Pray Like a Gourmet: Creative Ways to Feed Your Soul, by David Brazzeal
Reviewed by Kerry Greenhill
I am a prayer book junkie. I love books on prayer and spirituality – I love buying them, love reading them, and sometimes I even put them into practice. Sometimes. So while I liked the premise of Pray Like a Gourmet: Creative Ways to Feed Your Soul, I didn’t expect to learn much that was new, or gain insights I hadn’t heard before. I was pleasantly surprised.
The extended metaphor of prayer as a meal we can enjoy in God’s company works on many levels. I have to admit, the first couple chapters I was resisting the author’s style and found it a little cheesy. But that may say more about my inherent skepticism than a flaw in the writing.
The insight I found most intriguing is the idea that you can plan your prayer time – like a menu – based on types of prayer (praise, confession, lament, joining, etc.) and modes of expression (writing, music, movement). I realized that my unexamined expectation was that you schedule your prayer time, then it just happens – maybe with words, maybe with silence, but spontaneously, as the Spirit leads. I like the idea that the Spirit can lead you through planning a richer, more diverse, and more creative combination of approaches than whatever your default is.
I also appreciated the specific suggestions for how to experiment with the different types and modes of prayer. There are lots of ideas for practical application here, along with sound theology that leaves room for readers of a variety of perspectives.
I love the high-quality paper and full-color artwork that graces the pages. One minor frustration was that some of the text is in yellow or orange, making it difficult to read. Fortunately, these are generally only a word or phrase here and there, so it doesn't interfere significantly with the book's readability.
Ultimately, I found Pray Like a Gourmet to be an interesting, accessible read that would work well for individual or group study. I commend it to all who are seeking to expand or deepen their prayer life.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the author and/or publisher through the Speakeasy blogging book review network. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR,Part 255.
Theologically and politically progressive, grounded in Christian faith. Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Monday, July 07, 2014
When You Stop Walking on Water
For those stepping out of parish ministry
The rhythms are different
this side of the pulpit.
Like walking ashore
after hours
or weeks
on rocking waves,
your sea legs may persist awhile,
unsteadying your gait
and haunting your dreams
with the sensation of motion
in the midst of unmoving crowds.
You will look up at the night sky
and forget you do not have to plot a course
between the rocks and the reef,
charting seasons and casting stories
by force of longstanding habit.
You may not miss the grueling hours
or the demands of captaining your crew,
the churn of stomach in stormy waters
or the constant vigilance for dangers hidden
just below the surface,
but at times you will look out upon the shining, shifting ocean
and find yourself unmoored by dazzling splendor
or grim eternity,
the tides that keep on changing
while you are standing still.
There are blessings in this landlubber's life,
as all the throngs who never went to sea
can easily testify.
But have patience with yourself
as you relearn how to walk on solid ground.
For you have seen beyond the horizon
and you yet carry with you
the knowledge of winds and weather,
rising and falling,
harnessing the elements
to move through time and space.
Here, too, is Sabbath
and starlight
and soaring toward mystery,
even in stillness.
Even on land.
© 2014 Kerry Greenhill
The rhythms are different
this side of the pulpit.
Like walking ashore
after hours
or weeks
on rocking waves,
your sea legs may persist awhile,
unsteadying your gait
and haunting your dreams
with the sensation of motion
in the midst of unmoving crowds.
You will look up at the night sky
and forget you do not have to plot a course
between the rocks and the reef,
charting seasons and casting stories
by force of longstanding habit.
You may not miss the grueling hours
or the demands of captaining your crew,
the churn of stomach in stormy waters
or the constant vigilance for dangers hidden
just below the surface,
but at times you will look out upon the shining, shifting ocean
and find yourself unmoored by dazzling splendor
or grim eternity,
the tides that keep on changing
while you are standing still.
There are blessings in this landlubber's life,
as all the throngs who never went to sea
can easily testify.
But have patience with yourself
as you relearn how to walk on solid ground.
