Thursday, February 27, 2014

ReLent: Photography Challenge

I'm way behind the times and have only just joined Instagram, so in addition to blogging daily I'm going to do a Lenten photography challenge!

I found this great resource and adjusted it a bit for myself, then printed it small so that it would fit in my planner. The bolded days are Sundays! I'm sure I'll post some of these here. I'm looking forward to my first photography/instagram challenge! You can follow me here or on instagram @mckinnarae, on twitter @revmckinnarae or you can be my friend in real life... however that works.


Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Blurts and Affirmations


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In my clergy peer group, we are doing a 12 week program called The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. One of the exercises is to write down some of the negative “blurts” that we frequently say to ourselves in our nasty self talk. We are then asked to turn them around into affirmations. 
This was surprisingly and embarrassingly hard! The affirmations sound so cheesy, and the blurts are so mean! 
I found this to be a super helpful exercise because at the very least, it revealed how mean I am to myself. I would never tolerate it if someone else spoke to me the way I speak to myself. 
Here’s my list:
I am too busy and stressed. I have enough time. I am enough.
I am irresponsible. Give yourself a break. No one is perfect. 
I too tired. Be gentle to yourself, and go to bed early tonight.
I can’t have the kind of relationship I want because of my career. God wants me to be happy in life, love, and work.
I am not smart enough. I am actually really smart! And other smart people have told me so! I went to the University of Chicago for heaven’s sake!
I’m too demanding. I deserve good things. 
I am too naive and privileged. Awareness of my own privilege is a strength, not a weakness. 
I can’t sing AND do ministry. Music is part of who I am as a minister. That’s not going anywhere. 

Nightmare in Maryville

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In response to this story
O God, we pray for our sons and our daughters. 
In a culture of patriarchy, sexualization, and rape we pray for change. 
That no boy would ever again interpret “no” for “yes,”
That no boy would ever again be assured of his innocence because his grand daddy is a state representative. 
That no boy would ever again believe that “she was asking for it.”
In a culture of shame, inadequacy, and fear we pray for change. 
That no girl will ever again be taught, “Don’t get raped,” as if she ever had a choice. 
That no girl will ever again fear dark alleys, dark basements, or even her crush. 
That no girl will ever again be denied the right to see justice done upon those who hurt her. 
O God, how do we get there? Our hearts are broken.
Photo credit: David Eulitt, KC Star

Leaving seminary and entering ministry is like...


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this is so true. I feel like I’m finding Jesus again. 

Clutter

 
Lord, help me now to unclutter my life, to organize myself in the direction of simplicity.
Lord, teach me to listen to my heart; teach me to welcome change, instead of fearing it.
Lord, I give you these stirrings inside me. I give you my discontent. I give you my restlessness. I give you my doubt. I give you my despair. I give you all the longings I hold inside. 
Help me to listen to these signs of change, of growth; help me to listen seriously and follow where they lead through the breathtaking empty space of an open door.

More Mary

Indifference

Indifference is the antithesis of the faithful life.
— Dr. Michael Mooty

Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye
What an odd and rare thing it is to say goodbye these days. There are so many ways to be in contact, to stay in touch, to remain on the periphery of someone’s life. 
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Today, I said goodbye to a person who knows me quite well: my therapist. During seminary, I sought out counseling as an additional way to process what I was learning in school and to help me navigate the murky waters that are one’s mid-twenties. It was one of the most rewarding decisions I’ve ever made (and one of the wisest investments). My weekly meetings with my therapist have shaped me for ministry just as much as any class or sermon or mentor. I am stronger, smarter, and more aware of myself than I ever could have become on my own. Having sat with such an intelligent and insightful woman nearly every week for two years, I learned how to be pastored. I learned how to receive care and help. I learned how to observe myself in my many contexts.
I also learned what sort of pastor I want to be, what sort of confidante and friend and girlfriend and daughter I want to be. And I began taking steps to become that person: the person who is more fully “me.”
But, I’ve moved to a new city, begun a new ministry, and it is no longer possible for me to sit in my therapist’s cheerful office overlooking Hyde Park. It’s time to move on. So, today we said goodbye over the phone. Awkwardly trying to tell one another what this relationship has meant, I cried and told her, “I don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”
Her reply was this, “I’ll accept that with gratitude, but only if you own the fact that whatever assistance or help I offered was just that: assistance and help. You did this, you made it this far.”
And it’s true. Graduating from seminary and landing a great first call was my accomplishment (guided by God, but I made the choice to follow). I wrote those papers. I walked that road. 
But, my, what a difference a good companion makes on the journey. 
And that’s the point, right? We walk with one another.

A Prayer Before Academia

Check out my submission to an amazing forum for young clergy women writers!
 Click Here!

