The Irresistible Revolution - continued

As I continue to ponder Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, I recognize how God has been whispering to me over the past several months not just through through the words of this book, but also through Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, Robert Benson's The Echo Within: Finding Your True Calling, and Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light - The Private Writings of the "Saint of Calcutta." I have also been reading through the Bible this year - I'm now in Nehemiah 7 and Acts 3 - and time and time again the Spirit has prodded me to reconsider what it means to be a follower of Christ.

Early in his book, Claiborne writes about being born again and again and again as a student as he attended an annual summer Christian festival and responded enthusiastically (and repeatedly) to the altar calls. At some point, though, he realized that something was amiss: "I came to realize that preachers were telling me to lay my life at the foot of the cross and weren't giving me anything to pick up. . . . I believed all the right stuff - that Jesus is the Son of God, died and rose again. I had become a 'believer,' but I had no idea what it means to be a follower. People had taught me what Christians believe, but no one had told me how Christians live" (pp. 38-39).

Orthodoxy without orthopraxy. "As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead" (James 2:26).

The Irresistible Revolution

I just finished reading Shane Claiborne's book, The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. Judging from the number of page corners I turned down, the section that challenged me the most profoundly was Chapter 5: Another Way of Doing Life. In his discussion about the role communities like The Simple Way play in helping people to discern their vocations, Claiborne writes: "Beyond knowing that God has a purpose for our lives, most of us (especially non-Catholics) spend little energy seeking our vocation, especially in light of how the needs and sufferings of our neighbors might inform how we use our gifts for divine purposes. There are plenty of people who are miserable in their jobs, for they have not listened to God's call. And I would add there are many Christians who are not fulfilled in their spiritual lives because they have no sense of their gifts or purpose, and they just run to the mission field to save souls rather than transform lives and communities using their gifts and those of the people they live among. Both lead to emptiness and burnout" (p. 138).

Many times when I read a compelling book, I sense immediately what I ought to do in order to apply what I have learned. I confess that I have no idea what do with Claiborne's challenging words - I just know I must do something. A remark made by one of Claiborne's colleagues keeps bouncing around in my mind: "I gave up Christianity in order to follow Jesus" (p. 71). What does a Christ-follower really look like?

bumper sticker memories

The back of my Toyota RAV4 is covered with bumper stickers, most of which are mementos of vacations past. When I'm stopped at a red light, I often glance into my rearview mirror and see the folks in the car behind me straining toward their windshield in order to get a better look at the stickers. Many times I have been able to read their lips as they try to figure out what the various initials stand for. (JH stands for Jackson Hole.) On more than one occasion, I have come out of store and found someone standing behind my car, snapping a picture of my bumper sticker collection with a cell phone. Sometimes, a passerby will stop and ask me to decipher a specific sticker. The most difficult ones to identify for most folks are usually WP (Walden Pond) and ANP (Acadia National Park).

When I look at these bumper stickers, I recall memorable moments from our various family vacations - like our river hike in Zion National Park, photographing grizzlies at Yellowstone, or the sunrise on Cadillac Mountain in Acadia. I acquire these bumper stickers because I am very goal-oriented - each one symbolizes a successful mission to a particular destination. I made a plan, and we reached the place. The problem with focusing on the destination, though, is that I often am so obsessed with the desired endpoint that I fail to enjoy the journey itself.

This summer is the busiest one in my personal history. I have already completed a five-day Choir Tour/Mission Trip to Williamsburg, Kentucky, with the youth group from my church. A week from Sunday I will accompany the youth to camp, and from that point forward, I will be out of town 27 of the next 40 days. If I'm going to make the most of those days, I need to focus not on my assorted destinations (North Carolina, Wales, California) but on the journey itself. Undoubtedly, God has much to teach me en route.

choir tour/mission trip

Bright and early tomorrow morning a group of 50 teenagers and adults from First Baptist Nashville will head out on a choir tour/mission trip to eastern Kentucky. I am driving the cargo van on this journey, the first of three student ministry trips I will make this summer, meaning I'll spent 23 out of the next 41 days away from home.

