The beauty of pen and paper


I’ve been writing a lot… just not here. At the tail end of 2014, I was at Pier One when I found a journal with cover that featured a compelling picture of a giraffe. The giraffe wears glasses. I justified buying yet another empty notebook by half-heartedly promising myself that I would write in it every day of 2015. And I have.

And the intensive class time of J-term wraps up tomorrow. Encouraged by the syllabus and skeptical of an article I read claiming we remember more when we write by hand, I opted to take all class notes by hand in a notebook. At times it was hard to keep up– I type a lot faster than I can write with a pen. It took a day or so before I got in the groove of handwriting all notes. I found some new abbreviations: C with a circle around it is Calvin, Z is Zwingli, LS is the Lords Supper, HS for Holy Spirit, JC for Jesus, H’bg for Heidelberg, etc.

And I’ve been haunted by a story that I’m trying to get out. It’s funny how writing in the journal prompts that. With a computer, I’m constantly editing as I go. With a pen, I don’t like to cross things out. That leads to creatively rearranging sentences and propels me forward instead of obsessing over the previous sentence or paragraph.

Maybe if I return to a fluidity of writing for myself on paper with fun pens, I will be drawn back here to share publicly some of the discoveries I’m making privately.

There’s some comfort in knowing what I write in a journal, or what I jot down mid-thought in class won’t end up on the internet haunting me by being out there forever. My silly little poem assessing my day is just for me and certainly won’t go viral when it’s confined to the pages of the giraffe journal.

I’ll close this with a favorite sentence from this J-term class, courtesy of our seminary dean, Dr. Longfield: “I’m not opposed to technology. I use pens.”

these things you carry (a devotion)


Bel bows down, Nebo stoops,
    their idols are on beasts and cattle;
these things you carry are loaded
    as burdens on weary animals.
They stoop, they bow down together;
    they cannot save the burden,
    but themselves go into captivity.

Listen to me, O house of Jacob,
    all the remnant of the house of Israel,
who have been borne by me from your birth,
    carried from the womb;
even to your old age I am he,
    even when you turn gray I will carry you.
I have made, and I will bear;
    I will carry and will save.

ISAIAH 46:1-4

You know that feeling of being completely overwhelmed? Maybe you find yourself over-committed at work, at home, at school, with family, or with friends. Maybe you are struggling to meet expectations that others have for you or expectations you’ve set for yourself. Perhaps you’re struggling with the weight of guilt or grief. All these things you carry are loaded on your back as though you are the weary animal, burdened to bear the weight of the world.

The beasts and cattle described in Isaiah 46 know how that feels. Here the livestock strain under the weight of man-made Babylonian gods. The animals stoop and bow down, unable to bear the burden of hte heavy gold statues they are forced to carry. Isaiah says the people of God have been groaning under such burdens, but instead they should come to see that they are carried by God. Isaiah reminds us that instead of bearing the weight of false gods, God’s people have been borne by God since birth. Instead of struggling under the weight of human-made golden idols, the house of Jacob will be carried, even in old age, by the Creator.

Hear this good news: Though we live under the weight of a fallen world and sometimes feel like we cannot bear to carry one more thing, God promises to hold us up. God made us, and God will bear, carry, and save us.

Loving God, We feel overwhelmed at all we have done and all we still need to do. Like burdens on weary animals, various kinds of stress weigh us down. Quiet our minds. Calm our hearts. Help us to lay our burdens at your feet. Let us rest on your promise that you have carried us since birth and will never let us down. In the saving name of Christ we pray…


A Prayer from Augustine


My friend Laura wasn’t able to come back to seminary this year. I miss her like crazy. She has that perfect mixture of humor and heart. I miss our talks. I wish I would have spent less time stressing about homework last year and more time hanging out with her. I know Laura will be a lifelong friend, but I still get to miss her.

During Spiritual Formation Group last year, Laura used this poem during the class she led. I carried it in my backpack for awhile and at the end of last school year, I put it under the glass that covers my desk so I could see it when I needed to pray it. You certainly are welcome to print it and keep it somewhere you’ll see it in case you need to pray it. For now though, I just invite you to read through it and let it sink into your soul.

