03 February 2010

peanut butter and broccoli sandwich

I might have mentioned that recently, last fall, I became a vegetarian. We have had a lot of fun experimenting with food. One night, Joshua and I were eating dinner with some friends and they made this recipe for us. I will be honest, I was pretty skeptical before the first bite.

Behind my polite smile, my brain asked, "Seriously, peanut butter with broccoli? If you were out of food we could have just as easily eaten out. Or, I could have had you guys over for dinner. But, peanut butter with broccoli? I am not the biggest fan of peanut butter and jelly." Yes, those were the thoughts bouncing around in my head. Still, I was a guest and I would eat enough to be polite. Except, I LOVED this sandwich after the first bite. I wondered if maybe my hormones were out of whack, but I looked over at Joshua and noticed he was enjoying the sandwich as well.

So this sandwich has become one of our "quick" and "favorite" dinner options.

Tonight, Joshua volunteered to make dinner. It was, as always, delicious. Since I have received a few comments about this strange dinner combination, I am including the recipe here. Go ahead, make it if you dare.

Peanut Butter Broccoli Sandwich

Ingredients:
  • A few slices of your bread of choice (we use sprouted grain bread)
  • Butter
  • Peanut Butter (we use natural, unsalted peanut butter)
  • Goyza Sauce (I buy mine at Trader Joes...I think Soy Sauce will work but with a slightly different result)
  • Broccoli florets
  • Dried, chilied, pineapple (dried chilied mango would work as well)
Directions:
  1. I start by melting butter on a griddle
  2. Then I add the slices of bread and allow one side to toast
  3. When the first side is toasted, I add the peanut butter to the toasted side. I then place the untoasted side back on the griddle for it to toast.
  4. While the butter is melting, I put the broccoli into boiling water. I cook it longer than simply blanching it. It is not really a science for me. I simply cook it until it is soft with just a little crunch.
  5. When both sides of the bread are completely toasted, I add the broccoli and drizzle goyza sauce on top.
  6. Take the dried pineapple and cut it into snippets. Add it on top of the broccoli, close your sandwich and enjoy.

02 February 2010

a lament

Lament is not really a form of expression we commonly utilize. For the most part, we are not lamenters - not truly. Sure we say we lament over something or the other. We lament that wrong choice we made, we lament the poor investment. we lament missing a phone conversation with a friend.

We lament the trivial reducing it to nothing more than a synonym for being sad. I do not mean to say that we should not be sad in certain situations, but say that. Say you're sad. Lament is not simply being sad.

What does it mean to lament? Lament is the pattern of speech created by Israel to express their experience before God as the communal expression of pain, suffering, and loss, but also of trust and hope, lament defines much of communion-as-the-work-of-morning. The basic intent of lament is to rehabilitate and restore those who are suffering.


Wow!?! Seriously? Remind me why we do not lament again? Remind me again why we choose to bastardize this serious form of expression - a beautiful communion between God and his creation made-in-HIS-image? We don't like to be sad. We don't dwell on the painful. The truly terrible, the unspeakable that tears up our hearts and wounds our spirits. That is not really "church conversation." It seems the message I have gotten is that we need to be ok.

I remember reading a psalm of lament as a teenager and being scandalized that the psalm was even in the Bible. The psalm and tone were irreverent. They most certainly were not respectful to God. How could we dare to speak to him in that way - to question him? I believed that our trust for God and in God had to be so great that we could not express our hurts in questions. We could not express our pain by asking Where are you? I was constantly obligated to acknowledge God's love and nearness. Do our church communities feel the same way? If we have given this message to our children, is it possible that our adults have received the same message?

From my experience our words and our actions do not line up. We talk about being a place for the broken, hurting, and poor in spirit; when was the last time that we devoted our service, sermon, or a small piece of our service to a communal lament? When was the last time our communities stopped to mourn the great hurts we have experienced? When was the last time we took them before God as painful, open-ended questions? Do we even do this in our own lives?

Why lament? What is the big deal? The transforming power of lament is not that it gives answers, but rather that we experience suffering again while we have a hearing. God listens. Lament provides a gospel community the opportunity to express its absolute dependence upon God and to identify with God, thereby inviting the community to refind a new identity. For a community experiencing change and loss, the Psalms of Lament become the inner voice of fear and uncertainty and the outward voice of trust and hope.

Lament is for us! It is an individual expression of pain - it is our communal expression of pain it is BOTH. Lament is a place where we find God in our pain. It is the the place we go when we do not have the answers. It is a place we go when we acknowledge we are not God and we need him.

I encourage us to be people who lament. I encourage us to be communities who lament. May we give voice to great pains privately and in our communities. We must my friends, if we do not then we never truly move on.

