Announcing ...

a conference for Young Adult Friends
Living as Friends,  Listening Within

“Do not be conformed to this world,but be transformed by the renewing of your minds,so that you may discern what is the will of God-what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
— Romans 12:2 NRSV


How do we each listen for God in our lives? Whether you are led to speak in meeting or to put your life  on the line for peace, you are invited to share your experiences and explore how we can support one another in discerning important life questions.

Young Adult Friends will lead a variety of interest groups, and Earlham School of Religion will offer workshops on leadings and callings.Young adults from meetings and churches affiliated with Friends General Conference (FGC), Friends United Meeting (FUM), Evangelical Friends International (EFI), and Independent and Conservative yearly meetings are planning this exciting event.

Let’s talk about our lives as Friends and come together to play, pray, laugh and worship.

For more information,check out www.fgcquaker.org/qy/yaf-conference-2008 or contact me by commenting below.  (More contact information found @ website.)

Registration will open mid-March.  We encourage you to register EARLY, as we have limited space and expect this to fill up quickly!  I will put up an announcement here when registration opens, so check back often.

Lately, in my life, it seems that I have been thinking more and more about what it means to be wounded - the importance of recognizing our own wounded-ness and in being present to Other, in witnessing their wounds and loving them (and ourselves) through it all. We are all wounded.

Most often, I think, we are wounded during our childhood. There is a reason that as people age, they tell the stories of their childhood over and over again. In the telling, there is acknowledgment. In the telling, we remember the story, sometimes relive the embellishments as much as the facts and acknowledge how much both elements have wounded us. In the acknowledgment, slowly comes the acceptance. Acceptance of both fact and fiction, of pain and joy, of the wholeness of the story and complexity of reality - it is this acceptance that brings us back to a state of healing. For we learn something much deeper than the lesson of forgiveness. We learn what it means to love even the hard pieces. To love them healthily. Not to cling, hold and cherish our pain - but to love it enough to hold it softly and release it gently. To love ourselves enough to shift into new understanding. To love ourselves back to wholeness.

The world is filled with people who are hurting - in visible and invisible ways. And the more invisible the pain, the more people need to be seen for everything that they are. The more they need to be seen, the more angry, violent and loud they become. Perhaps they don't even realize it while they are doing it. They lash out at everyone around them. It's as if by making other people hurt, they can be sure of their own power and presence in the world. That they did not become invisible with their pain, but still exist in living color. So they speak more harshly, walk louder and invade rooms with a heavy presence that engulfs all the Others in the room. And as people reel from their impact, they are gratified to know that they are still seen.

I know this cycle intimately. I lived with it. I was the angry, hurt and violent person in my house who stifled a room with a single breath of angry, offended air. I slammed doors, raised my voice and reached out to sting anyone who was close enough to reach. Some people in my life saw this for what it was: an act of distress. Perhaps everyone did. Even I knew that it was not my natural way of being. I could tell that I was not myself, but I couldn't remember what that looked like. And I was in too much pain to risk being hurt again. So I stung before I could be stung. It became normal for me to be the one that people walked on eggshells around. And I grieved the fact that Others would not come close enough to hold me, even as I burned them as they approached.

The cyclical nature of the relationships between Self, Other and God might inform me that in the loss of Other, I also lost Self and God. But there is something I know deep within myself, no matter how trite it may sound: God was never lost to me. In my most difficult times, it was the three relationships that brought me back. How much I loved those Others in my life, even while I did everything I could to wound them; how I knew there was something More and that something was worth living for; how even while I despised the person I had become, I loved the person I had been and knew that I could find that again if I worked hard enough. I never lost any of those relationships. But in the blinding light of my pain, I could not see anything else. I could not see how much my family still loved me, even while they bound the emotional wounds I inflicted upon them. I could not see how I was being held by the something More until I was strong enough to stand on my own. And I certainly couldn't see how I was doing the best that I could at the time - and that I was still innately good.

When I have been asked how I came back, how I found my way through my own "shadow of the valley of death," I have not had an answer. Perhaps I have the beginning of one now. Many would say that love can bring someone through anything. That being loved heals all wounds. In my experience, though, one must realize and trust that they are loved in order for it to help. It is not only the giving of love that heals, but the receiving of it. Sometimes it is said that Other cannot be helped unless they want to be helped. In the wanting, that shift that comes with loving Self enough to desire the change begins to happen. That shift cracks the armor that one has built so high around the wounds that one has learned to carry. And the act of receiving begins.

Perhaps this is part of what it means to begin to understand Grace. The place where mystics tremble and weep, where men and women alike fall to their (physical or metaphorical) knees. Where the love that one has needed with such intensity and been blind to for so long begins to lick warm flames against dark and cold places. It is in this moment that we realize what it means to see with full (or recovering) vision again.

In order to trust that one is seen and loved - for all the complexities and realities that one carries, that one is - much attention is needed. Sometimes it takes a lot of people assuring us that we are seen before we can trust that it is true. Sometimes certain people in our lives lose the ability to keep holding that space, and others step in. But it is the continued attention that begins to thaw the icy exterior and find its way into the wounds, bathing them in light and warmth.

Perhaps this is why isolation is the greatest form of torture. We need others to see us, so that we can more fully see ourselves. So we can see that something More shimmering between us, reflected in each others' beings. As we isolate, we send the message to someone that they are not worth seeing. Not worth paying attention to. Not worthy of our time, our energy - or our love.

This does not mean that one must step into that violent situation, into that angry gaze and present oneself as a punching bag (in any form). In order to pay attention to someone in that kind of pain, we must be centered and grounded in ourselves. But if we do find ourselves in a situation with someone who is projecting their wounded-ness onto us and demanding to be seen - and we find ourselves centered and strong in ourselves - perhaps we can turn to meet their eyes and answer their loud voices with our own soft and loving ones.

I had an experience recently in which I was a player in a scene that I have witnessed many times before. Someone in my life, who I care deeply for, who always been someone who I didn't know how to see clearly, lashed out verbally at me in her pain. And while I walked away wounded at the time, I found myself finally seeing her clearly when the "debris" settled. For she was just another version of me. Screaming and crying out in her pain, begging to be seen. And I had (unintentionally) done the worst thing I could have in that moment. In trying not to encourage her angry outbursts, I did what so many parents do to naughty children: I ignored her. She, like so many others in this world, learned that negative reinforcement is better than none at all. And negative reinforcement she got, when she finally pushed those around me to a breaking point. But instead of feeling seen and loved, she felt seen and rejected. And she retreated even farther into herself, building her walls higher around her wounds, including this new one, behind this painful protection. And each player in the scene walked offstage feeling isolated from the Other.

This realization is not going to stop that interaction from reoccurring. But perhaps it can help shift it. In the recognition of Self in Other, I recognized where God might reside between us. And, being tired of acting out the same painful scene, I know that my lines have changed. I am now someone who can begin to pay that life-giving attention in a small way to this wonderful woman who has been so crippled by her pain. I don't know how many people it will take to pay attention to her, to love her back into wholeness, just like I don't know how many people it took to do that for me. I know I cannot do it alone and so I won't try. It is not my job to heal her, but to remind her that I am one of many who sees her. That she is valuable and beautiful. That she can find herself again, even if it feels like the impossible task.

Perhaps this is what all healing is. Paying enough attention to a person - both body and soul - to love them back into wholeness.

As Friends, perhaps the most important thing we can learn to do is to listen. As a community of faith, we are called to engage in full-body listening: one ear tuned to the goings-on of this earthly world and one tuned to the small whisper of God.

Though it is simple, this task is far from easy. One challenge to live into this call comes with the inequality of volume and airtime between the two voices. Though we have the innate ability to hear God in every particle of our being, the pull to the “earthly world” is a strong one and easily distracts us from the dual nature of our task.

I know that I do not always manage to listen as well as I should. I know that I get distracted and that I lose my way sometimes. Sometimes the din of the "outside" world becomes too loud and God speaks too quietly in the other ear. Or perhaps I just tune God out so that I can get through my day.

The thing is, though, that life is a lot easier when I don't forget to listen. When I am intentional about paying attention and committing to full presence, life is more full, more complete ... just more.

It is the basis of our faith, the basis of our lives and the continuing call of the Divine: “Every true call is a call to obey God; indeed, the word obedience derives from the Latin audire, which means “to listen” … Our calls are always evolving. If we are to respond, we need to listen, not only today but as today evolves into tomorrow.” (Farham et al, “Listening Hearts”)

We have been called, like so many before us, to learn the art of truly listening. It is only from that place of total stillness, of complete engagement with our entire being, that we will begin to understand what we are being called to do in that moment.

Perhaps this task is even more difficult in this day and age – the sheer volume of noise and stimuli that demands our attention on a daily basis is astronomical. We are constantly engaging with audio and visual stimuli in our day-to-day and are inevitably being pulled in countless directions as we try to fulfill the demands of an overly scheduled life.

There is an apocalyptic impetus that keeps us from slowing down and being more intentional about each breath that we take. If we slow down, if we stop, we are doing nothing to slow the foreseeable destruction of this world. But like any habitually speeding car on its way to work, the crash is inevitable. As we speed through life, our senses are heightened to the glaring, neon warning signs and dulled to the silent and invisible black ice on the road.

Sooner or later, we are spinning out of control on this highway of life and praying as hard as we can that God will guide our car to safety – and swearing that next time, we will drive slower, be more intentional, and recognize the sanctity of each breath as we take it. If only we could be given a second chance.

More often than not, our prayers are answered. For a little while, we remember the valuable lesson we learned while we balanced on that thin line where the preciousness of life was suddenly magnified to such a degree that we could no longer miss it. After a while, though, the din of the “earthly world” begins to rise to an ear-piercing level and we slowly become mostly deaf to that still, small voice once again.

Perhaps we manage to listen to the still, small voice once a week when we enter our Meetinghouse doors. For an invaluable hour, we turn off the phones, close our eyes and (try to) quiet our racing minds. We turn off the world in order to listen to God. We remember to listen for what has been there all along: that still, small voice to guide our hands and hearts. And in those moments, when we finally still ourselves enough to hear that voice, we are refreshed, revived. We are given new life.

Often, this new sense of peace is fleeting, providing us with new found energy, only to vanish shortly thereafter. Sometimes, it lasts through Meeting or through the fellowship hour following. Perhaps it lasts through the entire day. Rarely does it last the entire week.

As Friends, we have long understood the sanctity of each day, each moment. Traditionally, Friends did not recognize holidays for that very reason. Each day was just as sacred as another. Quakerism has never been a Sunday-religion. It is a lived faith. It requires deep, heart-level, full-body listening for the Divine in our everyday. It requires holy obedience in every aspect of our lives. In order to live according to the Divine will, we must act out of an understanding of continuing revelation. This is true on both the corporate level and a personal one.

This understanding is what our Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business is based. Together, we seek the will of God for our community, ears tuned concurrently to the Divine and to the demands of the world. It is only from that place of worship that we then can find Way forward in action.

There is that near you which will guide you. O wait for it and be sure you keep to it. ~Isaac Pennington (as quoted from the Philadelphia Faith and Practice)

Friends, are we practicing full-body listening in our daily lives from Monday to Saturday, as well as on Sunday? Do we intentionally listen with both ears first, and only then, act? Are we seeking to live our faith?

