Year: 2012

Curiosity as a value of faith

During leadership training we are revisiting our values as a ministry: hospitality, service, justice, integrity, and curiosity.

Curiosity: the desire to learn.

It is a value integral to deep faith, yet often overlooked in religion. Jesus is referred to as “teacher,” which means that we are his students. Our role is to question, to explore, to be curious.

Professors can lecture for an entire two hours, but nothing will take root without the students’ investment.

In the same way, we can live our lives at face value, simply accepting things as they seem, never questioning the why or the how. But without curiosity, without the hunger to learn, we can never know the world, each other, ourselves, or God as deeply.

As an exercise during training, we walked around campus and brought back an item or photograph of something that represents curiosity. A few of us returned with items from trees.

Trees, as they stand, are majestic. Without much curiosity, one can appreciate a tree as beautiful, tall, green. With curiosity, however, one can delve beneath the bark and into the leaves, wondering why this life exists and how this life is sustained. With curiosity, we reach a much deeper level of understanding and awe, astounded by the complexities and details of a life longer than our own.

And the deeper we go, the more curious we become – it is a never-ending journey.

In this way, by questioning and exploring our religions, our faiths, we delve ever deeper into the complexities and intricacies of God, never fully knowing and always hungering for more.

How I Have Seen God…

I didn’t join LCM until my sophomore year here at the U of M. My freshman year, I didn’t see God, mainly because I wasn’t looking.

Fast forward to my senior year…

In one of the first weeks of this school year, I paused for a moment during on our events, and I thought to myself, “since when did so many cool people start coming to LCM?” I don’t mean to offend anybody who came to LCM prior to this acknowledgement. It’s my fault. The cool people were always here, and I wasn’t. Up until this past fall, I never realized their greatness. I wasn’t present enough to do so. I was too caught up in my own world, trying to be my own savior.

Well that didn’t work.

You can’t find God if you’re not looking. Up until this year, I wasn’t looking hard enough. And then I opened my eyes. I noticed those who were present with me, and there God was too.

I was having a chat recently with another LCMer, which sparked this thought process. She told me about how important has been in her life this year. She thanked me for being a role model. I found this funny, because I didn’t join LCM to be a role model. I came for the same reasons she did:

To find friends.

To find community.

To find faith.

To find some reason to be hopeful.

To find a place to struggle, where struggling is socially acceptable, and where others are struggling right a long side of you.

That’s where God meets us, after all, in the struggling. So it makes sense that this is where I saw God. We all have brought our whole selves to this place, meaning we brought our struggles, our insecurities, our worries, our doubts, our imperfections, and we’re still okay. We have each other, and we have God. This community has meant more to me than any community I have ever been a part of. Because the people are real. The people care. The people love. And in those people, I have seen God, because I finally had the sense to look.

I love you all so much, and I will miss you all immensely!

Best of luck in all that you do!

-Ellen

God, present in others

Twice in this past year, around the end of each semester, my mom has had surgery.  Neither has been particularly serious, but each has presented its own challenges in recovery.

I’ve become quite familiar with feeling helpless as I’ve waited alone in the waiting room, and as I watch her trying to overcome the weakness that follows any surgery.  Being an only child, I have felt particularly responsible for being there for her, but often there’s nothing I can do but to be there along the journey with her.

In the past months, I’ve often felt overwhelmed, trying to balance life at school and life at home, but there have been so many people who have been there to help us through these tough times and for that I am incredibly thankful.  For a while, we had more food than we knew what to do with, because it seemed like a neighbor or friend would come over at least once a day with a meal.  When I had to go somewhere, someone would always offer to come over and keep my mom company, and people just keep checking up on us.

It’s been a good lesson to me, a stubborn, independent person, that I don’t have to go about life alone, especially the tough parts.  God shows up all the time in the people I know, in little ways that they might not even notice are that important: offering to sit with me in the waiting room, listening as I recount my rough days, and by praying for us.  But these little things make a world of a difference.

Dear Lord,
Thank you for all of the people you have placed in my life.  The way you show up through them continues to surprise and amaze me.  Help me to remember that I don’t have to face life alone, that you are always on my side, and you’re always sending help.
Amen

Sara Sneed

Parables

This weekend, I saw God in one of the last places I would have expected.  It wasn’t at the shopping mall, or in STSS.  I saw God while I was at work!  Crazy, right?

Maybe I should begin by explaining where I work.  I am an usher at Ted Mann Concert Hall, and I work at a lot of performances though the school of music as well as private renters.  This weekend, the U of M music theater put on a performance of the Opera “Parables”.  Parables is geared toward addressing the issues of racial and religious intolerance, and working to shed light on how we can be more tolerant of those around us.  The three main religions that were targeted in this opera were Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.