Here is a Psalm of Lament written a few years ago. I share it with you today because it speaks into my life. It is a lament from the church and a lament for the church. The author is unknown.
O Lord, you are the God of our ancestors.
You are our God before our birth,

even before time began.


You built your church and opened her doors, O Lord.
You blessed your church and gave her life.
You gave her a voice.


Have you forgotten your Church O God,

have you left her to fend for herself?

Lord, hear us in our pain and fear.

We see young people walking the streets,

yet we do not see them in our churches.

We remember friend, who have left us.
We remember friends, who have forgotten us.


Now our churches sit empty.
Doors shut like a coffin,

our sorrow increases with each nail driven.

We have invited people to join us,

yet silence fills our ears, and emptiness surrounds us.

Why are we alone?

O Lord, where is our voice,
will anyone still listen?

The hymns are not sung,
the creeds are not confessed,
the Word falls on deaf ears.


We preach your Gospel,

we serve your world,

we try to hold to what you taught us.
Where is our voice? Will no one listen!


Our nation marches to war as we cry "peace!"

Our churches only seem to matter when buildings fall.
People on need us to marry and bury them.

We were once a church of tradition and pride,
we were once a church of scholars and thinkers.
We were once a church with renowned preachers.


At one time we were blessed,

at one time, we had influence,

at one time we mattered.


Have we wronged you?

Have we not sung your praise?

Have we not been faithful with what you gave us?


Lord, we are a confused people,

Lord, we have forgotten your goodness,

Lord we have taken our own path.


O Lord, you choose us, we did not choose you.

We are your people, and you will not abandon us.

Set our feet upon the path again.


Bring life to us again.

Lord once again fill the churches

with people seeking to praise you.

Lord bring the next generation

to meet you in our mist.

Return our voice, that we may once again,

spread the Gospel of your love.

Help us to be faithful,
help us to seek you,

help us find ourselves in your presence.


We will continue to praise you,
we will continue to worship you,
when our hearts are sad

and when they are filled with joy.


Great are you, O Lord

Now and forever more.



All italicized sections are taken from When Steeples Cry by Jacco Hamman and can be found in his chapter on Communion-as-the-work-of-mourning.

24 January 2010

blowing off steam

I would not begin to try to understand what goes on in the head of Pat Robertson. I wish I could say that I believe he means well but I am not sure of that. What I do believe is that I am not sure I have met the Jesus Pat Robertson talks about. In fact, I am not sure I want to know that Jesus. I just wish he did not have the same name as our Lord as it tends to confuse people.

Anyway, Robertson's comments make me angry. His point of view is difficult for me to swallow. I wish with everything in me that he would not open his mouth and talk. I wish that he would sit down and be quiet. He simply does not speak for me and I wish he would quit pretending that he does.

Dear Pat Robertson,

I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action.
But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.
Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"?
If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll.
You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan
So, I am re-posting a letter I found on a blog I frequent - with Byron over at Hearts and Minds. Feel free to check out is blog. He sells great books. Seriously great books and I appreciate the face that he is a small, independent book seller. It is fun to support the little guy.

21 January 2010

live in the story

Yesterday, I looked at the calendar to realize that we are more than half way thorough January. As January slips by many of us remember those pesky resolutions we made at the first of the year. If we stop to think, and are honest, this is about the point in the year where our good intentions from January 1st begin to wane. Many of us find ourselves slipping in resolve; we are not as “gung-ho” about those goals we made at the beginning of January. We reason to ourselves, “I will just sleep in one morning instead of going to the gym.” Of course that one morning turns in to two which turns into three. Let us just say that I speak from my own experience. Yes, I am the person who skipped the gym one morning at the end of January and completely forgot to go again until the middle of December. OOPS!

Why is it that we have so much trouble keeping our resolutions? Why? Is it that we are forgetful people with weak wills? I am simply not convinced that is the case.

Recently, I was reading an article written by Don Miller and he talked about precisely this phenomena. Don reminds us that we set goals because there is something in our life that is not quite right and we desire to move into a different reality. He presents the example of people who are in great shape and have their finances in order probably don’t set goals to be in good shape or get their finances in order. Instead we set goals for the area of our life that need improvement. The only problem with this particular set-up is that we do not think in terms of goals. We think in terms of stories. As I reflected on his thoughts, a light came on inside my head. We are NOT forgetful and weak willed. We simply do not think in terms of arbitrary goals, because goals in isolation do not connect to the broader story in which we live. They become a chore and added duty instead of becoming part of our lives.

Take a moment to stop and reflect on a significant event you’re your childhood. Breath deeply, allow yourself to relax as your mind drifts back to that place. Let yourself experience that memory, fully see it. Do you happen to remember the smell or sounds from your memory? Do you remember what you wore, how the fabric felt against your skin? Do you remember how you felt in your memory? Feel free to give yourself permission to linger in your memory.

