I just finished re-reading Confessions of a Beginning Theologian (which I’ve quoted before here and have posted a brief reaction to on my Reading in 2008 page). It’s an autobiographical book which describes the author’s journey from a fundamentalist upbringing to becoming a professor of Systematic theology. So much of what Fraser writes about her struggle to find her own voice and to speak confidently (without fear of what other people think) resonates with me. And it resonates not just in the context of being a woman who is venturing into the male-dominated world of theology, but also in the broader context of day-to-day life and relationships. Take the following quote for example:

I began finding my public voice…. I began speaking from my heart. Reluctantly, I gave up my lifelong habit of watching myself out of the corner of my eye. I stopped trying to phrase things so that no one could possibly disagree with me. Word by word, I learned to speak just as I was — not as I thought I ought to be, and not as I thought others wanted me to be. I began paying attention to others’ responses and mine, instead of rushing ahead to the next thing I wanted to say. It was like learning to dance. Practice, practice, practice. Three steps backward, one step forward.  (Elouise Renich Fraser, Confessions of a Beginning Theologian, 1998, IVP)

Oh how I wrestle with that same issue: wanting to phrase things in such a way that no one will be hurt or offended, so that no one can misunderstand or disagree. This is not because I don’t have definite, strong opinions about a variety of issues, it’s because I am sometimes uncomfortable with the impact that my words may have on others. Even here, on this blog, there are topics I stray away from because I know that there are those among my dedicated readers who probably disagree with my way of thinking about certain issues. I’m challenged to stop being afraid of my own voice and to learn to join the conversation in a new way. I’m pondering what that might look like at this stage in my life.

…thinking a lot about relationships. What defines a healthy relationship? Why do healthy relationships seem to happen naturally between some people and to be impossible between others?
…wanting a deeper theological understanding of how sin has distorted our world and a new vision of what restoration really means.
…mediating a conflict between two friends in our local fellowship.
…wondering how in the world I got pulled into this thing and if I’m doing the right thing or not to be involved in this way.
…wishing for a day off, from my own thoughts.
…looking forward to a week of vacation when two friends arrive from the States in 7 days.
…listening to the Car Talk podcast as I go to bed tonight.
…playing Scrabulous on Facebook with my mom.

What are you doing this weekend?

There’s an intriguing conversation between two authors happening at ChristianityToday.com. One has written about the resurgence of Reformed theology among younger North American evangelicals. The other has written about Emergent Christianity. I have roots in the Reformed tradition and much curiosity about what impact the Emergent movement will have on Christianity worldwide, so I’m paying attention to this conversation.

Emergent’s New Christians and the Young and Restless Reformed

Since I’m currently taking a graduate course in Systematic Theology, I thought it was an appropriate time to reread the book that is partially responsible for the name of this blog: Confessions of a Beginning Theologian by Elouise Renich Fraser.  Here’s one of my favorite quotes:

God invites us to become beginners.  To forget about the impression we think we’re making.  To stop nodding yes when we don’t yet understand what the other person is saying.  To give up the habit of apologizing for taking up too much time with our questions.  To stop trying to do it all by ourselves, not letting anyone know we feel overwhelmed.  To stop hiding behind silence.

It’s springtime.  May is almost upon us.  Everything is in bloom and my immune system is in full-fledged revolt against the attacking pollen.  The weather is at war with itself.  Cloudy to sunny in seconds.  Rain. Hail. Sunshine. High winds.  Eerie colors in the sky.

And something is stirring in my soul too, feeling churned up by the changing seasons.  Spring is here, but summer is almost upon us on the Adriatic coast and summer is just not the easiest season for my spirit.  But I don’t want to psyche myself out because this summer has the potential to be different.  Can I learn how to sit with this restlessness and learn from it, instead of running from it?

• My 87 88-year-old grandfather got married yesterday in Virginia.
• I’m in Sarajevo on a work-related trip. This is my 6th time up here in the past year.
• It’s officially spring. All of creation was shouting that out as I drove up into the mountains today.
• It’s a fool who looks for logic in the depths of the Balkan mind.
• Finished Prodigal Summer. Keep up with my reading & reviews here.

Not long ago I came across a scrap of paper containing some book recommendations which two dear friends jotted down for me a few years ago. Prodigal Summer, a novel by Barbara Kingsolver, was on the list and became my April choice from Audible. (My introduction to Kingsolver’s writing was Poisonwood Bible, which I’ve read and enjoyed a couple of times.) I’m about a quarter of the way through Prodigal Summer, so I won’t give my analysis of the book just yet.  [UPDATE: For my review, look here.]