One of the key ideas that was brought forward through this musical masterpiece was that religious tolerance can only be achieved when we take the “triumph” out of faith.  I was trying to decide what this meant exactly, because it was the first time I had heard it.  Herschel Garfein explained in a Q&A session after the performance that people often believe that their religion is right and everyone else is wrong.  In this regard, everyone believes that the whole world will be proven that their God is the “right” God and that everyone will convert to their faith.  Through this belief, it is hard to see another religion as equal, thus exemplifying intolerance.

There was also a powerful moment in the opera when the choirs representing each religion all said the name of “God” in their language, in unison.  This, along with many other pieces of symbolism went to show that we all believe in the same God, but told through a different story (or in this case, song).

I was fortunate enough to work during 3 performances of this production, and each time I saw it I took something new from it.  It is clear to me that religious intolerance exists everywhere, but it takes everyone to put an end to it.  God was most definitely present through the mouths of all of the performers, just as God was present in all the audience members who the message was passed on to.  I hope that the message this opera conveys continues to resonate on this campus long after the melodies can no longer be heard.

Joe Carlson

Relationships and new beginnings

Throughout this season of Lent, I have taken on the practice of relationship building whether it be with existing friends or getting to know new friends in an intentional way. Although outwardly, I may not portray my feelings of insecurity around these conversations, it truly does cause me much anxiety internally. These types of encounters, especially with people I don’t know very well, make me overanalyze my actions and words to a point where they don’t flow with conversation creating awkward pauses (which I dread!!!). After intentionally practicing this for the last forty-some-odd days, I have come to the conclusion that after the initial conversation the flow of subsequent talks is much smoother and even more enjoyable. This has led to the beginning of some great new friendships already and growth in a lot of previous ones.

I can honestly say that since starting this practice I have become more confident in my conversational abilities and no longer dread them as much. What used to be my biggest fear has turned into something that I know will be a benefit in the long run. So I encourage you to embrace whatever is most challenging for you and go out and practice whatever that may be. You never know what great things can come from trying to overcome your fears and anxieties.

Also, go out and enjoy the beautiful weather!!!!  Christ has risen indeed!

Laura

Falling out of tree pose

I never thought I’d be a person that would be into yoga. For starters, I’m terribly inflexible (the sit and reach in gym class was the bane of my existence) and on top of that, my brain doesn’t have a mute button. Great combination for yoga, right? Prior to finding my current studio, I’d go to classes, expect to feel enlightened, and then spend the class feeling frustrated with myself for my lack of yoga skill…and for getting frustrated with myself in a yoga class.

After almost a year of 60-minute classes in a 105* room, I finally get why so many people adore yoga. In the past month though, my practice morphed from something physical into a practice that is physical, mental, and emotional. All of this is because of one pose—tree pose—done in a dark room with my eyes closed.

Tree pose is a standing posture in which you balance on one leg, put the sole of your other foot on your lower calf or inner thigh, and then hold your hands with palms touching either at heart center or raised above your head. With your eyes open, tree pose is a posture that involves some balance but is pretty easy to do. When you close your eyes, however, everything changes. No matter how steady you think you are, you will begin to lose your balance and fall out of the posture within a few seconds. That, my friends, is really frustrating. It also is the reason why the teacher does it.

Off the mat, frustration happens all the time in our lives. We go in to situations with expectations for ourselves or others and then when those expectations aren’t met, we feel one of two things: surprise (when the outcome is better than our expectations) or more commonly, disappointment.

We can’t stop frustration from happening, but we can change our reaction to it. Much like falling out of tree pose with your eyes closed in a yoga class, we can choose to fall more gently in our everyday lives. We can choose to accept the fact that we fell as just that—a fact—instead of as a judgment against ourselves or against others. We can also choose to try again, knowing that we will fall again, but that next time, we will balance a little bit longer and fall a little more gently.

By bringing a peaceful response to our frustration, we free up space to be more loving of ourselves and those around us. As we enter Holy Week, remember Jesus’ ultimate peaceful response to frustration—giving his life for our sins—and look for ways that you can respond more peacefully in your own life.

Thoughts, comments, and discussion are always welcome.

-Lisa

Surrounded by God

I recently went to the doctor because I was having trouble breathing, they prescribed me an inhaler and in teaching me how to use it emphasized the importance to exhaling before using it so that my lungs were empty and then taking a long and deep breath so that the medication could completely fill and penetrate to all parts of my lungs, in order to “heal them” or help me to breathe easier. Later when I was trying to think of where I see God and how I experience God I realized that God is a lot like an inhaler.

He fills us, and in different ways for different people. Personally when I listen to music I feel filled and surrounded by something greater than myself, which is able to take me away from any mental place I may feel stuck in. And I think it is fair to say that that something that I feel filled by is God. I also feel filled by God when I am having a conversation with a friend or participating in community. It seems that God knows us, and knows what mediums in which to come to us and fill us, whether it be through music, through another person, when doing yoga, or when standing at the summit of a mountain.

