<![CDATA[rebecca tucker : : simple hope - blog]]>Tue, 08 May 2012 09:11:01 -0800Weebly<![CDATA[The Need to Need]]>Thu, 03 May 2012 18:46:24 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2012/05/the-need-to-need.htmlI would never be in a situation where I absolutely need to borrow a cup of sugar from a neighbor.  Never.  I can walk to a grocery store.  But if I couldn’t walk, I could drive.  If the grocery store is closed, I’d just drive the 5 minutes to my boyfriend’s house – I have no hesitance needing him or asking something of him (or his awesome housemates).  I wouldn’t need to ask my neighbor.  It just wouldn’t happen.  But if it hadn’t happened to a man and his wife in a small village outside of Kigali, Rwanda, there’s every chance I wouldn’t be a pastor right now.  There’s every chance I wouldn’t be a Christian.  There’s every chance I’d be an angry cynic rather than a jovial Kingdom seeker.

When I first went to Rwanda almost five years ago, I was in one of those dark night of the soul places where people more spiritual or patient than I might find great transformation and learn something new about seeking the God of light when surrounded by darkness.  But, instead I was pretty much just angry, sarcastic, cynical, and, as a friend said “jaded enough for two or three people.”  So, after visiting the genocide memorial in Kigali, I spoke into the dark void that I thought may or may not be God’s presence and said “I don’t think You’re real.  If You are, You are an asshole.  So, I hope You’re not.  I’m done.”  And just like that, I was a seminarian, a pastor, and a missionary sans faith and in being sans faith, was also entirely void of hope, grace, mercy or any of those words I was taught to value in Sunday school.

Then, I heard a story.  A man killed several people in his neighborhood during the Rwandan genocide of 1994.  He thought God wanted him to. “OOOOffff course,” I snickered in my head, “This God-myth brings out the best in everyone,” my near constant inner monologue sarcastically continued.  And, as my calloused mind continued a Waldorf and Staton peanut gallery of his testimony, the man continued his Gospel story.  After he had killed them, he heard God’s voice pleading and weeping – asking why His children had to die.  The self-righteous murderer had no response.  He was silent.  Then he began to weep with God – knowing he had killed God’s own children.

He repented.  He turned himself in.  He was a model prisoner and helped other prisoners to confess, see that their violence was not God mandated, but against the God of love, and repent themselves.  When he was released, he worked hard to become a blessing to the community he had violently scourged ten years previous.

Meanwhile, one of the family members of one of God’s children the man had killed was baking.  He needed sugar.  He couldn’t go to the market.  He had to go to his neighbor. His neighbor the murderer.  His neighbor he had spent a year passionately avoiding.  He had to choose between having bread to eat or encountering the man who killed his family.  He absolutely needed to borrow a cup of sugar from a neighbor.  He tried not to – but his wife convinced him.

So he went.  He asked for the sugar.  He received the sugar.  He received more.  In receiving from his neighbor, God’s Spirit miraculously sparked an unfathomable forgiveness in him and beyond that, an unthinkable love for the man who violently laid low his family.

The story-teller continued, explaining how his neighbor had forgiven him and become like a brother to him.  He told us that his victim-turned-best-friend was the best-man in his wedding and that they were known around town for being inseparable.  And in my justly jaded state, my inner monologue sarcastically continued: “Sure.  That’s true. I’m sure this guy has learned what white people want to hear and says it when we visit and bring piles of misprinted t-shirts for the kids in his village…” 

…But then, a man stood up next to him.  With tears.  He placed his shaking hand on the man’s shoulder and, with deeper sincerity than I have ever seen, said “It’s true.  He was my aggressor, but he is my brother.”

Suddenly my cozy darkness of atheistic cynicism was infiltrated with a painfully hopeful light and I began to weep with new faith.  Inspired by this neighborhood story of repentance, shalom, forgiveness, and hope, I spoke into the void that I knew was God’s presence and said, “I still have questions.  It still seems dark.  But you must be real and you must be love.  You must be a God of Gospel and I am sorry.”

And now, I have faith.  I have hope.  I have so much hope for God’s world.  For the broken church.  For our neighborhoods – even the suburban ones.  I’ve become a person of faith and hope because of this story. 

But this story never would have happened if a neighbor hadn’t needed another neighbor.  If he hadn’t absolutely needed to borrow a cup of sugar.

In our culture, we don’t need each other.  If my neighbor parks in front of my drive way more than once, I can easily get angry and never talk to him again.  I don’t need him.  He doesn’t need me.  There is no pressing felt reason for forgiveness.  Life will go on uninterrupted if our relationship is utterly broken.  We will never be in a situation where we absolutely need to borrow a cup of sugar from a neighbor.  Never.  And because of that, we will forgive less.

We need to need.   We need to need God.   We need to need our friends and family emotionally.  But we also need to need our neighbors in tangible, forgiveness-provoking ways.

