His Kingdom Here | Reflection by Claire Stemann '20
The past four years have opened my eyes to the brokenness of this world, but have also formed in me a new understanding of the call to bring God’s Kingdom to this world. Because of my experience interning at International Justice Mission and studying public policy, I’ve wept about broken criminal justice systems abroad as well as punitive policies in the States. I’ve prayed for the end of impunity, while also praying for mercy. It is challenging for me to hold these things together, but not for Jesus.
The call to bring God’s Kingdom to earth was unfamiliar to me before my time at UVA. Here, I have learned that Jesus is making all things new, and we are given the privilege to participate in this work with other followers of Jesus. People have taught me how justice and human dignity were originally championed by the church. Since first encountering these ideas, my time here has allowed me to grow to better understand the call to bring God’s Kingdom to this earth that He loves.
Before a recent Fellows gathering, we read about how lament “allows for the crying out against injustices.” Our hope of triumph over injustice “rests not on human strength to fix the problems of the world but on the power of a sovereign God.” This reading and another recent conversation are teaching me to be cautious to avoid seeking the Kingdom apart from the King. As my friends and I prepare to pursue justice in countless fields through endeavors that are pleasing to God, this reading reminds us not to rely on our strength, but rather on God’s power, as we work to bring the good things of His Kingdom to our world.
The concept of justice being central to the Christian life is something that I will carry with me as I leave this school that I love. Encountering God’s Word through learning about Amos in an Old Testament course, the faithful teaching of my campus minister, truth spoken at the church I attend in Charlottesville, and discussions with a small group of fourth years that meet on Thursday evenings (my fellow Fellows!) has better prepared me to seek the things of the Kingdom, such as justice, with the King.
A tribute to John M. Perkins by Lawson Wijesooriya '02
A boy in black skin born into God’s story in rural Mississippi in 1930. His young life too full of loss, injustice, racism, and violence. A girl in white skin born into God’s story in suburban New Jersey in 1980. Her young life too full of privilege, access, and greed. God has each of their names written in His book, and in 1999, He wrote their stories together for His kairos moment of my salvation.
The Bible says “give honor to whom honor is due.” Thank you to Theological Horizons for giving me the gift of an opportunity to publicly honor this hero in the faith, Dr. John Perkins. I hope to honor Dr. Perkins today by giving testimony to how God used Dr. Perkins’ humanity in the saving of mine. My pastor, Don Coleman, often prays “Lord, take advantage of my humanity for your divine purposes.”
These are stories of answering that type of prayer as Dr. Perkins has been both an evangelist and a prophet in my life.
I came to the University of Virginia as a first year student from a culturally catholic, white, wealthy family. I was open and curious about things of faith and was raised with a strong moral compass, but when some friends invited me to go to Mississippi for our spring break to participate in racial reconciliation of the body of Christ, I had no idea what I was in for. I actually did not even know what any of those words meant, but because our God is a gracious God, I said yes and hopped on a bus heading south.
There are many stories to tell from my first week at Voice of Calvary, but suffice it is to say I have been forever grateful that I did not instead go party at Myrtle Beach that week, because I met Dr. Perkins, I met my best friends, I met my husband, I met my future, and I met Jesus. We worshipped together, we painted health clinics, we cleared brush, we had bible studies with local ministry leaders, and we were welcomed by Dr. Perkins and his team into a life of seeing and connecting with the oppressed, the down and out, and the poor. About half way through our week, we loaded onto a bus and were taken on a tour of Jackson to see directly the legacy of chattel slavery, failed reconstruction, Jim Crow, and red lining. Dr. Perkins has called this bus tour my moment of repentance, because as I experienced deep anger at the oblivious, self absorbed white perpetuators of this unjust system, God turned the camera onto me and gently, compassionately helped me to see myself and the chains that my privilege had me in. Later that night, two days before my 19th birthday, I was born again as I admitted my morality was not strong enough to save me and received the gift of grace. Jesus had found me and I had found Jesus inside of Dr. Perkins, inside of this reconciling community, inside of this movement and struggle for justice and once we found each other there, I wanted to be where He was at any cost.
The life of pursuing the beloved community was the full life, and if there was sacrifice, I have only experienced it as the giving up of worthless things for the real treasure. Dr. Perkins, in both his words and his actions, invited me into a WHOLE gospel, a lived theology, and a life where my liberation was bound up with the liberation of the widows, the orphans, the oppressed, the imprisoned.