For you have seen beyond the horizon
and you yet carry with you
the knowledge of winds and weather,
rising and falling,
harnessing the elements
to move through time and space.
Here, too, is Sabbath
and starlight
and soaring toward mystery,
even in stillness.
Even on land.
© 2014 Kerry Greenhill
A Blessing for Those Beginning a New Ministry Appointment
to be read with the tongue positioned gently in the cheek
May your car start easily and your keys turn smoothly to open the church doors;
may your accompanist arrive early and your liturgist be on time.
May you accurately gauge the height of chancel steps and the length of your robe,
and may your microphone amplify your voice without ear-splitting feedback.
May your sermon notes remain in order and your mouth not get too dry;
may your insights find a landing place in ears and hearts and minds.
May your congregation welcome you with grace and hospitality,
and wait until you’ve learned their names before triangulating you in their drama.
May your preaching be genuine and your own heart be fully present,
and may the Holy Mystery surround and fill and meet you in this new place,
today and each day that you are here.
© 2014 Kerry Greenhill
May your car start easily and your keys turn smoothly to open the church doors;
may your accompanist arrive early and your liturgist be on time.
May you accurately gauge the height of chancel steps and the length of your robe,
and may your microphone amplify your voice without ear-splitting feedback.
May your sermon notes remain in order and your mouth not get too dry;
may your insights find a landing place in ears and hearts and minds.
May your congregation welcome you with grace and hospitality,
and wait until you’ve learned their names before triangulating you in their drama.
May your preaching be genuine and your own heart be fully present,
and may the Holy Mystery surround and fill and meet you in this new place,
today and each day that you are here.
© 2014 Kerry Greenhill
Wednesday, January 08, 2014
Water Breaks
Another new year, another renewed commitment to writing. But this year I have a plan, and even with a baby on the way, I really will make it happen!
Here's a prayer-poem for the Baptism of Jesus, which is this Sunday.
Water Breaks
Frozen, it expands
until it cannot be contained
by pipes too fixed and firm
in their places.
Rushing, it roars
through canyons and down streambeds
washing away dust,
mud, rock, road,
truck, house, church,
town.
Pulsing, it pours
or trickles down the legs
after months of suspending
a growing miracle
as another woman
crosses the threshold
toward meeting her descending child.
Lapping, it opens
as a man's head emerges
from the quiet murky mystery
into shimmering, dove-shaped
light.
Dripping and dancing, it blesses
infant, child, youth, adult
with the grace that goes before us,
tearing down walls
between sisters and brothers,
smashing the chains of alienation,
anger, judgment, fear,
addiction, apathy, despair,
and death.
May the water within you
and around you
break
in ways that make life
and wholeness
more possible each day.
Permission is granted to use this prayer-poem in worship. Please acknowledge with (c) Kerry Greenhill, 2014.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
Discerning Calling: Coaches, companions, and conversation partners
This post is a reflection on "Who influenced you in discerning your Call to Ministry?" as part of the Exploration 2013 Blog Day. If you are a young adult between 18-26 and are wondering whether God might be calling you to ordained ministry, consider attending Exploration 2013, this November in Denver, Colorado - learn more at ExploreCalling.org.
I am an Ordained Deacon in The United Methodist Church. I believe I am called to this role to live out the ministry of a deacon, which includes bridging the gap that too often exists between the life of the local congregation and the needs of the world. I have been affirmed and set apart by colleagues in the New England Conference as having the gifts, grace, and fruits suitable for a lifetime ministry of Word and Service.
Currently, I live out my call through two (part-time) paid positions: as Field Coordinator for Imagine No Malaria in the Rocky Mountain Conference of The United Methodist Church, and as Communications Manager for Family Voices Colorado, a non-profit organization that advocates for improvements to health care for children and youth with special health care needs. Neither of these are exactly what I imagined when I first started on my journey to ordained ministry some 15 years ago--but they are not so far off, either.
