On Dietrich Bonhoeffer, community, and the inclusion of gays in the church.

I participated in the survey sent out regarding my church's congregational conversation series about showing hospitality to LGBTQ neighbors and congregants. However, it was only after I closed the survey window that I began to read Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. In just finishing the first chapter, "Community," truths surrounding my own thoughts, words and actions have already been illuminated. Additional to my own re-exploration of what "All Are Welcome" really means to me and to my vision for this church, I have also found several passages to be possibly insightful to the steering committee, while it formulates the next steps to be taken. Allow me to share some of these passages with you, my people. All this being said, I do not pretend to be a Bonhoeffer scholar, nor do I intend to make myself out to be any wiser than a recent grad who has a lot on her mind. Finally, you will notice that I insert gender-inclusive language into Bonhoeffer's writing ... this is purely instinctual.

Bonhoeffer makes it ever so clear that "the fellowship of Christian [sisters and brothers] is a gift of grace," that Christian community "is a gift of God which we cannot claim." This language is reminiscent of our church's communion liturgy, in which we are invited to approach the table with literal open hands to receive the bread, as the grace that is the sacrament is not ours for the taking but God's for the giving. I imagine each of us, in all of who we are, approaching the table with open arms to receive not only the bread and the cup, but also each other. This is to be celebrated, just as the sacrament is celebrated! Let us celebrate the gift of grace that is our community, in which we may only participate (rather than make any claim upon).

In this spirit, Bonhoeffer continues to remark that "Christian [sister- and brotherhood] is not an ideal which we must realize; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate" (emphasis added). That is to say, no amount of committee meetings, congregational conversations, theologizing, interpreting of Scripture, or anything else for that matter, holds any stake in the reality of Christian community which has already been realized by our Lord. According to Bonhoeffer, at the end of the day there is no need for a visioning team, as our community is not an ideal which we must come to an understanding of. Along this vein, I recommit my own trust in the God Almighty that his reality he has already created at our church may continue to flourish accordingly. As humbly as I can, I encourage each of you, me people, to do the same: to trust in God's reality of community, which has already been created, is being created, and will be created.

I will share with you a passage I have found particularly challenging to internalize. Bonhoeffer writes, "[she] who loves [her] dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though [her] personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial." I believe I have made my personal intentions very clear over the past many months of conversation. And I have believed them to be honest, earnest and sacrificial. However, I am also realizing that I may have been caught up in a love for my version of the future of the church, rather than the community the church is. Suffice it to say that I am working through this on a personal level. Together, we must be aware of this very real possibility of love for our ideals, and remind each other of what our sights should truly be set on: the Christian community itself, rather than our dreams for it. And this is because the Christian community is already a reality created by God (as I previously quoted and mentioned).

Much later in the same chapter of Life Together, Bonhoeffer spells out quite clearly the differences between human love and spiritual love, the latter being that which is mediated only by, in and through Christ, in Christian community. "Spiritual love," he writes, "recognizes the true image of the other person which [they have] received from Jesus Christ; the image that Jesus Christ himself embodied and would stamp upon all [people]." As humans who daily accept Christ to be our Lord and Saviour, we are image-bearers of the Christ incarnate. We are therefore called to recognize this image in one another. First, I believe, in order to give glory to God. For who could not help but shout praises at the recognition of the beautiful tapestry that is the image of God? Second, I believe, this is to fully love one another. When we are able to fully accept each other as divine image-bearers, that is when true "spiritual" love is offered and received. This second reason may be put into the context of accepting LGBTQ individuals for who they are, made in God's image. For me, it is accepting those who may not be entirely affirming of my identity as equal divine image-bearers, and therefore reason to glorify God.

Please accept these words with many grains of salt, as I am not as educated as I would like to be with regards to all matters of study, including theology, Bonhoeffer, Bonhoeffer's theology .... I could go on. I write perhaps for my sake, but am hopeful that these passages from Life Together are helpful to you as well. Above all, know that I am doing my humanly best to recognize the divine image each of you bears, and that I am thankful for the ways in which each of you bear that image.


Peace to you in this redeeming process.

On bus fares.

I was just leaving a coffee shop as an undergrad (possibly a second-year?), when a woman approached me outside. At first I couldn't understand what she was saying. In my conversational confusion, I took a moment to survey her and, admittedly, make judgements. Ratty clothes, many bags, tangled hair, dirty and missing teeth. Then I came to; she was asking for money.

I can't remember the specifics of her phrasing or the vernacular she used, aside from the fact that the entire situation seemed all too familiar to her. Bus money- she needed bus money.