Churches and Christ-followers increasingly and rightly often ask, as a test of their missional health, “Does our neighborhood need us?”  This is good.  But we also need to ask, as a test of our spiritual health, “Do we need our neighbors?” To be spiritually and missionally healthy beings, organizations, and communities, we need to need.  There absolutely must be a situation where we need our neighbors – or Gospel story after Gospel story will pass you by and opportunities for unfathomable forgiveness and shalom will remain unfathomable as we shut the blinds of self-sufficiency, cocooning ourselves with numbing independence.

I’d love for church practitioners, participators or dreamers to share some ideas or stories of cultivating a need for our neighbors in the comments.

]]><![CDATA[Psalm 100 - re-imagined for neighborhoods]]>Thu, 19 Apr 2012 14:16:22 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2012/04/psalm-100-re-imagined-for-neighborhoods.htmlI'll be doing liturgy at the inhabit conference starting tomorrow morning!  So Excited.

Here's a sample of what we'll be doing as we wonder how ancient Hebrew hymns - very much affected by place and by the land - speak to our places and our lands today:

Ps 100 Targum:

Shout joyfully to the LORD, all the earth.

Shout! to the Lord all places - all neighborhoods!

Shout words!

Shout sacrifices!

Shout integrated lives rooted in the Lord and in the neighborhood She’s given you!

Shout care for neighbors in need!

Shout fairly-traded brownies brought welcomingly to the door of a neighbor you’ve never met!

Shout intent silence as your neighbor vulnerably tells you his story!

Shout a hard and honest conversation when your neighbor harms you!

Shout joyfully to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the LORD with gladness!

Come before the Lord with joyful singing.  Know that the LORD is God;

It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves;

Come before the Lord with joyful living! Know that the Lord is God!

It is She who made our neighborhoods and not we ourselves.

It is He who made our neighbors who we avoid when we are tired.

It is She who made our neighborhoods we leave when we want better coffee,

cheaper groceries or the company of friends more like ourselves.

It is the Lord who made our neighbors who we fail to know and be known by –

to love and be loved by - when we live in isolation and not community.

In independence and not interdependence.

In closed apartments and gated yards and not in openness.

In individualized cars and not the wide open of an afternoon stroll.

It is the Lord, Herself, who made our neighbors:

It is He who made our neighborhoods and not we ourselves.

We are the Lord’s people and the sheep of His pasture.

Enter Her gates with thanksgiving  And His courts with praise.

We are the Lord’s people living in His places.

Enter His cul de sacs with thanksgiving!

And her apartment complexes with praise!

Enter God’s neighborhoods with the praise of listening and knowing the other

and the thanksgiving of loving your neighbor as yourself.

We are the Lord’s people, living in Her neighborhoods.

Give thanks to the Lord, bless His name. For the LORD is good;

His lovingkindness is everlasting

And the Lord’s faithfulness to all generations.

Be thankful to the Lord and speak His good name in your neighborhood.

Be thankful and live the Lord’s good name in your neighborhood.

Live His good name with your neighbors.

Find Her good name in the face of your neighbors.

The Lord’s truth endures from generation to generation

The Lord’s love incarnates from neighborhood to neighborhood

]]><![CDATA[Ruth, long walks, slavery, and water]]>Thu, 22 Mar 2012 17:09:18 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2012/03/ruth-long-walks-slavery-and-water.htmlI used to walk a lot.  I hope I will be able to again, but being sans home and traveling further to work etc have made it harder. But, when I say I used to walk a lot, I mean A LOT.  I walked between five and ten miles a day.

I basically never drove unless I absolutely had to.  Work was a mile away.  My favorite local coffee shop was a mile away.  A B-rate coffee shop and a great park were six blocks away.  There was an expensive lefty food coop a little over a mile away and a Trader Joe's three miles away.  So I walked everywhere.

And, people got angry with me.  If I was walking after dark, I was being stupid.  If I was walking through a "bad" part of town, I was being stupid.  

My walking more than a couple blocks in a neighborhood where my computer had been stolen five days after arriving, where my car was broken into at least monthly, and where I rarely left the house without someone trying to sell me meth was abhorrent to people who care about me.  

Hearing that I was walking across a couple neighborhoods to do my grocery shopping, people would volunteer, "Gosh, if you really don't want to drive that badly, I'll drive you!  Walking that far is ridiculous!  Not to mention dangerous!"  Friends would make me promise (and I would lie) not to walk by myself after dark anymore.  Though I'm entirely unbelievable when I lie on person, I was convincing enough on the phone and made sure my mom never knew that I was living such a risky life style that involved walking five miles a day.  

People who care about me simply could not stand knowing that.  Because they thought it was dangerous.  And they didn't want anyone to bother me.  Bother may be a weak word.  Maybe you could say they didn't want anyone to follow me.  Or they didn't want anyone to plague me.  Or they didn't want anyone to touch, abuse, strike, beat, or smite me.

And that's fair.  No one wants that for their sister, daughter, friend, pastor etc.

In the book of Ruth - which is not, by the way, a romance between Ruth and Boaz or a story about how amazing Boaz is for redeeming the poor, beautiful, strong woman who was half his age and nestled next to his "feet" one night (the Hebrew for "feet" most often not referring to "feet" but a much more intimate part of a man's body) - digressing...

