“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

Reconnection

As we sink deeper into our June theme of RECONNECTION, we are excited to share the great privilege we have at Augsburg University to stay connected with incredible people like Chris Stedman (he/him/his). Chris is a 2008 graduate from Augsburg and is now a writer, activist, and professor who currently teaches in the Department of Religion and Philosophy at Augsburg University in Minneapolis, MN. 

He is also the creator, writer, and host of Unread, named one of the best podcasts of 2021 by the Guardian, Vulture, HuffPost, Mashable, and the CBC. Additionally, Chris is the author of IRL (2020) and Faitheist (2012) and has written popular essays for outlets including the Atlantic, Pitchfork, BuzzFeed, VICE, and the Washington Post. Previously the founding director of the Yale Humanist Community, he also served as a humanist chaplain at Harvard University and a trainer and content developer for Interfaith Youth Core, he has most recently served as an Interfaith Fellow with the Interfaith at Augsburg ����Գٱ��.��

In Chris’ most recent book, “IRL: Finding Realness, Meaning, and Belonging in Our Digital Lives” – which will be coming out in a this August – we are invited to get curious about what it means to have connected lives both in real time and online. For so long, online sharing was seen as shallow and disconnected from truth and honesty. Chris invites readers into the possibility that we can find connection in those spaces and that through that experience we might experience fuller reconnection in our real lives. 

We caught up with Chris and asked him a few questions about his book and the concept of reconnection. Thanks so much Chris for sharing your wisdom and insight.

Interview with Chris

WHAT DO THE IDEAS CONNECTION & RECONNECTION MEAN TO YOU? 

We’ve spent the last few years navigating what has been, for most of us, an entirely unfamiliar landscape when it comes to connection, disconnection, and reconnection. 

In the early days of the pandemic, for example, I was working from home and living alone, so for the first time in my life all of my interactions were digitally mediated. Though I’m probably more online than the average person, it’s impossible to overstate what an immense shift this was. It gave me more of an appreciation for the internet’s ability to connect us in unprecedented ways, but also of its limitations, and our need to not only connect but also disconnect.

Even before the pandemic arrived, we lived in an age of constant connection, where we spend more and more time on digital platforms designed to monopolize our attention. Because of this, we have to be intentional about taking a step back from them sometimes—not because life online is inherently fake or inherently harmful, as some argue, but because we need the kind of perspective we can only get when we’re alone.

When I was growing up, I did not have regular internet access. I would only ever go online for a moment at school, or when I’d bike to the local library. Even into adulthood, my time online was much more of a set-apart activity. I didn’t have a laptop until I was out of college, or a smartphone until after grad school, when I was in my first job. Before I had a smartphone, disconnection was my norm. I spent a lot of time alone, with my own thoughts, bored. The act of connecting required intention and effort. That connection was a lifeline sometimes; the internet was where I first came out to anyone as queer, for example. But I also needed those moments of disconnection and boredom to let my mind wander and imagine. Now, connection—at least a certain kind—is constantly at my fingertips. Which means I have to make an effort to get the disconnection I need. In short, connection has become easier to find, and disconnection more important to seek out.

This doesn’t mean, of course, that disconnection is better than connection. The Catholic thinker Thomas Merton offers a great example. Though he once thought he would live as a religious hermit, he instead realized that for him the whole point of going on retreat was to give him the perspective he needed in order to re-enter the world. Similarly, I once took a three month social media sabbatical. At one point in my break, the stresses of online life began to fade away and I found myself feeling so much more at ease than usual, which would seem to confirm the negative perspectives many people offer on how the internet connects us. But those stresses faded away because I was on a retreat, disconnected from the struggles of the world. We need those moments to clear our head, to take time to disconnect from the world and connect with ourselves and whatever our sense of spirituality might be. Fortunately, the retreat gave me just the perspective I needed to reconnect and re-engage with a world that is now more connected than ever.

WHILE YOU DO NOT IDENTIFY AS CHRISTIAN, YOU ARE A RELIGION PROFESSOR AT A LUTHERAN SCHOOL; WE’RE CURIOUS WHAT YOU MEAN WHEN YOU SAY YOU WERE SHAPED BY LUTHERAN VALUES. TELL US MORE ABOUT WHAT THAT MEANS FOR YOU.