I had cash and coins in my wallet. I also had a CTA card in my wallet. Despite this, I lied through my teeth: "I'm sorry, I don't have anything I can give you." With that I turned around, walked back to campus, and hated myself all the way.

Growing up, parents and youth pastors alike had warned me of the dangers of becoming an enabler by giving money to someone who asked. According to my elders, in that particular circumstance the money could have gone to drugs, alcohol, sex ... any number of addictions or unhealthy behaviors that quite probably put the woman in the position to ask for money in the first place.

At the same time, our encounter had been right next to a bus stop. And I had a CTA card at the ready. I also was outside a warm public place on a cold evening- couldn't have I bought her a cup of tea to go along with her bus ride? In every sense, the words I responded with were utterly untrue.

I so wish I had stopped to understand the woman's situation. That I didn't even ask her name is a clear indication of, at the time, how poorly I had internalized God's call to redeem. This was an opportunity to redeem her experience with affluent people, to redeem my experience with those in need, to add another brick to the relational redemption work in our shared city between our two people groups. I did not follow, I did not listen.

Now I refuse to forget this woman. Oftentimes I have returned to that bus stop, hoping to see her again. I never have.

Lord, forgive our grave misunderstanding of your great call toward redemption. You said it perfectly while on the cross: we know not what we do. In your vast mercy, we ask that you might strengthen us to be your hands and your heart in a world of broken relationships. God on High, be near to us and to our family - your family - whom we are constantly meeting and learning more about; and may we in our own brokenness take up your call to redeem, moment by moment. In your gracious and loving name we pray, amen.

On my immediate geographical future.

Yesterday I caught a glimpse of God's future of and for redemption.

I have been searching for a roommate, with a particular apartment in mind, for about a month now. Praises be, the apartment is still available. When I called the landlady yesterday to find out this important tidbit, she mentioned there was another young woman in my position: from my alma mater, very interested in the apartment, in need of a roommate. So the willing landlady connected us.

I got a voice mail from A around noon-thirty that day. When I called her back, I found out that we both happened to be on campus. We agreed to meet up in the student center around 1pm. I was excited. However, I had also contacted about six different craigslist.org posters that same morning, so I definitely wasn't going to put all my eggs in one basket, much less this one.

First impression gatherings upon meeting A: perfectly fluffed bangs in an I-don't-care sort of way, eating lunch out of a mason jar (I do the same!), business-casual attire comfortably reminiscent of my own early mornings in front of the closet, a genuinely-glad-to-meet-you smile. The flutters of nervousness I might have had were washed away in a flood of relieving familiarity.

Now this wasn't one of those I-just-met-a-brunette-version-of-myself moments. A has her own unique story and identity that I have only just begun to get to know. At the same time, it was nice to chat for an hour with a friendly someone who shares a similar faith, someone with a similar sense of vulnerability, someone who faces our world with big questions too.

(For the record, I don't believe assimilation to be good or right, nor that as a Christian I should only associate with people who look, think or act like me. After a long month of searching, it was simply refreshing to find a possible roommate who wasn't a craigslist creep.)

Our conversation started with the campus guest speaker's message we had both (unknowingly) attended, branched out to my sexuality and accompanying life experiences, wove through her wonderings about how to love a friend through time of transition, and ended in her welcomed question: "So if this apartment doesn't work out, do you want to keep looking for another place together?"

Thrilled. I was absolutely thrilled. A was wonderful (in spirit and in personality) from what I could tell. And she wanted to live with me! I had been praying that God would provide- provide people, provide places. I had been praying, and after a month it had started to seem that God's provision wasn't going to look like I had imagined it.

At this time I must be honest, and tell you, my people, that I am wary of pinpointing God's work in the present. I am even fearful of saying, "This, this is God at work." Because it seems to me that if we get in the habit of saying such things, we can miss out on even more beautiful divine work around us. Additionally, we may court worshiping the work instead of the Worker.

So while I may not be able to confidently say that A's abrupt presence in my life is the work and will of our Lord, I do in fact acknowledge that God is at work and does have a will. He is opening some doors and closing others. I trust, and renew trust, that my Creator is also a Redeemer: he will make my path straight.

In meeting A yesterday, I think I might have caught a glimpse of that straight path; a glimpse of God's future of and for redemption in my living environment, in my household relationships, in my life.

On Elizabeth A. Johnson, gays, and the church.

In a country that has historically told a heteronormative narrative, U.S. citizens are rapidly approaching the topic of "gay rights" more and more progressively. However, can one equate legal rights with social acceptance? This writer doesn't think so.