In the book of Ruth - which is, by the way, a story of a woman who risked and fought and used every resource she, a young impoverished widow, had at that time (namely beauty and the potential for sex and children) to secure food and safety for herself and her aging, bitter mother-in-law - again, digressing...

In the book of Ruth - 2:9 - there is a Hebrew word used to describe the thing Boaz instructed his men not to do to Ruth as she followed them around picking up the scraps of grain they had missed.  That word is translated "bother" in most English versions.  But, again, bother may be a weak word.  נָגַע or "naga" means follow, plague, touch, abuse, strike, beat, smite...or molest...or rape.  And, we can know that it was common for impoverished women gleaning in the fields to be touched, abused, beaten and raped because even in the fields of a righteous man like Boaz, he had to specifically command his workers not to "naga" Ruth.  He didn't even bother instructing them not to "naga" other women.  Ruth was an exception.  And, for Ruth, Boaz's fields would be an exception.  She could expect that - or at least the risk of it - in any other field and even in Boaz's up until his command not to "bother" the young courageous widow.

But, to Ruth's health, safety, and prosperity, when Boaz discovered that someone who was family and someone who he saw to be beautiful was in danger of "naga" in her daily pursuit of sustenance, it was abhorrent to him.  

Like my friends and family could not stand the thought of a dangerous five mile walk, Boaz could not stand the thought of Ruth - who was family and was beautiful - in the fields unprotected.  He had to act.

So, I plan to walk five mile walks again.  I plan to walk after dark.  I plan to walk in places that may not be entirely "safe."  And I'm sure I'll do that alone a lot.  And I'm sure friends and family will think I'm stupid and do everything they can to stop me...and maybe I'll lie a little again to try to calm their fears.

I'm sure that if you know me, you're not stoked on that.  And, if you don't know me, I'm sure that if you did you wouldn't be stoked on it.  You'd want it to somehow stop.  You'd want me safe from any danger of being bothered - naga'ed.

So, here's a piece of truth we all need to face today - on International Water Day: millions of young beautiful women - women we ought rightly consider as family - are walking five miles a day.  Not because they are headstrong and hate cars. Millions of our daughters, sisters, friends, pastors, wives, mothers are walking five miles a day to get water that may or may not be clean.

And, as in the case of Ruth, they are in danger of naga.  And most of them do not have a Boaz commanding young men - or more often, young slave-traders and pimps - not to naga them.

Modern day slave traders know the routes these women take.  They know the weaker parts of these long journeys.  They know that many of our sisters, daughters, friends, and pastors are vulnerable - especially if they are among those who have to walk so far for water.  And so they capture them.  And so they naga them.  And so they sell them for other men to naga.  Again.  And again.  And, on average, after a woman is captured for repeated naga, she lives about seven horrific years before the death and disease - which she hoped to avoid by walking such long distances for water - free her.

This should be abhorrent to us.  

Like my friends and family and like Boaz we should be doing everything we can to keep them from walking five miles a day.  To keep them from being naga'ed - bothered.

You, in a way, can command some young men not to naga your beautiful family members by donating money or prayers or time for increased safe water availability in impoverished areas.

Here's a good charity to donate to.  But, you're smart...you can find other ways.

Just please, care like my friends and family care for me - and like Boaz cared for Ruth - don't let our beautiful sisters, daughters, friends, and pastors be vulnerable to naga simply because they are thirsty. ]]><![CDATA[International Women's Day]]>Thu, 08 Mar 2012 15:27:37 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2012/03/international-womens-day.html
It's International Women's Day.  For whatever reason, I didn't realize this.  But I ended up having a conversation with a fellow woman pastor about how hard being a woman in the church can be - even amid people who believe women can be pastors.

We shared some broken stories.

She works as an associate pastor to a male head pastor.  She told me about a time he was greeted as Father and she as Sister.  When they are both priests.  Her for longer and with more education.

I told her about the time I told a woman that I was a pastor so she assumed I was married to one.  When I told her I'm not married, she said "I don't understand.  You said you were a pastor?  But you're not married to one?"

She told me about the time his sermon misfired and hers was excellent and he commented "Nice work."  He meant nothing by it.  But, it was belittling.

I told her about the time I wrote a great and original liturgy and a pastor I love and look up to greet me with "Good girl."  He meant good things by it.  But, it was belittling.

We talked about how many very well meaning men in the church just don't understand how much farther we have to go.

The silence after was full.  Weighty.  Deep.

"However," she continued - breaking the broken silence, "I'd much prefer to work for a man than for a woman.  Women tend to be all about themselves and like to talk about how they're broken and I'm broken and everyone's broken.  I'd much prefer to work for a male pastor."

Not to talk about how I'm broken and she's broken and everyone's broken...but my heart broke.  

It sank.  It hurt.  Physically - I could feel my heart hurting in the wake of her summation to our conversation.  