I consider myself “Lutheran shaped,” in a very literal sense—I spent many of my formative years in Lutheran institutions, including when I was studying religion as an undergraduate student at Augsburg. Though I don’t identify as Lutheran, the Lutheran tradition definitely influences the kinds of questions I ask and how I ask them. Fortunately, I believe that all of us, no matter how we identify religiously or not, can benefit from learning from and about other traditions, just as I have from Lutheranism.

I sometimes joke that I’m a “Bonhoeffer atheist,” though I suppose it’s really not a joke. What I mean by that is this: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran theologian who has influenced a lot of how I see the world, argued that Christians have a responsibility to live as if there is no God. In other words, he thought that Christians shouldn’t expect God to intervene in the face of injustice for them. Rather, they should act on God’s behalf in the world as justice agents. 

I may not believe in a higher power, but I do believe in the importance of living in the as if way Bonhoeffer argued for. I believe in the importance of discerning what our responsibility is to the world around us instead, and acting on that responsibility. This work inevitably calls us into conversation and collaboration with one another; it means we must cooperate across lines of religious difference for justice. Which is why so much of my writing over the years has been about the value of working shoulder to shoulder with Christians and others for the common good.

The class I now teach at Augsburg is on vocation—a concept with deep roots in the Lutheran tradition, but that has resonances in all traditions and among secular humanists like me, too. We often talk about vocation as a kind of intersection, between your particular passions and values and the needs of the world around you. Lutheran ideas and institutions have played a large role in helping me find my own intersection.

YOUR MOST RECENT BOOK, “IRL: FINDING REALNESS, MEANING, AND BELONGING IN OUR DIGITAL LIVES” WAS RELEASED IN 2020. TELL US WHY THIS STORY IS IMPORTANT FOR OUR LIVES NOW.

I had no idea while writing IRL just how relevant it would come to feel by the time it came out. I finished it in December 2019, just months before the pandemic hit the United States and forced many of us to move a great deal of our lives to digital space. But even before the pandemic, more and more of us were using the internet to connect with the world around us, to narrate our lives, and to find a sense of meaning and community. I wanted to understand how using this new tool for these age-old human projects—projects religious traditions concern themselves with—was impacting us. 

I think many of our online lives aren’t particularly considered ones, though it’s often not our fault; the platforms we use are actually designed to move us in more mindless directions, because mindless use keeps us clicking and scrolling. Which is why it’s all the more important to think about how we’re living in digital space. My hope in writing IRL was that it could be a tool for people who wish to do so.

The phrase “in real life”—introduced as a way of distinguishing the activity of going online from the project of living life—once made sense. But for many of us, it no longer does. Going online is no longer just an activity. The internet is a space where many of us do things that are centrally connected to how we understand ourselves and locate a sense of meaning and belonging. Where we live our lives. We should treat it as if it is as real as any other part of our lives, bringing the same Bonhoeffer-style discernment to how we show up there that we bring to our offline activities.

THE VELVETEEN RABBIT QUOTE IS A THEME IN YOUR BOOK (WE LOVE IT!). CAN YOU TELL US WHAT THIS MEANS TO YOU?

The Velveteen Rabbit was my favorite story as a child. It’s the tale of a rabbit who wants more than anything to become “real.” As a child I took a very literal interpretation of it—the central character wants to go from toy rabbit to living, breathing rabbit. But as an adult I returned to the story and discovered it wasn’t as straightforward as I once thought. It actually raises all kinds of questions about what “real” means in the first place. Which made it feel like the perfect entry point for IRL, a book that asks what it means to be “real” in a time when so much of life happens online, a space we’ve long cast as less-real or even fake. 

Part of that feeling about digital life comes, I think, from the pressure many of us feel online to not let our messy seams show. But as the Velveteen Rabbit reminds us, our rough edges are actually a big part of what makes us who we are—and sharing them with trusted others is part of how we become known and loved.

THERE IS SO MUCH PARADOX IN YOUR WRITING, AT LEAST THE INVITATION TO YOUR READERS THAT THERE IS LOVE AND HURT ONLINE, THAT WE HAVE ONLINE AND OFFLINE LIVES, OR WE CAN CHOOSE VULNERABILITY IN A DIGITAL SPACE THAT SEEMS UNKNOWN. CAN YOU SAY MORE ABOUT YOUR THEOLOGICAL UNDERSTANDING OF PARADOX?

