“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.” (Lewis Carroll)

There’s several topics I could pursue tonight. After an evening of stimulating discussion around the beginning of Brian McLaren’s book A New Kind of Christianity, the possibilities of how God could work in the world are boggling the mind. I’m encouraged, intrigued and partially hopeful. Maybe in my lifetime I’ll see the seeds of change in an institution that is beloved by God but so stuck in the peanutbutter mire of “tradition” (use that word in the worst way.)

I was engaged by a roomful of adults (ages 19 and up) as we talked about how they see their faith and lives intersecting. We considered the niches of culture, especially the arts and multimedia, which are never touched by your average churchgoer because they force us to face questions that make pastors squirm. Or because, having no contact with Christians other than the most extreme examples interviewed in the media, these creative types figure out answers on their own, (which then they fear would mark them as heretical.)

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

When the Church places faith and life into narrowly defined cultural boxes, I want to weep. Can the Church not see how they are shoving away the very people who are the most needy for spiritual renewal, for hope, and for the love of Christ to transform them? As Jesus said to the disciples, “Are you still so dull?” (Matt. 15:16)

The answer is — yes. Frequently. I am. For whatever reason, I know, see and hear the incongruity. And I can so easily fall back into a comfortable snooziness like it’s a pair of well-worn Birkenstocks. And then the Spirit of God jolts me out of complacency.

There is so much more than the ways and means of unthinking faith. I listen to pastors wrestle with these questions all the time. I hear the struggles they come up against when they dare to challenge the tried and true. I don’t mind the traditions of the Church. I just wish they were not worshipped over God.

So that’s partially what is keeping me up cogitating this evening. That, and the realization that as one of my mentors said, I will have to carve my niche out from the ministries of normalcy that most of my peers find tolerable. I’m struggling with a dislike for most of the denominational entities I’m encountering — I haven’t found one I want to “jump the broom” with as yet.

I’m reflecting on the possibilities and places where I can be used by God in the years to come. I am not satisfied with a “standard issue” parish setting, unless they want a very UNstandard pastor.

But when I finish my CPE units, I’ll need a job. I don’t really know where or how yet. Lord knows, I try. I read the job leads which are sent my way. I even tried writing a whimsical self-statement and it just sounded ludicrous:

“Extrovert 3rd career ordained pastor, wife/mom/casual musician and below average crocheter seeks position with a group which discards ministry “boxes” but still has a faith in the fundamentals of Christianity. Loves her kids but doesn’t want to be in charge of yours. Would rather read a good novel or watch NCIS than parse a book on theology (but finds God in both.) Does not want to uproot family. Please give me a living wage with benefits and a retirement investment.”

OK. So if I believe in a God that can do anything… I will keep plugging away at my CPE units and being a student of the people around me. I’ll wait and believe that God will direct me to “that” place — whether it is as a hospital chaplain, a pastor for an advocacy group, or a pastor to thinking, grace-hungry people like me — and maybe you.

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.