Her broken words reflected our broken world where - even on International Women's Day, even in the intimate conversation of two women who lead in ways women have historically been excluded from, women are torn down with negative stereotypes and the confines of male superiority are preferred.   
]]><![CDATA[Yahweh, african children, and girl scout cookies...]]>Mon, 13 Feb 2012 16:56:46 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2012/02/yahweh-african-children-and-girl-scout-cookies.htmlwhen i think about people Yahweh cares about, i know the answer is all of us.  but i bet african children stolen from their families or captured because of being orphaned and then forced to work in unpaid and unsafe conditions so that we can eat some tasty chocolate - i bet these kids are pretty close to Yahweh's heart.  or, that's what the Scriptures seem to say. (ps 9:9, 10:17, 34:18 etc).  so, if Yahweh's heart is close to them, i want my heart to be there too.

but then, my heart is close to little girls whose home lives aren't great but who come to church on a sunday and are welcomed by a community who wants to buy girl scout cookies to let those little girls know they have family in that community.  i think Yahweh's heart is with them.  and so i think mine should be too.

and my heart is close teenage boys from rough neighborhoods selling king-sized snickers bars so that the after-school basketball program that is keeping them off drugs and out of gangs can continue.  i think Yahweh's heart is with them.  and so i think mine should be too.

but it can't be in all those places.  not actively.  it can and does struggle and pray in those places.  but girl scout cookies and king-sized snickers bars come to us at the painful and sometimes deadly cost of little boys and girls in africa.  these situations are paralyzing.

once, outside a safeway in sacramento, a young man asked me to buy a snickers bar to support his basketball team.  i told him no.  i gave him $5 and told him a bit about global slavery.  i told him i love what he's doing but hope maybe in the future it could be done differently.  he seemed thankful to know more about the world and how he's connected to other people about his age in africa and how maybe in the future their mutual flourishing could be possible rather than opposing.

but...do you say that to a little girl who is so proud and happy about what she's doing? how do you say that to a little girl who is too young to really understand and who just needs a place of abandon, love, and acceptance?  can you?

girl scout cookies are the worst.  they are made in ways that harm the environment, with chocolate that harms children, and often produced in china in ways that harm even more people.  and then they come to innocent hearts in the west and go door to door pulling at genuinely well-meaning heart-strings.


damn that to Hell!  with every well-meaning string in my heart, i want the system that produces girl scout cookies to literally be damned to Hell.  

...but that has very little to do with the little girl at church and the room full of people singing songs about a loving and just God with thin mints tucked neatly under their pew and happy thoughts about loving a young girl in need of a loving home-away-from-home tucked neatly and rightly in their minds.

Yahweh's heart is with those people.  Yahweh's heart is with that girl.  Yahweh's heart is with those children in africa harvesting chocolate that will fund the children of the global 1% (or maybe 10%)'s suburban field trips and merit badges.  Yahweh's heart is close to those who suffer because of deforestation.  Yahweh's heart is close to Chinese men, women, and children laboring to make thin mints and samoas.  and i hope Yahweh's heart is close to mine as i wonder what on earth the way of Jesus looks like in the face of girl scout cookies. ]]><![CDATA[On being pacifist, present, placed, and prayerful on Veteran's Day...]]>Fri, 11 Nov 2011 12:24:05 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2011/11/on-being-pacifist-present-placed-and-prayerful-on-veterans-day.htmlI'm a pacifist.  I'm conflicted about this day.  

Some people did some things they felt were honorable and needful and good for their country.  And they all payed dearly for those things - even if they remained alive and unhurt, fighting in a war is costly.  Or, maybe their country forced them to fight by way of an odd and violent lottery.  And still they payed the cost.  

And, though I thoroughly disagree that war or violence is ever honorable or needful or good - and honestly - that it is ever okay for a Christ-follower to look on other bearers of God's image as enemies we might kill because they are a part of a differing man-made political system (that they likely have as much control over as those unlucky lottery-chosen-soldiers did) - though i thoroughly disagree with the honorability of any violence and especially war, I still feel like today is a day to honor people who made tough decisions and payed dearly for them.  

But, how do we do that in a way that gives honor to those people while depriving violence of all pretense of honor? 

...So...yeah, conflicted about today.  

How will I deal with that conflict?  I'm going to play pinball and watch x-files with my boyfriend.  True story.  Avoidance is a good way around feeling conflicted :) 

But, I also write and post a prayer or liturgical piece for people who are seeking to live the Gospel in a way that's rooted in neighborhood every Friday.  So, I won't completely avoid the conflict :)

My thoughts on living the Gospel in neighborhood and Veteran's day are these: 

1) Neighborhoods lose a lot to war.  They lose people who are shipped distant places to fight them.  They lose infrastructure if the wars are fought in or near them.  They lose revenue as political entities require them to pay for the violence they may or may not support.  They lose compassion for others living in other neighborhoods around the world as our political system labels them enemies.  They often lose connection even at home across race and nationalities living in a single neighborhood.  They lose focus on their own neighborhood as media and politics diverts attention to an enemy they may never see face to face - while the myth of independence, isolation, poverty, domestic violence etc. goes unchallenged as a real and present enemy to the neighborhood.  
And 2) If we were all to be rooted and linked, there would be no war.  If we were rooted in our own neighborhood and not looking to expand our territory past its borders.  And if we were linked across neighborhoods - sharing resources we have that others need and asking for the resources we don't have but others may have in excess.  Idyllic.  Of course.  So much so that it seems silly to mention.  But, truthfully, if we were all rooted and linked, war would end.  And, as much as I'd regret the loss of a day off to go play pinball and watch x-files, Veteran's Day would be irrelevant.  Maybe there would be a new holiday.  Celebrating shalom in our neighborhoods?  Maybe it would be less a nationalistic day smothered in stars and stripes and more of a Kingdom day - smothered in compassion and hope?