It’s in the messy, contradictory, in-between spaces that we often learn the most about ourselves and others. For example, we are in the middle of a massive cultural shift right now, from a pre-digital age to a digital one, and it’s changing our understanding of who we are and what it means to connect and disconnect. These periods of immense cultural change can be profoundly difficult, but they’re also moments where we’re forced to ask ourselves what truly matters to us. 

I write near the end of IRL about haloclines, places in the ocean where saltwater and freshwater meet. They’re unlike anywhere else on earth; for example, there are certain species that only live in haloclines. In some ways, the internet is like a halocline—it’s a transitional space, a place where the online and offline meet, a place that sits between what we’ve known and what we’ve yet to discover, a place where paradox flourishes. This transitional moment, as we move from pre-digital living to a life that is lived both digitally and offline, is like that, too. Which may make it the perfect time and space to ask ourselves important questions about who we are and what matters to us.

Paradox, contradiction—these are the places I run to when I discover them in myself and in the world around me. Because they’re the places that have consistently challenged and taught me the most.

WHAT ADVICE DO YOU HAVE FOR HIGH SCHOOL AND COLLEGE AGE YOUTH REGARDING THE POSSIBILITIES FOR FINDING REALNESS, MEANING, AND BELONGING IN OUR DIGITAL LIVES?

Intention is everything. There was a very useful longitudinal study I came across while writing IRL that found two people could spend the same amount of time on the internet and have radically different experiences, which contradicts the common line of thinking that spending more time online will inevitably make us feel less happy, less like ourselves. In the study, it all came down to how intentional the user was being about their digital habits. People who identified the needs they were trying to meet by going online were better able to then meet those needs, instead of feeling sucked into algorithms that end up making them feel they’re just wasting time. Of course, as long as our digital platforms are run by for-profit corporations, we will be swimming upstream in this respect. But we can still swim.

Our habits make us who we are. We are what we do day in and day out. At their best, religious traditions help us intentionally re-orient ourselves to our values by giving us tools—rituals, communities, texts, ideas—that help us reconnect with ourselves and the world around us. Through these habits, we remind ourselves who we are and who we are trying to be, which helps us live those things out. Our online habits are no exception to this. But we need to bring the same intention to our digital rituals that religious traditions often offer us.

These days, when I’m online, I try to ask myself the same kinds of questions my religion professors asked me when I was an undergraduate student at Augsburg: why am I interested in this? What does this mean to me? What am I hoping to get from this? What values are at play here, and do they align with my own? These are the kinds of questions that can help us connect and reconnect with a better understanding of who we are, and from that understanding develop meaningful ways of connecting with the world around us, too.

The CCV and AYTI staff encourage you to find ways for RECONNECTION in the month of June! 

The post Interview with Adjunct Religion Instructor and Author: Chris Stedman appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

The ELCA’s 2019 social statement, Faith, Sexism, and Justice: A Call to Action provides a powerful framework for gender justice work in the church. “Because we rely on God as a God of promise, this church speaks about sexism and the harm it causes for all people,” says the statement in its introduction. “Those who support gender justice are intent on righting gender-based wrongs that prevent the abundant and flourishing life God intends.”

This historic document draws on the richness of the Lutheran theological tradition. Four primary themes are woven throughout the statement. God desires abundant life for all. Sin subverts human flourishing in many ways—especially the sins of sexism and patriarchy. The Christian tradition holds challenges and resources for resisting sexism. And the ELCA calls for justice and action to foster flourishing in the church and in society.

You can read the full statement here.

Now a new ELCA study guide makes the 80-page document more accessible for individuals, congregations, students, organizations, and faith leaders as they pursue equity for women and girls. It features six flexible sessions that can be customized for in-person gatherings, virtual discussions, or interactive virtual meetings. Each session incorporates hymns, prayers, videos, engaging activities, and invitations to live out the social statement’s call to gender justice in the world.

You can access the study guide for Faith, Sexism, and Justice in the button below.

Sessions include:

• All Are Called to Lives of Justice and Abundance
• Patriarchy and Sexism Cause Injustice for Everyone
• Language and Images for God Matter
• Creation Is Diverse, as Is the Body of Christ
• Lutheran Insights Promote Gender Justice
• God Calls Us to Action in Community

Each session is available as a PDF that can be shared remotely or projected in a classroom or meeting room. Groups can select the specific topics they are most interested in and then choose from 45, 60 or 90-minute session formats.

