I’m feeling a bit punchy today, and not (I must confess) very inclined to work. Perhaps this is because I get a four-day weekend for 4th of July, but I think it has more to do with the fact that David is coming to visit me! That’s right, tonight I will be blissfully reunited with my longsuffering husband (who, I must point out, is currently declaring that he hates all Presbyterians minus yours truly. You’ll have to forgive him if he’s holding a grudge right now).

After batting around with a variety of topics, my comment about Independence Day reminded me that it is time for another random holiday post. July 4, in day-off holiday time, is really our only pit stop between Memorial Day and Labor Day (no, Flag Day in June doesn’t count). There aren’t even any religious holidays we get during this period—it is Ordinary Time in the liturgical calendar for us Presbyterians, and even our Jewish, Orthodox, and Islamic friends don’t have any reason to celebrate.

Now, I know that I don’t need to spend time talking about the Independence Day celebration itself. You all know that the holiday celebrates the day the Continental Congress of 13 British colonies in the Americas adopted the final draft of the Declaration of Independence from Great Britain. You also know that celebrations usually involve picnics and fireworks.

You may not know that July 4 did not become an official holiday until 1783, when the Revolutionary War ended. You also may not know that the US Virgin Islands actually celebrate the holiday a week prior to July 4, or that Bristol, Rhode Island boasts the country’s longest continuous Independence Day celebration. And, happily for us Presbyterians, the only active minister to sign the Declaration of Independence was Presbyterian John Witherspoon, president of the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University).

Independence Day, though, is mostly a civic holiday that has nothing to do with the church. As a history major, I’ve always found it a bit funny that people point back to the “Founding Fathers” as model Christians infusing our society with orthodox Christianity. While the 18th century was a period of intense religious activism in American society (American Evangelicalism traces its roots to the Great Awakening of the 1730s and 1740s), some leading citizens of the day were influenced by the more secular Enlightenment. A few of our most respected American founders were actually deists—those who believed in the Bible as a good moral book but denied the parts that seemed contrary to reason, such as the Incarnation or the divinity of Christ. Two men considered leaders in this movement, according to a Library of Congress website I was on today, were none other than national heroes John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.

There is no doubt that the framers of this nation were influenced by a largely Judeo-Christian set of ethics. Presbyterians like to brag that the US Constitution was modeled after OUR form of government. And hey, the distrust of human nature inherent in the Constitution’s system of checks and balances could have come from none other than a Calvinist. But figures like Jefferson, Adams, Hamilton, and others were also shaped by the great rationalist thinkers of their day as well—John Locke, Adam Smith, etc.

As a Christian, what I would be most apt to celebrate this 4th of July from a faith standpoint is the fact that we’re a nation founded on the principle of religious freedom. We’re a place where over 200 years ago, a group of Presbyterians, Congregationalists, Anglicans, Baptists, Quakers, deists, and even maybe a few Jews could come together and agree that our right to disagree was worth protecting. Moreover, they could find enough common ground to move forward together. Sure, they fell short at times. But it was a starting place.

Perhaps this is the legacy we should reflect on this Independence Day.

“For as in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members of one another.” --Romans 12:4-5

Kelsey

Every Wednesday afternoon (when I’m in town), I take off work just a little early and traipse down to the local community center to read with Isha. Now, I must confess that kids frighten me a bit—perhaps I’m just too type A and germophobic to charm them. My four-month-old niece looks like she’s about to cry every time I approach her.

Nonetheless, somehow I ended up tutoring a little elementary-age refugee girl once a week (when I told Kentucky Refugee Ministries that I had experience as an ESL tutor, I neglected to mention that it was with college students). Isha doesn’t like reading much, but she does like “the surprise” she gets whenever she reads five books. I’m afraid that bribery, pure and simple, is the only reason she even bothers with me.

Now, I don’t know that Isha’s family is Muslim, but I’m guessing that they don’t keep two giant posters of the Ka’aba in Mecca on their apartment wall just because they think it is a pretty rock. Generally, though, this little bridge of interfaith relations hasn’t been an issue for us. Curious George doesn’t really discuss the similarities and differences of the three Abrahamic religious traditions.

That is, until yesterday when Isha decided she was going to read a small book entitled God Made from the First Prayers series. We had already wasted five minutes of reading time haggling over whether to read a ridiculously easy book or just an easy book, and I just wanted to get started. So although I had earlier dismissed a children’s book by Max Lucado, when she busted out God Made I wearily agreed.