I was raised in a church-going family, and had a sense of faith in God from a pretty early age. But throughout high school, I found more meaning in volunteering in the church nursery than attending worship services. When I went off to college, I intended to explore various different religious paths to see if there was one that felt like a better fit than the United Methodist church my family attended in New Hampshire. But my mom encouraged me to try out the Wesley Foundation, the Methodist campus ministry, just to see what it was like.
It turned out to be my home away from home for four years.
The campus minister, Rev. David Hindman, was a big part of creating the welcoming community I experienced there, as he made a point of learning everyone's name on first meeting, and greeting them by name the next time he saw them. He was goofy enough to put a self-conscious teenager at ease, and sincere enough to create a safe space for serious conversations. David was one of my first mentors in ministry, mainly because he was the first to suggest to me directly that I should consider the possibility of pursuing ordained ministry myself.
I was never sure whether I was cut out (created) for ordering the life of a congregation as a pastor; I am a strong introvert, feeling drained by overexposure to socializing with people in groups. And I was still developing my own theology, figuring out what I believed about God's love and judgment, about whether there was only one right choice in any situation, one right path in life for each person, or whether God left things a little more open-ended.
As I wrestled with these questions, David offered the wisdom and perspectives of different theologians and church leaders alongside his own experience as fodder for my consideration. As I remember it, there were some questions of belief he refused to answer directly, and others he was willing to be clear about his own views while still making space for those who saw things differently. He affirmed my gifts, and my self-knowledge regarding the challenges of a public role as an introvert. One time, he asked me what I thought the ideal kind of work for me would look like, and I answered, "I want to advocate for those who are vulnerable, especially women and children; I want to be able to write, and speak publicly, and teach."
"Sounds a lot like ministry to me," he replied.
I took part in a ministry discernment group with other students who were thinking along similar lines, leading a Covenant Discipleship Group and meeting with other small group leaders to begin the Ministry Inquiry Process (one of the first steps in the United Methodist ordination process). There were others in our group who were more certain about ministry; among a dozen Wesleyites in the class of '99, at least 5 of us have gone on to seminary at some point since, some straight out of college. A good friend of mine attended Exploration '96 and found it very helpful in confirming her sense of call. Today she is a campus minister (technically, university chaplain) in England.
I was fortunate in the timing of my college experience, in that the UMC in 1996 shifted their understanding of ordained ministry, recognizing the Order of Deacon as a separate path to ordination for those called to ministries in or beyond the local church that exemplified service, compassion, and justice. Previously, those pursuing ordination were ordained first as a deacon, and then a couple years later, ordained again as an elder.* The new structure recognized more clearly the variety of ministries to which individuals might be called by God and affirmed by the church.
I didn't feel sure enough about my sense of call to apply to seminary right after college, and I wanted a few years to go out and work in the world before I went back to school anyway. So I spent a year doing volunteer work in Venezuela (arranged through the Student Christian Movement at a Presbyterian church in Caracas, which I got connected with through a summer trip the Wesley Foundation helped me participate in), then two years working full-time at a non-profit in the Boston area (Child Welfare League of America) and working part-time as Young Adult Coordinator and Contemporary Worship Leader for College Avenue United Methodist Church.
In Venezuela, I learned that while I believe in ministries of compassion, I am not well suited to direct social service. And I grew stronger in my progressive social and theological views in the face of encounters with those who held to a stricter, more conservative faith. In Boston, I found that I wanted to pursue work that allowed me to explicitly acknowledge and connect my faith to action on a daily basis. I applied to seminary with the intention of becoming a writer: I wanted to write about Christianity in a way that was accessible to those outside the church.
My first day at seminary, I decided to change degree programs, from the broadly academic Master of Theological Studies to the more practical-ministry-oriented Master of Divinity. Iliff School of Theology was gracious enough to extend my financial aid for the extra year of coursework. While I still didn't feel called to parish ministry, I recognized that there were other paths that interested me (like campus ministry) that would require the MDiv, and I wanted to keep my options open.