Dear Anonymous Commenter,

First of all, I want to thank you for speaking your truth. I appreciate the obvious passion that you have for the subject of Quakers and their leadership (or lack thereof) in the world. I know you have experience with Quakers, for the facts that you give are intricate enough that you obviously have spent time learning about this "peculiar people." I am not here to say whether or not your criticsms are true. They obviously come from experience and pain - and I am sure are based in justified frustration. That is enough for me to know that you are speaking your Truth and speaking to it's importance in this world.

However, that having been said, I would also like to take this opportunity to speak to some of what has troubled me from the series of comments left on my blog (mainly the Kings Reflection).

Perhaps the most troubling thing to me is the anonymity of the postings. I have spoken many times about my own struggle with making myself vulnerable on this blog - speaking my t(T)ruth for the whole world to see should they choose to. It is true that it has kept me from posting at times. However, it has always been of the greatest importance to me that I conduct myself with integrity in this world. In my understanding, one cannot conduct oneself with integrity if one is not willing to own one's words. Sometimes, it is important to keep anonymity so that one stays safe. However, this is not one of those times.

Anonymous Friend - you have chosen to read and comment on this blog. You have a right to your anger and pain and I am grateful to know of your frustration, as it reminds me of how far we can go and grow as a faith society. However, underhanded insults and insinuations are not constructive criticism. I have felt the sting of some of your comments personally and have been bewildered by the extent of the anger that I detect in your "voice." It seems that some of these comments are personally aimed at me. Friend, I would hope that if you had an issue with me personally, you might approach me in person so that I would have the opportunity to make it right if I have wronged you.

And for the Friend who called out Scott Miller on my blog ... While I appreciate what seems to be someone standing up for me, I do not appreciate the practice of calling someone out of anonymity while staying anonymous. It does not speak of integrity to me. If you know Scott well enough to call him out on my blog, than the appropriate response would be to approach him in person and in private and inquire if he was the person to comment. For your information, it was not Scott.

I am deeply troubled and saddened by this interaction. I would ask that all who read this blog refrain from commenting unless you are able to identify yourself.

Please know that this blog is not meant to incite conflict or pain for others. I view this internet space as a place of conversation and vulnerable sharing. It is important to me that it continues to feel like safe space - for myself and others. For this reason, I ask that you respond honestly and with care. Safe space will only continue to be safe if we are each willing to invest in it.

My prayers are with you, Anonymous Friend, as you read this. I hope that you can hear the heartfelt nature of this post. I regret the necessity of posting this publicly, for all to read, as I would have much preferred to send this privately. However, I guess if that was possible, this would all be a moot point. I hope that you can hear these concerns with the care that they were written. I will be praying for you. May God be with you and envelop you with God's love and care.

In peace, tenderness and care,
Erin

One of the things that was really on my mind this week while reading Kings was the role of prophets. In a paper for school, I explored what a prophet was and what they did. One of the pieces that I found especially interesting was the theme of Truth-telling for the Divine and the role of calling out people, of holding them accountable. Most intriguing to me, though, was the respect that the prophets got from the leaders of Israel for the most part. It’s true that there were some dicey moments for some of the prophets throughout Kings (Elijah comes to mind as he flees Israel) but overall, the prophets are respected and listened to in Israel. I can’t help but wonder about if there are modern day examples within this society. For all the leaders’ talk about believing in God, they seem unable to hear those who are called to speak Truth to power.

Their inability (or unwillingness) to walk with God becomes a terrifying thing when reading Kings. Often these days, people feel disconnected from those in power and powerless to change anything. This powerlessness is translated into apathy. In Kings, the people are punished along with the King because the King belongs to the people and vice versa. I wonder if this relationship inspired prophets to come forward, to risk their own lives to speak Truth to power. The disconnection that we feel as a society to those in power is what might be the first step towards national sin. And I am as guilty as the next person in this dynamic.

If sin can be understood as “missing the mark,” and we have a responsibility as a people to hold our leaders accountable for their actions in the world and their faithfulness to God’s will, then we have sinned beyond comprehension. This relationship of holding leaders accountable for their actions takes the spotlight off them and shines it on all the rest of us. How then, are we as a nation (Canadians or Americans) responsible for the wars that our leaders have ignited? How are we responsible for the torture of human beings by the government? The list of ways in which our hands have been stained with another’s blood is close to endless. We have reached such a terrible level of apathy that we no longer even see the pain. We no longer open ourselves to the visions that we are given from God of how we have walked off the path. We no longer put ourselves in true harm’s way in order to change what we know to be truly wrong.

All this begs the question: how were things different in biblical times? Were they? Or have these stories been given to us in order to inspire us into action? Into seeing from a longer term perspective than the eighty years (or so) that we are given on this earth what damage can be done by those who are in a place of power and do not act from a place of Divine guidance? We are all guilty for being a part of this terrible dynamic. And the privilege that we have in North America satiates us to a place of lethargy and apathy.

The first thing that Samuel had to do as a prophet was to open himself to hearing God’s message. Then he had a responsibility to share it as he was led. Those are two of the hardest things to do: to open oneself to being used for Divine purposes (knowing that the attempts to control one’s life look drastically different afterwards) and then to follow through (knowing that one would not be the same if they heard the call and ignored it).

How are we keeping ourselves from hearing God’s call as a people? How have we turned away from the path? How have we missed the mark? And what responsibility do we have to follow through with our callings no matter what the personal cost may be?

-----

Some further thoughts on the subject are the questions of what this means to the Religious Society of Friends specifically. Often, Quakers find themselves in leadership positions in the world. How are we holding each other accountable for following God's will in our work? Are we?

This also raises questions about the dynamics of leadership within the Religious Society of Friends. I have heard it said (and sometimes said it myself) that Quakers have a difficult time accepting leadership when it challenges the faith body. (Disclaimer: this is not always the case - and in my experience, sometimes Friends are deeply grateful for those who pose challenges and questions to the faith body to inspire growth. Sometimes we welcome prophets with open arms.)

But sometimes, we don't welcome those messages. Instead, we question those prophets who speak Truth to power, we find ways of discounting the Truth that they have brought before us. I wonder if we are questioning our leaders out of a place of nudging from the Divine - and wanting to hold them accountable ... Or if we are questioning them (and sometimes disabling them) from a place of fear, not wanting to be crucified along with them? Are we, as a religious body, willing to come under fire from others when one of our own speaks Truth to power ... and pays for it? Or do we disable leadership in order to shirk the responsibility that may come with radical calls back into faithfulness?

Let me be clear that I don't know the answers to these questions that I am posing, nor do I have any set opinions. I am merely posing the questions, with the hopes that it inspires responses for others. Food for thought, if you will.

It seems to me that no matter what the one's personal relationship with authority is ... the world needs prophets. And if you are being called to speak Truth to power, it is not just yourself or God that you are failing if you refuse to do so, but your global community.

Blessed be, dear F/friends. May we all find the strength to open ourselves to the messages we are given by the Divine, the courage to speak them and the wisdom to discern the right path forward.

As I sat in worship tonight with a group of wonderful young adult Quakers, I found myself attempting to ground the group. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt as if my world was swirling around me as I could feel the worries, thoughts and to-do lists ricochet off the walls as these active, powerful, overworked students tried to settle enough to make room for God to enter into their mindspace. Over and over, I attempted to ground myself, trying to send energetic grounding cords into the center of the earth, trying to truly open myself for God to flow through me. The earth felt too thick though, and God too far away.

I found myself mentally trying to dive into the earth, reach up to the heavens, open myself wider, lessen my worries ... Open heart, closed eyes. Grounded feet, head open to the heavens ... Praying that God would be present with us, be present through me, help us to find our way, sit with us, work through us ...

And suddenly saw myself standing in front of a mirror. Not any mirror, though. This one resembled a carnival mirror that morphs one's body into unrecongizable shapes. My arms were stretched past their usual lengths towards the heavens, my chest was expanded to hold the universe (or at least the house), my feet were thick and sliding into the earth ... I looked nothing like myself, but had become some sort of grotesque monstrosity - all in the name of God and God's work.

As I began to grasp the importance of this image, it began to fade and I felt something inside my body remind me to find my own skin. The next image that came to mind was one of a mirror that does not distort. I knew that God held this mirror. I saw myself as I was - and then felt a nudging to truly see the others in the room. I opened my eyes and let them scan these beautiful souls. I could feel some of their struggles inside my body, and I could see some who were sinking past the place of being able to hear God into a space where they were feeding their bodies with much needed rest and love ... I could see them, just as they were, and know this was the way God saw them - and the way God loved them.

Turning back into myself, turning my vision inward, I saw that my limbs had resumed normal length, and my chest had shrunk to it's actual size. And I knew that this was the beauty that God saw everyday in me. The potential to live into myself, my own skin and to shine without distortion. To be loved, just as I am.

In Exodus 3:14, God tells Moses his name. There have been books written about the statement: "I am who I am." There are other interpretations which reveal the creative character of God. This statement is one that I won't begin to unravel, as it's theological implications are ones that have inspired and confounded theologians for centuries. What caught my attention this week was the next sentence, in which God tells Moses to tell the Israelites that "I-AM" sent him to them. God's name: I-AM. While theologians argue over who or what God is, God is simply making that argument a moot point. It does not matter what God is, "who" God is ... the only important thing is that God is.

I wonder if we learned the same kind of unconditional acceptance and love for ourselves and others, that we are - and that we are is the very reason we are loved fully and completely ... if we could fully understand the implications of that kind of statement and truly internalize that gift, what would our world look like?

I, for one, am glad that God gave me a carnival mirror to show how distorted my features become when I attempt to be something that I am not. I am learning slowly to find the beauty in my own smile, in my own skin, in the be-ing that I am. What a gift it is. And what a hard lesson it is to be taught over and over again. I hope someday I learn this lesson and can move onto the next, but I have this feeling that it may be a life-long one.

We have to realize that we belong to God. It’s a process of understanding the depth of what it means to be God’s child and the worth that is innate in just the fact that we all belong to God. So how does this continue to come back to the concept of Self, Other and God? When we can accept and continue to engage in the learning of this lifelong lesson, we can truly engage with integrity in the interaction with Other, embedded in God.

May we all see ourselves for the masterpieces that we are, and reflect that same light to those we are in contact with.

As I enter back into spaces which I have learned to call home, I find myself being faced with this question that begs an answer and disables my ability to speak: "How was your summer?" I find myself fumbling as I begin to laugh. Fine. Wonderful. Life-giving. Beautiful. Hard. Full of God. Full of tears. Full of laughter. Exactly what it needed to be. Life-altering. Growth-inspiring. Amazing. Incredible. And each word, each sentence I find myself fumbling over begins to tell only a small portion of it. And I know it is not even close to what my well-meaning, genuinely curious f/Friends would like to know. I know what they would like to hear instead is something concrete about my travels - about what it looked like, about how it feels to be home, about how I feel in my skin now that I have traveled over 8000 miles (by car - much more by plane) and through seven Quaker gatherings ... But how I paint a picture of what it looked like when each place was different? About how it felt when each day felt like it was three days long and I did more growing in each of those days that I did for weeks before leaving? How do I explain what it means to know you have stepped off the Path or stayed on it? The ecstasy of knowing we Listened well to what needed to happen or the complete and utter pain of knowing we stepped off the Path is well beyond explanation. When someone asks me about Northwest Yearly Meeting, what can I say to begin to embody the t(T)ruth of that experience?? How do you speak t(T)ruth into a normal social situation, like the obligatory question of how your summer was?