So fast forward in the story, I left the Jackson trip, headed straight to a bookstore the next day, bought this Bible, and started to read it. I signed up for classes with this wonderful new professor named Charles Marsh, listened to MLK sermons, went back to Jackson for all my spring breaks, wrote my thesis paper on Dr. Perkins, and I fell in love with Romesh who had unwavering commitment to this whole gospel living. As a young married couple we formed an intentional committed community with three other couples and relocated to the East End of Richmond at the invitation of Don Coleman, pastor and God’s appointed indigenous reconciler of the community.
From 2004 to 2007 we were living the life we felt called to and trying to pursue those three R’s faithfully. In November of 2007, I had another fateful bus tour with Dr. Perkins. He was brought to Richmond by the Navigators to tour the CCDA work around our city. After the bus tour, Dr. Perkins sat on my best friends’ couch with an eager group of young followers hoping to absorb more wisdom and desiring this spiritual father to look upon us and say, “well done, my good and faithful servants.” As he shared his perspective on Richmond, he celebrated the work of the Christ-centered tutoring, job training, and health clinics that he has visited. And then he took a pause, and said, “but you all need to be worshipping together.” As a prophet, God spoke through him to our community to remind us that all this work to uplift the poor is in vain if not from the foundation of the saving grace of Jesus Christ. We received this good medicine with conviction and clarity. Our monthly gatherings called East End Fellowship grew into a local church expression with a weekly public worship service within three months of Perkins visit. God was on the move.
Thank you Dr. Perkins, for responding to your own call to follow Jesus back to the place from which you came and for your life-changing invitation to me and so many others to join you in Beloved Community. Inside of Beloved Community we are a rich people, with a good God, and the eternal grace to see us through.
Words on Ash Wednesday
Holy Spirit, giving life to all life, moving all creatures, root of all things, washing them clean, wiping out their mistakes, healing their wounds, you are our true life, luminous, wonderful, awakening the heart from its ancient sleep. Amen (Hildegard von Bingen)
Lent is not just a time for squaring conscious accounts: It’s a time for opening our eyes to what we had, perhaps, not seen before. Lent is given to us as season of light-- to help us see what is true. And so We begin this morning – in this dim daybreak. On this Ash Wednesday. Let us dare to see.
Psalm 51 opens with the words, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love, According to your abundant mercy, blot out my transgressions.”
The liturgy of Ash Wednesday is focused not on the sinfulness of the penitent But on the mercy of God. Yes, this is a day for sinners. The just do not need a savior. The reminder of sinfulness is raised to remind us that this is a day of mercy. . It's difficult to experience the mercy of God. It's hard to feel forgiven. And other Christians don’t help much with this. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes in Life Together, in the church "we are not allowed to be sinners": He says,
The pious community permits no one to be a sinner. Hence all have to conceal their sins from themselves and from the community. We are not allowed to be sinners. Many Christians would be unimaginably horrified if a real sinner were suddenly to turn up among the pious. So we remain alone with our sin, trapped in lies and hypocrisy, for we are in fact sinners.
The poet Joyce Rupp sees with us the pain of hiding our sin, The hiding, even as we long for God.. She writes this “Prayer of One Who Feels Lost”:
Dear God, why do I keep fighting you off? One part of me wants you desperately, another part of me unknowingly pushes you back and runs away. What is there in me that so contradicts my desire for you? These transition days, these passage ways, are calling me to let go of old securities, to give myself over into your hands. Like Jesus who struggled with the pain I, too, fight the “let it all be done.” Loneliness, lostness, non-belonging, all these hurts strike out at me, leaving me pained with this present goodbye. I want to be more but I fight the growing. I want to be new but I hang onto the old. I want to live but I won’t face the dying. I want to be whole but cannot bear to gather up the pieces into one. Is it that I refuse to be out of control, to let the tears take their humbling journey, to allow my spirit to feel its depression, to stay with the insecurity of “no home”? Now is the time. You call to me, begging me to let you have my life, inviting me to taste the darkness so I can be filled with the light, allowing me to lose my direction so that I will find my way home to you.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, too, helps us to see that even in our conflict, under the merciful gaze of God you and I are allowed to be sinners. Bonhoeffer writes:
The grace of the gospel, which is so hard for the pious to comprehend, confronts us with the truth. It says to us, you are a sinner, a great, unholy sinner. Now come, as the sinner that you are, to your God who loves you. For God wants you as you are, not desiring anything from you – a sacrifice, a good deed – but rather desiring you alone. God has come to you to make the sinner blessed. Rejoice! This message is liberation through truth. You cannot hide from God. The mask you wear in the presence of other people won’t get you anywhere in the presence of God. God wants to see you as you are, wants to be gracious to you. You do not have to go on lying to yourself and to other Christians as if you were without sin. You are allowed to be a sinner...