Let us pray.

O Lord our God,
under the covering of your wings we set our hope (Exodus 19:4).
Protect us and bear us up.
It is you who will carry us;
You will bear us up from our infancy until old age (Isaiah 46:4).
When you are our firm support, then it is firm indeed.
But when our support rests on our own strength,
it is infirmity.
Our good is life with you forever,
and because we turned away from that, we became twisted.
Let us now return to you that we may not be overturned.
Our good is life with you and suffers no deficiency (Psalm 101:28);
for you yourself are that good.
We have no fear that there is no home to which we may return because we fell from it.
During our absence our house suffers no ruin;
it is your eternity.

Hurry up and slow down


Seeing all the school supplies at Target Saturday led me to taking a hard look at the calendar. Though I still feel like I just returned from General Assembly in Detroit, turns out the end of July is almost here. I am failing spectacularly at my goal of weekly posts. Sometimes I’m too close to the things I want to write about in a public way. That necessary vulnerability is scary and necessary if writing is to be authentic.

I miss regular seminary classes. I miss my classmates. I miss the confines of a class schedule and syllabus requirements. when I took all the personality and psych inventories before coming to seminary, I scored 100 on abstract and 0 on details. I also was 100 on independence and 0 on dependence. The fact that I’m longing for more structure right now and missing feedback from friends and faculty shows that the snapshot of who I was entering school last fall has certainly changed.

I feel myself growing this summer, too. First Pres has been a great, safe learning church for me. I feel the care that members have for each other and for me. The life and love in the place inspires me. Ministering in a church setting suits me. I miss parts of youth ministry, but am thankful to be able to participate more fully in the life of the entire church. One Sunday, the nursery was short on volunteers and I felt complete relief, knowing that my responsibility was to serve as liturgist in worship instead of having to answer the unspoken expectation that I would fill a spot in the nursery.

worship planning

Picking out liturgy, working on sermons, and applying the seminary education to church life energizes me. I know that some of what we’re learning in class is ivory tower stuff, boring to many in the pews on a Sunday. The more I see in this congregation convinces me that there are lay people in every congregation who are capable of understanding Reformed worship particulars. Before seminary I’d planned worship services– mostly youth led, or summer camp– and nobody had ever sat down with me and showed me the Directory for Worship. As a lay person, as a camp staffer, and especially as a youth worker, I know I could have learned so much more about why we do things in certain ways.


Watching and working with Vacation Bible School a couple weeks ago was also eye-opening. I’ve helped with many as director, as story teller, as recreation leader and so on. This summer, I was the leader for Bible Discovery. (Above, you’ll see the tasting time activity we did, talking about the passover meal.) I found it refreshing to not have to worry about all the details for all of the programming. I learned so much from watching how Linda and Kat led different parts of the week. I finally had time to think about VBS more philosophically– you know, from the ivory tower instead of from the trenches. The budget my last two churches had for decorations was bigger than the budget for the entire week here. There was no purchased curriculum… all was homegrown. Wonderful stuff.

vbs program

I preached yesterday in church. It was my second time as part of Sunday worship. I’m fascinated by the mystery of how a sermon comes together. I read and reread the scriptures. Then I dig into reading and commentary– I suppose the study part of it. Just when I think I’ll never figure out where to go or what to say, the Holy Spirit intervenes and I start typing. I’m still self conscious from the pulpit. I was braver a few years ago. Now I want to make sure I say the right thing and I’m too paranoid about making mistakes. When I learn to relax and when I get a little more comfortable in the role of pastor, I think I’ll be able to sleep better on Saturday nights. And maybe not. Maybe my process just includes a freak out. Yesterday a professor described my sermon as “sophisticated.” I promise you that’s a word I’ve never heard in regards to anything I’ve done in youth ministry or in the life of the church. Maybe that’s okay? Though “sophisticated” still makes me think of Haiku in a bow tie.



Overall, things are going well. I’m glad to be where I am.

5 Things I Love about the PC(USA)


1. our history: This week, I can’t get over the fact that the Board of Pensions began in 1717 and that the Foundation was incorporated in 1799. I’m in awe that people in the 1700s had the foresight to provide for the church. The fruit of that seed money can be seen in the church of today. 