Anyway, with those two pressing trains of thought, I spend a few hours this morning contemplating what to write today.  And, in contemplating, I stumbled upon this prayer:
O Almighty Lord God, who neither slumberest nor sleepest; Protect and assist, we beseech thee, all those who at home or abroad, by land, by sea, or in the air, are serving this country, that they, being armed with thy defence, may be preserved evermore in all perils; and being filled with wisdom and girded with strength, may do their duty to thy honour and glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer 1928 - military edition).

My first thought, of course was, "How on earth is there a military edition of a book of prayer with 'this country' quite possibly referring to both sides of a military conflict?"  Still struggling with that - as a pacifist and as a Kingdom-seeker in general.  

But my second thought was, what would this prayer look like if it grieved the loss that war means for neighborhoods?  What would it look like in that idyllic rooted and linked world of Shalom?

Here's what I came up with: 
One: O Almighty God, Who does not slumber or sleep
All: Who created this neighborhood and every neighborhood in both exalted and abandoned corners of our world 
One: Protect and assist all those in our neighborhood or in others - by land, by sea, or in the air, who are serving You
That they, being armed with Your peace, may persevere in works of grace, compassion and justice.
And, being filled with wisdom and girded with strength, they may live their shalom-waging Gospel duty in presence and place to Your glory and honor.
In your mercy Lord
All: Hear our prayer.

One: O Gentle God, Who is near to the broken
All: And who is comfort to those who mourn
One: Comfort our neighbors and neighborhoods who have lost sons, daughters, safety, home, and focus on Your Kingdom that is rooted in place and linked across political borders.That they, being secured in Your peace, may mourn their losses, be restored to hope, and be made whole again.
And, being armed with your shalom-waging Gospel, we may all return to lives of passionate peace and compassionate justice in the neighborhoods you have given to us and given us to.In your mercy Lord,All: Hear our prayer.  Amen.

I hope you'll join me in this prayer today - but more importantly, I hope you'll join me in joining Yahweh's local and global work of Shalom.
]]><![CDATA[it's not halloween yet...but have you started your christmas shopping?]]>Tue, 11 Oct 2011 15:30:09 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2011/10/its-not-halloween-yetbut-have-you-started-your-christmas-shopping.htmlthere is a long, long, looooong list of things i really hated when i worked at a christian book store.  a long list.  a nigh infinite list.  

but one of them was bringing the christmas tree (pagan fertility symbol that has nothing to do with jesus) out before thanksgiving...and even before halloween - as though christ-followers really need to be affronted with the pressure to purchase chincy crap made by children in china with crosses or bible verses on them that make them patently christian and therefore patently acceptable to stuff in a stocking in a manner that tells people: "i care about you enough to buy you an impulse item without having too much knowledge about what you would really like...happy Jesus' birthday!" for two months rather than the normal one month.  i could go on.

but, in the decade and change since i worked there, i've put more energy into how i hope a holiday about God coming close enough to touch in a vulnerable and impoverished way should be celebrated than into ranting about how it ought not be celebrated. (though, depending how sarcastic or cynical i am on any given day, i can still rant quite well. :)

anyway, one thing i believe about Christmas is that it is about God caring for neglected people, about God coming close, and about freedom.  so, while shopping ad nauseum two months in advance is probably not the best way to celebrate - shopping for things made by neglected under and unpaid workers is probably the worst way to celebrate christmas.

so three years ago i started a movement for a slave-free christmas.  buy local.  buy and cook fair trade.  make things.  give your time and presence.  invest in charity rather than chincy ornaments no one really needs. my first year, my christmas was about 90% slave-free and the last two years, it has been 100% slave-free.  it's been good.  it's been transformative.  it's recentered the holiday on Jesus.  it's been hopeful.  ...and one thing i've learned?  if you want to have a slave-free christmas, you have to start early.

soooo...here i am.  it's not even halloween yet. and i'm encouraging you to begin thinking about/making/commissioning/searching for slave-free ways to celebrate and give at christmas.  forgive me for jumping the holiday gun - but i think spending two plus months contemplating how to spend and give and celebrate in ways that make the world better, more free, and more hopeful is probably not an all together bad thing...and you may even take some time to contemplate where the chocolate and sugar you're using this halloween came from?

here's a couple of resources to make a slave free christmas (and halloween?) easier:
get not for sale's smartphone app: free2work
and visit orangechristmas.com

...more resources to come, but here's a good starting place!

please feel free to comment with thoughts, questions, suggestions, and hopes for a more free and just holiday season!


