Divine Details
Hard to Negotiate
Along with Advent comes salary-negotiating time here in the Merritt house, my least favorite part of the year. Honestly, I hate it. I wish that everyone just got paid from the Local Governing Body (LGB). You know, a socialized system where everyone is given as they have need. I wish that each pastor had a set amount, based on cost of living, housing, experience, and education. A set salary, where certain things don’t matter, things like ethnicity, age, or gender, and certain things do matter, like how much you had to go into debt to get your seminary education.
I’m not even sure that the size of the congregation should matter. I
mean at this point there ought to be some systemic realization that
women are in small parishes and associate positions, not because they
are less wise, intelligent, or capable, but because there’s that thick
stained glass ceiling that we’re slowly, surely trying to crack
through.
The Gospel According to Rev. Lexi D. Vina
Summer Time in Corinth
The God of the Wilderness calls to me during the summer. She is a beckoning God. She wants me to abandon all responsibility to praise her radiant glory. She is determined to spoil me with a golden glow and abundant warmth. Alas, she can only distract me from my office window. She is still calling – but so is the blinking light of the church phone.
A message beckons to me from my voicemail, insisting that I ignore the God of the Wilderness that it seems every church member has rushed to worship. As June approached, the members of this small congregation carefully informed me that they would look forward to seeing me in September. They would miss their church, but their [insert summer retreat] awaited them. And so, I wondered, who could have left me a voicemail? If the whole church family has disappeared to worship the Son of Righteousness, who could be calling?
Moms in Ministry
Matthew 2:13-23 – a sermon for Christmas 1A
When we talk about the first Christian family, we often talk only about the baby Jesus and his mother, Mary. This may be because the Gospels tell us very little about Joseph. We know he was a carpenter. Artists throughout the centuries have portrayed him as significantly older than the teenaged Mary; we often marvel at the stamina it took for Joseph to plunge head first into the confusing and exciting and scary situation presented to him in dream after dream by Godly angels. Our scripture for today, from the gospel of Matthew, comes after the Biblical stories that explain Joseph’s engagement to Mary, his understandable distress about her premarital pregnancy, and the first angelic appearance to calm Joseph’s doubts and explain Jesus’ role as Savior. This morning’s passage from Matthew tells of the flight to Egypt, when Joseph saved his son the savior by protecting him from Herod.
Christ & Creativity
New Poems by "Pink Shoes"
This month we feature two new poems by a pseudonymous blogger who writes at "Pink Shoes in the Pulpit."
Check out her poems below the jump...
The Ones We Love
Familiar Echoes: My father's footsteps
Being young, a woman, and a pastor is something of an enigma to most people. When someone asks me what I do, my response always redirects the conversation. It usually evokes a self-conscious, I-hope-I-haven’t-said-anything-offensive-in-her-presence response first. Then, interest is piqued. A pastor? But you’re so young! And you’re a woman! I often yearn for a more neutral or at least a less exotic profession, but my species is so unique. Most times, I find that people want to understand: she seems normal enough. How did she come up with the idea to be a pastor?
And so, the topic of “what I do for a living” always prompts more investigation. The questions begin, as my conversation partner attempts to unravel the mystery. The first stop: “Oh, you’re a pastor! Is your husband in the ministry, too?” It would somehow be understandable if this were a family affair – a husband and wife pastor team. Putting aside my indignation that I have never overheard a male colleague being asked whether his wife is also in ministry, I add to the puzzle when I answer that my husband works in construction management.
Sunday Morning & Beyond
The Holy Spirit Resides in My Mattress
The Holy Spirit resides in my mattress … I’m pretty sure. The first time I noticed this was when I was in college, though I didn’t call it the Holy Spirit then. I would go to bed after struggling with a paper or project and would wake up with the perfect thing to fit in the project or the perfect connection in the paper. It wasn’t just an idea … it was like the whole paper was written in my head while I slept.
Called & Sent
Doing the Math on My Vocation
Why I should not be a pastor:
I stole money from an employer when I was in high school.
I had plenty of sex outside the sacrament of marriage.
Being a pastor feeds my big head.
I hardly ever pray.
Why I am a pastor:
God called me anyway.
The Single Rev's Guide to Life
Mr. Handsome Goes to Church
In seminary, my professors taught me many things. I learned to exegete, to lead a meeting, to sing hymns on pitch, and to recite significant dates in the history of the church. Unfortunately, I did not learn what to do when a blindingly handsome stranger with straw gold hair and dazzling white teeth began attending the church where I am pastor.
I consider myself a reasonably mature person. I always scoffed at stories of ministers getting embroiled in sexual indiscretions. I believed the phenomenon of male pastors running off with their secretaries was an embarrassing mid-life-crisis cliché. Certainly I would never get so overwrought with passion that I would cross a boundary of appropriate behavior.
Sigh.