I am home now, if you hadn't figured that out, and I am finding it hard to be home. It's wonderful to be back in a lot of ways, but also feels ... hard to find my feet, find my heart, find my head. Perhaps this is a version of what Andrew and I have come to know as the "Spiritual Hangover." I feel fuzzy brained and like I have lost all ability to use my words well. I feel like I have just gotten home, and yet I feel like this summer might have been a dream. Everything changes so fast; in a blink of an eye, we find ourselves fumbling through this next step. I know I have been walking closely with God for the last two months, and know I must still be doing just that, but now I have to relearn how to hear God in my everyday life. I swing between worrying that I will never find the words that need to be spoken about my summer, and knowing that it will take time. I worry that I will lose important pieces, and I know that I will have all the pieces I need. I think about walking back into a life that I have known before, full of conversations of God, and wonder if I will find God present or if I will feel the absence of that life-giving presence. I am afraid to let go of this summer and fall into the hands of this world here, but I know this is what I am called to do in order to live Faithfully.

There is so much to be grateful for and my heart is full.

I look forward to a day that I can find the words I need to say all that needs to be said.

Just wanted to update everyone very briefly, as I have received requests from some of my dear Friends that I let them know that I am, in fact, alive. So yes, I am alive and happily hanging out in Canada. We have finished Canadian Yearly Meeting - from which I have many thoughts and things to share but no time to share them at this moment. It was wonderful, difficult and exactly what it needed to be. We drove on Saturday for 20+ hours - from Windsor, Nova Scotia to Muskoka, Ontario - and now are taking some time to begin the papers, articles, budgets, etc before the NeeKauNis reunion next week end ... and catching up on sleep and rest, as well. I can't imagine a better place to be right now than my family's cabin and I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to be here.

If you are awaiting an email from me, know that I am not brushing you off, but have found myself EXTREMELY behind on my correspondence and am starting to slowly work through it again.

I will be back home in Richmond next week, late Monday night, and am excited to catch up with people via phone and email once home. Until then, I pray that your week is filled with love and magic. Blessings.

I was going to post on here yesterday about our crazy day in the car - the first day on the road to Canada - but I think that will have to wait for another day. Currently, we are stuck in Pennsylvania with a broken alternator. While our Jetta is AMAZING for it's mileage (45-55 m/gallon), when it breaks down, the parts are close to impossible to track down ... and they are SUPER expensive! At this point, all the info we are getting states that it's going to take two to three days to get the part. We have to be in Canada for Friday (or Saturday at the latest) and need to have my car fixed in time to make that 20+ hour drive. ANY and ALL prayers that you have coming our way would be greatly appreciated at this point.

As I have been mentioning in here for a while now, Andrew and I gave the keynote address to Philadelphia Yearly Meeting last Sunday. I thought I would share the message that I shared with them there ... Andrew spoke after me about living a revolutionary faith. His address was incredibly powerful and I am sorry that there is no recording or copy of it.

Speaking at PYM was an incredibly powerful experience for many reasons. Perhaps I will write more about the experience of speaking there later. For now, I will post my speech ... And begin to get ready to head off for Canada today.

Thank you for all your prayers, thoughts and good energy - they have been powerfully felt through this summer, and were especially noticed (and needed!) last Sunday. Thank you so very much.

God, grant me the grace to breathe past the fear, to stand tall and visible in this room as your faithful messenger. Help me to trust fully, love completely and engage in sacred vulnerability tonight. Let me be a faithful conduit for your message that needs to be spoken here. Prepare the hearts and minds of those present that we might all live more fully into your Will for us. Let it be so.

First of all, Friends, I want to thank you for having me here today. It is an incredible honor to be present with you in this gathering of amazing people – and somewhat astonishing that I have been asked to speak to you this evening. The invitation to speak here tonight has been extremely moving – and totally petrifying, at the same time. That space of fear and trepidation is one that has felt very real for months now, and it is a feeling that has been instrumental in my process of listening for and understanding the message I am meant to bring to you tonight. The message reflects my journey in faithfulness in recent years. I realized years ago that I speak Truth best from a place of my own experience. I think God heard that as a prayer or commitment to a certain type of life, because ever since, I have been inspired (and extremely challenged!) by learning lessons and understanding messages the hard way.

I have spent hours working on the first sentence of this speech. Seriously. Hours. Writing one, moving onto the body of the paragraph and then realizing it’s not what I wanted to say at all. One of the most frustrating things is when you have a message to give, or a whole story to tell, but can’t figure out how to begin. I have a feeling that most everyone in this audience knows what that feels like in some way. The experience of being stuck, of being frozen in one place – being able to see the road stretching out in front of you but no idea how to start the journey. There are many expressions we could use to describe it or excuses we could come up with for our hesitation: we are being cautious, we don’t want to get ahead of our Guide, we don’t want to offend, this one thing must change or shift before taking that first step. But no matter what excuses we come up with, the basic reason is the same. We are caught by the incredible power of fear.

Fear is a terrifying thing. Not for how it makes us feel but for it’s paralyzing affect. Fear does something to the body and the mind that very little else has the power to do. It whispers insults and questions in ears in a way that makes us believe we are hearing Truth. It keeps sleep from us, serving only to dull the senses even more and make us more susceptible to its clutches. Stomachs seem to become less than half their size and the ribs over our lungs suddenly weigh more than double their normal weight. Hearts race, as if we have just stopped running, and the only thing that seems to make perfect sense in that moment is to turn around from whatever it is that is making us most terrified and run in the opposite direction. It can be a life-saving reaction. But it can also be a life-stopping, life-halting reaction.

I have spent much of the last years in various stages of fear. First was the fear at what it would mean to quit my job, move to Pendle Hill and begin the important spiritual work I didn’t even know I needed to do. Then came the fear of what it would mean to begin a Masters degree at Earlham School of Religion. I felt unprepared, not even armed with a Bachelor’s degree to prove to myself that I could do this work I was being called into – and the idea of spending everyday in a Christian seminary (whether it was Quaker or not) was overwhelmingly terrifying. With each of those leadings, I did what I could to avoid it until the very last minute. I ignored it, I found reasons why it wouldn’t work, why it didn’t make sense. But God is incredibly tenacious. Each time, when I thought I had been able to slip out on my leading through the back door or talk myself out of it, I somehow came face to face with it again. And would be plunged into the same cold fear that I had been running from. The more important the calling, the more fear I felt. It was the same experience with the leading to travel in the ministry with Andrew this summer. And with the invitation to speak here today. There are people in this room right now who have witnessed me at various stages of those fearful places. People who have held me while I have cried, who have prayed for me and with me while I have found myself shaking and quaking with the power of the leading the Spirit had opened me to. People who hold me in prayer today have witnessed me, just weeks ago, stating that when I am terrified, I would much rather just sink into the wall and become invisible. It would be safe to say that speaking in front of a room of 400 (or more) people makes me want to do just that. Tonight, this is what it means for me to live my faith out loud: to trust that I will be faithful to the words that need to be spoken here and to trust in God that no matter how high this cliff seems to be, in the faith freefall, I will be caught in his hands.

The culture of fear we are immersed in is not news to anyone in this room. Everywhere we look, we see and hear messages that have the power to throw us into that spiral. In our awareness of this culture, we decline to give into the media hype about how I should be wary of my neighbor, how I should be terrified at the mention of violence on my block and in turn, arm myself with the “necessary” tools for “self-protection.” But no matter how much we attempt to step away from the culture of fear, we cannot remove ourselves from it entirely. And the power of fear is amazing in it’s ability to enter into us without our knowing. It sneaks up on us and tackles us when we are not looking and we come to, heart racing, gasping for breath … or just quietly anxious and unable to step out of it. Now, I am not meaning to encourage fear of fear itself. Just to bring your attention to how pervasive, silent and isolating fear can be.

I have entered many new spaces this year, where I knew very few people and felt very aware of being considered an outsider by others. Before each gathering, I found myself being nervous about meeting new people, exacerbated by traveling with Andrew who was well known in these Quaker circles. But most of all, I was afraid of not being seen at all. To not be seen in what I consider to be my spiritual home is one of the most heartbreaking and fearful possibilities I can imagine. I know, without a sliver of doubt, that Quakerism is my home. This is the place God calls me to, and it is here that I am challenged, nurtured, loved … It is here that the Divine that resides within me shines most brightly. In the space of that knowledge, I can’t imagine anything worse than not being seen or heard. And looking around this room, I know I am not alone in that fear. Look around the room.

Being an outsider to these Yearly Meeting communities is also a great gift in many ways. It gives me the gift of sight that I would not have otherwise. I am able to see clearly because I am not too close to the situation that I am being present with. I do not come before you today, Friends, as someone who is completely lost and unsure of this community, but as someone who feels blessed by the multiple opportunities for new understandings and growth. I also come before you, Friends, as someone who is deeply committed to the Religious Society as a Whole and therefore, wants nothing more deeply than to be of full service to God in this Yearly Meeting. I have done everything in my power and prayed for that power which is not mine to come into this Yearly Meeting as open as I can be – with eyes, heart and mind. I have entered your community with the intention to fall in love even more deeply with the Religious Society of Friends. Throughout this summer, I have been able to do just that: fall in love even more deeply with people who call themselves “Friends.”

I see so much beauty in this room, in this Yearly Meeting. I see the possibility for incredible strength as a Religious Society. I can almost smell the history that seeps into Philadelphia Yearly Meeting and quake with the knowledge of what power that history has. I see power beyond measure lying dormant in this room. But Friends, I also see fear paralyzing us from moving forward in God’s work in the world. Conflict is rampant throughout our Society – questions about process, practice, and theology are very real concerns to many people. We are an incredibly diverse Society with a huge range of theologies and experiences. This diversity is not only apparent between Yearly Meetings but within our own Monthly Meetings. “Diversity” – it is a word that is well used in this day and age. With the incredible gifts it brings, it brings a huge amount of fear, as well. Conflict is often understood most basically as a breeding ground for anger, hostility, and pain. Rarely is it seen as a true possibility for co-constructing a shared understanding. A question I have often heard is that of whether all Quakers really do have anything in common. Underneath that question, I often recognize my own fear when walking into a new Quaker community – what if I am not seen? What if my experience of Quakerism is found to be invalid? What if I am not accepted or loved for who I am? What happens then? Those are very real fears, Friends. These are things that we cannot help but be fearful of, as we walk into the future, still carrying trauma from the past. Generations later, we are still reeling as a Religious Society of the pain that was caused by the multiple schisms. Our response to that pain seems to often be to invalidate the “Other” before they can invalidate us. We keep individual and corporate differences as invisible as possible; we create boundaries around ourselves, claiming ownership over the “right” kind of Quakerism or belief. We are, in fact, perpetrating the cycle that has hurt us so intensely, and following in the footsteps of those past, deepening the chasm of pain and fear that keeps us “separate” from one another – and in doing so, find ourselves walking farther and farther from God.

Where we differ from those who came before us, however, is with our tendency to shrink into ourselves, to dim our own Inward Light before someone else can blow it out. While I was at the FGC Gathering, I had a vision of a great gathering of the Children of the Light. Instead of seeing people on fire, though, I saw a great group of people whose Inward Lights were growing dim. The potential to live into the Light that they had been given was so very present, but most didn’t know the state of their own Inward Light – or worse still, didn’t trust the power it had.