The prophet Joel invites us too, saying:
But now, now, it is Yahweh who speaks: Come back to me with all your heart Fasting, weeping and mourning Let your hearts be broken, not your garments torn Turn to Yahweh again For Yahweh is all tenderness and compassion Slow to anger Rich in graciousness And ready to relent. (Joel 2:12-13)
Jessica Powers gives us an image of this kind of returning in her poem, “The Garments of God”:
God sits on a chair of darkness in my soul. He is God alone, supreme in His majesty. I sit at his feet, a child in the dark beside Him; my joy is aware of His glance and my sorrow is tempted to nest on the thought that His face is turned from me. He is clothed in the robes of His mercy, voluminous garments not velvet or silk and affable to the touch, but fabric strong for a frantic hand to clutch, and I hold to it fast with the fingers of my will. Here is my cry of faith, my deep avowal to the Divinity that I am dust. Advertisement Here is the loud profession of my trust. I will not go abroad to the hills of speech or the hinterlands of music for a crier to walk in my soul where all is still. I have this potent prayer through good or ill: here in the dark I clutch the garments of God.
We hear again echoes of the Psalmist: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love, According to your abundant mercy, blot out my transgressions.”
Today we are invited to begin to see anew. our sinfulness, yes, but blazing forth, the light of the mercy of God. Today you and I are asked to rend our hearts.
Hear Jan Richardson’s “Blessing for Ash Wednesday”:
To receive this blessing, all you have to do is let your heart break. Let it crack open. Let it fall apart so that you can see its secret chambers, the hidden spaces where you have hesitated to go. Your entire life is here, inscribed whole upon your heart’s walls: every path taken or left behind, every face you turned toward or turned away, every word spoken in love or in rage, every line of your life you would prefer to leave in shadow, every story that shimmers with treasures known and those you have yet to find. It could take you days to wander these rooms. Forty, at least. And so let this be a season for wandering, for trusting the breaking, for tracing the rupture that will return you to the One who waits, who watches, who works within the rending to make your heart whole.
Emotionally Healthy Activism workshop with Jonathan Walton | Watch here!
How do we pursue social justice in ways that are physically and emotionally sustainable? What is the relationship between activism and rest? What does emotionally healthy activism look like after August 12th? To explore these questions, Abundant Life and First United Methodist Church recently hosted InterVarsity Christian Fellowship Area Director Jonathan Walton for an interactive workshop titled “Emotionally Healthy Activism: Turning Moments into Sustainable Movements.” The author of Twelve Lies that Hold America Captive and the Truth that Sets Us Free drew on his experience as an activist and his expertise in Experiential Discipleship and Spiritual Formation to lead the workshop.
Jonathan invited attendees to probe the relationship between our inner lives and our outward social engagement. Too often we can commit ourselves to serving our communities, but then experience burnout or discouragement if we haven’t attended to how we are doing internally. After establishing that we are all called to the work of activism as people who stand against the patterns of the world that oppose God’s kingdom, Jonathan helped us to reflect on how we can engage in that work sustainably.
THE 4 ‘R’S
Next, Jonathan outlined a framework called the “4 Rs”: Rest, Restore, Resist, Repeat. “Rest” refers to the rhythms of our lives when we resist the cultural idol of busyness and instead engage in practices of rest and sabbath. “Restore” refers to taking advantage of opportunities to do things that give us joy and life, and foster intimacy with God. “Resist” denotes the ways that we should actively oppose the social forces and structures that stand against God’s kingdom. Finally, “Repeating” these rhythms can position us to do impactful community work for the long haul.
For the full workshop, check out the video below. In addition to Charlottesville First United Methodist Church, Abundant Life would like to thank Charlottesville Vineyard Church, Faith Christian Center International, Christ Episcopal Church, Olivet Presbyterian Church, and Project on Lived Theology for partnering with us in putting on this event!
This post was written by Nathan Walton and shared with permission from Abundant Life Ministry.
Watch the video of the John Perkins Dome Room Lecture HERE!
Click HERE to Livestream the John Perkins Dome Room Capps Lecture at the University of Virginia.