I didn’t really feel the full force of the moral conundrum I was in, though, until we got to the last page and Isha, who had mechanically read the word “God” about five times by now, wanted to know who this “God” was. I felt like I was in a cartoon—on one shoulder was a character like that big-haired blonde on TBN, wailing, “Testify to Jesus!,” while on the other rested some hippie-ish progressive from Berkeley humming, “Cultural sensitivity….” Neither voice was very helpful as I stumbled through a rather vague and confusing answer. Finally Isha herself (who Bridgett says was just messing with me anyway) helped me out by solemnly pointing toward the ceiling. I feverishly nodded agreement.

The whole concept of evangelism, particularly in an increasingly multicultural and pluralistic world, is a sticky one. The word either really turns you off, or really floats your boat in this politically charged climate. People don’t actually think much about evangelism when they think of NNPCW, but it is one of our mission commitments. We say, “NNPCW reaches out to engage young women in a respectful community, sharing faith stories and biblical perspectives that lead to claiming and living out the gospel of Jesus Christ in a transforming way.” And I believe we do that—many of our alumnae say they would never have stayed in the church if it weren’t for their experience with us.

You can say what you want about how to engage in respectful community with an elementary school student, or whether it is appropriate for one’s reading tutor to attempt to proselytize you (I, for one, wasn’t really comfortable with that idea). But what does evangelism really mean when we couple it with respect for others? How are we supposed to “share the Good News” when the whole idea of evangelism carries so much baggage?

Hmm… only one thought I’ll throw out there (although I welcome yours)—“God” and “church” aren’t dirty words. At one point in my life I was afraid to ever bring up such topics, for fear that someone might feel that I was trying to convert her or him. Working for the church has cured that, since I have to make a faith statement every time I say what I do. And really, I’ve found that most people, once they realize I don't have ulterior conversion motives, don’t feel threatened by my Christianity or my Presbyterianism. In fact, saying, “Yeah, I work for the Presbyterian Church,” in a non-judgmental way might actually open them up to share their own faith journey.

Because in an authentic community, I am genuine toward you, warts and all, and you’re genuine toward me. We respect one another in that we don’t have all the answers, our knowledge of God is finite anyway, and we might just be able to grow from exchanging our faith stories and struggles. It may not be evangelism as Bible-thumping, but it might still help us both know God.

“A certain woman named Lydia, a worshipper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.” --Acts: 16:14

Kelsey

Some of you may remember several months ago, when I abjectly groveled to all of you in this little blogsphere to apply for the NNPCW Associate position and the Young Women’s Ministries Internships, both of which are becoming vacant with the immanent departure of Brianne and myself. Just about the time you were getting used to our obnoxious phone calls…

Anyway, I wanted to let you all know that someone was paying attention. Friends, we have a new NNPCW associate! Noelle Tennis Gulden will start July 5, will shadow me at the Leadership Event, and then will assume full responsibility for the Network after I leave on July 21.

Noelle did her undergrad work at Azusa Pacific University in California, followed by an MDiv at Princeton Theological Seminary. Her impressive resume includes a background in community organizing, work with the Interfaith Center on Corporate Responsibility, and facilitating work with students preparing to work in international ministries. She has a passion for working with young women, and brings great interpersonal and listening skills to the position. In short, she rocks.

And of course, she will be your new blogger. Maybe someday I’ll start another blog, but without the discipline that comes from having it as part of my full time job I don’t know how often I would keep it up.

As Noelle begins her time with the Network, I am working on ending this chapter of my life to fully enter into the new. Perhaps nothing is more symbolic of this change than my decision to… sell my car. Yes, that’s right, I’m making plans to sell the ‘Stang that so many NNPCW members know and love.

There are many good reasons to sell the Mustang, of course. First of all, the combination of good public transportation, impossible city parking, and downright awful local drivers makes Boston an ideal city in which to go car-less. The Mustang is also a terrible poor-weather car, and Boston’s winters last from November to April. Car taxes are terribly expensive. I can decrease American dependence on oil and reduce carbon monoxide emissions. And finally, David already has a car that is newer than mine. There is no good reason to keep my car.

Nonetheless, despite all these excellent rationales, I still can’t help but feel like I’m selling a dear old friend. Now surely I’m not the only one out there who tends to personify my car—I’ve heard too many friends lovingly talk about “Bessie” and “Elsa” to see this as an isolated phenomenon. Those of you who have known me for any length of time know how I love my car, how I used to tenderly wash it every week so that it would shine as it drove down the street. Now I’m taking it in on Saturday to be detailed, so that I can cruelly put an ad in the paper to sell it off to the highest bidder. It just doesn’t seem to be fair to a car that has taken me so far.

It is a strange thing, the devotions some of us have for our cars. Perhaps it is symbolic of the increasing mobility, isolationism, and materialism of our culture. In lives where we move a lot, don’t get too close to people, and seek security in material possessions, it makes sense that we would attribute the values we long for—loyalty, stability, reliability—to the inanimate object that always follows us on our journey. Our cars become extensions of ourselves, reflecting our habits and silently absorbing our frustrations. It is kind of a sad commentary, really, on how lonely we’ve become.