I come before you, bare, with the knowledge that for most of my life, I have not trusted the presence of the Inward Light within my body. I have, instead, looked to others to shine brightly and remind me of what I could be. I have asked that those around me live fully into the Light that they have been given time and again, knowing that the difficulty of this task was beyond my comprehension. Worse still, I have asked those around me to live up to their Light, to live their Faith Out Loud for selfish reasons. I have asked them to do this so that I could know I could do the same. But somehow, I have found myself shrinking back when the intensity of my own Inward Light became too great, and the power became too much to bear. I have given into the fear that threatens to consume me. I have asked those Friends around me to conquer their own fear, while I have failed to do the same. I have asked them to be vulnerable to God and to me, and I have neglected for it to become mutual in that sacred space. Living dimly, shining quietly is often much more comfortable than burning with the intensity and fire that God calls us to. Being open to the Will of God, Friends, is not an easy task. To submit to the Divine Will, to the corporate body, to the Universal Truth and to give over our lives to that work is terrifying. We are living in a culture of fear … and the thing we are most afraid of is the power and responsibility of truly living up to the Light that we have been given, always with the knowledge that we will be granted more.

Marianne Williamson spoke eloquently to this message with this famous quote: "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

We are all meant to shine, Friends. We were born to manifest the Glory of God that is within us. I ask you to search deep within yourselves and ask if you are playing small within this world. Are you living up to the Light you have been given? Do you shrink into yourself when you are most afraid? I know that I do. I know that I would much rather not be standing on this stage tonight, in front of you, pushing and challenging – out of love and out of the weight of a deep concern that has been laid on my heart. It would be so much easier for me to be sitting in this audience tonight, drinking in another’s words – or being a supportive presence for Andrew as he gives his message. In fact, when we started traveling this summer, I attempted to do just that – blend into the background and let Andrew take center stage. Being small had so much become a habit of mine that it felt natural. But, everything about our interaction felt off. It took a powerful group of loving Elders to sit with us and call me out. They sat in prayer with us, and spoke Truth to Power: to the power of fear. They spoke about how I was not living up to the Light that I had been given, that I had been given a message to share and it was not serving me, Andrew or God when I shrunk into myself. They called me out with such certainty, such power, and such deep love that the deepest part of me was able to hear them and respond. I was able to see, in that space, how much power fear has – especially when it dresses itself up as good intentions and familiar spaces. And, incredibly, when I began to let my own light shine, and live into the ministry that I had been called to, I truly was unconsciously giving Andrew the permission to do the same.

And so I find myself coming up to the edge of comfort, over and over again, and taking a step off. The image of cliff-jumping has been with me all year, as I have delved into living my relationships in a radically faithful way. In following a calling to become more intentional with my testimony to Truth-telling, I have found myself often coming up to an edge in my conversation that I just can’t imagine stepping past. I imagine you all know what I am talking about: its that moment in a conversation when you know that something needs to be spoken, but the risk seems too great and the potential for ending up broken seems overwhelming. It has been in those spaces that God has called me to walk to the edge of comfort, take a deep breath … and step off. In that moment of radical Truth-telling, I am often surprised when I realize that life didn’t stop, that the world didn’t cease it’s spinning and my heart is still pounding within my chest. Even more wonderful is when the Other I am engaged with steps off their own cliffs, and we find ourselves falling into God’s hands together. The most incredible thing about this experiment with Truth-telling is the love that it inspires – even when the Truth is hard and difficult, and the pain of it is real and raw, there is a powerful, Divine love that binds us sacredly together in that space. It is in that space that I am most able to see the God within another, and know that the God within me is seen, as well.

My theology is based in this most basic belief: we are relationship-seeking beings. There are three main relationships we seek and these relationships are inextricably entwined. They are the relationships between Self, Other and God. We know ourselves most fully when we are touched by Other – with the sound of their voice, the power of their energy, and the touch of their hand. We are able to experience God most fully when we are in touch with Self and with Other. Our ability to know Self hangs on how well we are able to love and connect to Other and God. We cannot separate ourselves from one without damaging our relationship with the remaining two. It, simply, is impossible. We are much more connected than we allow ourselves to experience, and when we intentionally disconnect from Other, our connection with God is greatly impaired.

It is a sacred bond, between Self, Other and God. It requires care, love and attention to maintain properly. And Friends, this radical way of understanding and honoring relationship is what I believe we are being called into as a Religious Society. It is not an easy task, nor a light calling. This is what I have come to know as a “mutually vulnerable covenant.” We are being called to step up to the edge of our comfort, to take a deep breath, and step off. To take that step requires deep listening. It requires full trust in God. It requires love to be the guiding force. We cannot engage with true cliff-jumping from a place of fear. We cannot have preconceived notions about where we will land or judgments about the process in which another will (or will not) engage in to join us in this Holy Experiment. It requires that we give up all control, trusting only that we are engaging in God’s work together and trusting God to care for us.

It may mean that we end up feeling broken, that we feel as if we have jumped and landed badly. There have been times this year when I have felt like a wreck on the side of the road that everyone slows down to see. But even in that space of being broken, I have known that I was in God’s hands, following God’s will. Each time I ended up feeling broken and let my fear get the best of me, I found myself running from this radical intimacy as fast as I possibly could. However, the pain caused by my running was always more intense than the pain of engaging with Other. But unfortunately, it took me a while to figure that out. Luckily, God is much wiser than I am, and it was almost as if I am on a spiritual bungee cord. I can only get so far before I am pulled back to this Experiment and called to live into this radical relationship covenant. And how thankful I am that God has continued to call me back into faithfulness. For this Experiment has been one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given.

This call to radical relationship requires nothing less than love being the ultimate guiding force and basis for this kind of work. Oriah Mountaindreamer, in her book The Invitation, spoke of the experience of engaging with this covenant in this quote:
"When I imagine myself as an old woman at the end of my life and ask myself how I will evaluate my time here, there is only one question that concerns me: did I love well? There are a thousand ways to love other people and the world – with our touch, our words, our silences, our work, our presence. I want to love well. This is my hunger. I want to make love to the world by the way I live in it, by the way I am with myself and others every day. So I seek to increase my ability to be with truth in each moment, to be with what I know, the sweet and the bitter. I want to stay aware of this vastness I do not know. This is what brings me to the journey. I do not want to live any other way. And sometimes, I allow myself to imagine that each moment in which we love well by simply being all of who we are and being fully present allows us to give back something essential to the Sacred Mystery that sustains all life."

I believe, Friends, that this call into a mutually vulnerable covenant is both a call to live into this on an individual and a corporate level. We are not only called to do this in personal relationships with one another in our Meetings, but also across the geographic and theological divides among different Yearly Meetings. Friends, I see a room with the potential of a blaze of Light that could Light up the World. And God has extended a most sacred invitation to us: to truly engage as Friends with the world with God at the center. Let us not ignore this call.

I pray, Friends, that we engage with this difficult and exciting work. I pray that we don’t let fear get the best of us, but that we begin to live fully into the Light that we have been given and allow ourselves the risk of falling in love with each other. I want to love well, Friends. I want to love Other well … love You well, and be loved well in return. And in my loving Self and Other well, I want to love God well. No matter what the fear that threatens to consume, no matter how great the desire to blend into the wall. I know that I cannot love Other fully if I am not allowing myself to shine brilliantly, honoring the Light that I have been given and knowing that I will always be granted more … I ask you, Friends, to please join me. Let us fall into the hands of God and love together and shine brilliantly for all the world to see. Let us truly begin to live this faith, to embody the name of the Religious Society of Friends and dare to live our faith out loud.

Before delving into yet another Quaker world, I thought I would post a little here about my experience at North West Yearly Meeting. While I was there, many Friends asked me for some reflections about what I thought about their Yearly Meeting. It is interesting to be asked that question - as someone who has never experienced an Evangelical gathering before, and someone who was there because it was God's will with little other plans than to build relationships - because, really, what can I say? I have little to compare it to ... But even as I type that, I am sure comparison is not what is needed. We do too much of that already in the Quaker world. While I know there is much more that will come to the surface as the experience digests, I thought I would share some of my observations and thoughts (for what they are worth) now.

First of all, I was delighted at the warmth and excitement that greeted Andrew and me. I don't know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn't for people to continue to come up to us and thank us for coming, to tell us how excited they were that we were there, to begin conversations in the auditoriums, dining halls, hallways, bathrooms ... I was so overcome by fear before getting to NWYM (made up entirely of overly dramatic visualizations of being judged and shunned), that I was floating on a cloud for the entire time when I realized deep within myself what I had known to be true all along: we are all Friends.

The other thing that I was surprised by was how liberal the Yearly Meeting was. I don't know what I was thinking going into it, but being someone who doesn't identify as Christian, but as a Follower of Jesus, I was worried that I would not be accepted for who I was. How wrong I was. There was no one who questioned my own validity as a Quaker or insinuated that I was somehow "less than" because of my spiritual identification. Friends were happy to engage in dialog with me, and I found myself entering into mutual vulnerable covenants often, where I felt safe to be open and be myself, and know that I would be loved for it.

Perhaps that was one of the most striking pieces to me: the love within the community. I felt like I was embraced, as a sister, as a Friend, as a member of this powerful spiritual community. What a humbling and honoring experience it was!

There were other more specific things I noticed. For one, I was very aware of the restructuring of the Yearly Meeting body right now (reorganizing of Boards - which are similar to liberal "Committees" and the staff of the Yearly Meeting). Because of the restructuring and the deep wrestling that the community has been doing corporately over the past couple of years, the movement within the YM is apparent to the naked eye. People are inspired, and there is energy to be doing God's Work in the world.

Another thing that went along with that is the presence of recognition of service ... Time and again, I was touched to see various people acknowledged, thanked and recognized for their work within the community and the gifts that they bring. It was not done stintingly or jealously ... But with deep gratitude and appreciation - and it was accepted with humble and honest appreciation for having been recognized. It takes work to do God's Will in the world, and this Yearly Meeting seemed to understand that we are only building stronger community and inspiring more people to do that work when they are honored for it ...

The quality of corporate worship was made so much richer and deeper with song. The services were amazing and the songs were a piece of the worship that I will deeply miss. To join voices with others in the gathering, in vocal prayer and praise, was something that I will always remember. It moved me in ways that I have not been moved in a long time - and made my chest feel close to bursting on more than one occasion.

The plenaries from every night spoke to me in a way that I never imagined. The questions that I didn't know I had been asking were answered. Something that was very apparent to me during my time there was that God is certainly moving Friends forward together. Pieces of each of the messages that were given were pieces that Andrew and I have known we needed to be bringing to Philadelphia Yearly Meeting this year. How incredibly powerful to hear the message you have received from God to deliver to one body of Friends be delivered a week prior to another body of Friends. And to have each of those bodies of Friends be considered very different from each other. We have so much more in common than we think we do.

The last thought I have for the night is the power of intervisitation. I learned more this last couple of days - and was spoken to in a way that I didn't imagine was possible prior to this gathering. Friends, the movement within our society is clear - to find Way Forward together. We are all Friends, and we each have important lessons to learn from one another. But the first step is perhaps the most important. To build relationships across the theological divides and truly become a family in the name of the Divine. We can heal the pain we experience through disconnection throughout the wider society - but first, we must work on healing that pain within our Society. Take the time to fall in love with one another in God. It's perhaps one of the greatest gifts you can give or be given.

Blessings be with you, dear Friends.