Long time friend of Theological Horizons and nationally revered civil rights activist from Jackson, MS, Dr. John M. Perkins was our Capps Lecture speaker on Feb 22, 2020 in the UVa Rotunda. His lecture, "Parting Thoughts on Race and Love" was sponsored by the Project on Lived Theology at UVa, the Department of Religious Studies, and Theological Horizons. Perkins was joined by Dr. Nathan Walton, a UVa PhD and Executive Director of Charlottesville's Abundant Life Ministries, who will moderate the discussion. Watch the LIVESTREAM here.
What I Love About Vintage Lunch - Kat
Fourth-year Katie Cantone is a regular at Theological Horizon’s Vintage Lunch this school year, and wanted to share why she loves Vintage Lunch and why she keeps coming back!
Vintage has changed my spiritual, social, and emotional life in ways I never could have anticipated; while I wish I hadn’t waited until my fourth year to give it a chance, I know that things happening this way was part of my faith journey. Vintage is the first space I have experienced at UVA that has offered completely open doors—without expectations for who I should or should not be, without limitations on which friends I can bring, without conditions on the extension of hospitality. Vintage is peace embodied. It is life-giving community in action, through all and for all.
-Katie Cantone
What I Love About Vintage Lunch
Isabelle Andrews is a fourth year graduating with an interdisciplinary degree in English, media studies, and drama, and is also a Horizons Fellow ‘20. Since her first year at UVA, Isabelle has attended Theological Horizons’ Vintage Lunch and wanted to share the impact the program and the community have had on her life and faith-journey.
Vintage is an open, inviting space with free lunch and no pressure. We hear Karen (a wonderful steward of conversation) share about a Christian person (maybe a Roman priest, Coretta Scott King, or a French mystic girl). The people are always surprising, inspiring, flawed, full, and somehow accessible even when from long ago / far away. They struggle and write openly about being atheist or finding god or losing and gaining faith. They’re often socially involved as activists or outspoken women. Then Karen invites us to reflect on the readings and we have a conversation about things that stick out to us. People come from all perspectives and she does not assume everyone in the room is Christian. I find it a rare space because religious organizations can often seem intimidating. Ginger (the dog) wanders around, we have a couple minutes of silent reflection before we start, and we often get up in the middle of discussion for leftovers. It’s wonderful.
Vintage fills me with a hopeful, intellectual, and socially involved space to talk about the interaction of faith with our lives as we lead them now. We get inspired by the commonalities we have with Christians from all over in all times, and then Karen often includes resources or tips for how to incorporate lessons into our current UVA lives (ex: breath prayer from an eastern orthodox tradition, the importance of sleep backed up by scripture, New York Times article for the importance of sunlight for mental health, exercises for listening and being a good friend, videos on racial reconciliation within Charlottesville). It’s a very rich experience. I always leave somehow rested and energized - calm and centered.
I really appreciate this as a weekly practice. We can all get busy and prioritize other things, but it is such a grounding weekly routine: communing together, speaking, reflecting silently, eating together, asking questions, or just listening - all in an hour. Very easy and simple and different each time so a good thing for anyone. All of that earlier stuff-plus the community aspect of it. I get to see friends I may not otherwise see since we have different classes/schedules. There are also people from a bunch of faith groups - so our dialogue is LIVELY. I appreciate that. On Fridays I know I have a home cooked meal and a group of people I’ll learn from and a handout I can take home and reread to learn about Henri Nouwen or the importance of humor in Christian life or activism or meditation. It’s great.
-Isabelle Andrews, Horizons Fellow ‘20
The Capacity to Care | Michelle Abban '20
Being at UVA, I realize how easy it is to block ourselves from caring about the outside world. Or it feels like we can only care in comfortable ways for short periods of time. Over the last four years, I have wrestled with what it means to truly care and to allow someone else’s life to affect my own. There is something powerful about caring because before anything can be addressed, we have to understand how people are feeling or ways our actions are affecting people. It involves wrestling with uncomfortable truths and recognizing how we benefit from other people’s pain.
This is a call to all UVA students to stop for a moment and to care. Think about how big the world is and how many bad things are happening. Take time to pray, cry, read, research the things that affect the world. Dig into the deepest part of yourself and try to connect to people who seem completely different from you. Think about how any potential actions you take can affect people you want to help. Listen to people’s stories. Actually check your privilege often. Repeat.