For me, the Mustang also represents a phase in my personal and spiritual journey—the time I left everything behind to come to a new city and start over. That was the first time in my life when I felt the freedom of a true adult, cruising across the country in my little black ‘Stang with all my possessions squashed in the back behind me. My Mustang represents the independence, growth, and increasing self-confidence of that time as I forged a new identity for myself.

Now I’m moving into another chapter of life, one better represented by a Honda Accord than a sportscar. And as exciting as that new chapter is, it means just a bit of letting go of the old. That isn’t always easy. But it is time.

The ‘Stang, however, is looking for a loving home, so if you’re interested… you know where to find me.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:… a time to keep, and a time to throw away.” --Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6b

Kelsey

David and I were checking out baseball scores last night online, and my Mariners are only two games away from winning as many games as they’ve lost! Hooray! Hey, stop that laughing—when your team has been a model of mediocrity and just plain badness for the past few years, you have to celebrate the small victories.

If you’ve been reading the blog for a long time, you know that we Rices take baseball/softball very seriously. My sister did not play fastpitch softball this year, but my mom and she went to a few high school games. Mom and my grandparents also made an appearance at my dad’s annual memorial tournament, which draws men’s fastpitch teams from around the Pacific Northwest. The organizers wanted David and me to come back from Switzerland early to throw out the first pitch, but I told them that we’d save that for another year.

I was actually thinking of my dad this morning, and how generally un-sexist he was during his life. In reflecting back on the eighteen years I knew him (and I think this is something EVERY man should aspire to in relation to his daughters), I cannot recall a single instance where he made me feel that my sex was a limitation. As a little girl, we fished together. When I was older, he worked overtime so that I could attend Whitworth and travel to England with friends.

Why was this, I wonder? Well, besides the fact that Dad was just an amazing person, I benefited from two circumstances—my dad only had daughters, and we were of the Title IX era. In terms of the first, my dad didn’t have the luxury of assigning certain interests to gender roles. If he wanted to pass on his love of sports, or music, or cooking, or anything else, he had to work with what God had given him. And I say, “Praise God for that!”

And then there’s Title IX, the law passed in 1972 that prohibits schools receiving federal funding from sex discrimination. Athletics has generated the most controversy, as compliance has meant that schools have to provide a proportionally equal number of sports for males and females relative to their overall percentage of the student body.

I did look up some of those controversies online, including clarifications by the Department of Education issued in 2005 that may provide loopholes for schools not in compliance to allow continued gender disparity. You’ve got Google, and if you’re interested you can look that up.

But what I was reflecting on this morning is how equal opportunities in athletics impacted my own life. I started playing softball when I was in second grade, and played all the way up to my senior year of high school. I played basketball, too, for several years. Aside from all the benefits touted for girls participating in sports—higher self-esteem, lower engagement in risky behaviors, better grades, better health—I think in my own context that participation in sports has revolutionized relationships between fathers and daughters. As I’ve played softball myself, and watched my sister play softball year after year, I’ve seen tons of dads out there with their daughters. And they aren’t telling girls to get back in the kitchen, either. They are spending hours catching pitches, fielding ground balls, working on hitting.

My sister and I got to know our dad in those hours he devoted to us on the softball field. And in those moments, he didn’t focus on our gender—he instead imparted to us a love of the game that his father had given to him. It is significant that my sister stubbornly wouldn’t let any high school coach change the pitching style she had learned as a child in the backyard with my dad. It is significant that one of the last memories I have with Dad before his death was playing catch in the backyard.

So many people these days are critical of those fighting for women’s rights, calling our efforts “political correctness.” Yeah, it may be PC to have equal opportunities in sports for boys and girls. But you know what? That political correctness, in this case, made a huge difference in my life. After all, would my dad have bothered to teach my sister and me how to pitch if we’d had no hope of ever playing softball in school? What experiences would my sister, me, and my dad have missed out on if the opportunity hadn’t been there?

Hopefully, my daughters will also look back fondly on the day Dad taught them how to shoot a basketball. And hopefully, my sons will remember the hours they spent in the backyard with their sisters, as Mom pitched batting practice to them all.

“But take care and watch yourselves closely, so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life; make them known to your children and your children’s children.” --Deuteronomy 4:9

Kelsey

Well, it sure is Monday… I somehow managed to drag myself into the office this morning at 8 am, although I really could have done with at least one more hour of sleep. But since I only have one full week in the office before the Leadership Event, there really is no rest for the weary!