I thought I would post this epistle here for those Friends who do not surf QuakerQuaker.org - with the knowledge that I will also post the Young Adult Friend epistle from the same gathering when it has been approved. Enjoy.

Sixth Month, 2007

To Friends everywhere,

We pray for your tenderness of heart to listen beyond the imperfect words we are using to describe what the Living Spirit has done among us here this week. We know that the Truth is beyond any words we might use to describe it.

We are more than 80 Friends, young and old, from 17 yearly meetings in the US, Canada, and Ireland, gathered in Barnesville, Ohio, at Olney Friends School and Stillwater Meetinghouse. During our opening weekend, many Friends who had participated in Young Friends of North America from the 1950’s to the 1990’s came seeking reunion and renewal in the Spirit. The following week’s Quakercamp attracted additional Friends who were hungering for Spirit-led community. We worked to find Truth together, and to support each other’s ministries and leadings. During our entire gathering, we were blessed by the presence of Friends from the YFNA years and of a committed group of Young Adult Friends who seek to plant the seeds of a new Young Friends movement that can minister to the needs of our whole Society.

At our opening Meeting for Worship, one Friend prayed that we experience a fresh incursion of the Holy Spirit. We have been blessed by just such an incursion again and again. We have experienced this presence in open worship, in searching past words for common ground, and as we sought comfort in facing both the terrible suffering in the world today and past wounds in our own lives.

We have been grateful for the powerful presence of the Holy Spirit in our worship, worship-sharing, Bible study, song, interest groups, and play. Young and old have felt deeply connected, though not always comfortable with each other’s ways. Older Friends have needed to learn restraint in speaking, to provide space for younger Friends to speak. Younger Friends have reminded all of us of the importance of expectant waiting on the inward voice of Christ.

We were enriched by Friends from Ohio and Ireland Yearly Meetings who spoke to us of their practices and traditions and the testimony of their lives to the power of their faith. We have been deeply touched and challenged by the experience of these Friends who root their spiritual life in listening for and obeying Christ’s voice. Many experienced the Living Christ working with us in new ways as we engaged in intense study of the scriptures together.

Young Adult Friends among us are feeling deeply called to create new opportunities to meet with their contemporaries in all branches of North American Friends, knowing they will encounter God in deeply committed Friends from different traditions. We call upon Friends throughout North America to nurture and encourage these efforts.

As we met in this beautiful setting, we felt intensely the sadness and suffering of a world broken by war, injustice, poverty, hunger, and despair, and we cried out in lamentation. We have expressed a growing concern for the suffering of all of God’s creation through misuse at human hands. At the same time, we have felt a deep joy in being called corporately to service in God’s healing work.

We have felt painfully the intense divisions among Friends over sexuality and sexual morality. Many of those present this week felt led to explore deeply together what God requires of us in this area. Tender intergenerational sharing took place about these issues. This was enriched by open discussion of the brokenness we have experienced when sexual behaviors are not consistent with God’s will. We have found a new degree of unity in the call to witness to the importance of mutual faithfulness and commitment in all sexual relationships.

We recognize that all branches of Friends bear great riches from our common roots, as well as great wounds. No branch has carried into the present the full revolutionary message and experience of the first generation of Friends. We affirm the ways we have been blessed to grow in understanding of different’ traditions within the Friends’ family this week. We call upon all Friends to work together to overcome the deep divisions of understanding among us today.

To us, the heart of Quakerism is in listening and responding to the voice of the Inward Teacher in worship and in shared discernment of God’s will. To hear this voice as a community requires us to engage in a covenant of mutual vulnerability. We must examine our preconceptions about how we encounter God and our rigid assumptions about what the Holy Spirit is saying to us as Friends today. We have been open to language and religious structures with which we are not familiar or comfortable. We have received many gifts as a result of engaging in this vulnerability with each other across generational and theological separations. As we shared our leadings and concerns together, we became elders to each other in love, and for this we are deeply grateful.

We call Friends everywhere to enter into an adventure of mutual vulnerability, discernment and accountability – both in their own meetings and across the barriers that divide Friends. This journey will not be easy, but we trust that God will accompany us and will respond to our prayers for help and guidance. We need to find the courage to wrestle with each other, listen tenderly to each other’s witness, and learn from each other’s testimony.

Yours in God’s love,
Ruth Raffensperger, Jonathan Vogel-Borne & Pamela Haines, Clerks

There will be another Quakercamp held at Stillwater Meetinghouse & Olney Friends School, on June 23-28, 2008. For more information, go to http://www.quakersong.org/quakercamp_2008/

This morning, I have consciously removed myself from the goings-on of NWYM, and am trying to take some time for myself to begin to do the writing that I need to do. My writing list piles higher - an article about my grandparent's spiritual journeys for the Canadian Friend (which I was supposed to have done at least a week ago), the keynote address for Philadelphia Yearly Meeting (which I give on Sunday night!), updates for this journal, emails that need to be written ... I am not sure how I am going to get it all done. I feel like I am at this place where I know what I need to be focusing on is the keynote address (and I feel it continuing to come together slowly) but am also feeling like my ability to do all the other writings is very limited, and I am inevitably going to let someone (or more than one person) down in not being able to get it all done. It's not a good place to be. I have done that typical 20th century thing - where I have taken on too much, and am having a hard time finding my Way clear to engage as fully as I need to with it all.

I know that I have been falling short in keeping in contact with my friends as I have been traveling this summer ... And I know that I find it incredibly hard to begin to explain what I am doing and experiencing on a daily basis. I don't know how to invite people into to the intensity and depth of my experience - and because I know I can't do it fully, I have a hard time doing it at all. I don't know if that makes sense, but I feel like I have been not saying anything at all because I don't know how to say everything. Perhaps it is best to give snapshots ... To give some taste, some location of where I am, and know that very few people (or maybe no one) can know where I am fully.

- In the past couple of days, I have realized the power of song as corporate prayer and am finding the intensity of God's presence in that overwhelming and exciting.

- I continue to realize the dangers of judgment. I continue to have my mind expanded, my eyes opened and my heart inspired. I see my own tendency towards judgment when I am fearful and know that fear often inhibits my ability to live into God's will for me. I am learning so much about translation, and so much about the beauty of human similarity and difference.

- Building deep, spiritual Friendship with someone takes a lot of energy and intentionality. I find myself speaking t(T)ruth in a way I have not done before. It's scary and uncomfortable - and exactly what needs to happen.

- I am learning (perhaps slowly) what it means to Live Openly - to Self, to Other and to God. I find myself overwhelmed by emotion often, as I allow myself to feel another's pain and joy or to truly feel my own. I continue to find beauty in it (with a little help from my Friends). Although I find it difficult to navigate when the depth of emotion and experience becomes too great, I also know that it is in that moment of allowing myself to be there that I feel most alive. This type of engagement with the world around me is the life I am called to live - and I wouldn't have it any other way.

- I have been aware of and named my tendency towards anxiety often in the last days. While it is useful to name it, I am learning that I don't need to be held captive by it.

- I continue to be inspired and awed by the presence of God in all the places I have been. For all our worry that we (as Quakers) are extremely different, God seems to be speaking the same kind of messages to us all. I am humbled and in awe of the presence of the Divine in corporate worship in all forms.

There is much more I could say. I could say how amazing it has been to be at NWYM, and how I feel like I have been welcomed into another home. OOPS! And I could talk about how I am late. Gotta run!

I have spent the last week and a half in a strange sort of limbo. I spent a week at Pendle Hill - arriving with the spoken intention to take time for myself and to find the words that need to be spoken at Philadelphia YM. One thing I always forget about Pendle Hill is how tied I am to that place. I arrived and remember just how many people I truly love there. And, in the space of being open to Spirit and Other, I walked unaware onto Pendle Hill property. I don't know how it's possible for me to forget when I am not there about the energy that lives and breathes on that campus. Within a couple of days, I had decided that I needed to become somewhat removed from the intense energy of Other, if I was ever going to find rest. There is so much pain on that campus. It makes sense, as it is a micro version of the world outside it's tree lined edges ... But it is shocking, nonetheless, as I have a tendency to idolize it somehow when I am not there. There's a distinct problem with me needing to remove myself and close myself off to the energy of Other in order to heal, though. I have not yet figured out how to close self off to Other and continue to stay open and aware of Self and God. So I pulled back - from Other - and in doing so, found myself distanced from Self and God, as well. Of course, as the days went on, I found myself deeply wrapped up with Other, in pain and in joy; in connection and disconnection. In noticing that experience, I found myself listening more closely again to Self and God. And just as I was beginning to hear fully again, and finding more joy than pain on that hallowed ground, I found myself having to leave.

And so I got on a plane with Andrew and headed for the west coast. Landing in Seattle, we were only 3 hours (or less) than my home. But I didn't go home to the dismay of my dear sister. Instead, I spent some time with a friend (who I knew from my time at Pendle Hill, ironically) and then headed over to spend time with my godmother. I haven't spent time with her in years, and it was wonderful to spend a couple of days chatting and catching up ... I began to feel like we were actually truly getting to know each other - which is something I have craved for years, but not had the opportunity to do. It was such a blessing to find out just how much we have in common. I look forward to finding some more time to get to know her in the future.

And here I am, spending a night with some wonderful Quakers that Andrew has known for years, and getting ready for NWYM tomorrow. I have spent much of today doing things that are very un-Quakerly in some regards. I got my haircut, and my eyebrows done. I spent all together too much money on both. (In my defense, I tried to find a hair/beauty school to go to instead, and after walking a couple miles in heels and developing some lovely blisters on my feet, I found out they were full.) I have found myself thinking alot about how I can continue show respect to these Friends we will be visiting, and continue to stay true to my own self-understanding. How I can be faithful to Self, to Other and to God.

As a liberal Friend, I often understand (though it mostly goes unspoken) that it is best to dress casually on an everyday basis, if one can help it. That way, no day treated as more important than another. Or at least, that's what I understand ... It also speaks to the simplicity testimony - wearing clothes one has bought at a thrift store, or has inherited from another. Having come from a very different culture, growing up in a privileged home and spending much of teenage years in an area that was decidedly Wealthy (and yes, I do mean to capitalize), I have come to liberal, unprogrammed Quakerism feeling like I was at a disadvantage in some ways. I am probably one of the only existing Quaker makeup artists. I went to school for 6 months to learn how to do all types of makeup - including fashion, photo and special effects. I often find myself telling people, embarrassed-ly, that I did it because I didn't have anything else to do. But truth be told, I liked it. I liked making people feel beautiful. I liked the art that was involved. Sure, there is much about the beauty industry that disgusts and appalls me - but there is an element of art in it, as well, which often gets lost or ignored in the dysfunction. That is all to say that I have struggled deeply with how I can live closely to my Quaker testimonies and still be true to myself. I enjoy feeling pretty - and although I don't need makeup to feel pretty (something I am excited to say, as it has been a recent project to get to this point), I also know that I find joy and fun in wearing makeup and clothes that I feel pretty in. Now, from what I have experienced, many Friends from the liberal, unprogrammed tradition will tell me that they don't see anything wrong with the way I dress - and I suppose I should believe them. However, there is an unspoken feeling that once I get to a certain point in my spiritual journey, I, too, will stop caring how I look. That unspoken message that I interpret sometimes makes me feel small and not-good-enough. It takes away the joy that I have experienced when I have felt like I was able to accurately portray my Self to the world through some fun colors on my skin and draped over my body. I feel like a lesser Quaker. By no means do I want to say that it is all someone else's fault - I know I hold great responsibility for how I feel in response to unspoken messages. I know that some of my own pain around that is more to do with things that I have not solved within my Self, rather than messages I am receiving from Other.