Thank God for Mary Oliver

it is a serious thing
just to be alive
on this fresh morning
in the broken world
— mary oliver

Ash Wednesday

 
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

Anxiety

Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.
— 1 Peter 5:7

Vulnerability

http://imgfave.com/view/2491017

faith and frenzy

choose life: faith, rather than frenzy
— ann weems

Love: It's a Pain

I’d like to amend Paul’s statements about love in 1 Corinthians 13. Love may be patient and kind and all of that, but Love is also a giant pain in the butt.
I mean, let’s be real here: love is hard, and complex, and confusing, and involves a lot swallowing pride and trying to be gentle when really you just want to scream.
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Here’s the worst thing about love: sometimes, even when you’re trying really hard to be a good person and be “loving” it’s met with all sorts of non-loving reactions. And the loving response is to be patient.
I have a confession to make: I’m not patient. At all.
Also, Love is really difficult to talk about in the English language. We have one word. Most other languages have at least three. Obviously, we have some problems with love built into our very framework of communication.
What I’m trying to say is this: Love is lovely. We like to talk about it and write poetry and feel a little righteous about it. But when it comes down to it, love is hard and frustrating and elusive and confusing. Too often, when love is really needed I respond in fear. Too often, when I know I am hurting and so is my conversation partner I choose to focus on my hurt. Too often, when love is really needed… I chicken out.
And yet… our faith is built on this difficult verb/noun.
“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind & Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Occasionally, these verses slap me in the face. It’s not about me. There’s something greater here. I may not be able to see the way and it may be incredibly difficult and frustrating and it may cause me a ton of anxiety BUT love is, somehow, worth it.
A worthy cause. Some people pray and want their whole lives for a purpose and a worthy cause. So here it is: Love.
It may be a pain in the butt, but we could always use some more.
God, we know that you are very proficient in loving us and we ask that you guide us in loving each other. It’s hard. Soothe our anxieties and angers so that we can learn to be beacons of your light even in the most trying times. Over and over, you have stood faithfully in our midst and have patiently loved us. Thank you for your wisdom and love. Help us to reflect what we see in you to our family, our friends, our neighbors, and our church. Amen. 

Elementary Kindness

The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. What I want is so simple I almost can’t say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go around. The possibility that kids might one day grow up to be neither the destroyers nor the destroyed. That’s about it. Right now I’m living in that hope, running down its hallway and touching the walls on both sides.
— Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams

Spiritual Autobiography (2010)

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Frederick Buechner says that “at its heart most theology, like most fiction, is essentially autobiography. Aquinas, Calvin, Barth, Tillich, working out their systems in their own ways and in their own language, are all telling us the stories of their lives, and if you press them far enough…you find an experience of flesh and blood, a human face smiling or frowning or weeping or covering its eyes before something that happened once.
This reading is one a few meant to introduce my class of Masters of Divinity students to our first experience together. The assignment is to share, out loud, in writing (and photos and music and art) a chapter of our spiritual autobiography. The flesh and blood and tearful experiences that are the birthing waters of our theologies.
And I’m a little bit speechless. I can feel the tide receding, all those words on the tip of my tongue and just a little bit out of reach. And that’s okay. The tide will return, and with it the waves will soften my jagged, un-matched thoughts.
But here’s what I have right now: a prayer I wrote a few years ago, and I returned to it last night in an effort to choose “a chapter” to share with my class. I prayed this prayer nearly everyday (and multiple times, too) of my junior year of college, and perhaps after a year of saying it out loud some of it stuck. Saying this prayer did not make me the image of grace by any means, but it kept me hoping. Maybe it will help you, too, on a day of jagged edges.
I know that you are a master of taking the broken and making it whole.I trust that when my world, my heart, and my will are broken you will heal me and make my life something beautiful to bless your world.
Help me add to the beauty of your grace. Amen.

What the world needs now...

What the world needs is people who believe so much in another world that they cannot help but begin enacting it now.
— Shane Claiborne

El Higueral


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The water came out of no where, and it fell from the sky so quickly. The truck had gone ahead with all the supplies and made it across the creek-turned-river before the storm came, but there they were. Hiking. In El Salvador. A few miles from town, and one river away from the village that was their destination.
They thought about turning back. There was no way they could cross, but where would they stay? What would they do? They had come so far- to share and eat and write down family histories and give out medical supplies and eye glasses- it seemed a shame to be stopped by some flash flooding.
As they stood there thinking, some men appeared on the other side. One scrambled up the slippery trees in the storm with a length of rope and found a path from branch to branch and created a tight-rope across the river between trees. Another man thew another rope across and hollered for them to tie it around their waist.
One by one, all of the visitors and the man from the village made it back across. Holding on to the tight-rope, feet swept out from underneath them, trusting that the guys on the other side had their safety rope tight in their hands.
The truck didn’t make it back across the river for three days.
For strong hands and strong wills, for sturdy rope and a prayer, we give you thanks. May we always find a friend on the other side to help us across, and may we learn a bit about anchoring the rope for each other too. Amen. 

Synthesis

I wanted, though I did not know it then, a synthesis. I wanted life and I wanted the abundant life. I wanted it for others too.
— Dorothy Day,The Long Loneliness

My Favorite Poem

My favorite poem might just be "Music I Heard With You" by Conrad Aiken. Set to music here by Richard Hageman and recorded by me!
This is from my senior recital, given at Congregation Kol Ami in Kansas City with Jeanette Heater accompanying. Enjoy!
(PS. There’s a little bit of distortion on the highest note which is such a bummer- it’s not my voice it’s the recording levels that were off.)

Bach B Minor Mass 2011


I recently sang with the Chicago Chorale in beautiful Rockefeller Chapel as we performed the Bach B-minor Mass for a packed house! photo credit to Jasmine Kwong.
photo credit to Jasmine Kwong