And to be honest, I am weary. I spent a fair bit of time packing this weekend and plotting how to sell some of my stuff before I move. Granted, I’m still 27 days away from moving day, but there was something soothing in beginning the transition process in earnest. Since I returned from my honeymoon, I’ve been especially conscious of the fact that I’ve already started my new life, but have put that on hold to finish out the old. It was necessary—I felt honor-bound to finish the Leadership Event next month. But like every decision, it had consequences of its own.

For those of you who have graduated, the summer months provide their own limbo period. I can remember that month in 2003 between my graduation and my move to Louisville. I watched cable TV a fair bit, if I remember correctly. Like my current transition, I also spent a lot of time packing and selling off all the goods I could possibly get rid of. But whenever you’re waiting for something to happen, sitting in that crack between a good past and an unknown future, you’re pulled between a sense of nostalgia and anticipation/trepidation. You may enjoy the gift of time with family and friends, or you may be impatient to push forward as I am. It is a time of uncertainty, a time when life feels a bit out of your control.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking—“Now Kelsey is going to bust out with some Jesus.” Perhaps on one level, that is my intention. But it always bugs me when I read those devotionals that have this easy, neat, pat answer for all your troubles. “If you look to Jesus in your time of transition, God will provide all you need.” I could say that to you, and it would even be true. When I’m searching for God, though, wandering through the wilderness of my own personal struggles, such overly pious platitudes only trivialize my emotions. They make me feel like I just don’t have enough faith and trust to be a good Christian. Yet is that honestly true? Frankly, I don’t think so. God doesn’t invite us to come along in the journey only if we have a sufficient store of virtue for the trip.

In fact, there is a spiritual teaching moment in times of painful transition, for God doesn’t just automatically “provide” the tools we need when we get to the tough spots. Think about it—would I have ever learned to read in first grade if Mrs. Zediker had simply told me all the words I didn’t know? No. Much to my chagrin, Mrs. Zediker made impatient little Kelsey (some things never change) slowly sound out every word until I learned to read it on my own. I still haven’t figured out whether God actually brings us to the trouble spots, or if (probably the more Calvinist view) our own broken world automatically trips us up. But I do believe firmly that our loving and redeeming God walks with us down the path, using the thorny spots to teach us the stuff we didn’t start the trip with—faith, trust, love, kindness, etc.

And if you’re looking for comfort, at the end of the day this is all I’ve really got: God is here, and God loves you.

“For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” --2 Corinthians 4:17-18

Kelsey

So the General Assembly is over… and all I can say is PRAISE GOD!!! I was getting a bit tired of living out of a suitcase, particularly when I had failed to bring anything other than business suits with me. I let professionalism go to the winds today and wore flip-flops to the office when I showed up at 1 pm this afternoon—yes, 1 pm. As hard as I tried at 6:30, 7, 8:30, and 9:30 am, my body refused to budge from the bed until 10:30 this morning. Since most of my colleagues aren’t coming to work today at all, I don’t feel too bad about it.

It is hard for me to tell you about GA as a staff person, because I really can’t state my personal opinions about actions taken by the Assembly. Generally, my job as staff is to tell you what the church says, not necessarily what I personally believe. That doesn’t make for quite as interesting a blog, and it certainly doesn’t always make for quite as happy a Kelsey when the Assembly is doing something I personally think is stupid but can’t articulate as such. Not that anyone wants to hear my opinion about it anyway.

Unless you’re a total Presbyterian polity junkie, you probably don’t know what the General Assembly is anyway, much less the hot topics being debated. And you know what? I didn’t even tell you what GA is, after talking about it for all this time! Well, the General Assembly is the highest decision-making body in the Presbyterian Church.

The General Assembly is kind of like the US Congress, actually, except that there is only one house making decisions. Regional governing bodies from across the country, called presbyteries, send at least two commissioners (representatives) to the Assembly every two years. One of these commissioners is a minister, and the other is an elder of the church.

Presbyteries also send one Youth Advisory Delegate each year. A YAD is a young woman or man, ages 17-24, nominated by her or his presbytery to attend the Assembly. YADs, along with Theological Student Advisory Delegates, Ecumenical Advisory Delegates, and Missionary Advisory Delegates, give advice to the commissioners about particular actions of the Assembly before the final votes are taken. If you are Presbyterian and will be under age 24 in 2008, I would highly recommend that you try to be a YAD.

