The Basement

If our home has a basement, attic, garage, or other storage, it’s probably a good bet that there are boxes that we haven’t looked in for years. It usually takes a major event to get us to clean out those boxes we haven’t opened in a long time.

I think our lives and memories can be a little like this. We may have memories of events that we’d prefer to keep unopened in that dusty box in the basement of our mind. This happened to me recently and quite unexpectedly.

My 9^th grade daughter is in the marching band and practice has just begun. She is the youngest and the first of our 3 children to be in band. On a recent evening as I waited for practice to end, I watched the marching band. It was a beautiful evening. But I was overcome with sudden and inexplicable anxiety and anger. The rational side of my fact based, law school trained mind, suppressed my urge to start the car and burn rubber to escape. My clinical pastoral education from seminary kicked in to start asking myself why I felt this way. When my daughter got in the car I was calm, and I asked her about her day. But on the inside, my anxiety and anger were turbulent.

I spent a lot of time that evening going through the basement of my mind to figure out what was going on. Finally, a memory came up, one that I hadn’t thought of for 37 years. I had forgotten, perhaps on purpose, that during my first year of high school marching band I was the victim of hazing. On an out of town band trip, juniors and seniors hogtied me, dragged me down to the nearby river and threatened to throw me in. I’m a great swimmer, but not when I’m hogtied. I didn’t say anything to those in charge on the trip for fear of retribution and my shame. When I returned home, I told my parents, but neither my parents nor the school did anything. And the hazing didn’t end there either.

The curious thing about keeping events like these in the basement of our mind is that they don’t stay there. They can manifest themselves in unusual ways. For example, even though I like football, I now have insight as to why, when my son played high school football, that I felt uncomfortable at the games.  Eventually I wouldn’t go. At the time I couldn’t explain it to my annoyed wife because I didn’t understand it myself. But the marching band and the high school football atmosphere were too much.

A popular quote from Fredrich Nietzsche is, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” But I don’t believe it. Consider what the experts say: “…but the bulk of psychological research on the topic shows that, as a rule, if you are stronger after hardship, it is probably despite, not because of the hardship. The school of hard knocks does little more than knock you down, hard. Nietzschian--and country song--wisdom notwithstanding, we are not stronger in the broken places. What doesn't kill us in fact makes us weaker.” Noam Schpancer, Ph.D., 8/21/10 Psychology Today.

Instead of Nietzsche, I prefer what the psalmist tells us: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all the Lord’s benefits – who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all our diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy...” Psalm 103:2-5.

I suspect that we have all been damaged or injured in one way or another. The psalmist reminds us to not forget that the Lord can heal us, and that the Lord can redeem our life from the pit or even from the basement of our lives. But it’s not “presto-chango” and everything is fine. It takes some work on our part. It take some recognition of how past injuries may be playing out even today. It may even take opening some of those dusty boxes and letting the light of day shine in.

Peace be with you,

The Reverend Brent Owens+

Finding Sabbath This Summer

“All of the heartache from losing just leaves when I look at these mountains!”

-Folk Soul Revival

My most favorite place in all the world is pretty unassuming.  It’s the coalfields and mountains of Wise County, Virginia.  I was raised in those mountains, and in the years since I went away to college I have gained a new appreciation for them.  I was never a crawdad-catcher, a four-wheeler, or a hunter.  Yet whenever I’ve returned home—from Centre College, South Carolina, New York City, or Lexington—I feel embraced by the mountains.  I feel them wrap around me like the hug of an old friend that says, “Welcome home!”  The words of Folk Soul Revival, a band made up of young men from my area, always ring in my ear.  The mountains are my home, my mother, my sanctuary, and so very much more.

What is your most favorite place in all the world?  Where do you go to escape the craziness of this world?  Wherever that place is, my prayer for you is that you will go there this summer.  Go to the place that fills you, that reminds you who you are and puts you in touch with the people and places that matter most.  You need it.  I need it.  We all need it.