]]><![CDATA[my love/hate relationship with children's ministry]]>Wed, 05 Oct 2011 10:28:54 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2011/10/my-lovehate-relationship-with-childrens-ministry.htmlI’ve been doing some research on children in worship and how faith is best developed in kids.  i have a love/hate relationship with all things christian for children.  for one, when i first felt called to ministry, several people attempted to corral me to corral me toward children’s ministry - because, clearly, God could not have called a woman to anything else.  I must simply have misunderstood God - and if I only experienced leading VBS, I’d know that I’d found my vocational home.  When, in truth, leading VBS made me want to run away from all things church and need an extended vacation to recover.  

So, as a woman in ministry, I tend to shy away from anything that might fall under the heading of “children’s ministry” because...I guess I don’t want to give my grandparents and the people at my parents’ fundamentalist church that deep sigh of relief that I’m finally starting to obey God after those three tumultuous and rebellious years of church planting.

I also have a love/hate relationship with children’s ministry because i feel like the Sunday School movement made sense in the modern era.  When we were attempting to instruct faith to people who were primarily viewed as thinking minds, it made sense to mirror school on Sunday mornings and teach at age-appropriate levels.   However, as WWII Germany first showed us and more recently, droves well-taught Sunday School graduates turned ardent atheists or at least church-avoiders has taught us: educating a mind does not produce a healthy, whole, just, committed, or passionate person; it produces an educated person.  And, if this educated person does not see and experience faith as James describes it outside of the educational walls of Sunday School rooms, it will eventually be as much use to them as my advance placement math classes in seventh and eighth grade are to me after years of theological study: I can barely add now.  Because I don’t care about math.  I learned it well.  I was excellent at it.  But I don’t care.  So I forgot all but how to calculate a tip and get a strange feeling when I’m being over or under charged for something.

Also, despite all their good intentions, most people involved with my childhood education in following Jesus did more scarring, scaring, and shaming that forming.

So....I don’t want to talk about children’s ministry.  But it’s important.  An emergent/missional/ progressive/whatever-buzz-word-you-currently-prefer-for-trying-to-do-things-differently-and-possibly-better movement that has a terrible distaste for children’s ministry of the past but doesn’t deeply, intelligently, discerningly, and prayerfully dream and attempt a children’s ministry of the present to form a more healthy and just future will of course only be a fad and the beginning of the movement our children will hate as much as we hated Sunday School.  Faith won’t be passed on unless we take the passing seriously.

So, how do we care for children in the faith community.  Ivy Beckwith’s text “Postmodern Children’s Ministry” is one that I regularly recommend.  She does some excellent work at laying a foundation for something more holistic and formative.  (Not to mention, she did some spectacular things at Solomon’s Porch!)  Here’s a few things she has to say about caring for the souls of children:


“those of us who care for the souls of children in church may need to think about how what we do helps children be children. we need to provide them respite from the daily push to be the best, which they face in every other arena of their lives.”

“spiritually forming children means we help them see that in the economy of the kingdom of God being successful is loving others, showing mercy, fighting for justice, and walking humbly with God.”

“what i want [children of privilege] to know and to practice is not that it’s wrong or sinful to go on a Caribbean vacation but that because they have privilege, they also have great responsibility to use that privilege to further the Kingdom of God on earth.”

As I re-read this book yesterday, what struck me was this: as a generation, our childhood souls were not often carefully tended.  We were not taught these things.  We rarely saw them modeled.  So, in many ways, we’ve been spiritually malformed.  However, if we don’t want to pass that deformity along to the next generation, we need to grow up.  We need to become people that believe and model that “being successful is loving others, showing mercy, fighting for justice, and walking humbly with God.”  As people of privilege (which almost anyone reading this is), we need to live as though that privilege is a responsibility to further God’s Kingdom of love and justice on earth.

We can work on the perfect postmodern program for kids.  We can dream up a philosophically flawless way to serve them.  We can study how their brains work at the same time as reaching back in time to the ancient Hebrew ways of faith formation - but all of this will be like putting together a perfect advanced placement math program: ultimately pointless....unless we learn to live as though “being successful is loving others, showing mercy, fighting for justice, and walking humbly with God.”  ...and if we manage this, while we still need to diligently steward the soul care of our children, we could almost have any kind of “children’s ministry” and be guaranteed some level of success...as a passionate life for God’s Kingdom of love and justice is contagious to children!


...And I guess this still leaves me with a love/hate relationship with children's ministry...because blaming crappy curriculum is a lot easier than really truly living a Kingdom life in a way where children observe and learn and catch. ]]><![CDATA[a benediction]]>Sun, 28 Aug 2011 10:03:36 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2011/08/a-benediction.htmli left my little missional community in sacramento three weeks ago.  it was hard to leave.  i have total confidence in the people who have taken over.  but it was hard to leave.  and every sunday it has been hard not to be with them.

but, for those who are curious, great things are happening in their future.  and i left because God was calling me back to Seattle to start something new in the city i love. 

anyway, when i midtown friends, i wrote them this letter of benediction. (benediction meaning blessing not ending - because they are certainly not ending!)