What are you remembering? Perhaps your memory is of a joyful time; perhaps it is a painful memory. But, if you were to share your memory with me, I am going to bet it was not a memory of completing your math homework on a random Tuesday night, or washing your clothes every Thursday evening. I’ll bet your memory was not of your grade on your Spanish test from March of your Jr Year of High School. Your memory was not one of an isolated goal but rather something wrapped inside a story that you have carried with you. You remember hitting the winning home run, not the 800 hours of batting practice beforehand. Of course the little memories, the rote activities, the things we often make goals are not forgotten, they usually are not the first thing we call to mind in a memory. They are not the main event, they are the details. The road we walk on our way to the main event. This is because the things we remember are the stories interwoven with our life through out the day.

Think about this in the context of your own life. What was your resolution? Did you plan to get in shape, eat right, exercise 4 times a week? How is that going for you? Maybe you are the type of person who lives for a goal; or maybe you are more like me and are looking for the extra time to sleep-in.

What if, instead of those goals above, you decide to run the ½ marathon with a friend? You both talk about it and make plans to do this together. What would it take from you to run the ½ marathon? You would have to train consistently. Your eating habits would have to change. Sure you would love that fifth brownie but it will kick your butt when you work out the next day. You will drink more water because you are working out and your body needs hydration. As you make plans to take part in this event with your friend you are creating your own story together. Visualize the morning of the race. You will have to get up early to get ready. You will arrive and feel the excitement and energy of the other runners. You will feel the exhaustion inside your body after you have been running awhile. You will feel the joy and elation when you cross the finish line. You will take a picture and frame it. You and your friend will always talk about the ½ marathon you ran together. It will become a piece of your shared story.

In the context of that shared story with your friend, you will have met all your goals. On the days you are tired, you will look forward to event which will motivate you on the day you dread getting out of bed and heading to the gym.

We find ourselves captivated by stories, our stories and the stories of others. We think and remember in stories. They make up so much of who we are. In fact, God has revealed Himself to us in the form of story. The Bible is The Story of God’s interactions with humankind. Not only that, but we are invited to be part of the story of God. Everyday.

I can almost hear your thoughts as you ask: How do we do this? Seriously, it is crazy difficult to live out the principles we find in the Bible. Have you read all everything Jesus said – even the difficult things?

My encouragement to us is that we do not simply “read” The Story of God. We immerse ourselves inside The Story of God. We read and allow The Story to enter our lives. We allow ourselves to become part of the story. We do not simply “know” the facts of the Bible, we internalize the stories that they become part of who we are and how we live.

Sure we can make a goal, to be “kind” to people. But I promise, at some point, you will have to interact with that person whose special talent is pushing your buttons. You will slip, before you know what is happening, you will open your mouth and say something you should not have said. But if our goal is to look for the image of Christ in our brother or sister, then everything changes. We see our brother differently. We see our sister in the context of God and his community. We are not killing him with kindness or loving the sinner and hating the sin. We are actively looking for that “image of Christ that [each person] uniquely reflects.” (Joni Eareckson Tada). There is a difference.

As January slips by, take a moment to look at your life. Look at your “practical goals” and your “spiritual goals”. How are you doing with them? Look for the story? Where is it? Do you need to create it? I encourage you to spend some time thinking of the story you are longing to write with your life. I encourage you to be intentional – we see the changes when we are intentional. Look deep into the story for where God is working. He is always, always, always working in our lives, if we let him. If we look for it, we can often see glimpses of it. My friends, write your story, hold on to it, look for yourself inside the story of God and allow him to change who you are and how you see His world.

19 January 2010

on my way to la

Yesterday I flew back to Southern CA. The plane was full - completely full. It was not the best flight...it was not the worst flight either. Still, I am going to complain a bit.

A Chinese woman sat next to me. She was flying home. We did not talk too much because her English was not good and my Chinese is even worse. She was traveling with a little boy who was not more than a month old. I had the sense she was overwhelmed with traveling and being a mom. At one point her child projectile vomited. She sat there staring and holding him around the middle. After he finished she still sat there looking at all the dinner he had only moments before consumed in a pile on the floor. She was overwhelmed. She just sat and stared. After a few moments I called the flight attendant.

The guy who sat in front of me was sick. I am not sure what is was sick with but he was sick. He coughed and sneezed and sneezed some more. I think he sneezed 30+ times during the flight. I sat behind him and thought to myself, "I wonder what the chances are that I am not going to get sick from him." Famous last word...FAMOUS...

