Where We Come From: Holiness, Unity, Servanthood part #2

We recently started a new series, E100 (or the 100 essential places/readings to visit in the Bible). I'll be the first to admit I'm not a big fan of cookie-cutter programmes like these, especially Christiany programmes. I could come up with 101 theological reasons to disagree with the programme, but I forced myself to pack away the seminary cynicism and give it a chance. And I was glad I did.

As a result of this new series, I've been tremendously blessed by Table Talks, the adult small group I've been facilitating for the last couple of months. Granted, there's only the three of us that meet regularly, but that's the thing. We meet. And regularly. And of course, we go through the study questions and stuff.

But that's just the stuff that gave us a reason to start meeting together. The stuff that's really blown me away as getting to do life with these women who have become my church mums. Nina's taught me more about how to work in a western kitchen than anything Google can offer. Likewise with Sylvia's resourcefulness with children's ministry crafts and doing stuff on a low-budget.

And the questions they're asking. Nina and her four pages of loose-leaf notes complete with family trees of all the crazies in Genesis. Wrestling with God and evil questions. Stuff that make me wrestle with my own theology all over again, and coming to terms all over again with the fact that life isn't simply black or white. More than anything else, I was thankful that my seminary education managed to find a place in life outside the walls of Tallen Hall.

Then this week, Sylvia blew me away even more. Somewhere between asking questions about grace and redemption and the difference between the soul and spirit and the essentials of our faith, she said, "I want to know what our church tradition says about this."

I don't remember how I reacted outwardly, but inside, I was doing a happy dance. My gut reaction was, "Oh great, now I'm going to have to seriously review CHOG/Wesleyan Holiness theology so I can articulate it in non-nerdy language." But when I got over myself, I wanted to scream, "You're so Wesleyan, whether you realise it or not."

But this is why I appreciate these women.
Not because I have well-crafted seminary answers to throw at them, but because they challenge me to think about life.
And because they are so gracious with me and my inexperience with their children and grandchildren.
And because they don't simply write me off as a young whippersnapper, but embrace me as their nerd and their pastor.


So I've been thinking a lot about my Church of God/Wesleyan Holiness roots lately. At Table Talks, we've been discussing a lot about law and grace and what those all mean according to our church tradition and understanding of scripture. I'll admit that I've taken the community of fellow Wesleyan Holiness nerds for granted in never really having to explain where we're coming from concerning our understanding of holiness and unity. But the more I dig into those roots, the more I'm thankful for a tradition whose concern for holiness and unity is rooted in grace. Not in law for the sake of law, but law for the sake of relationship.

And I've been thinking about my church mothers. The Nora Hunters, the Ann Smiths, and the MaryAnn Hawkins. The women who have gone before me, and the communities that have celebrated their wisdom and leadership. And I wonder if they had days when they had to deal with a self-esteem so low from being told over and over again (sometimes even not with words) that they were young, or inexperienced, or simply were not the right gender for proper leadership.

And then I think of my other church mothers and the Dumbledores. My own mother who has been quietly supportive and encouraging in her own way. The Ninas and the Sylvias who have affirmed me as their pastor, even in my whippersnapper-ness. And the Arthur Kellys and Jim Hawkins and Patrick Nachtigalls, who have never tried to pack my out-of-the-box-ness into neat packages.

And then I think of the people that Emily calls my "cloud of witnesses". The people whose paths I crossed while in Anderson who believe in me. The ones that hooded me not because I wrote good papers (I really didn't), but because we're all in this footwashing business together. The ones that talk about Kingdom Come more than the number of degrees we hold or the titles we wear.


On the days that I struggle with my place in the world, this is what I come back to.
Not the current job title or the job description. Those things are temporary.
No, this is where we come from.

These are the stories of holiness and unity.
These are the stories of the footwashers.
These are the stories of my Church of God/Wesleyan Holiness roots.