An Important Decision

By the way, I am now a Methodist of the United sort. Yay!

Don't you wish your seminary was hot like mine?

Cool school, eh?

But the following one is more recent, and Dwight makes me cry!

mhgs what no. 2 from blaine hogan on Vimeo.

And now, for a treat...

I had this on my MySpace blog, but I feel that my favorite piece of Russian animation deserves to be shown again.


A similarity has been observed between the owl and myself. "What a weirdo!"

I didn't write this...

but it speaks to me. It was for my Spiritual Formation class on prayer taught by Tom Cashman, an expert in Celtic Christianity.

Enemy of Apathy

She sits like a bird, brooding on the waters,

Hovering on the chaos of the world’s first day,

She signs and she sings, mothering creation,

Waiting to give birth to all the Word will say.



She wings over earth, resting where she wishes,

Lighting close at hand or soaring through the skies,

She nests in the womb, welcoming each wonder,

Nourishing potential hidden to our eyes.



She dances in fire, startling her spectators,

Waking tongues of ecstasy where dumbness reigned,

She weans and inspires all whose hearts are open,

Nor can she be captured, silenced or restrained.



For she is the Spirit, one with God in essence,

Gifted by the Saviour in eternal love,

She is the key opening the scriptures,

Enemy of apathy and heavenly dove.



(Enemy of Apathy, from the song book, The Iona Community, 1988)

"Here's my version of it: internal whirlwind"

(That's yet another Bjork quote)

I am in a confused time as I enter my 2nd year at MHGS. I woke up in the middle of the night a few nights ago, and feel something different in my nefesh. I have an awareness of something different in me, an awakening of a sort. I cry just about every day now. Compassion is coming forth from a hard soil that was once stoic.
Pastor Crystal asked me to write something for the folks at First Church about being a new(er) face in the crowd. You could come this Sunday and read it yourself... or read the unabridged version below. Enjoy. Ask questions.

I’m exhausted. Not only have I just completed a year of intense soul-engaged studies at seminary, but I have also spent the last decade giving all I had to various churches and parachurch ministries. I know what it is to run on fumes, but I’m unsure what it is like to receive.

I entered this congregation as a woman wounded, cynical, diminutive, and mute. As I cowered in the back pew, Pastor Crystal began the service by saying “You are welcome here”. Me? Really? But you don’t know my story. I’ve been deeply involved in evangelical churches. I’ve been to Pentecostal churches, and even spent 3 years in an emergent church. I’ve been around the church block. I love those family members, but feel the anxiety and pressure of not doing or being enough. Am I really welcome midst my anxiety, doubt, angst, and bitterness?

Recently I had coffee at Uptown with Pastor Crystal and she asked what First church could do for me. The question took me off guard. It sounded so foreign and took a few days to begin to register its meaning.

I’m used to the sermon (which I’ve given on more than a few occasions) “What can you do to serve the church?” or “You need to get right with God”. Not that those aren’t valid messages. The reality is such that I come with great need, an empty void, and need nourishment. These people of First Church, this diverse congregation that spans generations, welcome me in the midst of my mess.

I quickly discovered that the whole congregation is on a journey. It must be difficult for the oldest church in Seattle, with their rich history, to be “on the move” in more ways than one. First Church not only wonders how to share God’s love in the rapid change of the postmodern era, but are physically in between places. We are a people navigating an era with far less “black-and-white” assuredness than before. I hope that we all attempt to live in the questions and embrace mystery. I look around at my fellow pilgrims on a journey. May we, weary from our wanderings, all find home in the arms of God.

Disappointment

After much sweat was spent, my school invited a new theologian into our school's community. She agreed. We just found out this week that Dr. Nordling rescinded from coming to our school.
Currently, Mars Hill Grad School has two resident Divinity professors: Dwight Friesen, a practical theologian, and Joann Badly, a New Testament scholar.
We need more. We need a theologian. We need a spiritual director type person, and an OT scholar would be good too.
Now we Divinity folks, the minority at our school, have a program with these two brilliant people....and a bunch of adjuncts. We went from 5 to 2 in the past year and a half.
I feel like we are a bunch of ugly puppies that no one wants to adopt.
So...Know any theologians? Send them to us.

The Summer Heat is Heavy

I am a Seattle Swede. 90 degree weather is not something to look forward to for us. Especially in my case, since I live on the top of an old brick apartment building.
As I write this, I sit in my underthings with the fan on me. The only lights are from my laptop, the city lights of my neighbor buildings, and the full moon currently residing directly above the Warwick hotel. My headphones cradle my head with Hungarian Eurotrash dance pop.
There really is no break for M.Div.s at my school in the summer. I still have one paper left, which directly afterwards is an intensive course for a week, then the fall.
I found an interesting picture. You can probably tell that Bjork means a lot to me; she is my high priestess. Her viking blood connects her to our past as scandinaviens and her avant garde vision makes her a prophetess. Someone recently told me that he sees me as a kind of Bjork for the church.
I can hope, can't I?