The Assembly makes decisions about recommendations sent to them by the presbyteries themselves, called overtures (kind of like bills in Congress, but sent directly from the regional bodies). They also work on reports created in PresbyLand, and consider resolutions sent by commissioners themselves. The items of business get divided up between committees (14 committees this year), and then after being worked on there, get sent to the full Assembly for final vote. Just to give you an idea, here are some of the issues that came up at this Assembly:

--Ordination of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered persons to church office,
--A report on the Trinity written by PresbyLand’s Office of Theology and Worship that affirms using expansive language to refer to God,
--Whether to get rid of church stock in companies whose products or practices contribute to Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian Territories,
--A controversial task force report meant to bring about some sort of compromise on the LGBT ordination debate,
--A resolution calling for the PC(USA) to get more involved in advocacy on human rights abuses in Colombia

Better than me telling you what I think about these issues (and what the church did with them) is for you to go and form an opinion for yourself. You can find news on all these topics by visiting the website of the 217th General Assembly. And don’t forget that you can always go to The Network Café to discuss actions of the Assembly amongst yourselves. I’d love to read about what you think!

“One who spares words is knowledgeable; one who is cool in spirit has understanding.” --Proverbs 17:27

Kelsey

So, you've probably been wondering what happened to me... no, I did not drown in a giant vat of grits here in Birmingham, Alabama. It is just that every night when I get home, I am in such a semi-comatose state that I can't even think coherently, much less write. I had to skip some evening presentations to even have the energy to post to you tonight. Good thing, too, because there is certainly plenty to write home about.

If you ever have the good fortune to attend the Presbyterian Church (USA)'s General Assembly, the first thing you should know is that it is incredibly exhausting. The docket is packed with tons of extracurricular activities, while the business itself can go late into the night. NNPCW alumna Molly Williams has kept me alive with free refills of my Equal Exchange travel coffee mug, but I'm even going to have to kick that newly-found habit-- I got a horrid headache all afternoon and evening yesterday.

Also, I don't think you can even begin to understand how political the church can be until you've attended the Assembly. A variety of special-interest groups canvass the delegates, advocating change (or continuation) of PC(USA) policy on just about every hot-button issue of today. The mere fact that the atmosphere is so politicized at times can exhaust you, too.

There have been several controversial issues come through the business meetings in the past few days. Though divided, the Assembly has thus far passed a document on the Trinity that affirms expansive language for God, and the Peace, Unity, and Purity Task Force Report (which relates to the church's deep divisions on the ordination of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people to church offices). An item requesting the removal of rules prohibiting LGBT folk from ordained ministry, however, failed.

As I've been sitting in plenary these last few days, I've started to wonder if maybe one could make the consensus model of decision making work on a large scale. After all, what is the whole process of amending a document in parliamentary procedure but a small-scale, less developed attempt to reach consensus by constant dialogue and improvement? I've heard quite often that consensus takes too long to really work. But after the last two days in plenary, I'm here to tell you that our beloved Robert's Rules take a long time, too. The discussion on the Peace, Unity, and Purity Task Force Report probably went a couple of hours long... mainly to solely approve one item. Perhaps consensus would uncover the byzantine clutter of motion after motion, freeing up the creative process as we listen to the Spirit's guidance around us.

Those are just a few updates for you to chew on... I almost fell asleep at my computer, so I feel that I must go to bed. And by the way, David and I have now been married for one month. Yay!! Now if only we could live together....

Kelsey

Hello Presbyland! This is Kristin Williams, CoCo member and certified Parliamentary procedure nerd, having a lovely time following motions, amendments, substitute amendments, minority reports et al. at the Presbyterian General Assembly. I'm guest blogging today and hoping to fill y'all in on what is going on here in scenic Birmingham, Alabama.

So, General Assembly started off yesterday and I'm here with some fellow CoCo members, Kelsey, Brianne, and thousands of other Presbyterians. The Assembly is here to do the work of the church-- issue statements, make decisions, amend our constitution and so on. We started off last night with the election of the new moderator. The election involved speeches and a question-and-answer period, and after three votes, we had a new moderator, the Rev. Joan Gray. The CoCo members sat in the back of the assembly room and had our share of personal "peanut gallery" commentary on each of the candidates :-) I was pleasantly surprised with the candor of the candidates' responses, in general, and I think it was a pretty good way to ease into the week of sometimes overwhelmingly nuanced proceedings.

I wasn't totally new to GA, as I attended the 216th General Assembly in 2004 in Richmond, VA as a Youth Advisory Delegate. Nonetheless, it's interesting and informative to be at this Assembly in a different capacity. Last time, I had voice and vote in committee, and a voice on plenary floor (when the whole assembly meets together). This year, I can't speak in committees or plenary or vote. But, now I have a more flexible agenda, and I, along with the other CoCo members here, are tracking certain issues and committees that are dealing with issues pertinent to Presbyterian women. Also, we're all just trying to learn more about the church and how it works and how we fit into that!