In the midst of preparations for the trip, my thoughts drifted back to the one and only choir tour/mission trip that I participated in during my high school years. In 1981, the summer before my senior year, my youth group traveled in three 15-passenger vans to Detroit, driving through the night to get there. (In retrospect, I wonder why that was necessary?) We slept on cots in classrooms in a school, conducted a Vacation Bible School in another school, and performed several concerts (including a sparsely attended one in a city park).

For VBS, I was one of three students assigned to teach a class for sixth graders. On the first day, only two students showed up - Lori (a sixth grader) and Jennie (an eighth grader). We weren't about turn 50% of our potential students away, so we welcomed Jennie with open arms. By the end of the week, Jennie and I had become fast friends. After all, I was only three years older than she was. When we parted, we promised to stay in touch, and in the months to come we corresponded regularly.

Fast forward four years. In January 1985, five months before I would graduate from the University of Tennessee, Paul and I got engaged. When I wrote Jennie to share my good news, she responded promptly, pledging to attend the wedding. A trip from Detroit to Knoxville would be her high school graduation present, and I was thrilled to be reunited with her on my special day. Two years later my mother and I made a road trip from Washington, D.C. - where Paul and I were living - to Detroit so we could be with Jennie on her wedding day.

I am grateful for Jennie and a friendship that has spanned nearly three decades. You can never tell what God will do on a mission trip!

10 years ago today

On June 6, 1999, during the invitation time of the Sunday morning worship service at First Baptist Nashville, I stepped out of my pew (third row, piano side) and walked forward to announce to the congregation that I believed God was calling me into ministry. The following January, I began my studies at Beeson Divinity School, unsure of exactly what God was calling me to do but confident that He had a plan. Over the next four and half years, I commuted approximately 100,000 miles in my quest to earn a Master of Divinity degree. In May 2004, with my cap perched precariously on my head, I crossed the stage at the Birmingham Jefferson Convention Complex and received my diploma.

As I reflect on the decade that has elapsed since I made my call to ministry public, I can clearly see how the Lord has directed my path. I am grateful for the opportunities I have been afforded to use my gifts in ministry, yet I long to do more. I don't know what the next decade will hold, but I am confident that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus (Philippians 1:6).

UTK orientation

Paul, Chaney, and I spent Monday and Tuesday on campus at the University of Tennessee at Knoxville for freshman/parent orientation. When I attended UT's orientation as an incoming freshman in the summer of 1982, I was enthralled with the Student Orientation Assistants (SOAs) and aspired to become one myself. When I saw the flyers posted around campus announcing SOA interviews midway through my freshman year, I seized the opportunity. I was absolutely thrilled when I learned that I was one of 22 students - 11 girls and 11 guys - who had been chosen to work during the summer of 1983. I was one of the fortunate few SOAs who was able to be a repeater, serving again in 1984. That summer a young man named Paul Swiney was also chosen to be an SOA. We got engaged the following January and were married in October 1985.

As I observed the current batch of Orientation Leaders (SOAs are now called OLs) at UTK this week, I recalled just how formative my orientation experiences had been. Our orientation director, Debby Shriver, was an exceptional leader who inspired confidence and empowered students to use their gifts and talents. As an SOA, I learned how to plan events, how to convey dry information in a creative way, how to speak in front of adults and teenagers, how to keep a smile on your face even when you are exhausted, how to work with people with widely divergent personalities, and how to be flexible.

During my tenure as an SOA, Debby recruited me to serve as a student representative on the board of directors of the National Orientation Directors Association (NODA). I was able to make trips to Burlington, Vermont, Portland, Oregon, and Baltimore, Maryland, to attend NODA meetings. I also attended Southern Regional Orientation Workshops in Atlanta and St. Louis, and accompanied Debby to The Freshman Year Experience conference in Columbia, South Carolina.

I continue to use the skills I acquired as an SOA on a daily basis. I am grateful to Debby and to the University of Tennessee at Knoxville for giving me the opportunity to develop my leadership skills. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's great to be a Tennessee Vol!