After my first year at Iliff, I decided to revisit the question of ordination, so I took United Methodist Doctrine as a summer intensive course: one week from start to finish, with an oral exam on Friday covering material we first encountered on Monday. I wanted to make sure that I could maintain my intellectual integrity if I did go through with what at that time was a seven-year process. And although there were elements of John Wesley's teaching and sections of the Book of Discipline with which I did not quite see eye to eye, still I found a lot to affirm, and there seemed room enough for disagreement within the covenant community, and a process by which to change official positions of the denomination.
So after passing the class, I chose a day for prayer and fasting - not a frequent part of my spiritual life, but one that has stood the test of time - to seek God's guidance about pursuing ordination. I read the sections of the Book of Discipline that describe the different orders of ministry. And I found that the section on the Ministry of the Deacon resonated powerfully within me, in a way that seemed to speak to my highest values and deepest convictions. And I believed that this was a way to serve God that would be life-giving for me and pleasing to God.
I first started thinking about ministry as a vocation in about 1997. I decided to resume my inquiry process in 2003, and was finally ordained as a Deacon in Full Connection in 2009. In those six years, I had the support and company of many gifted and gracious people. Classmates in seminary shared intellectual passions and learning experiences in a variety of ministry settings as we went through our field education placements together. Experienced ministers Rev. Linda Gertenbach and Rev. Linda Marshall, both deacons, served as mentors for different stages of my candidacy process; Rev. Betty Bradford, an elder, was my supervisor in a local church setting for nearly 10 years. I participated in the Residency in Ministry retreats for provisional ministers in the Rocky Mountain Conference, even though I was still a member in New England, because I felt I would benefit from the community of peers and opportunities for spiritual formation as a minister that the program offered.
With some surprise, I find that I am doing almost exactly what I thought I wanted to do fifteen years ago: I advocate for children in Africa dying of malaria, and for children with disabilities in Colorado whose families struggle to access quality health care. I write every week, on websites and blogs, for each of these roles, and I give presentations and sermons about how God in Jesus Christ offers abundant life and calls us to be part of that life-changing work for others' sake. Although working multiple jobs has been challenging at times (I've been doing it for most of the last 14 years), it has allowed me to feel that I am fulfilling the call of the Deacon to bridge the gap between the church and the needs of the world in a very real and concrete way.
And the journey continues, along with the need for ongoing discernment. Ordination was a major milestone on this ministry path, but not the end by any means. In the local church, United Methodist pastors are asked each year whether they believe they are still effective in that setting, or if it might be time for them to move on. Deacons who serve in or beyond the local church may have annual opportunities for that kind of reflection, may stay in one place for ten years, or may find themselves unexpectedly looking for work when church or organizational circumstances change.
It's not easy, always wanting to be intentional and faithful in one's vocational choices. But I am so thankful for all who have walked and talked with me along the way, helping me stay open to God's leading, suggesting possibilities I may have overlooked, comforting and challenging me by turn to stay true to who God has created and called me to be. May it be so for you as well.
*Elders are charged with ministries of Word, Service, Order, and Sacrament; they are itinerant, which means they agree to go where the bishop sends them to serve; and they have security of appointment: as long as they remain in good standing - and agree to itinerancy - they are guaranteed work within the church. Deacons are charged with ministries of Word and Service; they are not itinerant, because so many deacons serve outside the local church and in different capacities than elders; and they do not have security of appointment: they have the freedom and the responsibility of finding their own work.
Who and where I am today
I am an Ordained Deacon in The United Methodist Church. I believe I am called to this role to live out the ministry of a deacon, which includes bridging the gap that too often exists between the life of the local congregation and the needs of the world. I have been affirmed and set apart by colleagues in the New England Conference as having the gifts, grace, and fruits suitable for a lifetime ministry of Word and Service.
Currently, I live out my call through two (part-time) paid positions: as Field Coordinator for Imagine No Malaria in the Rocky Mountain Conference of The United Methodist Church, and as Communications Manager for Family Voices Colorado, a non-profit organization that advocates for improvements to health care for children and youth with special health care needs. Neither of these are exactly what I imagined when I first started on my journey to ordained ministry some 15 years ago--but they are not so far off, either.
Finding a faith home
I was raised in a church-going family, and had a sense of faith in God from a pretty early age. But throughout high school, I found more meaning in volunteering in the church nursery than attending worship services. When I went off to college, I intended to explore various different religious paths to see if there was one that felt like a better fit than the United Methodist church my family attended in New Hampshire. But my mom encouraged me to try out the Wesley Foundation, the Methodist campus ministry, just to see what it was like.
It turned out to be my home away from home for four years.
The campus minister, Rev. David Hindman, was a big part of creating the welcoming community I experienced there, as he made a point of learning everyone's name on first meeting, and greeting them by name the next time he saw them. He was goofy enough to put a self-conscious teenager at ease, and sincere enough to create a safe space for serious conversations. David was one of my first mentors in ministry, mainly because he was the first to suggest to me directly that I should consider the possibility of pursuing ordained ministry myself.
Spacious conversations
I was never sure whether I was cut out (created) for ordering the life of a congregation as a pastor; I am a strong introvert, feeling drained by overexposure to socializing with people in groups. And I was still developing my own theology, figuring out what I believed about God's love and judgment, about whether there was only one right choice in any situation, one right path in life for each person, or whether God left things a little more open-ended.
As I wrestled with these questions, David offered the wisdom and perspectives of different theologians and church leaders alongside his own experience as fodder for my consideration. As I remember it, there were some questions of belief he refused to answer directly, and others he was willing to be clear about his own views while still making space for those who saw things differently. He affirmed my gifts, and my self-knowledge regarding the challenges of a public role as an introvert. One time, he asked me what I thought the ideal kind of work for me would look like, and I answered, "I want to advocate for those who are vulnerable, especially women and children; I want to be able to write, and speak publicly, and teach."
"Sounds a lot like ministry to me," he replied.
I took part in a ministry discernment group with other students who were thinking along similar lines, leading a Covenant Discipleship Group and meeting with other small group leaders to begin the Ministry Inquiry Process (one of the first steps in the United Methodist ordination process). There were others in our group who were more certain about ministry; among a dozen Wesleyites in the class of '99, at least 5 of us have gone on to seminary at some point since, some straight out of college. A good friend of mine attended Exploration '96 and found it very helpful in confirming her sense of call. Today she is a campus minister (technically, university chaplain) in England.
Life experience as discernment
I was fortunate in the timing of my college experience, in that the UMC in 1996 shifted their understanding of ordained ministry, recognizing the Order of Deacon as a separate path to ordination for those called to ministries in or beyond the local church that exemplified service, compassion, and justice. Previously, those pursuing ordination were ordained first as a deacon, and then a couple years later, ordained again as an elder.* The new structure recognized more clearly the variety of ministries to which individuals might be called by God and affirmed by the church.
I didn't feel sure enough about my sense of call to apply to seminary right after college, and I wanted a few years to go out and work in the world before I went back to school anyway. So I spent a year doing volunteer work in Venezuela (arranged through the Student Christian Movement at a Presbyterian church in Caracas, which I got connected with through a summer trip the Wesley Foundation helped me participate in), then two years working full-time at a non-profit in the Boston area (Child Welfare League of America) and working part-time as Young Adult Coordinator and Contemporary Worship Leader for College Avenue United Methodist Church.
In Venezuela, I learned that while I believe in ministries of compassion, I am not well suited to direct social service. And I grew stronger in my progressive social and theological views in the face of encounters with those who held to a stricter, more conservative faith. In Boston, I found that I wanted to pursue work that allowed me to explicitly acknowledge and connect my faith to action on a daily basis. I applied to seminary with the intention of becoming a writer: I wanted to write about Christianity in a way that was accessible to those outside the church.