Dear Midtown Friends Community,

It’s odd that we’re a liturgical Quaker church.  That’s something I brought to the table.  And it’s something I hope to leave at the table.

Honestly, in saying that, I do hope that you continue to worship weekly through this odd combination of call and response and art and simple conversation and listening.  I do hope that you continue to worship in a way where everyone has the opportunity to speak.  And I do hope that more of you speak during that time.  I doubt God’s Spirit is quiet – so we shouldn’t be either.  And I do hope that you continue to worship by integrating issues of justice that have been important to our Quaker mothers and fathers in faith.  I hope literally that you remain a weird liturgical Quaker church.

But I hope those things on a much deeper level as well.

The word liturgy means a lot of things to a lot of people.  And, philosophically, words mean what people agree they mean.  So, maybe liturgical means a high church call and response kind of thing.  Or a service with communion in the middle.  Or a service where the priests are all dressed up and do a bunch of things that a lot of people don’t understand.  If so, then maybe I don’t want you to be liturgical.

But, personally, I am into the actual definitions of words.  I think they should be pronounced how they are spelled and they should mean what the dictionary says.  Liturgy is a rich word.  It comes from the Greek roots laos and argon, meaning people and work.  The fact that worship services are called liturgy is profound.  It means that worship is the work – not the passivity – of the people – not the priest.  Liturgy is about you doing something to glorify God.  It is about you being one body that works together toward God’s Kingdom and God’s glory!

Taking this a step further, I think we’d all agree – or at least I’ve been careful to teach – that worship is not something that happens for an hour or possibly two on a Sunday night, or morning or a Wednesday.  Worship is the lives we live.  It is found in the exquisitely ordinary beauty of the everyday.  Worship is a life we live.  The time we spend together as a community “worshiping” is simply a rehearsal of that life. A theologian named Donal Hustad says, "The worship service is a rehearsal of the everyday life or worship."  He’s right.  Therefore, a liturgical church is a church that works together for the Kingdom through a worshipful, sacrificing, celebrating life – lived every day and every minute.

So may you continue to be a liturgical church…And may you continue to be a Quaker church. 

Like liturgy, Quaker means a lot of things to a lot of people.  And, philosophically, words mean what people agree they mean.  But, let’s agree: Quaker does not mean oatmeal.  It does not mean black clothes.  It does not mean silence.  It does not mean the EFCSW (our denomination).  It does not mean whatever we want it to mean.  It does not mean weird.  It does not mean no baptism or communion.  It means Friends.  And by “Friends,” it means “Friends of God.” And by “Friends of God,” as John 15 shows us, it means we are people God died for – meaning, we are people who begin and end with grace: from God, for each other, for ourselves, as a community when we fail. We are Friends.  Quakers.  Again, as John 15 says, it means that we are people of love, who bear obvious fruit, know what work God is doing in the world, and join in that work.  We are Friends.  We are Quakers.

One of the most amazing things about the Quaker faith is that we don’t have a set of doctrine.  Or, we do, but we don’t call it a catechism or dogma or anything like that.  We call it “Faith and Practices.”  We are a James 2 kind of people.  We believe that faith is dead if it is not put into practice.  For this reason, our faith and practices states something we believe and follows it up with how we should live.  For example: “We don’t believe in slavery; so we shouldn’t buy things made by slaves.”  “We don’t believe in divorce; so we should fight for marriages.”  At the same time, we do believe in grace; so when we fail at these things we should respond with grace.  I love this about our Quaker faith.  Though Quakers are often seen as the least liturgical of the faiths, when we understand liturgy as the work of the people and worship as a daily, moment-by-moment, whole life kind of thing, Quakers are the most deeply liturgical embodiment of the Christian faith I have found.

So may you continue to be a liturgical Quaker community.  Working for the Kingdom and living for God’s glory.  Daily.  As a community.  As one body.

 As I’ve prayed over you as a community, there are several areas that I especially hope for you to continue and continue to grow as a liturgical Quaker community. Here is my benediction to you.  If you love me, if you are thankful for the work, blood (literal), sweat (literal), tears (again, extremely literal), and life that I have poured into you and into this church, please receive this benediction with attentiveness, seriousness, and hope:

May you be a liturgical church.
Meaning, may your whole lives be lived – worked – together as worship.

May you worship through the work of creativity.
Art. Nonprofit organizations. Songs. Families. Meals. Hiking trips. Stories.
May you worship through the work of creativity…together…as one people.

May you worship through the work of justice.
Fighting slavery.  Helping the downtrodden.  Feeding the hungry.  Sharing food with people who live outside.  Listening to the marginalized.  Welcoming those who are unwelcomed.  Defending the defenseless.  Giving grace to the ashamed.
May you worship through the work of justice…together…as one people.