In the basic 45-mintue format, participants watch and discuss a video that describes the theme of that session and they respond to important quotes from the social statement. In addition, each session has an activity that can be engaged virtually, via Zoom, or in person. Some of the in-person activities involve exploring artistic images of God and taking a quiz about sex and gender equity. The study guide can also be used by high school students, especially if they are working with a leader that they trust. If you only have time to offer two sessions, engage session one and then one additional session.

As a member of the Faith, Sexism, and Justice task force and writing team, I’m proud of this groundbreaking document, with its strong biblical and theological grounding and its compelling vision of greater justice for church and society. As Lutherans, we are called to serve the neighbor, affirm the diversity of God’s creation, and work for gender justice for all people. I invite you to explore this wonderful new resource that can empower you and your community to think more deeply about how to resist the sins of patriarchy and sexism and to work towards the more just and flourishing community that God intends.

The post Faith, Sexism, and Justice: A Call to Action appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

Where has the year 2021 gone? It should not be looked back as simply done in the blink of the eye, especially since so much has been built. In this space of walking along congregations, our work has been able to see emotion, evolution and growth. I would say the same to my time as the Communications Coordinator for the Riverside Innovation Hub. For the past 12 months, I have strived to share the stories that have been written and told in the first track of this work of building a public church with Minneapolis congregations.

When I started with this work, I was given resources to help me understand this work. It was and is a privilege to learn and envelop the mission of an organization. I knew from the time I applied for this position that the work done here is not work I have heard nor seen before. Had you? The work here of bridging congregations with a facilitator to the bridge church and community should not be a new concept. A public church is indeed what churches ought to strive for. Without community building and relationships, where can the church grow and take hold? That is what I ask of you to consider after this year of transition. 

For those who might have finished their time walking with the Hub to those who are just beginning to learn the steps in which we encourage to build connections in your neighborhoods. I encourage you to take the resources given to your or those that you seek out and actually take a step. One step is all it takes to walk a mile, to meet someone halfway or making that change you have longed for. Everyone strives for resolutions at this time of the year, when one chapter seems to be ending and the next is just beginning. I have this hope as well, that I might be able to leave behind parts of 2021 that I don’t want to take with me, but truly without my experiences how would I know what I may need coming forth? 

Through my time on the team, I have grown exponentially. My favorite experiences were those where I was able to interact with others though a majority may have been with a screen between our faces, I was thankful to hear others as they shared their thoughts and learnings. I have been thankful for the trust of creativity and past learnings that I have been able to incorporate whether that be in the media or social sense. 

My experience with other organizations with emphasis on engagement of the whole neighborhood and understanding where each of our talents and loves can shine in a group setting. Projects may seem daunting at times, but truly, with a team such as this that supports time, reflection and meaningful experiences, work is no longer a 9 to 5 commitment. Yes, some hours are required out of those times and long nights and mornings are sometimes to be expected but it’s the people that make our work, work. Without a devoted team of lay folk that make up these congregational partners, this experiment to establish the public church would not have been possible. 

Thank you to our community members that are willing to take that first step with us. We guarantee, change is and will continue to come and we hope you consider us to accompany you through the process. That is what this year has taught, that each year, month and day is a process. Each project, first step, and action is only a part of the process. I wish for you to take patience, courage and action into this new year.

The post The Final Step: Reflections by Lara Moll appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

Hark! the herald angels sing,

“Glory to the newborn King:

peace on earth, and mercy mild,

God and sinners reconciled!”

Joyful, all ye nations, rise,

join the triumph of the skies;

with th’angelic hosts proclaim,

“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”

I experience many emotions throughout the Advent season: anticipation, inspiration, content, curiosity, joy, and awe. Growing up one of my fondest memories of this season was the variety of music. The proclamation that rings out when “Hark! The herald angels sing” is sung in a chorus of harmonious voices, with the piano, strings, and trumpets all playing along, bringing me back to a joyful memory that I can only feel in my body. I can feel it out to my fingertips and up through my center, the feeling of inspiration that something wonderful has happened. The music fills me down to my toes as I reach deep down into my diaphragm for a full breath to proclaim through song, “peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!”

I can’t help but be curious how the angels in the Gospel of Luke were feeling at the time of this proclamation. Did they feel it through their bodies, not just their head but their heart and their gut and all the way to their toes as their feet were planted on the ground the night the angels appeared to proclaim the good news? Hark! As the angels sing, may you feel it in your bones that a savior is born for all people!

