Experiencing the Divine

Over the past month, I've been agonizing over my PIF (Pastoral Information File), that piece of Presbyterian bureaucracy that functions as a resume and "church-dating" profile, matching me with churches that I might serve (or be a good fit for). One of the questions of the PIF is about a theological issue facing the church today, and I will reproduce my answer here:

The biggest theological challenge facing the Church today is the lack of value placed on our daily experience of God. This often translates into a perceived lack of imagination on the part of the Church – a one-for-all idea that says your experience isn't valid because there's no scriptural basis for encountering God in that way.  Experience and scripture both reveal God's actions in the world, and must be checked in light of each other. Jesus is revealed within Scripture – but so too are the all-too-human reactions of greed, selfishness, and untruth. For many within society, if one interpretation of Scripture doesn’t hold up against experience, then all of scripture must be rejected. For many within the Church, if an interpretation of scripture doesn’t hold up against experience, then all that is experienced must be flawed. I maintain that the truth lies somewhere in the middle of these extremes – a balance must be found between scripture and experience. I believe that many of the conflicts that our denomination faces are the result of this tension. Whether historically or today, this balance underlies flare-ups over most of our issues. My ministry, then, tries to refocus our attention from the bottom of our own entrenchments to the Sun that we share, the light of God's love. 

Traveling Mysteries

There's nothing that's so exciting and simultaneously demoralizing as sitting at the airport waiting for a plane. The anticipation of a long journey is palpable, but so is the exhaustion inherent in any traveling. Sometimes, when travelling alone, I like to look around me and imagine the stories of the people walking by, or sitting in the black pleather chairs. Some of them seem to be looking back at me, wondering what I'm thinking - and it's that moment of anti-solipsism before I duck my head in slight embarrassment that really helps connect me to others around me.

My flight yesterday took me to Nome, AK, by way of St. Louis, Seattle, and Anchorage. When checking in with the attendant, she asked what had happened "on the outbound leg" - confused, I said, "this IS the outbound leg" - and with a look of pity in her eyes, she said, "Oh... one way? To Nome?" as though there were no hope for my immortal soul in the frozen north. What is it about the cold that drives most people crazy, their eyes and nostrils flaring in tandem as though to suck one last breath and sight before the mere mention of cold weather can bring about its reality?

Being from Michigan, I am used to the cold. Well... perhaps, thrive on it is a better word-choice. While I was younger, I lived in Jakarta, Indonesia - a hot place, in the tropics, where it rarely got below 72 degrees. While that may be someone's idea of paradise, I missed the cold terribly. I missed snow, the way that the trees shed their leaves and iced over, even the crisp, cool air that hits the lungs like a cup of coffee hits the brain.

Now, though - I'm heading to a land that freezes over in September, where the very sea - that salty monster of old - freezes in defiant submission to the North Winds. That crisp, cool air that I love so much - will I still love it when it is around not just for my birth month, but for six months of the year?

These thoughts were running through my head in the airport before flying, and while I was snoozing in Anchorage. Imagine my surprise when, in the Anchorage airport, I was asked politely to move by some airport workers who were going to irradiate the area.

I had been sleeping on a bench, as it was three-AM locally, and my plane didn't leave until six. I'd heard the workers moving the benches around, but was trying to dismiss it and get back to sleep as best I could - bright lights and plane landings don't make for the best sleep environment. Apparently, there was a great need to x-ray the floor near where I was sleeping, and so I followed the suggestion that I leave the immediate vicinity, believing that an interrupted nap was worth not increasing my lifetime radiation exposure. I still don't know exactly what they were x-raying for - nor, even, if there were people on the floor below (though I doubt it) - but perhaps you'll have an idea, and share it in the comments? (In the modified words of Cookie Monster: "YOU HAVE COMMENT, SO SHARE IT, MAYBE?")

More updates, including pictures of Nome and thoughts on moving into a shared living space, coming up in the next few weeks!

Welcome to the Taleings!

Hi! If you've found this blog, then you're probably wondering, what is this "taleings" stuff about anyway?

Well, tailings (note the different spelling!) are the leftovers of a mine - the things that weren't considered valuable at the time, but were cast aside for being different or "worthless". In early mining, the tailings were just left to weather in the environment - and they would sometimes poison local streams or wildlife areas. In more contemporary times, the tailings are recovered, recycled, and reclaimed in some way that benefits the area around the mine - or at least, that's how it's supposed to work.