May you worship through the work of raising children.
Your own.  Your neighbors.  Children orphaned by any number of tragic circumstances – AIDS abroad and tragedies at home - or metaphorically orphaned by absent or under-involved parents.  In what Yahweh calls true religion, may you care for children.
May you worship through the work of raising children…together…as one people.

May you worship through the work of unity amid diversity.
May you disagree – with love.  May you abandon debate for genuine transformative listening.  May you genuinely love others while they are different and not wait for them to change first.  May you love them so deeply that you are willing to honestly but compassionately disagree rather than silently and in passive violence tolerate them.
May you worship through the work of unity amid diversity…together…as one people.

May you worship through the work of hospitality.
Receiving it from God.  Sharing it with one another.  Extending it to all people  - especially the excluded ones.
May you worship through the work of hospitality…together…as one people.

           

May you worship through the work of peace.
Not pacifism.  Certainly not passivism.  Through the hard work of being honest, caring, fighting for one another, sharing differing opinions, sharing differing visions for this community, sharing wounds you’ve inflicted on one another – or wounds received from the community.  Not shirking away from a difficult conversation or relationship – but seeking God’s Shalom that is peace made through conflict.  Armed with the confidence that Jesus Christ accomplished peace through the greatest of conflicts: the cross.
May you worship through the work of peace…together…as one people.

And may you worship through the work of seeking and following Yahweh.
Listen.  Read the scriptures. Pray.  And act.  With courage, conviction, and the type of love that can and must only overflow from Yahweh.
May you worship through the work of seeking and following Yahweh…together…as one people.

May you be a liturgical church.
A church where the people work at the daily lived life of worship…together…as one people.

With Deep Peace, Hope, and Love,
Rebecca Tucker ]]><![CDATA[a meta blog post on why i blog...hopefully less pretentious than that sounds.]]>Tue, 26 Jul 2011 13:01:36 -0800http://www.rebeccatucker.com/1/post/2011/07/a-meta-blog-post-on-why-i-bloghopefully-less-pretentious-than-that-sounds.html
i wanted to be smart.  i wanted to be acknowledged for being smart.  i'm not generally a fan of myself.  but i do know i'm smart.  so i run with that.  i do my best to shine and maybe even stretch and pose and pretend to be even smarter than i am.  i wanted to be smart and acknowledged for being smart over five years ago when i wrote an article for the prestigious scholarship my school awarded me in stanley grenz's name.

then life interrupted. someone i loved died.  violently.  senselessly.  unexpectedly.  devastatingly. 

and i couldn't bring myself to be smart. for one of the first times ever, my soul was louder than my intellect and i was broken and incapacitated to be smart.

i still had to write the article.  and i had to give up on being smart and settle with being honest.  transparent.  vulnerable.  i gave up on the laud for my intellect i craved like a beauty queen after a tiara. 

it's been over five years.  then norway happened.  violently. senselessly.  unexpectedly.  devastatingly.

and on sunday i found out that emergent village reposted the article i wrote - the article i suffered and struggled through five years ago - as a response to norway.

and since sunday, i've been blessed with facebook message after facebook message and email after email of people who were touched by it.  people who see Yahweh differently now.  people who are entering back into conversations with Yahweh and people who follow Yahweh because of the words born more of a broken soul than a working intellect.  one woman told me the article is already changing her life.

but it's not the article that's changing her life.  it's a new and a different glimpse of Yahweh.

and as i've read each of these responses to my article, i've cried.  sometimes a little.  sometimes a lot.

in part, i've cried because i'm humbled and happy that Yahweh is using my words and my friend's senseless death to touch people all over the country five years later.  that is beautiful.  that is a glimpse of the hope i preach about almost every week.

but i've also cried because i'm ashamed.  far far too often i write because i want to be smart - i want to be acknowledged for being smart.  far too often i write about Yahweh and what it means to follow Yahweh so that people will be impressed with me.  so that i can get a good grade.  so that i might become micro famous in the dying emergent scene.  and then, even though i'm not a fan of myself, someone else might be.

and then there are the times when life crashes in on my intellect and forces my soul to speak louder, and somehow a new picture of Yahweh and life with Yahweh appears.  and it changes me.  and it changes people.  and it is healing or redeeming or a seed of some new life.  and none of this is because i'm smart or wonderful - it's because Yahweh is beautiful and is bent on being known more and more fully - to the point that Yahweh will use a pretentious, over-educated, sometimes self-important person like me to be known.

and so, i am humbled and ashamed.  and in that, i hope i will write and think more out of a desire to know Yahweh more deeply and to make Yahweh be known more deeply than to be smart.

i hope that i write from the kind of love that - because of Yahweh - is bent on redemption rather than the kind of self-love that seeks to soothe a limping ego.

i hope we all do.  imagine a prophetic voice in the church that doesn't seek applause or the easy cynicism of tearing down the churches we came from - but instead loves Yahweh and Yahweh's world so deeply that we write and debate and utilize our curiosity and intellect - the curiosity and intellect Yahweh plants and cultivates and prunes and inspires in us - to see the world change and broken hearts heal.

that sort of emergence could never die.  that conversation would never end until Yahweh was fully known - which is to say, it would never end. ]]>