So in conclusion, God is a lot like an inhaler. Many times in order to fully feel his presence and healing power we need to empty ourselves of our burdens and stresses (which I realize is much harder than exhaling). But then he is able to fill us through the things around us, such as through music or conversation. But no matter what, whether we inhale or exhale, look for him or don’t, God finds a way to seep through.

Tuesdays Together

I had the absolute privilege to volunteer along side some fellow LCM leaders on Valentine’s Day this year. We are on the “Tuesdays Together” service team that volunteers at a community event that takes place the 2nd Tuesday of every month at the Center for Changing Lives. It is a program all about creating community and building relationships with families in the Phillips Neighborhood. The second Tuesday of February this year happened to be Valentine’s Day, so we had a lot of fun coming up with crafts and activities to do with the kids! We found that you can have some great conversations while decorating and coloring!

(be sure to click on the title of this post “Tuesdays Together” to see some photos!)

[slideshow]

-Valerie

Loaves and Fishes

I have always known that poverty is prevalent in many large cities, but it is a very eye opening experience to see how close to home it really can be.  This past Wednesday, I traveled with Andrew, Mark, and Hannah to the Holy Rosary Church where a monthly community meal is held.  We were there to help serve food and provide assistance wherever we were needed.  The number of volunteering staff was slightly lower than they had expected, but they all welcomed us in as one of their own.

Until last Wednesday night, I hadn’t really experienced the face of Minneapolis that was before me.  Perhaps I had limited my image of the city to just the U of M campus and uptown Minneapolis.  Maybe I thought that poverty only existed in Denver or Chicago.  Whatever had been my source of unawareness was now gone.  There are people within our closest communities who are not as fortunate, who may not be able to eat a hot meal every night.  It becomes too easy to think about problems dealing with hunger in other countries and overlook those who are in our own neighborhoods.

It is also clear that some people have trouble asking others for help when it is most needed.  I will agree that I am guilty of this more often than I am willing to admit.  It becomes hard to know what is truly the best course of action to deal with hunger in our community, because we don’t always know who is in need, or how we can help them.  When it comes to hunger, I am often reminded of Matthew 25:35.  It reads; “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”  This shows us how important it is that we must help those who are in need, and how any small amount of love you give to someone can have a profound impact on their life.

Joe Carlson

A Lenten Reflection, “Where will we go?”

As we enter into this Lenten season, we are called to reflect on that which unites us as human beings: the knowledge of our own mortality. In the gospel on the transfiguration, Peter James and John go with Jesus to the mountain top where  Peter suggests that they build three dwellings and stay there. To ride out the storm of the world in safety and seclusion. These three disciples are then witness to the transfiguration and there is “no one with them anymore, but only Jesus” (Mark 9:8). A good reminder when brought face to face with our mortality that this is it. This is all we have. That in this life it is not about the dwelling places or the mountain tops of seclusion but rather the faith, hope and love that is Christ.

But in the brokenness of our lives and our world where does this love of Christ show up? The love of Christ meets us perhaps most simply yet profoundly in a meal. Part of my evening this Ash Wednesday was spent with a group of friends helping with the Loaves and Fishes supper at the Holy Rosary Catholic Church over in the Seward neighborhood. It was a very powerful experience to be amongst those who have so little but are united through a simple meal. As I stood there I was reminded of the Ask a Muslim event the week before in which a professor on the panel was speaking about hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca. He said that when you get to Mecca, all the men wear two pieces of simple white cloth as a symbol of our burial shroud and a reminder that we as human beings are all the same regardless of the worldly things that divide us. Perhaps Lent is our own sort of hajj in a way. A personal pilgrimage that reminds us we’re all in this together, “we’re all a mess”.

I continued to ponder this, looking out over the faces gathered before me. As things started to slow down, one kind looking elderly man came up to me and politely asked if he could have a few extra helpings of mac and cheese.  I told him sure thing and gave him as much as he wanted. To this he kindly thanked me and added, smiling as he walked away, “Oh good, now I have dinner for tomorrow night”. That hit me. Hard. And it was that moment where God really showed up. In the voice of this kind old man. In the acknowledgment that while I go back to my life at the U after this, where will he go? While I live among the dwelling places, he lives in poverty. Where will he go?

After the transfiguration, Jesus gets up and instructs his disciples to follow him back down the mountain. A call to arise and follow. To leave the mountain top and be present in the world. Luther often spoke in terms of being freed from what for what. Through our reflections in this time of Lent we are freed from our brokenness which separates us from the world for the call to acknowledge that before we return to dust, we are blessed each with our own talents to follow Jesus off the mountain top and into the world to spread his love and grace. And so this is my prayer for us as we make our way on our Lenten pilgrimage. That our individuality may transcend into the communal and that in the broken places we may go forth in love. Where will that man go? Where will we go?

May we go with God

By Mark Jensen