On January 1, 1962, the state of Illinois became the first state in the U.S. to decriminalize homosexuality by repealing its sodomy laws. More than fifty years later, we now see gay marriage legal in 17 states, plus Washington D.C. While these milestones should be recognized in the journey toward legal equality, there is an implicit voice of the marginalized calling out for more work to be done.

While part of this work involves a reorienting of language (from the use of "no homo" by high school boys, to "homosexual lifestyle" by conservative politicians), a reorienting of historical narrative (how many of you have heard of Matthew Shepard's lynching?), and a reorienting of what you, my people, call discrimination, I believe there is a specific, God-ordained work for the church.

Christians in the U.S. attach themselves to arguments and positions across the spectrum of support for the LGBT community and individuals. A Chicago church currently seeks to address what its leadership team has called, "Hospitality and our LGBT Neighbors." The congregation takes part in (nearly) monthly conversation after worship, regarding topics that have included "Reading the Bible with Humility," "Our Behavioral Covenant," and "What is Biblical Hospitality." All these conversations are centered around the idea of how to be hospitable to LGBT members of the congregation, as well as visiting worshipers or families of LGBT individuals.

Elizabeth A. Johnson, Catholic feminist liberation theologian and scholar, would not question the absolute need for the American church to accept the LGBT community, to the point of social and political equality (at the very least).

In her essay "Redeeming the Name of Christ," Johnson discusses the fact that Jesus' male humanness is not indicative of Jesus' divine gender. "In the end," Johnson writes, "from the perspective of Jesus' relationship with divine saving function, gender is not constitutive of the symbol of the Christ. Neither does gender restrict the identity of Christ within human community." If neither sex nor gender restricts the identity of the Christ within human community, it must be assumed that Johnson agrees that other human factors, such as ethnicity, socio-economic status, and, most importantly in this context, sexual orientation, do not restrict the identity of Christ either.

Perhaps it is too often assumed that Jesus the human (whether the distinction between Jesus the human and Jesus the divine can be made is an entirely separate theological debate, which will not be addressed at the moment), along with being white, brown-haired, blue-eyed and English speaking, was also straight. However, whatever Jesus' sexual orientation was during his time in skin, it quite frankly doesn't matter. Because Jesus the human made it quite clear that in his eyes, as well as in the eyes of the Triune God as One, there is no distinction made when it comes to the salvific act of grace and love that is the crucifixion, death and resurrection.

As Johnson makes the argument that the gender of Jesus is irrelevant to the divine salvation given through him, Johnson would also argue that the sexual orientation of Jesus is even more irrelevant to that salvation. Along these lines, Johnson writes that "Jesus' ability to be Savior does not reside in his maleness but in his loving, liberating history lived in the midst of the powers of evil and oppression set loose in the wisdom community by the power of the Spirit to the ends of the earth."

Moving forward from that argument, Johnson makes the case for inclusion of all in Christ, and Christ's inclusion in humans. She cites 1 Corinthians 12 and Galatians 3:28. 1 Corinthians 12 uses the classic Pauline "Body" language, generally summed up in verse 14: "Indeed, the body [of Christ] does not consist of one member but of many" (Holy Bible, NRSV). Galatians 3:28 is also familiar to the practicing Christian: "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Holy Bible, NRSV). The Galatians passage deals with contextual historical divisive human categories of humans. The implicit argument for inclusion of gays in the body of Christ is presented as well. Today, many might argue that Paul would continue with "... there is no longer hetersexual or homosexual, transgender or bisexual ..."

This is not to say that factors innate to personal identity are no longer allowed to be identifying, but rather that these are lost as barriers to entering into the body of Christ. Christ is in all, and all are invited to be in Christ. This invitation to baptism (invitation to body-ness) by a redeemed Christ in an invitation to all. Inclusivity continues to be key for LGBT individuals. Johnson's argument pinpoints imperative elemental aspects of christological doctrine that, at their core, come alongside the suffering and marginalized gay individual to say, "Christ is here, Christ is for you, Christ invites you!" All are invited to this inclusive table, and therefore Christians should be reflecting such an invitation in society. Christians should be making room for the oppressed - for the queers - at every table, be it in state marriage equality legislature, family insurance policies, news headlines, school system curricula, dinner table language, or in the literal church setting.

Johnson writes that the "passion of God is clearly directed toward the lifting of social oppression and the establishing of right relations." If this is truly the passion of God, that there be no social oppression, Christians aught to be at the forefront of the battle for gay rights, for the reorienting of the English language, for pushback against hate crimes. In making this claim, Johnson challenges Christians all over the world to be Christ in their world. This can be done by living the invitational life.

So go, my people, and redeem. Redeem the church - your church - to be inclusive for your gay brothers and sisters. Live the invitational life.