Adrienne Kuchler Eldridge,’02

The post Advent Vespers: Adrienne Kuchler Eldridge,’02 appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

The angel Gabriel from heaven came, with wings as drifted snow, with eyes as flame: “All hail to thee, O lowly maiden Mary, most highly favored lady.” Gloria!

“For know a blessed mother thou shalt be, all generations laud and honor thee; thy son shall be Emmanuel, by seers foretold, most highly favored lady.” Gloria!

Text: Basque carol; para. Sabine Baring-Gould, 1834-1924

A rabbi friend told me that the Hebrew word for blessing and the Hebrew word for knee, share the same root-word. The rabbis, therefore, teach that God’s blessing is anything that brings you to your knees. Whether you drop to your knees in thanksgiving or find yourself crumbling to the ground in despair, God’s blessing is that God is with you.

A blessed mother thou shalt be… This is not a promise that all will be well for Mary… that life will no longer include suffering, that her heart will never again break, that she’s in the clear. A blessed mother she will be because God will be with her. Always. In moments of praise, in seasons of loss, in times of joy, and in her deepest grief. You know the rest of the story. She will feel all these things, deeply. This son of God will be nourished by her womb and given life through her body. This son of God will learn how to be human by watching her. And she will follow him as he journeys the path of this holy and heavy call. She will follow him, all the way to the cross.

Through it all, God’s blessing is God’s promise to be with her. To make sure Mary never forgets this, her son is named Emmanuel – God with us. God’s promise to Mary, is also God’s promise to you. And to me. And to your neighbor.

Emmanuel…God is with us. May you never forget this truth. May this truth remind you that wherever you go and whoever you encounter, you are in the midst of God’s sacred presence. May you live and love accordingly. Amen.

Kristina Frugé

The post Advent Vespers: Kristina Frugé appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

9 Because you have made the Lord your refuge,
   the Most High your dwelling-place,
10 no evil shall befall you,
   no scourge come near your tent.

11 For he will command his angels concerning you
   to guard you in all your ways.
12 On their hands they will bear you up,
   so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread on the lion and the adder,
   the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.

14 Those who love me, I will deliver;
   I will protect those who know my name.
15 When they call to me, I will answer them;
   I will be with them in trouble,
   I will rescue them and honour them.
16 With long life I will satisfy them,
   and show them my salvation.

If you camp a lot, then you know tent placement is incredibly important. A slope can cause the blood to rush to your head. A hill will send pools of water into your tent during a rainstorm. Dead branches above might come crashing down on you in a windstorm. Boulders uphill might let loose during the night. Your body is only as safe as your dwelling-place. 

Many sleep in tents across our country tonight who are not in safe dwelling-places. They are temporarily homeless or have chosen this tent as their home. They are not safe. There is a scourge that comes near. This scourge is wealth inequity, the opportunity gap, racism, unjust housing policies, and our inability to address the mental health crisis. Yet, even to these, God promises to “be with them in trouble”, “to rescue and honor them”, and to “satisfy them”. 

Oh, Lord. Send your angels to those with danger just outside their tents. Bear them up, and may we together tread on the lion and the adder of injustice that threatens them.

The post Advent Vespers: Jeremy Myers appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

I have been reflecting on the word “yes.” This word or similar affirmative phrase mark the cusp to new beginnings. Like Samuel’s “here I am”. How do young people become leaders? Some create opportunities for themselves. Others find themselves saying “yes”, “here I am,” and the journey thereafter unveils and develops their leadership.

“Yes” was the beginning to my involvement at Holy Trinity Lutheran Church (HTLC) when I only knew only about five people’s names and it was likely that less than five people knew mine. After a service, one of my pastors must have recognized I wasn’t just a 20-something passing through and asked if I would join other young adults in the Riverside Innovation Hub grant team. 

Yes, of course. I was there to root in community. Take my email, I am ready to participate. 

While I was new to HTLC, I was not new to being a young adult leader in the Lutheran church. The church has been the garden in which my leadership has been planted, cared for, and cultivated. The church has offered me many times over opportunities for leadership, often trusting me without the need to prove myself worthy. Over the years the church reshaped my understanding of a true leader. It is not someone at the helm hoarding power and responsibility after fighting long and hard for it. It is a someone actively empowering and developing those around them to be leaders, and generously so. 