And now, here I sit, the night before heading out of NWYM, and I can't help thinking about the power of appearance. I have thought long and hard about how I will choose to present myself to these Friends. I have decided that I will remove my lip ring, but not my nose stud. My lip ring is something that could very easily stop conversation before it starts ... My nose stud is important to keep in for me, though, as I have had it pierced since I was fourteen, and it has much to do with honoring my mother's youth (as she grew up in India) and my grandparents' service work that they engaged in for fifteen years (in rural India). I have packed some dressy clothes, as I understand that this Yearly Meeting honors the presence of God and the occasion of coming together as a family of Christ in appearance, as well as faithful presence. Perhaps I am wrong about that, but that has been some of my understanding. My newest tattoo is hard to hide, as it is on the inside of my wrist, but I will also be conscious of not making it overtly visible while I am visiting with these Friends. Some of the liberal, unprogrammed Friends that I know have balked at the idea that I would change my appearance to visit another Yearly Meeting. But, as I understand it, I would not go to another country where it is disrespectful to wear short skirts and don one. This piece of dressing consciously is another piece of learning other's faith languages and attempting to engage in dialog with them. It is about building relationships - and to build a relationship, one must start with baby steps. One doesn't start a conversation with a complete stranger about their deepest desires - but first builds trust through other conversations ... This is the work I most love to engage with and find most challenging. How to be faithful to Self, Other and God in the intersection of Self and Other, holding God at the middle, and being conscious of how tenuous the connection can be. This is the work I am called into.

I have been gently nudged over the last week to update here about my travels this summer. I have recieved wonderful emails from dear Friends who say things like, "I am looking forward hearing more about your trip on your journal when you get a chance to update it" and the sort. It has made me smile. The authentic request to hear more about this summer has not gone unnoticed. The trouble is that I don't know what to say.

Each day, it seems, in the Quaker world is three times longer than one in the "outside" world. And the work that I do in it, when I find myself in alignment with God's will, is so much more humbling and personal. It is difficult, then, to find words to describe such an experience. I suppose I could talk about the fact that I continue to enjoy the long car drives and have noticed a wonderful pattern of car-zanyness as we near the end of each long day in our wonderful bio-diesel car. I could talk about the places, or the people. But what I want to talk about is the ever present action of God in my life and the way it takes my breath away. But how in the world would I ever find the words to explain what it has looked like for the past month of traveling in the ministry? With no other option except not talking at all, I suppose I will try to put to words what only the heart can truly understand.

Traveling in the ministry is so much harder than I ever thought it would be. By no means did I think it would be easy, but I didn't expect to be stretched as fully as I have been. I knew that it would be challenging to figure out how Andrew and I travel together - and before leaving on the road, I often joked about pulling over at some point to tell him to get out and walk or vice versa. We have not reached that point, and I don't think we will. I know beyond a doubt that it is in right order that we are traveling in the ministry together. We continue to push each other to stand in uncomfortable spaces, and open space for each other to share deeply as often as we can. We are constantly finding God in our interactions and celebrating the joy of living faithfully with one another.

We continue to think carefully about how to correct people when they assume we are a couple, as it is extremely uncommon for young adult Friends to travel in the ministry, and it is an assumption that is understandable. We continue to try and figure out how to have deep, spiritual connection with one another while challenging the cultural assumption that this kind of connection must be translated into a romantic relationship. For in many ways, the depth of connection that we share is absent even in romantic relationships and we, as a society, don't have a way to understand it fully. In a culture where we are searching desperately for deep connection with each other, we are terrified of what it would really mean to build that relationship. There is great vulnerability in building a deeply spiritual relationship with another. To truly be present in that kind of interaction, one must be ready to be honest with oneself, and honest with the other, even when it feels like it's the last thing on earth we want to do. I have many people in my life that I care about and who I would call friends. However, this summer, I am learning about true intentionality in relationship - in an everyday sense of the term - and what it means to build a relationship that has God at the core of it. What an incredible gift I have been given!

One of the most powerful shifts that has happened in the last month is having a support committee come together at Friends General Conference (thanks be to God) to sit with Andrew and I to think about our ministry this summer and what kind of support we need. We sat with a group of powerful Elders, who served as midwives for our ministry, for three sessions and spoke about our struggles thus far. In that space, I spoke about feeling confused about having understood my role as Elder this summer but feeling lost and unequipped to serve as that for Andrew. In the course of a few days, it was named that we both have a ministry to bring to this work and that I am not serving God, myself or Andrew well in the space of trying to fill his role as Elder. I am in need of my own Elders, as I travel with a message that is seperate from his, though very connected at it's core. Having that named was like being set free from a cage that held my wings too tightly. I could breathe again. Hearing the Truth spoken that one is starving to hear is one of the most powerful experiences one can have, in my belief.

There is much growing that I am learning to do, and one of those places is learning not to shrink into myself because it's more comfortable than having people see me. This is part of the reason that I rarely write in here. After all, there is little that I am led to write about on this journal that isn't personal and knowing that it goes out to the entire online Quaker community is an intimidating prospect. It requires a leap of faith each time I post. Sometimes it's just easier to hide my light under a bushel than to risk it being blown out. But this is something that I continue to sit with, and a place that I find myself continuing to grow everyday. I realized the other day what it truly feels like to feel the height and breadth of my body and realize that I am tall. (For those of you who don't know me in person, I am 5'10".) It may come as a suprise to you, but I have never felt tall. It is easier to believe that I am small and easily invisible than to know that I am called to stand firmly in my own skin, in every inch of it. There is more I could say about this, as I continue to look at the Society of Friends and find many similarities, but for now, I think it needs some more time to brew.

I am currently at Pendle Hill, finding time to take for myself. I have been in much need of this rest, as I am often surprised by the ways in which God has used me this summer. One thing about traveling in the ministry that I have heard said before by others, is that we are often convinced we are called somewhere for one reason, only to find it was another reason entirely upon leaving. I find myself in many situations where I am asked to serve God in ways I was not expecting, and am striving to stay open to the movement of the Spirit in my life on a moment-to-moment basis. There were many nights at FGC where I planned to attend the plenary sessions, only to find out right beforehand that God had other plans for me. This summer is proving to be a wonderful exercise in letting go of humanly expectations and being open to whatever God would have me do. I pray everyday for God to help me to know his will and to help me have the eyes and ears to hear and see it.

I spend my days in deep gratitude for each breath, each beautiful creation I come into contact with, for each moment of Divine grace. I am overwhelmed by the depth in which I continue to fall in love with the Spirit that moves continually through my life. I continue to pray to find the words that I am meant to bring to Philadelphia Yearly Meeting (2 weeks from now) and appreciate any and all prayers that are sent my way in that regard. I am filled with joyful anticipation for the opportunity to build relationships at NorthWest Yearly Meeting next week. And I am deeply, deeply grateful for this day.

I hope that all you who read this journal are finding joy in your days. I pray that you are filled with love to overflowing and allow that to spill onto those around you. Blessings, dear ones.

At the risk of offending those who revere John Woolman, I thought I would post this final essay I wrote for my Peace and Justice class this term on here. I ask that if you are going to use pieces of this essay for your own means that you cite the source.

Engaging John Woolman’s “A Plea for the Poor” In Modern Society

In this paper, I will engage with John Woolman’s essay, “A Plea for the Poor.” I will examine the theological basis evident within this work, presenting what I consider to be problematic ideologies when working for peace and justice issues. In order to fully engage with both of these topics, I will explore why it is important for the Religious Society of Friends to engage critically with the work of John Woolman and how neglecting to do so is not only damaging to the individual but also in direct conflict with the Quaker testimony of equality. I will focus mainly on John Woolman’s interaction with Native American people in this essay, as this is where his theology comes most into question. My own theological understanding of love and how it relates to peace and justice work today will conclude this paper.

As a Quaker, I believe that it is extremely important to engage critically with texts written by influential early Friends as a way of gaining a greater understanding of the history of the Religious Society of Friends and to develop a firmer understanding of my own faith. John Woolman, an extremely well known and influential Friend in the eighteenth century, is revered within the Quaker world and larger society for his ministry among the issues of peace and justice in America. He was one of the original human rights activists in the country, working tirelessly for Native American rights and the abolition of slavery. His Journal and essays (including “A Plea for the Poor”) are well respected by those who work for humanitarian issues today, as they include strong statements about the evils of war, slavery, material consumption and guidelines for “right living” that are often still applicable in the modern world. His writings are infused with experiences of the immediacy of God within self and the world around him. John Woolman has served (in his lifetime and since) as a prime example for those striving to live a life of equality and justice, who base their work in a deep understanding of faith and God.

While it is important to recognize the value in John Woolman’s work, the danger of idolizing this figure within Quakerism is a very present one. Within a religion that denies the existence of saints based on theological principles, Quakerism has developed a core group of “Quaker saints,” made up mostly of early Friends, including Woolman. This becomes especially problematic when taking into account one of the most important beliefs within Quakerism: that all humans are equal, as all people carry a measure of the Divine within themselves. This belief allows for all to be ministers to others and is the basis for understanding the personal, intimate connection with God that Quakers hold as central to their faith. The absence of an official hierarchical structure within the organization of Friends speaks to this core belief. When early Friends are held up as saint-like figures within Quakerism, the act not only challenges the basic theological belief that we are all equal, but serves to disempower modern Friends, as they often feel it impossible to live up to such high expectations that have been created. When early Friends are viewed in this light, it is extremely difficult to see their humanity and even more difficult to engage critically with their work. This creates barriers for modern Friends in the ability to grow within their own faith and instead, often leads to Friends being overwhelmed by the examples before them and discouraged not being able to live what can feel like the impossible life of godliness. A common lament today among Quakers is, “Where are all the modern John Woolmans?” This question speaks to the concern that Quakers lack the radical leaders that were once present within the Society. This belief stems from an idolization of the past and a disregard for the prophetic witness of many Friends today. Rita Nakashima Brock asserts “individuals only make sense in the larger context of events embedded in particular historical structures. The tendency to focus on heroes may divert our attention from the factors most important in understanding an event.”

As many Friends continue to look to Woolman for guidance on how to live out the peace, equality and simplicity testimonies within Quakerism, it is integral to their spiritual and moral growth that they continue to explore the theological underpinnings in his writings. This is important of Christian Friends and non-Christian Friends alike. It would be easy to assign modernist tendencies to Woolman’s work if one did not look carefully at the document. Throughout “A Plea for the Poor,” Woolman speaks of the importance of living according to “universal love” as the basis for a Christian lifestyle. Although Woolman may have been speaking about an idealized concept of living a life of agape, the privilege that he enjoyed as a white, middle class man in America and the influence of the religious evangelical thought during his lifetime quickly perverts the ability he may have had to live according to agape. Instead, what becomes apparent is that Woolman’s ministry is based in an understanding of love that is much more similar to the familial definition of love: storge. This is especially apparent in his reference to men who own great estates but live by the guidance of “universal love” being like “fathers to the poor.” The most basic conflict with Woolman basing his work for equality and peace on an understanding of love as storge is the inequality that this dynamic sets up. It would be impossible to work for true equality without acknowledging one’s own privilege and it’s influence on one’s work. The very fact that Woolman uses terms like “fathers to the poor” speaks of the patriarchal, oppressive culture of the time that he was very much embedded in.