- taken from "Blessed Assurance!" Claire Nelson, 2014.

On worship. I

This is my first attempt in providing worship resources for the proverbial you.

Ordinary Time is a group of three friends who met in seminary and discovered a shared love for hymnody. They have recorded several albums' worth of folksy hymns, sacred texts set to original music, and completely original songs.

I have found their music to be radically refreshing. Their harmonies are tight, the breadth of instruments used is impressive but not overwhelming, and they seem to be able to capture the spirit of a tune with authenticity.

The band's resource page for musicians and worship leaders is easy to navigate and very useful, especially if you fall in love with their work (as I have).

Here is a little musical snack, a preview, for you. You can download their albums directly from their website. Let me know what you all think!

On whorish tendencies.

"Then perhaps I was God's gift to you," said the Muslim cheerfully. Yeah, right, I thought to myself.

My fiancé, T, left me a month ago today. And exactly two months ago, today, was the last time I had sex. With anyone.

I will not bore the proverbial you with details regarding how or why he left, nor our sparse encounters since. Instead, I offer this story.

Alright, back to sex. Yesterday (Valentine's Day), I hadn't had sex in exactly one month and thirty days. And I was horny as all get out. This wasn't any sort of new development, either. For weeks I had been thinking about it, dreaming about it, nightsweating about it, hotflashing about it, fixating on it. All to the point where by yesterday, I neeeeeeeded it.

So I was working on a piece at a coffee shop. There was a hot girl sitting next to me, blabbering away over the top of her screen to her homework partner. I started eavesdropping, because you know, she was cute. Her short brown hair sort of stuck out in strange angles which only accentuated her cheek bones and pointy nose. I couldn't get enough of those cheek bones. I was packing up to leave the shop when a fleeting thought hit me: what if I asked for her number? No, no, this was too risky. Asking for something always means the other party may say that ugly two-letter word.

("No.")

But then another thought, this time wilder: what if I gave her my number? Okay, we might be getting somewhere with this one. Giving a slip of paper with a number on it ... that has never hurt anyone, has it? Nearly blinded by fear, lust and anxiety, I quickly scrawled my name and number on a torn-out journal page. Then I left the coffee shop.

Wait, WHAT? Yes, I left. I walked straight out the door. Not the first time last night I wished for the taste of liquid courage. I stood on the street corner, breathing cold air into my lungs and head, wishing I was smart enough, pretty enough, cool enough, geeky enough, hipster enough, plain old just enough. Eventually the sex thing got to me, turned me around, and marched me right back into that coffee shop.

"Hi, sorry if this seems a little creepy, I just graduated from the university (pointing across the street to my alma matter), I'm assuming you're university students?" She nodded affirmative. "Well I don't know how you identify and I honestly have never done this before but I'm giving you my number (handing piece of paper over) .... sorry if I've weird-ed you out. Happy Valentine's Day." I ran.

I was mortified and ecstatic and realizing she wasn't as cute as I was relieved to be finished with the verbal vomiting of run-on fragments. But I had just tried to pick up my first chick ever! (Not counting the roommate I kissed the year before, or the token gay girl I tried to hold hands with the year before that.) My life in film flashed before me, and I was golden. I didn't give a shit if she called me "fag" as soon as I left-- I was walking sky-high. And it felt good.

Fast-forward three hours, to a Boystown sports bar with seven other girls (I'm not drinking, they are). I get a text from an unknown number: "Hi, is this Claire? I got the note you left me in the coffee shop." Holy shit. I might have a valentine! ... actually, I yelled that to the entire bar. I quickly texted back, only to find out the number belonged to a man, S, who had happened upon the forsaken paper later in the evening and mistaken himself as the target. So it could be worse. Upon the advice of my drunk friends, I arranged to meet up with S at a late-night restaurant. Just to make sure he wasn't a murderer before I let him have me.

I leave the bar, drive to Andersonville, meet S, and proceed to converse for an hour and a half about Christian and Muslim theology regarding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, gays, predestination, and worship liturgies. This was not the easy hook-up I had hoped for. By midnight, he makes excuses and hopes I had a good evening. "Yes," I respond begrudgingly. After all, he did buy my pot of tea.

"Then perhaps I was God's gift to you," said the Muslim cheerfully. Yeah, right, I thought to myself. I stomped to my car, drove back to my bar friends' house, took off my hot bra and went to bed on the couch.

With twenty-four hours' worth of hindsight in my hands, I cannot help but see the redemption in my determinedly sex-driven Valentine's escapades. Of course, there are so many what-ifs: if he had been a murderer, if he had had an STD, if I had gotten pregnant. If he had drugged me, if I had walked into rape, if he had a temper. Just to name a few (you're welcome, Mom and Dad!).

I didn't get my sex. However, I am sobered by the near-miss. In my whorish Valentine's tendencies, there was redemption. We simply talked, walked away, and the night ended. I did not give myself away, an act which I am realizing would have only made me feel even emptier. I did not allow another person to take part of my being, that being which belongs solely to God.

So yes, S, perhaps you are right. Perhaps you were God's gift to me last night.

Thank you, Lord.

On "redeemed, redeem, redeeming."

"So the title," the proverbial you says.

I hemmed and hawed on a title for this blog for years. Of course, the concept shifted and evolved during that time as well. However the essential characteristic that would categorize this blog for seemingly years to come evaded me. In fact, that little elusive title is what has kept me from online self-publishing since the fall of 2009.

During my second stay on the psych unit of a Chicago-land hospital, a pastor friend referred my fears and anxieties to Isaiah 43. I will only cite the first seven verses here, but I highly recommend you look up the entire chapter (here, I'll help you with that):

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I give Egypt as your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you. Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you, I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you; I will say to the north, "Give them up," and to the south, "Do not withhold; bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth-- everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made."

(Holy Bible, NRSV)

This passage spoke so beautifully to me then and has continued to.

"So it's a few nice words," the proverbial you says, "what about the title?"

Well first of all, I am redeemed. Hallelujah. God has called me by name, I am his. I am precious in his sight, honored, and he loves me. My people, do you realize who this is we're talking about? The LORD, who has created us. Yahweh, the Almighty One, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, Creator God. To be redeemed by this enormous, universal God means the unspeakable (to me at least). I cannot possibly use words to categorize the beauty, absurdity, and wonder of this fact. I am redeemed. You are redeemed. We are redeemed.

God calls everyone called by his name out of captivity and into redemption. This is radical, my people. Let me say it again: this is radical. That "everyone" includes all whom God created for his glory. The two emphases highlighted here are indicative of our consequential call. Let me lay it out for you:

1. All whom God created for his glory. Not all whom we choose, have chosen, or will exclude. Not all who go to church, not all the practicing Christians, not all the straight ones, the white ones, the rich ones. It is all whom God created. Have you got it yet? ... That is, we're not the ones who get to choose who is a part of this redeeming business. It is all whom God created. End of story. (almost)
2. All whom God created for his glory. Not our glory. Not our social ego. We don't get to take the credit for being friends with the non-church-goers, the gay ones, the brown ones, the poor ones. It is all whom God created for his glory. Have you got that one down yet? ... That is, we're not the ones who get the claim to fame in this redeeming business. It is God who created, and therefore for God's glory. End of story.

The very small amount of studying I have done on the context of this passage aside, I believe that if God is calling this radical form of "everyone" out of captivity and into redemption, we as Christ-followers are called to do the same. "Redeem!" God says. He may even be shouting it. "See? Do you see what I am doing, my people? I redeem. I redeem! And so must you. Redeem!"

And God's redemption work does not end. Rather, it is constant, consistent, ever-flowing, ever-growing, snowballing into the massive beauty that is the Kingdom. There is always a future of and for redemption. "When you..." thus says the LORD. When you pass through the waters, when you walk through the fire, when you fall, when you hurt, when you are broken-hearted, when you hook up with a stranger after midnight and go to church a few hours later (or not), when you are depressed, when you refuse communion, when your fiancé leaves you, when you leave your fiancé, when you, when you, when you ... there is a future of and for redemption. God is redeeming.

So I will explore here, with you reading along, commenting when necessary, and reigning me in where appropriate, our redeemed-ness. I will explore that holy call upon us to redeem, and the future of God's redeeming.

Here we go.

The Launch. ... also known as, Hello Everyone! ... also known as, A Hypocrical Complaint to No One.

There is a sickening amount of opinion-sharing venues today. Anyone with a library card and third-grade computer class skills can let the widespread world know their inmost thoughts. We write because, whether or not we are willing to admit it, we want to be heard. Even if it is by a friend's friend's cousin who spends way too much time on the computer. Or an ex who can't help but "check in" every few months. Or a stranger who has the same last name as you and was about to invite you into a Facebook group titled "People with the name Stanstolsky are cool!" (Remember when people actually did that some seven years ago?) The irony of all our especially available, incredibly user-friendly broadcasting methods is that everyone is using them, so who has time to read someone else's tweets?

Well, I am a little sad (and frankly not too surprised) to say that I am succumbing. I will no longer be the self-romanticized writer who locks all her words in a notebook, not caring if they are ever read by human eyes other than her own. Perhaps this is for worse. Welcome to the ride.