Today we had committee meetings all day long, and saw the work of committees up close and personal, for better or worse! I'm observing Committee 12: Church Growth and Christian Education, and today we had open hearing and discussions and votes on older adult ministries, the ordination of Christian educators, as well as other items. To be honest, parts of it are completely boring and sometimes the parliamentary procedure gets so convoluted that hardly any one can even figure out when to vote for what. But, the church does provide resource people and parliamentarians for every committee, and everybody is working really hard to make sure the commissioners and delegates understand what's going on and keep things running smoothly, so I ought to give them some credit! I enjoyed watching the proceedings of the committee and love it when I catch parliamentary procedures errors (ok, I told you I was a parliamentary procedure nerd!). Mostly, it's really cool to watch policy being made and to feel like a part of the inner mechanisms of the PCUSA. Oh, and I testified in an open hearing today, which was kinda nifty and sounds far more intense than it actually was. Basically, I talked for 2 minutes to a committee that's reviewing the Advocacy Committee on Women's Concerns and told them about the positive work of ACWC and how we at NNPCW have a beneficial working relationship with them and how they support us and our work. I was a little nervous, but it was fun!

The week will be interesting, especially with the hot-button issues coming before the Assembly (homosexual ordination, divestment, educator ordination, the Peace, Unity and Purity report and so on). Regardless of whether or not GA's decisions are aligned with my personal beliefs, I'm excited and invigorated to be here. Not only am I watching PCUSA policy and polity being shaped, but I get to meet tons of interesting people who are doing all sorts of diverse and important things in the life of our church. Plus, I get to hang out with some wonderful Presbyterian women. Oh, and drink some sweet tea!

Another good day but late night at the Higher Education Ministry Summit here in Birmingham, Alabama. Today we visited the Civil Rights Institute and the 16th Street Baptist Church, the one where a bomb attack in the 1960s killed four teenage girls before Youth Sunday services. Both places testified powerfully to the sacrifices many of our African American sisters and brothers made so that all of us in this country could be better off.

This morning at breakfast, someone brought up our singing on the previous day of the song, "We Shall Overcome." The young man talked about how he felt a bit uncomfortable singing this song, especially considering that we were a group comprised largely of white, upper-middle class Presbyterians. What are we overcoming, anyway? Our propensity to shop at Wal-Mart? That the closest Starbucks is two blocks away from campus? I told him that I had held much the same ambiguity-- there's something that rings a bit false when a group of the world's most privileged people sing about overcoming oppression.

Later on this evening in small group, one campus minister wanted to know why young people today weren't taking to the streets on behalf of social justice. This started a lengthy conversation, in which college students had to defend their activism and volunteerism on campus. What they said, and what I hear time and time again from folks, is that they interface justice issues in different ways than the Baby Boomer generation did. College students tend to focus on direct, short-term actions that achieve fairly tangible results. Although I think even that assumption tends to fall apart when you look at the numbers of young adults seeking jobs in the non-profit sector around long-term campaigns for justice issues.

Yet I think part of the problem with why we aren't generally engaged in some sort of mass social movement (although there are some glimmerings of that in the immigration debate and, in some circles, around LGBT rights) ties directly into my ambiguity about singing "We Shall Overcome." If we seemingly have nothing to overcome, what would honestly motivate large numbers of young women and men to take to the streets? There are no more segregated water fountains, no military draft that threatens our lives and our futures. If we're in college, we live fairly comfortable, sheltered lives. And if people generally struggle to overcome the things that impact their daily lives, is it any wonder that our generation isn't engaged in the struggle?

In some ways, too, I think it would be fairly dishonest of those of us living with such privilege to co-op the struggles of others. What I mean is that I, as a white woman, wouldn't feel genuine jumping in and spearheading a movement for, say, immigrant workers. That is something for the people whose lives are most directly affected to lead-- I could certainly engage in their struggle as a follower and ally, but not as an instigator. It would be different if we were talking about women's suffrage. But then, that struggle was already overcome for me back in 1919 by others.

But at the same time, if change is going to happen in the world then those of us who have "nothing to overcome" need to step into places where we can be allies and followers. Perhaps, despite the frustration campus ministers expressed about our lack of activism, seeds for that are planted when we do the things young adults today like to do-- go on mission trips, serve at the local soup kitchen, build a Habitat for Humanity house. As we start to encounter those around us and hopefully build genuine community with our neighbors, their problems begin to be our problems. We begin to see ways that we can partner for change.

And perhaps, in the end, we do take to the streets to support the efforts of our sisters and brothers who really do have something to overcome.

"If you belonged to the world, the world would love you as its own. Because you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world-- therefore the world hates you." --John 15:19

Kelsey

Have you ever met someone who made you think, "I'm not even worthy to be in the same room with this person," so powerful were her or his actions? Well, today at the Higher Education Ministry Summit in Birmingham, Alabama, I had the opportunity to meet two such people-- two of the men who participated in the Freedom Rides of 1961, a key event in the Civil Rights Movement.