2. our polity: Sometimes parliamentary procedure just seems ridiculously complicated. Other times, it seems the best way to make sure all are allowed to speak. Only God can bring about justice, but I’m thankful that there are rules that intend to bring about fairness. 

3. our passion: People care SO MUCH and caring is cool. I find myself celebrating with some over voting outcomes, while mourning those same voting outcomes with others. The energy of the assembly was so much better at the times when people visibly cared. 

4. creativity in worship: I was completely inspired this week by the ways people used the new hymnal in worship. Worship was phenomenal– not too gimmicky, not dull. I am inspired at the many ways we praise God. 

5. inclusion: I feel like the denomination’s radical hospitality extended to the city that was hosting us. From wait staff joining in singing at meals to ecumenical partners feeling welcomed with committee work and an advisory vote (um.. okay… maybe that’s not EVERYONE’S idea of a good time). 




I suppose sometime I could do a 5 Things that Concern Me about the PC(USA) but certainly not tonight. One day left and I get to go home… I’m still so stoked I got to be part of the 221st General Assembly. 

voice and vote


I apologize for not blogging last night. It was a late night and I needed to think through what I wanted to say about the day instead of posting in the heat of the moment. You ever have one of those days that starts with an event or mishap? And then you think about foreshadowing and how if you were a character in a book, all signs point to a day slightly off kilter? That was yesterday. 

I went to take a shower around 8 and the water trickled out of the faucet. There was a trickle, a gurgle and then nothing. I called down to the desk and nobody answered. I called again, still no answer. I waited about ten minutes. No water. I let the phone ring long enough and finally talked to a human who told me “the city has no water. We have no idea how long until it’s back. Sorry.” 

Shortly after hanging up, I heard a loud clanking noise and then a crash. The cover of our hvac unit had fallen off the wall, crashing into the lamp, pushing the lamp against the glass window. 



In my head, I was thinking, “I’ve seen Hunger Games. I’ve read a lot of dystopian fiction. I can go into survival mode.” 

Then the water came back on. And I figured out how to screw the hvac cover back in place. And I headed over to the Cobo Center for the most incredible worship service. Bagpipes, timpani drums, cymbals, organ, beautiful liturgy… yes. The worship was rich with meaning and symbolism. The Holy Spirit moved us all. 

And then we got around to voting for a moderator. I’ve been looking forward to watching the voting process at General Assembly because I am a nerdy Presbyterian. 



There were many mishaps with the voting process last night. The website set up for voting wouldn’t work. The back up plan clickers weren’t consistently working.


And by the end of it, advisory delegates (young adults, theological students, and missionaries) voted by raising hands. There was no tabulation of percentages. There were no nerdy statistics for people like me to analyze. Advisory delegates “voted” without measurable results. The commissioners voted by paper ballot and mercifully, the first round of voting yielded enough votes for a clear cut winner. 

All three moderator candidates impressed me. Each was wise and articulate (as you have to be if you’re in the running for moderator.) I saw a clear vision from each and I know we’re in good hands for the next couple years. 

I don’t think the world is ending soon because our hotel had no water for a little bit. Nobody was hurt in a silly maintenance mishap in our room– (Note to housekeepers, though…  might be time to clean the filters on the hvac units so they can run better and last longer). The integrity of the election by commissioners was upheld. 

I’m still disappointed that I can’t tell what percents of YAADS, TSADS, and MADS voted for each candidate. All of the advisory delegates voted at the same time and my chair is on the far side of the room. I couldn’t tell how many other people were voting for each candidate. It was strange to know that as advisory delegates, everyone could see who each of us individually voted for, yet the secret paper ballot election by commissioners was more private. 

It took me back to elementary school when we’d vote for student council representatives by putting our head down on the desk and raising a hand. I still remember how one person would peek and reveal the betrayal of someone promising a vote to one person but actually raising their hand for another. 

I don’t think the rest of the week is going to involve water shut offs, falling metal, and technological hiccups causing problems but that’s mostly because the theme of hope is powerful and permeating this Presbyterian.