I joined the HTLC Innovation Hub team in April 2020 over zoom. We virtually met and brainstormed ways to live out the public church model in unprecedented times. In retrospect, most of our leadership throughout the last year and a half of the Innovation Hub in our various projects began by saying “yes”, trusting the emergent, and showing up.  

Our last grant project was just that. The Longfellow Rising group asked if we would support them to bring a message of hope and healing through public art to the Longfellow community. The project fit our goals so we said yes and showed up for what emerged. 

Named ‘The Transition Stage’, local artist Angela Two Stars took the laments and hopes community members wrote and wove them into a cocoon, to be transformed into a butterfly. On behalf of the Innovation Hub team, I brought food and refreshments and dove in with the others. We tilled the hardened earth, spread compost, and spread wildflower seeds. We had conversations with people walking by as we invited them to participate. A year after the murder of George Floyd and the Uprisings the community needed a message of hope and transformation. The moments spent on that project were profoundly healing, collaborating side-by-side on something beautiful in a place that outsiders may deem broken. 

Joining HTLC’s Innovation Hub team led me to much of the side-by-side leadership I have had the opportunity to take part in over the last 20 months. All because a church leader offered me an opportunity, I said yes, and showed up. 

You may argue it’s more complicated than that, but maybe it isn’t. I pray we all keep opening opportunities for young adults to step into leadership, step back and support from the side. We are all better for it.

The post Reflections on the Word “Yes” appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

Ever had an argument in the car with your partner about the “right way” to get somewhere? My wife and I frequently have such “debates”, and it often boils down to this: she likes to plan how to get somewhere in advance, whereas I’m more of a “wing-it” guy. She likes to pre-navigate potential traffic snarls and find the most economical route to get somewhere, whereas I know where I need to go, have a vague idea of how to get there, and if there are any holdups along the way I’ll navigate my way around them based on what looks like the best option at the time. Needless to say, my wife and I often find driving together a frustrating experience.

This past year, working with the Riverside Innovation Hub has felt a lot like driving with my wife. When St Luke’s first started this journey and I was invited to be part of the team, I was excited about the idea of working to get more young people to come to church. Of course I wanted more young people coming to church; I wanted lots of people to come to church. However, I quickly began to realize that this was not the point. So I pushed back. If this is not about getting people into church, then what is it about? I remember regularly expressing a sense of frustration to our coach that I simply had no idea what we were trying to achieve. The “goal” was to find ways to connect with young adults in our community, but how to do that and what that might look like was opaque. “So what” and “What next” questions dominated my thinking. I found the process frustrating. I wanted a road map. I wanted a planned route from Point A to Point B. The trouble is, that’s not the way this works. You see, when you start asking “What is God up to in our community?” you’re heading into uncharted territory. 

For too long I’d been looking for God inside the church building, and many “solutions” for how to address the dearth of young adults in our churches often begin there. If only our services were more exciting, if only we had better programming and the like. Using such reasoning we also talk about how God is or is not working in our midst. More people in church equals God is working, and vice versa. But instead, we were told to reflect on Ezekiel’s vision of the river flowing from the temple, and imagine this flowing out into our community. I liked the image, but continued to push back. I made the point that if the river was flowing from the temple then surely this means the river is flowing out from our church building? Our coach patiently allowed me to navigate my way through this. 

When I joined this project I thought it was about connecting young adults to God in church. However, as we began to follow the river (both inside and outside of our community), I suddenly realized that it was about a different kind of connecting. In fact, it was me who was connecting with God as I began to realize my entire understanding of mission had been grounded in the notion that there was nothing of God going on outside “in the world.” Sitting inside a church building, I’d been staring at the walls wondering why more people weren’t inside with us, rather than going outside and asking them. The walls were preventing me from engaging with people. They were a physical barrier between our community and our neighbors. Whereas the veil separating us from God had been torn down in Christ, and in the years since then we had been physically and theologically putting it back up.

As we walked the three art forms, I became to see where God is at work outside the church. I should not have been surprised, because God is always at work everywhere! How do I know this? Because God is everywhere. There is no place where God is not:

“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” (Psalm 139:7-8).

Once I began to realize that church is not the Ground Zero, the modus operandi of God’s activity in any community, I began to realize that the roadmap of mission I had been using had been leading me away from young adults; leading me further inside the church building (where they are not), instead of outside and into our neighborhood (where they are).

