Simpleigh

Prayer Come Creator God, to fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love. By the light of your holy spirit instruct us and guide us in your wisdom, so that we may be about the work of justice, of peace, and of love. Amen. As far as church internships go, I’ve had a pretty unique one. For those of you who don’t know me, or don’t know me well, for the past two years I have had the immense pleasure of serving as the intern of an emerging church in Vienna, Virginia called Church of the Common Table. Our little community of about 30 regulars gathers at least once a week to worship in a coffee shop and music venue called Jammin Java. And contrary to what you might be picturing, the church does not primarily consist of V-neck wearing-twenty-something hipsters. In fact, most of Common Table is over 30, married with children, and decidedly against revealing chest hair. We are a congregation of teachers, writers, bureaucrats, gamers, Episcopalians, Agnostics, ...

Thanks to our news media discussions about "mental illness" often conjure images of mass shootings, celebrity suicides, or controversial court cases.  Hollywood, on the other hand, tends to romanticize mental illness, more or less suggesting that all one needs to overcome a debilitating mood disorder is a quirky girl that really "gets you."  While I don't think I'm quirky enough to replace someones medication, I do happen to be in love with a wonderful man diagnosed with a mental illness.  And it's hard.  It's hard enduring ignorant comments from our friends.  It's hard negotiating who will receive this information with kindness and who will judge.  It's hard watching him swallow pill after pill and go to sleep nauseous.  But harder than all of that is knowing there are some days when there is no way to convince him that he is loved.  Today (October 7th)  is the National Day of Prayer for Mental Il...

Friends, I don't want to frighten you, but there is a dangerous epidemic currently targeting the millennial generation — I know what you're thinking but it's not ironic facial hair. No, there is another name for this anomaly. Some have dubbed it "wedding fever." Over the past few months I have come to affectionately refer to it as "open bar season." Call it what you will, but for me it has meant having to attend an extra-ordinary amount of weddings this year. In just under eight months I have attended five weddings —  all in different states and one on a different continent. Just a year ago I hadn't been to more than two weddings in my entire life. Now I'm supporting half the wedding industry. What's the deal people? Did Tiffany & Co. contaminate our drinking water?  I don't mean to be snarky, but watching all these couples take "the big step" has been more than a little overwhelming; because the thing about weddings ...

  In the Lenten spirit of self-reflection and repentance I confess to you that I hate blogging. No, I really hate blogging. I hate it for a number of reasons. First, I don’t think I am very good at it. I’m not an especially skillful or articulate writer. I tend to ramble on and only sometimes get to the point. Second, I don’t have the same desire to be heard that most bloggers seem to posses. Lastly, I am a journaler, which means that most of what I write is deeply personal and excessively flowery. Writing for a public audience puts me in the awkward position of walking the thin line between the private and personal, which frankly are subjective categories anyway. I see the irony of confessing all of this to you in a blog post. However, I've done so because I’ve decided to take up blogging during the season of Lent. As many of you know, Lent is a liturgical season in the Christian year where believers prepare themselves for Holy Week, the week that recalls Jesus’ dea...

Today is my Dad's 69th birthday.  What follows is the eulogy I wrote for his memorial service, delivered to my home church by Pastor Fawn Mikel.  Pastor Fawn, You asked me what is one thing I want people to remember about my dad. I told you it was his self-sacrifice, and it’s true, but this splinters off in so many ways. One is how charming he was with everyone. When I visited him in the hospital/rehab center the staff loved him. You have to understand, most of their patients are ill tempered because of pain, losing their minds, or unable to communicate at all. But he had such a report with the nurses.  One of the nurses called him Tom Tom. She said she would come in the door, say hello, and he would say, "is that my Jackie?!" When I was there they acted so clinical with everyone else, but they would come in and start catching him up on all their personal lives. Everywhere he went he made friends and made people feel at home in their own ski...

This is how i feel today.  Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. W. H. Auden

Two days ago one of my best friends gave birth for the first time to a beautiful little girl named Ellie.  In Italian “to give birth”— “Dare alla Luce”— is literally translated:  “to  give to the light” If we think about birth this way, it makes sense why Jesus named what we typically call conversion, "the new birth."  Peter Rollins says conversion is like birth because you don't experience your birth, rather, being born allows you to experience everything else.  Conversion, then, is a transformative journey; one where God is continually bringing us into the light. Each moment carries the opportunity to be transformed by the light of life, a new birth day.  Will we allow ourselves to be given to it?  Welcome to the light Ellie.