When they joined the Freedom Rides, Benjamin, a Methodist minister, was 26. Hank was a mere 19 years old-- the same age as many of you in the Network. These two rode into the middle of a hostile South to test federal laws desegregating public interstate facilities.

I listened this morning as Hank talked about the angry white mob that set fire to the bus he was on outside Anniston, Alabama, only a few miles from here, on May 19, 1961. He described how people coming out of church that morning stopped to watch as the mob attacked the bus, men putting their children on their shoulders so the kids could get a better look at the trapped Freedom Riders. Hank told us of having to decide, at age 19, whether it was better to die of smoke inhalation inside the burning bus, or push his way out to be beaten to death by the angry mob outside. And he told us of bursting out of the bus, only to be refused medical attention by the white-owned ambulance company. When he and his companions (both black and white) finally did get to the hospital for treatment, mobs outside threatened to set fire to the building if they didn't come out.

Perhaps why these men seemed so amazing to me was because they were at heart so normal. They had jobs, had been to college, talked about their kids and grandkids later over lunch. And yet somewhere within, these ordinary people had found amazing courage to truly risk their lives for what they knew was right-- for basic human dignity and the right to have the same opportunities as those in power. It really made me wonder, "What do I feel that passionately about? What would I be willing to honestly put my life on the line for?"

I've always believed that ordinary people truly are capable of acts of extraordinary evil-- one only has to read about the rise of Nazism in Germany to know that. And yet Benjamin and Hank's stories also remind me that people are capable of acts of extraordinary good as well. And I can only hope that when God calls me to take risks for my sisters and brothers, I will respond as these men did.

One other note-- after hearing the two men speak, I sat next to Hank at lunch. Our table started talking about his feelings toward white people after all the horrible experiences he had had on the Freedom Rides. He told us that there were times when he had felt hatred toward whites for what they had done. But then he said that he could never hold on to that feeling very long, because hate has a corrosive effect. It eats up a person and leaves him or her with nothing but more hate, a desire for revenge that can't be quenched. And it was his choice not to be a victim, not to let himself be more damaged by the actions of others, by giving into that feeling. Perhaps a pertinent lesson to remember in the days leading up to the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA).

Kelsey

Hi Everyone! Its Jennifer Ross again, guest blogging for Kelsey. I am up in Louisville this weekend to help hire a woman to replace Kelsey when she leaves for Boston (to go live with her husband). All of the candidates are absolutely amazing! I am really excited to meet all of them. But enough about that.
I was asked recently what I was going to do for Jesus this summer. While initially I thought that this was a completely fair question, now that I have been thinking about it for a while, I have some thoughts to go with this question. Maybe y’all, the people who read this blog can help me out with what I am struggling with. While I am ok with the idea that one thing that you do is a special devotion to God, I believe that everything you do everyday is and necessarily should be for God, for Jesus. For example, if I were to work at a Soup Kitchen or at a Day Care program for an hour and a half ever week, would that mean that I have done what I need to for God, I have done my tribute to God, and now I don’t have to think about God until Sunday morning at Church? It just seems to me that with one thing set out to be for God, I would start to lose the importance and reverence of all things around me because they are not part of my particular God action. I would have my God time once a week for an hour or two, depending on what I was doing, and then I wouldn’t have to worry for the rest of the week about realizing God in everything.
Let me be clear, I think serving others is a fabulous thing, something that should be a part of every person’s daily life. It is in these moments when I feel most connected to God. But “doing things for Jesus” should be part of a persons everyday life, not just during a specific time.
But maybe all of this is not the intent of the question. Maybe the question was aimed at getting me to think about everything I am doing in my life and how it relates to God-if I was living my life in such a way that praises God and God’s kingdom. Maybe I am supposed to realize that by focusing on God and Jesus completely during a specific time, I will start to realize the presence of God all the time, surrounding me.
So this is my predicament, my question, for the day. How exactly am I supposed to understand the question of what am I going to do for Jesus this summer? Maybe y’all can help me.

Thanks for reading!

Jennifer

Ah, the vagrancies of life here in PresbyLand… it seems (although currently, at 8 am, I’m the only staff person here in Women’s Ministries yet to know it) that the entire computer network has crashed. No Internet, no e-mail, no access to network files. And this would be bad on any occasion, but it is pure hell when we’re literally a week out from the start of General Assembly. A network crash should be treated like a snowstorm or a tornado—we should just all stay home, because it is almost impossible to be productive for eight hours with crippled technology. Maybe I can clean my office this afternoon….

I’ve been a terrible blogger this week, already missing two days! You’ll have to forgive me, as things have been pretty hot around here with interviews, General Assembly, and the Leadership Event. And in case you’re wondering, registration for the Leadership Event is STILL OPEN. Not only would we welcome you to the event at this point, but we might even shed tears of joy.