As we continued with Interpretation and Discernment work, I sensed that not only I had changed, but the team had also had a transformation. Our focus had shifted. We had begun to dream and imagine how we might go and meet people, rather than sitting in church waiting for them to come to us. Jesus told us to “Go,” and we were going. We began to look at ways we were already connecting with our neighbors; the Montessori School in our church building was an obvious one, but also the green space out front. We learned that people were using the chairs we had placed out there, they were tying ribbons to the Peace Pole and using the food box. We decided to focus on that as space as a place where God was present; Holy ground where we could start wading into the river.

And so we began. It was the start of summer and one of our team suggested we might offer people free ice cream after church on Sunday. So we did. We named it Ice Cream Sunday. For three months we stood outside the church eating ice cream, and inviting our neighbors to join us. In doing so we met lots of people and got to know their stories. We got to tell them our stories, but we never used this as a recruitment tool; just a way of showing love to those around us, you know, doing the very thing Jesus told us to do (Matthew 2:39). And as we did this week after week, relationships began to form. Barriers came down. We began to wade into the river; first ankle deep, then knee deep and finally waist deep. Some people came back just to hang out with us; people who had never stepped inside our church building. And as we listened to their stories we realized that God was at work in their lives and in our community. In fact, God had always been working in our community, we’d just never taken the time to go outside and listen. But now we were outside, and listening, and starting to see the walls come down. We’d torn up the roadmap, and with the Spirit’s leading had started to “wing-it”…

The post From Frustration to Transformation: The Public Church Framework as a Process appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

Siri, a talented and emerging folk singer, spends significant time on the road playing music. In between tours, she works at the front desk at Bethlehem even though she is skeptical of institutional religion and questions the existence of God. 

About a year ago, Siri found herself in a cycle of despair. She was feeling adrift and unsure of where her community was. And she was feeling cynical, angry and overwhelmed about climate change. She could hear the earth moaning and see it crying out. One night, in response to her lament a friend kindly offered, “Would it help to do something about it?” 

Siri took the challenge to heart. She floated her idea of starting a community garden to me and some other folks at Bethlehem. Yes, yes, yes. We helped her flush out her vision and celebrated with her when she received a generous Foundation Grant. Then it was time to begin. 

At the Riverside Innovation Hub, our guiding text is from Ezekiel 47. In it, we are led away from the temple to deeper water. Along the riverbank there are lush trees with fruit for food and leaves for healing. Siri had a prophetic vision to grow a garden outside the walls of Bethlehem. Bethlehem, a large and resourced church, had not yet leveraged its voice and power to address climate change in real and meaningful ways. We recognized Siri’s passion and vision as beautiful, and we met her there, downriver, to put her plan to action. 

Planting a seed requires the audacity of hope. Tilling the soil quiets the mind, brings peace to the heart, and slows time just a bit. Weeding is a spiritual practice. Watching seed transform is a living metaphor. Fresh air shakes the dust from our souls. Billowing clouds invite us to look all the way up and remember that we are small.

Siri was ready to move from despair. Her leadership invited others to do the same. She built beds, planted seeds, watered them and tended to them. She showed up week in and week out and created a space outside the walls of Bethlehem for folks to gather. Sunday school kids came out into the sunshine to guess what sprouts would become. A neighborhood kid asked if he could help water the beds, another asked if he could have a cucumber. More neighbors, who previously did not engage started congregating when Siri and volunteers showed up to work. More congregation members lingered outside the church. 

Now, at the end of the summer, the garden has exceeded all of our expectations. It is bursting with life. The sun flowers tower over us. The pollinators bring life and vibrancy and splashes of color. We tended to the earth and it is showering us with bounty. The neighbor who was the most skeptical has thanked Siri for creating a space for folks to gather. Congregation members have thanked her for inviting them out of the sanctuary to God’s nature. 

Siri, too, has been amazed at the transformation inside of herself. She is a pastor’s kid, and she has a lot of hurt toward the Christian institution. She sees the harm the church has caused in the world. “It has felt like

gigantic tectonic plates shifting in my being,” she said. “It has been truly transformational to go from overwhelmed to empowered. And to grow a garden on the grounds of a church has been important for me. I’m not ready to worship yet, but growing flowers and vegetables here and having the community rally around me has ushered in healing.” 