Today, my nose has been snuffly, I have a headache, I have been sneezing and my throat hurts. May I take a few moments to tell you how much I LOVE the gentleman who sat in front of me on the plane yesterday. He might possibly be my favorite person.

Tonight I sit on my bed after unpacking my suitcase. I should get up and gargle. I should blow my nose and take some vitamin C and Motrin. Instead, I am laying in bed, re-watching Season 1 from the West Wing and wishing I could go to sleep. Youth Group ended 4 min ago. I have to pick up Joshua since we went to work together. The chances are great that he will end up chatting with one of the youth for awhile, but I am hoping he will call me to pick him up soon. That way, I can go to bed.

Well, that is my long, sad story.
Rest well and stay healthy,
~ Amy

16 January 2010

take and eat

Lately, I have been thinking about communion - a classmate and I have had some conversations about it, and I am reading take this bread by Sara Miles. A book about one woman's journey though life and experience with communion. So, I am thinking. I am not sure I have any thoughts I am ready to share at this point, mostly my ideas are bouncing around and forming.

So, take this quote, read it, and hold it in your heart for the next time you take communion.

Rowan Williams - Archbishop of Canterbury

..."it is really the hungry who can smell fresh bread a mile away. For those who know their need, God is immediate - not an idea, not a theory, but life, food, air for the stifled spirit and the beaten, despised, exploited, beaten body.

09 January 2010

coffee and the want of a wrap

I am sitting in the busiest coffee shop in Holland, MI. I am fairly certain of this fact as I stopped into one coffee shop and thought, "Oh, no, you are too busy for my taste. I will just walk a little farther to the other coffee shop."

I reasoned, after all, it is FINALLY sunny today and I will enjoy an extra does of vitamin D on this snowy day. After walking a bit further, I came to JP's and the line was almost out the door. Foolishly, I thought all the people were just stopping in for a cuppa joe. I did not think they would stay. Silly, silly, Amy.

Truly, many are simply passing thought but quite a few are hanging out and enjoying conversation as well.

I made the decision to stay, I ordered my latte and the nice young woman on the coffee side of the counter let me know it would be a 20 min wait. "20 min? Like, 2 with a 0 behind." Yes, that is how long I waited for my cup of coffee. And, it is delicious.

Why I am sharing this story? Well, there is no particular reason other than as I have sat here blogging and preparing to study Greek, I am wishing I packed a nice warm wrap - a woolen wrap. I do not know why I did not think of this before - like when I was packing. I am the queen of wraps. Oh well. I have a warm jacket and I am happy.

Next year, I will remember.

Welcome to the random snapshot from my day.

the long exhale

This afternoon I am exhaling. You know the kind, the long, slow exhale that relaxes your posture until your shoulders drop and your jaw unclenches. It is release, the expulsion of breath one did not realize she was holding.

Today marks that I have fully crossed the threshold of the half-way point. The first six days are finished. Tomorrow is our break, our Sabbath, our day of rest. I have grand plans of nothingness.

I have been going and learning and going and learning and been surrounded by people for days and days. From early in the morning until late in the evening. This fact has caused me to reach to the deepest place for the emotional energy to function. Last night, I hit bottom. My little car ran out of gas. I wonder if that I were the expression, "I tanked" originated? Interesting thought. Anyway, I was sitting with a group of classmates at a restaurant called Via Maria and suddenly I was done. I did not have the ability to listen. I was not sure I would even be able to hold up my head if I continued to sit there. I debated if it was rude to simply pay my bill and leave or if I should wait for my classmates to finish before I left.

I decided I had enough "inner space" (thank-you Dr. Jacco Hamman from Counsel and Care) to trust my classmates would accept my explanation and understand my need to set boundaries for self-care (thank-you Dr. Teresa Latini from Pastor as Person) and leave. I did just that. I walked up to the bar, where our waitress was standing and paid for my appetizer, bid my classmates farewell and I walked to the Haworth. It was the wisest choice I could have made for myself. I crawled into my jamms and was asleep by around 8p EST.

I needed the sleep. My body was cry out for rest. I felt fantastic when I woke up this morning. I worked ate breakfast and was excited to be around people again. I am thankful for the "upswing" as move into my Sabbath and my last week of classes.

So, today, my body has exhaled. It has released all it was holding - the fear, stress and tensions. It is moving into the place of processing and organizing. I am thankful for this journey. I am truly thankful for that I am in school. It is most definitely a burden, but one I gladly carry. I am thankful for the people in my life who have acknowledged these gifts in me and been faithful to be a manifestation of the voice of the Holy Spirit in their encouragement as I have taken these steps.

Today, I exhale as I realize I have been holding my breath. I allow the tensions to fall away and I remember it is truly a joy to breathe.