Woolman is a product of his time. When settlers first came to America, they believed that they had been “given” this land by God and were the chosen people. Woolman was of this same mindset; he was one of God’s chosen people, given this land and privilege by God and it was his responsibility to deal fairly with those who had not been granted the same favor. This belief is apparent throughout chapters eleven and twelve of “A Plea for the Poor,” and is blatant on p. 258 with this quote: “Thus our gracious Father, who at the same time beholds the situation of all his creatures, hath opened a way from a thick-settled land and given us some room on this.” Out of context, Woolman sounds as if he is merely grateful for the land that has been given to him by God. However, when one considers the fact that Woolman felt called to work for the rights of Native Americans, and to fight the injustice that was (and is) present regarding the land treaties that were made and broken, this sense of entitlement becomes especially problematic. He continually espoused the need for equality within America, but (perhaps unknowingly) subscribed to an understanding of equality that created a hierarchy of humans. In his understanding, new Christian settlers were God’s chosen people, and therefore, were divinely placed at the top of the social order.

This sense of superiority is apparent throughout his work with Native Americans. Woolman traveled to Native American communities with the hope of building relationships. However, once there, Woolman felt it was his Christianly duty to spread the Good News and proclaim the gospel to his audiences. He also made it his mission to attempt to convince Native Americans about the benefits of farming, as he believed it was an improvement on their current way of life. He stated, “If we faithfully serve God, who hath given us some room on this land, I believe he will make some of us useful among [the Native Americans], both in publishing the doctrines of his Son our Savior, and in pointing out to them the advantages of replenishing the earth and subduing it.” This was evidence of the evangelical school of thought that was prevalent at that time in America.

It is important to note that this attempt to colonize Native Americans was present everywhere within North America at the time, even within the organizations that attempted to defend Native American rights. The Friendly Association for Regaining and Preserving Peace with the Indians by Pacific Measures, a Quaker organization founded in the eighteenth century, attempted “to control exploitation by white traders and to turn the Delaware into farmers on the white model.” This is another example of why it is important that Friends today engage critically with early Friend’s writings, as the history of humanitarian efforts within Quakerism is often idealized. Woolman’s work among Native Americans was in keeping with the organization’s mission. However, if one is to move forward with a firm understanding of the history of human rights work among Friends, one must know all aspects of the history, not just the pleasant ones.

It is in the work of both the Friendly Association and Woolman among Native Americans that a problematic trend rears it’s ugly head. Brock states, “the Christian attitude toward charity is often built on the idea of the superior helping the inferior, which locks paternalism into the relationship. Rather than seeing our capacity to give to the poor as part of a social-economic system that produces poverty and hunger, much of Christian charity is designed to help others into that exploitive system.” By encouraging the Native Americans to farm according to practices imported from Europe and neglecting to recognize the generations of wisdom that had been passed down before European settlement, Quakers had an unintentional but instrumental hand in the oppression of Native Americans. Quakers helped to recreate the very system of inequality and oppression that they were fleeing from in England.
Feminist/womanist/mujerista theologian, Toinette M. Eugene, states that community is at the heart of understanding self and God. She states that “to know one’s self and one’s situation is to know one’s company (or lack of it), is to know oneself with or against others.” As Woolman is apparently unaware of all the influences of his culture on his ministry, he is unable to engage in a mutually vulnerable relationship with those people he is ministering to. This is problematic because not only does it damage his ability to build the relationships that he is attempting to build with Native Americans, but it also stunts his own spiritual growth. “Connections must be made or at least attempted, where none existed before, the straining to encompass in one’s glance at the varied world the common thread, the unifying theme through immense diversity,” she argues.

Although I do not disagree with evangelism fundamentally, I strongly disagree with the way it is often approached. Instead of attempting to build relationships with another based on mutual learning and sharing, it is often inspired by the belief that one’s own theology is superior to another’s and it is one’s duty to bring the other into the same belief system. If, instead of approaching conversations about one’s own religion in a superior or defensive spirit, one approached conversations with someone from a different religious background with a sense of openness, their own understanding of their faith has the potential to become much deeper and richer for the gifts of wisdom that each might receive out of the interaction. Feminist theologian, Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz, speaks to this way of interacting when she says, “It is my contention that we will not be able to deal with each other’s work as theologians in an appropriate way unless we recognize and embrace differences as a gift, not a problem.”

My theology is most fundamentally based in the fact that we are relationship seeking, emotionally driven beings. It is only through being fully vulnerable to others and God that we begin to know ourselves fully. Through seeking to see the Divine inherent within another, we begin to see the Divinity within ourselves. It is through the creation and nurturing of mutually vulnerable covenants with others that we are fully able to experience God’s presence in the world. Because we are invested in the relationships that we build, it is first through an experience of eros that we are most able to connect with others and God. Agape requires one to be disinterested, to give love wholly without regard for the worthiness of the other. While this is a worthwhile goal, the presence of patriarchy and oppression within society makes it extremely difficult for anyone to fully participate in agape. Those engaged in relationships that have power imbalances must continue to engage in loving interactions with others. In the scenario where one has less power than the other, it is easy to pervert the striving to live a life of agape by denying one’s own needs in the relationship. Although, by definition, agape does not ask one to sacrifice all that oneself for love, when societal influences are taken into account, it would be easy to begin to do so in a relationship with an inequality of power already present. However, if they were to engage in disinterested love without regard for themselves, those with less power in the relationship run the high risk of disregarding the Divine within them. My belief is that it is the presence of the Divine within another that requires, at the very least, respect from others. Therefore, no matter how much one would like to engage in living a life of agape, the attempt to recognize the Divine within another and have it recognized within one’s self means that one always has something invested in the relationship. The relationship covenant that I hold to be at the core of living a life of Divine love always asks something of the other: mutual vulnerability.

In order to fully engage with peace and justice work, I believe that one must be actively involved in building these types of relationships. It is through a process of listening for the Divine within another and oneself that one is able to be fully present to the needs of another. It is only through allowing oneself to be transformed by this interaction that one is fully capable of working for peace and justice issues in the world. It is by a process of hearing each other’s voices and pain and allowing others to name what would be most healing for them, that one has the necessary understanding to move forward in engaging a process of healing, whether it be involved in systems, interpersonal relationships or personal needs.

The most fundamental problem that I have with Woolman’s work for peace and justice is the absence of his own vulnerability within the relationships he was engaging in. By not making himself vulnerable to those he was attempting to “save,” he neglected to engage in deep enough relationships with them that would empower them to state their needs. Although he often made himself vulnerable to others’ criticism when speaking with his peers about his ministry for equality, he neglected to engage in the same kind of vulnerability with those he saw himself inherently placed above, in the hierarchy that God had placed him at the top of. The combination of belief that he was one of the “chosen people” in America and that one must be a Christian in order to live a life based on the concept of “universal love” made it impossible to John Woolman to fully engage in humanitarian work in the necessary spirit of the very testimonies he held so dear: equality and peace.


Bibliography

Brock, Rita Nakashima. Journeys by Heart: A Christology of Erotic Power. (New York: The Crossroads Publishing Company, 1988.)

Daly, Lois K., ed. Feminist Theological Ethics: A Reader. “Appropriation and Reciprocity in Womanist/Mujerista/Feminist Work.” (Louisville: Westminister John Knox Press, 1994.)

Hamm, Thomas. The Quakers in America. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2003.)

Moulton, Phillips P., ed. The Journal and Major Essays of John Woolman. “A Plea for the Poor.” (Richmond: Friends United Press, 1971.)

Step one on the journey: Leave the house.
Step two: Acknowledge extreme nerves and fear.
Step three: Take a deep breath.
Step four: Throw self into life-changing journey and beautiful world of Quakers.
Repeat steps 2-4 often. (Perhaps more than once daily.)

I know now that I am not going to be able to update daily on the travels this summer. However, I think I will be able to write in a journal almost daily and I will post as often as possible pieces of that here. Here are some pieces from the last couple of days, since beginning this travelling ministry at the YFNA reunion and Quaker camp at Olney Friends School in Barnesville, OH.

June 22, 2007
I keep saying that I want to be held accountable to writing in my journal everyday. My online journal. When did it become that I could write for others but not for myself?? I keep wanting to tell people that I have been so worried, worried sick about having too much stuff; bringing too much on these summer travels. I have been worried about bring judged by other Quakers – and in the process, I have not been able to stop judging myself. I have questioned all that is normal for me, all that makes me feel like me. Wondering if I am bringing too much clothing, wondering if I should be bringing my jewelry or not. I have packed, unpacked and repacked my bags time and again. And packed my car, a couple of times, at least. I got everything that I needed to get in, I have everything I need (I think). And I arrived at the Quaker gathering and realized that I had the same amount (and sometimes much less than others. . So all that worry for nothing. Or perhaps not for nothing. Perhaps it is for the act of defining what feels important, what makes me remember who I am. I am not saying I am tied to material things (although I am sure I am to some extent, like everyone else) but that there are certain things that are more important than others. Certain things that make me remember to celebrate myself everyday. ((I am finding I have what I need, and probably still more at this point. We shall see how the summer progresses. It does bring up lots of interesting questions about the testimony of simplicity.))

June 24, 2007
Sometimes Spirit amazes me. Coming to YFNA, I was feeling like I had no idea what to expect, but I know I didn’t expect for it to speak so clearly to our work for the summer. The weekend has been filled with the incredible presence of Spirit. It is different than it has been in the past, though. Times when I have felt the presence of the Spirit in the same way have been hard and intense in their earth shattering poignancy. This time, the Spirit, while shaking and quaking others, has been constant and gentle for me, much like a mist that hasn’t lifted and does not obscure my view, but rather, invites me to see the world somewhat differently. I have found myself knowing deeply about how I can support others in the delivery of their ministry, and been awed the deep, calming presence of Spirit in what feels like all my steps through this weekend. I know that I have been inviting Spirit into my life in the past year or more in a very intentional way, and attempting to be open to it, but I am normally much more aware of the moments in which I am bare and vulnerable to God. Now, it feels like God is with me, and I am with God and I am not fighting it nor fighting for it. Sometimes, in the past, when I have felt especially in the presence of God, I have felt somewhat removed from myself, feeling like I am not faithful enough in my daily life or judgmental about how I am existing in each moment. These past couple of days, I have felt more loving, accepting of myself as a faith-filled and faith-ful individual – just as I am. It reminds me of one of the most romantic lines I have ever heard in a movie – “I love you, just as you are.” I am starting to finally believe that God really does love me, just as I am. And I am beginning to be able to believe that because I am finally learning what it means to love myself, just as I am.
Every time I turn around, I find people searching for how we, as a faith community, can begin to engage in dialogue across the theological barriers that exist in our various branches of faith community. The yearning is strong and deep and ever-present. In a world full of disconnection, we are fighting to become connected again with those who we perceive as “other” from us. It is a hard work to engage in, a hard road to attempt to walk, but one that is so very vital. It is one that people are terrified of and still have so much energy for. It is neither specific to an older or younger generation, but a message that all Friends seem to have heard in various ways. Or, all Friends that I have come into contact with in this gathering and in much of my time leading up to this summer. In talking with Friends leading up to the summer, someone said something about either (or both) of us not being able to save the Society. It was a caution thrown out often, as if we thought we would be the deciding force to bring back together the community of Friends as it once was. In that same conversation, someone said that we would need a Quaker army of sort. A Quaker communication and love army, if you will. Of willing servants to do God’s work. I know this to be true, and I know it to be true that the army is gathering. Or the work is beginning. And there are many people who are already involved and many more who will become involved over time. I believe that this healing that so often feels so impossible and improbable is already underway. The healing of these rifts is beginning, and although it won’t be a short work, I do believe that if it is God’s will, it will happen. All that it requires is deep listening and faithful action. I say that as if it’s easy. All that needs to happen is deep listening and faithful action. Two of the hardest things to do in life. But also two of the most important things that we can do. ((Since writing this piece, I know that I am uncomfortable with the war images in it, but have no other images coming to mind at this point. I think it will be a evolving image for the summer.))