Bethlehem’s innovation team recognized Siri’s vision and leadership. We built our vision around the growing garden and our growing partnership with folks doing conservation and reforestation in the cloud forest of Guatemala. Siri will be one of the young adults traveling to Guatemala come January, after our garden is harvested. She kept asking me if I should send someone else instead, someone who has more clarity about God and church. I think of Ezekiel and smile. “No, you are perfect.” 

The garden has been a blessing. A physical reminder of God’s abundance. A place to gather and listen to the soil and and remember whose we are. It brings dignity to get down on our knees and get dirty. Get some earth under our fingernails. Siri said yes to an invitation to grow something new and rich and beautiful. It has given her hope. And community. Fruit for food and leaves for healing. We are all better for it. We are grateful. 

The post The Healing Power of Dirt appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.

Let’s hear it for the good news! Ten months gone by, and the churches connected to the Riverside Innovation Hub are preparing to put all their hard work and learning into implementing their grant applications! We are gathering to share our stories, to celebrate work well-done, and give thanks for the ways we have grown together. This is the stage in the Public Church Framework called proclamation, but it is not complete just by sharing the stories of the past year. Proclamation is not reporting—it does not live in the past-tense—to proclaim the good news is to invite others into the exciting “we know not what we will be” of what God is doing in the here and now. Proclamation is both remembering together where God’s been with us and joyfully participating in where God is going.

I have worked with New City Church in Powderhorn-Phillips through this program, and I want to share their good news with you. New City Church is trying to do church in a new way (shocking, I know). The planters of New City recognize the complicity of mainline Christianity in the history of white supremacy, cis-heteronormativity, patriarchy, and environmental degradation. Their goal in planting the church was to counter that history with a model of church that centers marginalized voices. They do that by prioritizing the experiences of people of color, the environment, LGBTQ+ people, and women in the life of the church. They have grown quickly since starting out in a living room and have done so while talking explicitly about Jesus to a community that, by percentages, does not necessarily identify as Christian.

Their plan for the Innovation Hub grant is to use the resources for a new effort called

the Incarnation Fund that will connect people of color in the New City community to healing practices including somatic experiencing therapy, nature-based therapy, and spiritual direction. Participants will work in small cohorts to grow in community while, as individuals, work with practitioners of color on healing from trauma. New City believes that investing in individual healing makes communal healing possible. This vision hinges on a key belief that guides New City Church (and illustrates proclamation well): inward transformation leads to outward

transformation and vice-versa.

Many members of New City Church are already engaged in projects for outward transformation in the community. It is an activist church and the wealth of talents and community connections that New City holds was overwhelming at first. How could we choose just one cause to come behind, especially when there are already groups whose entire focus is on one of the many needs that New City cares about?

We realized that we needed to dig into New City’s young identity to find a use of the money that fit. We asked people about what value people found in New City and realized that it wasn’t that New City was doing the same justice work that the members are doing. People value New City because it gives them a place to root their work into a relationship with the divine and challenges people to learn how to be in a diverse community that centers marginalized voices. The community organizers didn’t need New City to be another organizer. The advocates didn’t need another advocate. They need a place where they can hear that they are not alone—that God is moving through a community with them. They are hungry for inward transformation.

A lot of resources have been spent over the last year on the inward transformation of white people in order to be in a racially diverse community where the cultural norms around white-body supremacy are broken down. That work has yielded huge dividends for the health of the New City community, and at the same time has dedicated time and energy into formation for white folks. Recognizing that disparity, New City wanted to balance the scales and use the Innovation Hub grant—the largest financial investment to come to New City outside of the Methodist church—to prioritize ministry for people of color. The Incarnation Fund took both of these needs we identified and aligned the creation of something new with the story of life that New City Church has been telling from the start.

The story of God is evolving and diversifying in different places and circumstances. Small changes in the genetic code result in wildly different forms of life, but it is all life. Our job in proclamation is to be spiritual ecologists, surveying the landscape for life in its abundance, celebrating old connections, new growth, and working to make that growth possible. The Incarnation Fund is rooted in this ecological vision of our communities—the healing of the whole is directly tied to the healing of the parts. The story of New City Church and the Incarnation Fund is just beginning, and it is one of many. I give thanks for the ways that God is moving in your hearts and communities, and I pray for courage and faith as you move forward sharing the good news you have heard and are a part of creating. Let’s hear it for the good news! Amen.

The post God in the Present Tense: A Story of Unfolding Proclamation appeared first on Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation.