Call to your leadership positions people who don’t fit the mold, people who you’ve overlooked for so long, people you know will challenge you.  And be willing to step into the discomfort of the unknown with your pastors and chaplains – their ideas may be exactly what your community needs in this moment!

My task to those moving into church and chaplaincy is this: be willing to take risks.  Don’t deny who you are for a paycheck.  Don’t let your ideas, your creativity, your dreams for the Church be stifled by old ideas and ancient ways.  Be ready to say ‘yes’ to things you’d never dreamed of and be willing to fail in big ways.  Meet with other pastors and dream, plot, and scheme together.  Step out of the well-trod pathways and look for other paths, easier – or harder – paths than the one you’re on.  And be willing to quit if you need to…be willing to recognize when you’ve hit a wall and move on.

The future can be bright for the Church if the Church is willing.  May God grant us all an abundance of hope and vision for the future, and may we all have an excess of grace and encouragement for one another.  The change is here…are we willing to take it?

much love. sheth.

Close


He spoke of silently weeping
after he had climbed to the top of Mount Sinai
and witnessed the rising of the sun
quickly light up the sky
in a splash of vermilion.

He told tales of slowly wading
into the muddy, reedy waters of the Jordan
standing as He did and baptized as He was
in those hallowed waters,
though, this time for the experience.

He recalled solemnly watching
as bodies moved to and from the Western Wall,
those silent – and loud – pray-ers who offered up
their petitions to God, who
no doubt listened intently.


Once, I visited my grandmother
after a long absence, and
as we silently sat in her room,
I held her hand.

I can confidently say, this:


I was closer to God.

Truth: Opposition

Recently I went before my presbytery to move forward in my ordination process and had to face a variety of questions about myself and my calling asked by church pastors and elders.  I stood before that fine group of people with my soul bare and naked and I attempted to answer their questions as best I could.  I managed to give an answer to every question, but there is one question I’m still wrestling with: “Tell us about the last time you interacted with – had a conversation with – a non-believer.”

I looked down at the ground, shuffled my feet, and tried to figure out when that last time was… when did I last interact with a non-believer?  Outside of the cashiers and other service-people I had given my money to, I couldn’t think of an honest and real interaction I’ve had recently.

My realization in that moment wasn’t a shock to me because I live in an insular community: I live with, eat with, study with, and recreate with my seminary classmates.  I haven’t ventured out to make friends outside this place because I’ve never before experienced a place where I can so freely ask questions about faith, about God, about church, and not have to worry about my questions.  While I haven’t recently had a conversation with a non-believer, I’ve realized that it’s been a very healthy few years of solely-Christian based conversations.

Seminary has been a place for me to wonder, to grow, to mull…a place where I have been able to get a better understanding of my beliefs, my faith, and my church.  Seminary has been a place where I have been able to discern, discuss, and debate…all while feeling free of judgement, ridicule, and persecution.  I have been able to hone my thoughts, understand who I am, and who I am in relation to God.

But realizing that it’s been nearly three years since I’ve last had a “real world” conversation, I know that I need to step out beyond these grounds and get back into those spaces.  Not because the world needs me, but because I need it.  I need those discussions, those push-backs, those disagreements.  I need opposition to help me grow.

May we find time to sit and talk with people who don’t share our same beliefs. May we make room in our lives for different ideas…opinions…and thoughts.
May we welcome disagreements and respond in compassion and love.

much love. sheth.