Aj Schwanz

So I’m a Facebook junkie. It’s true: I love getting little updates on what my friends are doing and seeing the Friend Request box light up. You can find out all sorts of things - where people are living, who’s having a baby, who is friends with who (or not). Another thing I love (being the information junkie that I am) is seeing that my friends list a website, and then adding it to my feed reader (which folks are just finding out about feed readers: hello - where have you been? Best. Invention. Ever. Except for my son’s Soothing Crib Device thingy).

So a friend recently posted his website, and linked to me in regards to a meme. But at the end he says that I’m a “new friend”. I hope that means that I’m a new commenter on his blog because, HELLO: we were Youth Yearly Meeting junkies. And went to the same church. And the same youth group. And the same mission trips. And camps. And high school. And college. And he kinda almost dated my husband’s sister (I think: the story is a long, convoluted college summer extravaganza). I could go on, but I think you get the point, and I’m not one to beat a dead horse. Much.

The meme rules are as follows:

1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!
2. Find page 123
3. Find the first 5 sentences
4. Post the next 3 sentences
5. Tag 5 people

Okay, so nearest books: “Feeding the Whole Family” and “Quick Fix Meals.” Did I mention my computer is by my stove?

So either you get

“2 tsp. extra virgin olive oil; 1 onion, chopped; 1 carrot, cut into large chunks” - for an easy vegetarian soup stock

OR

“Serve these chops with Broccoli Puree with Parmesan (page 210) - start the side dish before making the chutney and everything will be ready at the same time. Place the ragout in a small saucepan and stir in the raisins, vinegar, brown sugar, and cumin. Set the pan over medium heat, bring to a simmer, and simmer until the mixture thickens and reduces to about 1 cup, 8 to 10 minutes” - for Pan-Seared Pork Chops with Tomato Chutney.

Thwack: tagged.

1. Amy
2. Joel (whose wife should blog, but something about having three kids four and under)
3. Jimmy (whose wife has a facebook but not a blog, and he has a blog but not a facebook - I guess that way all means of communication are covered)
4. Marta (who hasn’t blogged in WAY too long but should have some good stuff post-Convergence)
5. Jason (who is my professor; this is a means of checking out to see if he does trackbacks or reads my blog or both; and to see if he doesn’t mind being referred to by his “common” name, or if my participation grades will start to see a decrease :))

So, seeing as how I’m American and apparently buy into the idea that gross excess is only half enough, I must admit that I’ve been tagged to post this meme on my other blog. Which I will do. Tomorrow. When my brain isn’t fuzzy, or at least is Morning Fuzzy which is much more functional.

A friend and I were chatting a while back about life:  folks’ business, people’s brokenness, the church’s  anemic faith and action.  The idea of corporate confession has been percolating in my mind for a while.  In my experience, if confession is discussed, it’s in regards to an individual aspect:  confess your private, individual sins; repent and turn your Self.  But the Hebrew culture didn’t seem to have this focus on the individual; they seemed to be more community-oriented.  If a person sinned, it didn’t just affect them:  the whole group could/would be smoted (I’m sure that’s a word).  So what would it look like to have a corporate confession?

Why would such a thing be necessary?  A while ago I was reading books by Leanne Payne, and she talked about confessing the sins of ancestors:  that the sins of our parents/grandparents/great-grandparents get passed down from generation to generation, and even though the younger generations didn’t directly participate in the sin, the effects are still present.  I thought that was CrazyTalk, until one day I realized I had derogatory thoughts in my head in regards to race.  My family is from the South, and I know I heard my grandparents make hurtful, racial remarks.  I was raised up North:  I wasn’t in that environment and shouldn’t have those thoughts!  And yet . . . Suddenly the idea of repenting made a lot more sense.

The Church has committed some horrid sins - intentionally or unintentionally.  And whether we were physically present or participating, that history is our history - my history.  It needs to stop:  I want to turn - I hope we want to turn.  But what would that look like?

Reading Leviticus (because I’m weird like that) has revealed just how much of a rhythm of life the Israelites followed.  The Israelites had a time of corporate confession, a season when they would realize just how unholy they were, how holy God was, and how wonderful it was that God provided a way that they could be in a redeeming relationship.  But they didn’t live always in this period of confessing.  This season was part of their rhythm of life:  it wasn’t just a sermon series thrown in randomly when the Levites felt like it, nor did they get stuck in repenting all the time.

A book I read for my class talked about how liturgy is a spiritual tool to fight the infestation of consumerism in the church:  instead of taking to meet my desires, I participate with others in times of feasting, repenting, and living in the ordinary life.

Some evangelical churches are more intentional or vocal about living in a rhythm of life.  Have you seen examples?  Do you have any book recommendations (or books you could loan) for further exploration (cause I have to read some good ones for class and I’d rather read something other people dug than find a flop on my own)?  Do you find yourself living into the season - individually or corporately?