Discernment through Discipline
My first day at seminary, I decided to change degree programs, from the broadly academic Master of Theological Studies to the more practical-ministry-oriented Master of Divinity. Iliff School of Theology was gracious enough to extend my financial aid for the extra year of coursework. While I still didn't feel called to parish ministry, I recognized that there were other paths that interested me (like campus ministry) that would require the MDiv, and I wanted to keep my options open.
After my first year at Iliff, I decided to revisit the question of ordination, so I took United Methodist Doctrine as a summer intensive course: one week from start to finish, with an oral exam on Friday covering material we first encountered on Monday. I wanted to make sure that I could maintain my intellectual integrity if I did go through with what at that time was a seven-year process. And although there were elements of John Wesley's teaching and sections of the Book of Discipline with which I did not quite see eye to eye, still I found a lot to affirm, and there seemed room enough for disagreement within the covenant community, and a process by which to change official positions of the denomination.
So after passing the class, I chose a day for prayer and fasting - not a frequent part of my spiritual life, but one that has stood the test of time - to seek God's guidance about pursuing ordination. I read the sections of the Book of Discipline that describe the different orders of ministry. And I found that the section on the Ministry of the Deacon resonated powerfully within me, in a way that seemed to speak to my highest values and deepest convictions. And I believed that this was a way to serve God that would be life-giving for me and pleasing to God.
Companions on the journey
I first started thinking about ministry as a vocation in about 1997. I decided to resume my inquiry process in 2003, and was finally ordained as a Deacon in Full Connection in 2009. In those six years, I had the support and company of many gifted and gracious people. Classmates in seminary shared intellectual passions and learning experiences in a variety of ministry settings as we went through our field education placements together. Experienced ministers Rev. Linda Gertenbach and Rev. Linda Marshall, both deacons, served as mentors for different stages of my candidacy process; Rev. Betty Bradford, an elder, was my supervisor in a local church setting for nearly 10 years. I participated in the Residency in Ministry retreats for provisional ministers in the Rocky Mountain Conference, even though I was still a member in New England, because I felt I would benefit from the community of peers and opportunities for spiritual formation as a minister that the program offered.
Not done yet
With some surprise, I find that I am doing almost exactly what I thought I wanted to do fifteen years ago: I advocate for children in Africa dying of malaria, and for children with disabilities in Colorado whose families struggle to access quality health care. I write every week, on websites and blogs, for each of these roles, and I give presentations and sermons about how God in Jesus Christ offers abundant life and calls us to be part of that life-changing work for others' sake. Although working multiple jobs has been challenging at times (I've been doing it for most of the last 14 years), it has allowed me to feel that I am fulfilling the call of the Deacon to bridge the gap between the church and the needs of the world in a very real and concrete way.
And the journey continues, along with the need for ongoing discernment. Ordination was a major milestone on this ministry path, but not the end by any means. In the local church, United Methodist pastors are asked each year whether they believe they are still effective in that setting, or if it might be time for them to move on. Deacons who serve in or beyond the local church may have annual opportunities for that kind of reflection, may stay in one place for ten years, or may find themselves unexpectedly looking for work when church or organizational circumstances change.
It's not easy, always wanting to be intentional and faithful in one's vocational choices. But I am so thankful for all who have walked and talked with me along the way, helping me stay open to God's leading, suggesting possibilities I may have overlooked, comforting and challenging me by turn to stay true to who God has created and called me to be. May it be so for you as well.
+ + +
*Elders are charged with ministries of Word, Service, Order, and Sacrament; they are itinerant, which means they agree to go where the bishop sends them to serve; and they have security of appointment: as long as they remain in good standing - and agree to itinerancy - they are guaranteed work within the church. Deacons are charged with ministries of Word and Service; they are not itinerant, because so many deacons serve outside the local church and in different capacities than elders; and they do not have security of appointment: they have the freedom and the responsibility of finding their own work.
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