Retreating, refreshing, and renewing oneself is something that Jesus did very often.  So many passages of the gospels tell us that Jesus “went away by himself.”  Often times these retreats were to pray, but I’ve always suspected that they were also to simply get away from the craziness of the crowds, his apostles, and all of the other worldly anxieties out there.  Jesus was, after all, fully human.  Even he needed a break!

We live in a time that is so fast-paced.  This means, for many of us, that we don’t have enough hours to get things done and are forced to cram as much as possible into our days.  By the time we come home at the end of the day, we’re zapped of energy and wonder why we go through this rat race day-in and day-out.  We’re told we can always do more…and more…and more…and more.  We’re told not to let ‘good enough’ actually be good enough, and so we push and push and push.  And eventually we burn out.  We burn out of our jobs, our joys, our families, and even our faith.

The Fourth Commandment is to “Remember the Sabbath and honor it.”  This doesn’t mean Sunday morning, though most Christians do make that their Sabbath time. Sabbath isn’t about just setting one day per week aside for rest. Sabbath is that intentional time when we strive to remember to honor God by honoring ourselves, by taking care of ourselves physically and emotionally. Because if you don’t take care of yourself, no one else will.  You are a child of God, your body the temple of God’s Spirit.  Don’t you think it should be cared for?  Don’t you think YOU should be cared for?

I recently returned from a trip home to those mountains.  Yes, even clergy need Sabbath rest!  And you need it too!  So this summer find your Sabbath.  Find that place to which you can go and just be.  Find that place where you can let go of your cares, your worries, your job, and all of your baggage.  Maybe it's a vacation spot, a childhood home, a retreat center, or a ballpark. You may find God is waiting to welcome and hold you, just as the mountains held me.  

Transitioning into the Transitional Diaconate

A month ago this past Monday (7/7/2014) I was ordained a transitional deacon. As I look back on this past month much has happened. I served as deacon at my home parish on Pentecost Sunday; reading the Gospel, setting the table, and dismissing the congregation. I have also begun serving as deacon alongside the Rev. Paula Ott. And, while all of these experiences have been both sacred and beautiful it was not until an instance at the Cathedral Domain that I felt I truly embodied my identity as a transitional deacon.

This past week Dean Wade and Rev. Paula invited me to assist in Junior High Week at the Domain. When I arrived Paula and the Junior High students were in the midst of celebrating a healing service. As soon as Paula caught my eye she motioned me to come join her, handing me some oil for anointing. I was soon lifting up these students intimate prayers for love and connection, for forgiveness and solace to God. It was as I served these youth, sharing in their hopes and desires, hearing their wishes and fears, that I truly felt I was a deacon serving God’s children.

An Episcopal Dictionary of the Church defines a deacon as an ordained person who “exercises ‘a special ministry of servant hood’ directly under the deacon's bishop, serving all people and especially those in need… As they proclaim the gospel, lead intercessions, wait at the Eucharistic table, and direct the order of the assembly, deacons act as sacred messengers, agents, and attendants.” I had obviously been serving as a deacon, taking on the role by assisting at the table of Holy Communion, making intercessions for the people, and seeking to serve others. But, it was not until I was deeply connecting and interacting with God’s children that I truly felt I was serving God’s people. As I heard the youths prayers, offered them to God, and anointed them I was able to truly realize and take on my role of service.

I have been called to the priesthood, but as I travel the path toward this vocation I must also fulfill the call to serve as a deacon for the next sixth months. This role, of transitional deacon, can sometimes feel confusing and disconnected for those traveling the path towards the priesthood. But, as I served this past week at the Domain, connecting, serving, and praying intimately with God’s children I truly realized the importance and necessity of the transitional diaconate. As I am shaped and formed into the priest God has called me to be, I must first learn how to truly make Christ and his grace filled love known to those whom I serve. As a transitional deacon I have been invited into a time of deep and intimate service. I have been granted the space to come into my role as clergy, learning from those around me how to serve and minister in a manner that is meaningful and honorable to God and God’s people.