So you know when you’re an overly-emotional, fairly-moody teenager who comes home after school, throwing a bag in the floor, grumbling about how there’s no food in the house only to hear your mother tell a story about one of her co-workers (a gal not that much older than you) who is *so funny* and *just a delight* and *did I tell you about when she [enter witty story you've already heard]*, and you begin to get this nagging suspicion . . .

• That your mom might like her more than you?
• That she might be a better daughter than you?
• That you’d better make sure you have records that your parents are indeed your parents and they can’t just slough you off to a state institution like that?

“No, officer, she’s not their daughter:  I AM!  See, look how I can bend my fingers back into an unnatural position, just like my dad can.  Come on, Dad, bend them!”

But then, against your will, as you come to know this gal, you realize:  you like her.  And if she were adopted into your family, that would be okay.  As long as she didn’t take the title of “Sarah Burnhart” away from you:  there’s only room for one overly emotional female in this family.

So anyway, my friend has sent out a request.  She and her beautiful family have begun the process of adopting a precious child named Kate.  Kate lives in Haiti where my friend’s family worked for some time.  My friend is not one to share prayer requests all that often, and it is so evident that she and her family are longing to bring this darling little girl into their arms.

And if the role of overly-emotional female has not already been taken in their family, I’m willing to offer lessons for Kate upon her arrival. 

So we got some bad news today.  The person in charge of the department of Haitian Social Welfare has decided to enforce an unknown Haitian law that states that families that have ANY children (biological or adopted) will not be allowed to adopt a Haitian child without special dispensation/permission from the president of Haiti, Rene Preval.

Our file/Kate’s file has been in this man’s office for over 5 months andwill not move forward until/unless we are given special permission by President Preval to adopt her.  There are thousands of other families in the same position we are.  We are being asked to write a letter to the president explaining our reasons for wanting to adopt, our financial capability to adopt, and anything else special about us that would convince him to let us adopt.  Then we are to supply all of our financial documentation again (tax forms, employer letter, etc.), have all of it translated, notarized, state certified, Haitian consulate certified and mailed to the president of Haiti, who I’m sure has all the time in the world to read these letters.

Writing the letteris intimidating, but I can do that.  It’s the other steps–translation,notarization, state certification, consulate certification, etc. that take so much time, more money and slow things down.  Then, remembering that getting the file through this one office IBESR (Social Welfare) is only the first step in the Haitian adoption process is making me feel pretty discouraged.

So would you please pray for us?  We got videos of Kate the other day and it was so wonderful to see her in person, yet so hard to watch her at such a vulnerable age and know she’s waiting in an orphanage for us to hold her and be her family. And if you know me at all, you know I’m ready to hop on a plane.

But God has plans for us and for her.  I trust Him to work in us and through us in this process.  And I ask for your prayer that this letter would be expedited through all of the certifications quickly and then be well received in Haiti.

Blessings on you,
H

What comes to your mind when you think of worship?

• Putting on clothes that are fairly uncomfortable
• Yowling at the family to get to church on time because we’re going to enjoy service, dang it!
• Paper: bulletins, directories, offering cards that can be turned into airplanes
• The smells of bad coffee
• Songs, some old and some new, meaning at some point somebody has a happy face and somebody has a cranky face
• Sermons, a.k.a. time to stare at the pastor’s tie
• Offering plates that feel oh so slippery and wanting to hit the floor

Some variation of the above list is fairly typical images or components of worship.

But you know what I think of? Seven layer Jello salad. Really, that’s what first comes to mind. See, I grew up at Boise Friends Church, and we potlucked: oh, how we potlucked. One of my friend’s moms often made this jello salad which was so pretty and tasty and fun to take apart, and I was always wondered how she did it (fortunately, the wonders of the internet revealed her kitchen magic).

Now, a salad made out of gelatin may not seem to be a critical element of worship for you. But for me it represents a time of fellowship: my favorite part of worship.

On Sundays my family would drive a ways across town, attend worship in the sanctuary before scuttling off to children’s church and then Sunday School. While it was enjoyable sing ingthe songs and having Bible stories told to us on felt boards, the real fun was to be had after service during the fellowship time. People would hang out and talk for what seemed to be forever. The kids would run around crazylike hopped up on sugar cookies and red Kool Aid, and my folks would chat and laugh and really enjoy themselves. If we weren’t having a potluck, my friends and I would run back and forth between parents convincing them that we needed to go out to lunch: usually we wore them down pretty fast - anything to let them continue having adult conversation (which, as a parent, I now completely understand the need for).

Hearing the people laughing. Running around with friends. Contributing to the canned food tubs. Bringing in love loaves Enjoying each others’ company and hearing each others’ stories. To me, that is fellowship, but the deeper connecting bond is worship.

So, what comes to your mind when you hear the word “worship”?

Crossposted.