But what I’ve listened to so far has awakened in me a deep nostalgia for Appalachia. Kingsolver’s detailed descriptions of the sights, sounds and smells of the Appalachian mountains have caused a flood of memories to come rushing to mind. As I listen to her words, I can smell the musty dampness of decaying leaves and feel the dirt between my fingers. I can feel the icy cold of mountain streams and hear the wind rustle through the tree tops. I can see the rhododendron and pink lady’s slippers. The memories have come with such force that my body aches for the experience of being there. At the risk of sounding silly and over-sentimental, the memories evoked by these descriptions have brought tears to my eyes.

There are no sights, sounds or smells on the coast of Montenegro that even roughly approximate those found in the Appalachian mountains. The sea has its own beauty, but it is a beauty that is alien and somewhat inscrutable to me. In contrast, the Appalachian mountains are a warm embrace whenever I return there. They are my definition of beauty. They have been a living, breathing character in the story of my life.

If you’ve read my blog for long, you’ll know this is not a new theme. I think the sweet and melancholy melodies of Appalachia will always lilt through the story of my life in one way or another.

I’ve had the itch to redesign my blog for a few weeks now. I was growing tired of the aquatic theme that I’d had since last summer. A rainy Saturday morning provided the perfect opportunity for some experimentation.

I miss Typepad. Typepad gave me lots of flexibility in colors and fonts, without having to know CSS. I can edit the CSS on my WordPress theme but don’t know enough CSS to make it do what I want. Thus, I’m settling for a new header image without the rich browns and tans that I’d like for the background and text colors.

“Be merciful to those who doubt.” ~ Jude 1:22

The late Catholic theologian Karl Rahner once described two different types of spirituality which he called Summery and Wintry. According to Rahner*, a Summery Christian is known for his unquestioning belief in the presence of God. He looks at the world around him and quickly sees God at work. He exudes a warm and genuine spirituality that “revels in a God of glory.”

By contrast, a Wintry Christian is one who “believes God should be present but in all honesty is more acutely aware of God’s absence.” Her faith is a “lonely, soul-searching spirituality”. A Wintry Christian persists in asking the hard questions and revels in the God who is merciful to those who doubt.

I appreciate that Rahner affirms that each season is part of God’s cycle and that each Christian is a valuable part of the Body of Christ. The Summery Christians need their Wintry brethren and vice-versa. These terms aren’t meant to create a division, but only to observe a phenomenon that already exists and help those on different ends of the continuum understand and value one another.

If there is a continuum ranging from Summery to Wintry, I find myself much closer to the winter end than the summer one. Some people are uncomfortable with doubt. Perhaps they are fearful of it’s implications. After all, we refer to the Christian faith. Where is there room for doubt? But doubt is not something I fear. Doubt keeps me humble. I’ve befriended doubt and found it to be a helpful companion on the journey of faith. Perhaps that sounds contradictory.

On the days when the questions loom larger than the answers, I ponder the mysterious and merciful God, and I’m thankful for the gift of the Incarnation & the ministry of the Spirit. Befriending doubt is very different than embracing despair. I think doubt, faith and hope can all exist together in one soul. In fact I find greater hope in the examples of many who have wrestled with doubt and yet continued to journey on in faith than in the lives of those who seem to never have blinked at the darkness that exists in the world.

Thanks for letting me ramble a bit on a theme that’s been on my mind for a while now. I’m unsure of how to conclude this post… perhaps I’ll just end with a reminder to all of us to be merciful to those who doubt.

*Rahner’s ideas are presented in chapter 7 of M. Craig Barnes’ book Yearning.

From the top of the first page
To the end of the last day
From the start in your own way
You just want somebody listening to what you say

A few months ago I serendipitously met a woman, L, who has since become a mentor to me. She’s a bit further down the path of life than I am, yet we’re wired similarly and quickly discovered that we were kindred spirits. On top of that, she has quite a bit of experience in the kind of cross-cultural work that I’m involved in.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had this particular kind of relationship with a safe person, a person with whom I can verbally process my life.  While I have good peer friendships, I think a mentor-type person fills a very different role than a peer. Perhaps the difference comes in the intentionality of the relationship and the permission that I give a mentor to speak into different areas of my life. I don’t know.

But I do know that I’m trying to gratefully receive the precious gift of this relationship without holding it too tightly. Today I’m feeling thankful that there is somebody committed to listening to and speaking into the stories of my life.

(Two points go to the first person to place the song lyrics at the top of this post.)