So those are some of my thoughts at the moment. I believe this summer will prove to be a truly incredible one of growth for me, my traveling companion and perhaps some of those we come into contact with. The Quaker world is moving, and it is inspiring to behold.

It's amazing to me how much needs to be done before one leaves on God's work. There has often been this somewhat unformed notion in my brain that God's work requires less tending to tedious details and nights of never-ending lists forming themselves in my sleepless mind. It's seems that this was a niave and fanciful notion. True, the road was made more smooth by the knowledge that I am doing what God has asked of me, and I have found that certain things have fallen into place when struggling with a decision in a way that I no longer questioned the "right path." But those tedious details still needed tending, and those lists have been never-ending and overwhelming.

I am finally at a place now where I feel like most everything has been done in preparation for this summer. I leave in two days for a visit to BC, where I will visit with dear friends, witness the marriage of one of my best friends and my cousin and soak up the mountainous, ocean soaked air. All that needs to be done before I leave is the usual - cleaning, laundry and packing. I will only have a couple days when I get home to rest, get centered and make sure all is ready for this summer. Then I am off! To pick up my traveling companion and to begin this adventure at YFNA.

The most difficult thing about the last couple of weeks has been how easy it has been to feel far away from God. I finished school, and began to fall out of my routine ... And have been overwhelmed at all that has needed to be done. God has felt very far away, and I know that is because I have not been making time for her in my life. I have run from one errand to another ... The closest I have felt to God has been during the three clearness committees I have sat on in the last couple of weeks. Which is a good place to feel close to God, I think. But as I prepare for Meeting for Worship this morning, I pray that today I will sink deeply into the silence, past the lists, past the worries, past the planning, past the frantic nature of the last weeks, and into a reverberating silence that has the power to bring tears to my eyes and peace my very core.

So, if any of you have been wondering why I have fallen off the face of the LJ world, it is partially due to the new developments in my life. Add that to end of semester and you get one frazzled me. Which you probably have noticed if you are going to school with me right now. To save time, I am posting an edited version of an email I sent out to some people yesterday. Funding is starting to trickle in. This is going to happen. EEP!! So exciting! So if you see me running around like a chicken with my head cut off, this is why. If you are going to be at these gatherings, let me know!! I have removed the name of the person I am traveling with because I have not asked him if he's ok with me putting this on here.

Dear F/friends,

It is with great joy and excitement that I am writing to you today to update you on the most recent developments in my life. As you may know, I began my first year of a Masters of Divinity at Earlham School of Religion in September 2006. As this academic year comes to a close, I am grateful in every cell of my being for the school I have found myself immersed in, the community I have connected with, and the journey that has brought me to a settled and inspiring feeling within my soul.

Instead of my life slowing down with the closing of my first year, instead I have found myself sprinting through every day to keep up with it. Spirit continues to infuse my life with awe-some presence, keeping me dancing on the tips of my toes and stretching in ways I never imagined I could. The most recent development that has required me to grow in never-before-imagined ways is the call to travel in the ministry this summer.

As some of you well know (especially if you have been faithful readers of my online journal), I have been under the weight of the concern of divisions among the different branches of Quakerism for some time now. Perhaps, more accurately, I have been concerned with the varieties of ways I see divisions in different aspects of our lives today, and it has been especially hard for me to see those same divisions among Quakers. Since coming to Earlham School of Religion, I have known that my work among Quakers would include intrafaith work (work among the different branches/varieties of a faith tradition). However, it was not until recently that way opened for me to see to proceed in this work.

In coming home from one of the most powerful young adult Quaker gatherings I have ever attended, I began to understand that I am being led to travel among large Quaker gatherings this summer with a close Friend. In the various gatherings we visit (for those of you who are Quaker, they are: YFNA, FGC, PYM, NWYM, CYM, and NeeKauNis 75th reunion), we will lead workshops and sessions comprised of: personal sharing in a spirit of openness and vulnerability about our experiences within Quakerism (focusing on the interaction with various branches of Quakerism), brief lessons in the history of division and reunification within Quakerism, empowering leadership within younger generations of Friends (youth and young adults), and lifting up Quaker universities, colleges and other resources as a way to become more grounded in faith and confident in leadership roles. We hope that these workshops will provide some education of the history of Friends (as many have expressed thirst for such knowledge). By engaging in worship sharing and creating safe space through personal sharing, we hope that we can demonstrate how much healing can happen when we engage in dialogue through a spirit of vulnerability and trust that God will lead the conversation.

To say that I am excited about this work would be an understatement. I am fed, inspired, grounded and centered in the certainty that only comes with following deep callings. However, I am also sure that this summer will be exhausting and extremely challenging, as well as life-giving.

We are now in the process of seeking funding for this work - which is proving to be time-consuming and slightly stressful when combined with final papers at the end of the semester. Prayers that the funding comes through would be greatly appreciated at this point. Also, if anyone is led to help us through financial support, we would be extremely grateful.

I am writing to you today to ask for your prayers and support as I begin on this next step of my journey. Both of us know that this work will demand all the energy we have to give this summer, and I know that it will be important for me to know that I am being thought of, held in the Light, prayed for, sent good energy ... If you have any thoughts you would like to share with me; words of wisdom, experiences of traveling in the ministry or stories of your own faith journeys that you are led to share, I would love to receive them.

I know that this work will not end with our summer travels this year. I will continue to engage this work when I come home and begin to write articles to publish in the wider Quaker world, and I will continue to discern where I am being led next. With that knowledge, I invite you to continue to engage with me about this work if you are interested, as it is something that has captured my heart and mind for some time now.

In peace and much faith,
Erin

Sometimes there are these moments when I know I need to write. I need to write something, whether it's important or not. These days I find myself judging my words. Waiting for the right ones.

This is like waiting worship ... but without words. The kind of waiting worship where you walk in, sit down and begin to try not to fidget. You change positions quietly and slowly, so as not to disturb anyone around you. You close your eyes. Breathe. Center. Empty your mind. And remember that you don't want to be inside your head today, and even less do you want to be listening to your heart ... or god! So your eyes fly open and you scan the room to see who else is here. And smile quietly at someone else across the room who is trying to shift without engaging the whole bench in a squeaky, groaning chorus. And then you pull yourself back, feeling guilty that you are not sitting, waiting on god, so you close your eyes. Breathe. And center. And as you come back down to earth, you hear someone come late into Meeting. You sneak one eye open to see who it is. You watch them settle themselves; you wonder if god will speak through you, to you today. You know you could use the help ... So, you close your eyes. Breathe. Center. Begin to ground and ...

Sometimes I just have to write. But I keep opening my eyes, taking my hands off the keys, and wishing that god would somehow get through to me.

The beauty of spoken ministry is that the words disappear into the air, leaving those who have heard them to pull them out of the sky above them and incorporate them into paintings they have already begun. Sentences have structure. Paragraphs flow (hopefully). Words stain pages and engrave websites.

Sometimes I just have to write. But I am sure I will never settle enough to hear anything. So I talk for hours until my eyes are so heavy they will not hold their own weight. And I type clumsily, eyes halfmast, brain disengaged. And wait for the words that need to come to pour out of my fingers.

The hardest thing about needing to write for my ministry, for my sanity, is when there is nothing to say. Or when there is just so much for me to say and nothing I feel like I can say here. I have spent months now struggling with what is appropriate to write on this website - and that struggle has gotten more intense as people have approached me about quoting me, publishing this site address for the larger Quaker world to see, as people have asked me to write for this publication or that one, as people have begun to engage me in discussions on the couches at school about things I have written here. These are all things I want. This is what writing is about. But I can no longer pretend my words go out there, to be swallowed by the aninimity of the internet. Now my words stand, attached to my name, and for those who know me, to my face.

That makes it hard to write, then, about where I am vulnerable and bleeding. I want to write something that is a revelation, something to share with others that will make people think. I want to write from the Spirit. But I am so swallowed by fear that I am not hearing the Spirit well. I know my ministry comes from a place of strength and experience much of the time. But much of that strength comes from an ability to make myself vulnerable, to throw myself out there and trust that even if no one catches me, I will survive the fall. The image of being the trainwreck on the side of the highway that everyone slows down to see is something that has stuck with me for a long time. Sometimes allowing myself to fall means I will crash, and burn, and have to get up and get on with my day - usually alone. And slowly heal those wounds as I can, with the help of no one but god.

This year, I have found myself being surrounded by people who want to help. People who would not just slow down on the highway, but who are stopping, helping me up, giving me the healing attention that I need. I am beginning to trust that that want to help is genuine. I am beginning to offer my hand to be helped to my feet. But there is so often times when I feel like they are offering their hand before they have felt the weight of my pain. And that hand will disappear when I really begin to lean on them. So I pull back ... But eventually, I am realizing, I would like to grab hold of their hands and learn to walk with help this time.

This is all to say that my writing has taken on a different shape. I think that being able to make myself bare for the world to see is a wonderful gift. But I also think that sometimes that baring-of-self was for me, more than for anyone else. That process of writing out where I was bleeding, where I was hurting, where I just couldn't think anymore, helped me to see it clearly and begin to move on from the crash site. This is not to say that others don't find ministry in that. I would be cheating my own experience of the ministry of writing if I were to say that.

Ministry, like life, is a fluid process, I think. I have been paralyzed by fear of being too bare to the world and I have forgotten to stand, shaking in body, and words strong in Spirit, speaking my t(T)ruth. I hae forgotten that when I stand to give vocal ministry in Meeting, my body often shakes, my heart races, my voice begins by wobbling ... And I pray that I have been faithful in speaking the words I have been given. And when it is over, I pray that I listened well enough to know that my ministry was Spirit-led and necessary for some reason. But the discomfort fades as the words fade. I don't remember vocal ministry in Meeting much of the time. But here, I can read it, and reread it ... And be grateful for the words I was given. (That somehow does not seem to lessen the critical and judging part of rereading my writing.)

Sometimes baring my soul for others to see and writing about where I am bleeding is exactly what I am called to do. It is those times now, that make me shake before I stand, that make my heart pound and my voice quiver. Because I no longer stand in a Meeting House where I can see the familiar faces around me but in the abyss of the internet, my community often faceless and anonomous. But when I meet them, face to face, they will know about me. They will know something of what I live with everyday and I will have to ask their names.

It is an uncomfortable place to stand. But one that I would not trade for anything. A dear Friend of mine asks me this question when I am fighting god in my life: What is the spiritual cost of not doing ....? If the cost is too high, you know you have no option but to follow god. If I were to not write, I think something in me, something that makes me uniquely me, would die. The spiritual cost is much too high. And I know, even in the discomfort of navigating this space, that it is one of the greatest gifts in my life.