But I have to admit that I wasn’t blogging yesterday because I was playing croquet at my favorite corporate function of the year, the All-Staff Picnic. Yes, it’s that time of year again, the one where someone “up there”—no, not God, just Executive Director John Detterick—reminds us what a privilege it is to stare at a computer screen all day for Jesus.

Now, I went to this function for the same reason that I will be certain to attend the same John Detterick’s retirement party this afternoon: the food is fabulous at these things. And the more involvement from on high, the better the spread. I’m hoping the retirement, for instance, will have the wonderful cheese ball plate that they only serve on special occasions. Yesterday’s picnic included a chocolate fountain, and the potato salad was definitely above average.

Yet it was the other part of the picnic that fascinates me. For those of you who have entered the trenches of corporate America, perhaps you know what I’m talking about. The theme of the picnic this year was “It’s a Jungle Out There,” (with implications about the larger church, perhaps, hee hee?) and so all of my colleagues were running around with elephant masks, vixen-Halloween-costume tiger ears, and safari hats. Little blow-up lions decorated our picnic tables.

I love it—what other time of the year would Detterick solicitously compliment the Associate for Native American Congregational Enhancement on her tiger costume? When would Women’s Advocacy Associate Molly Casteel and I play a round of croquet?? When else would you watch respected colleagues do the Electric Slide? And at what other time do we have sno-cones? In the rain?

Ah, staff picnic, I’ll miss you.

“Just as you do not know how the breath comes to the bones in the mother’s womb, so you do not know the work of God, who makes everything.” --Ecclesiastes 11:5

Kelsey

PS—Come to find out, the awful network shut down was just a loose cable on my own computer… crisis averted. That’s why I should stop coming in so early!! Arrgh!

Good morning, everyone! After going to Washington state, getting married, traveling to Switzerland and Boston, digging through all my e-mails, and catching up on the blog posts, here I am! First of all, let me thank Gusti, Lindsey, Jennifer, Amy, and Brianne for the fantastic and thought-provoking posts they wrote in my absence. I really enjoyed reading them.

Have you ever had a birthday, and someone asked you, “So, how does it feel to be 22?” If you’re like me, you usually answer, “Just about the same as it felt to be 21.” Well, let me tell you that this does not apply when you get married. Being married feels different. I don’t think I can even fully describe how it feels different, but it does.

In case you’re wondering how the wedding went, it was, of course, beautiful. In fact, had I been sitting in the congregation watching, I probably would have said it was absolutely lovely and I had the time of my life. And while I did enjoy it as the bride, I must say that my enjoyment was clouded by sleep deprivation and interspersed with moments of general confusion. It didn’t help that I was in a car accident two days before the wedding, and that I lost my bouquet somewhere on the way to the church (it was located, thankfully). But all was well, and by the end of the day we were hitched.

Switzerland was great fun, too—I must say that while Lugano, in the Italian-speaking southern region, had the best scenery, Geneva was probably my favorite destination. It was like Disneyland for Reformed Christians!! In one day, David and I visited the Wall of the Reformers monument, which featured giant statues of John Calvin and John Knox, the newly-opened International Museum of the Reformation, the archaeological dig under the church where Geneva’s citizens decided to join the Reformation, the Cathedral itself, and the Calvin Auditorium where Calvin lectured and Knox ministered during his Geneva exile. And to top it all off, David and I bought Mary Elva a box of “Le Petit Calvin” chocolates! She promised to share them at staff meeting tomorrow.

My experience of marriage thus far brings home to me how life-altering vows of commitment between two people really are. David and I have always been serious about our relationship—you don’t spend as many hours on your cell phones as we do if you’re not. And yet if you view marriage as a lifetime commitment, which I do, you find on the other side that you’ve entered a much deeper place with that other person. You risk a lot of yourself in that kind of commitment, because when you take the vows you’re saying, “I’m going to stick with you—even when you don’t wash dishes after dinner, even when I don’t like who you vote for, even when you wound me by your words and actions. This is a covenant, not a contract.”

I would be lying to you if I said that this huge life change didn’t scare the you-know-what out of me sometimes. But perhaps the first lesson I’m learning in this new relationship is trust—trust in the man who promised to stick with me, no matter what, and trust in the God that brought me to this point. Most of you have probably heard the story of Abraham. One day Abram wakes up and God says to him, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you” (Genesis 12:1). The Bible says that Abram (later Abraham) went. He hopped on that camel, even when it meant leaving everything he had known behind.

David and I are going too, to a spiritual and emotional land we haven’t seen, one unlike the familiar relationships of our friends and family. We go believing that God has called us to this new place, and that God’s love is with us as we journey there.

“Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.” --Genesis 12:1-2

Kelsey