Then let see how our actions change. If we take this time to care we will be more intentional with our steps and will learn to listen first. We can learn to lead by listening and not by control. Because we are not the center of the world. And if we want to really help people we better get used to being on the periphery.
Limited edition print of John M. Perkins portrait
Available the end of February, this limited edition giclee print of an original oil painting by Christen Yates will be hand signed by the artist as well as John M. Perkins. They will be professionally printed in a series of 24 color and 24 black & white - 11 x 14 inches each.
Proceeds will go toward our Perkins Fellows programming.
John M. Perkins Documentary by Greg Fromholz
Prepare for our weekend with John M. Perkins!
Watch: Redemption - The John M. Perkins Story, a documentary of civil rights, justice, family & forgiveness.
Produced and Directed by Greg Fromholz
With Special Thanks to John and Grandma (Vera Mae) Perkins, Priscilla Perkins, Elizabeth Perkins and The John and Vera Mae Perkins Foundation.
For more information on Dr. John M. Perkins see his books: One Blood, Dream With Me or Let Justice Roll Down or visit www.jvmpf.org/ www.gregfromholz.com
Weekend with John M. Perkins - Dream with Me
Please save the date, Feb 22-23, 2020 for a Charlottesville Weekend of Conversation and Inspiration with John M. Perkins. How do we make justice and love a reality in our lives and our communities? With wisdom born of 60 years of activism and Christian ministry, visionary leader and civil rights pioneer Dr. John M. Perkins guides the way. Sponsored by Theological Horizons and the Project on Lived Theology.
Sat, Feb 22 - A morning workshop on Community Development TBD
Sat, Feb 22, 7:30pm in the Dome Room "Parting Words on Race & Love" (ticketed & livestreamed through www.theologicalhorizons.org)
Sun, Feb 23, 3pm at the MLK PAC, "Dream with me: An Afternoon of Storytelling, Music & Worship" with the Charlottesville Worship Collective. Free and open to the public.For more information & live streaming, visit www.theologicalhorizons.org
An Advent Story: The Peace of Hildegard
A winter solstice (900 years ago)...
Imagine yourself in the remote monastery of Disibodenberg, enduring the frozen German midwinter. Your church's Advent demands strict fasting and penitence. With nothing but a cloak and an extinguished candle, you shiver in the dark. On this longest night of the year, the surrounding forest teems with fearsome demons and evil magic. Will Christmas ever come?
Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179), was consigned to the church as a young, sickly girl and shut up in a cell with Jutta, an older, solitary nun.
By God's grace, Hildegard grew up to be an innovative leader of her community: a composer, theologian and natural scientist versed in healing arts.
To a fearful church that preached wrath and condemnation, Hildgard shared astonishing visions: cosmic images of creation's vitality and Christ's redeeming power. Of peace.
To us this Advent, Hildegard speaks peace to our own dark, troubled world. "O Branch, coming into leaf just as dawn advances. Rejoice, be glad, and deem us helpless ones worthy; free us from evil habits, and reach out your hand to lift us."
Words from Hildegard von Bingen
The Man of Peace
The most radiant star of all rose and flamed, and a light like dawn sparkled on earth. In the brightness of that morning, God’s Spirit rose…
Then I saw a Man of Peace walk out of this bright dawn. He emptied His light out into the darkness, and the darkness pushed back, until He bled.
The person who lay prostrate in death felt the warmth of His finger, started shimmering, got up, and walked out.
This Man of Peace who walked out of the sunrise kept walking until He came into His glory, where everything is illuminated by the light of love and perfumed with His holiness.
Mary, whatever is small and unnoticed is like you --
growing, the greenest twig stirring in the rainy gusts that were all those questions asked by those who lived before your time
and spent their lives looking for God’s son to come.
The sun warmed you, and when the time was ripe,
you blossomed, smelling like balsam,
and the fragrance of your Bloom
renewed the spices’ dry perfume.
The earth rejoiced when your body grew wheat.
The sky celebrated by giving the grass dew,
and the birds built nests in your wheat,
and the food of the Eucharist was made for all humanity.
We feast on it, full of joy!
An Advent Story: The Love of Ramabai
Advent in India...
The Syriac Christians of Kerala trace their ancient faith to the apostle Thomas, Jesus' own disciple, who brought the Gospel to southern India in the year 52 A.D.! Even this Christmas, their churches will echo with the language spoken by Jesus and Thomas.
A world away, in northern India, a high-caste Hindu girl named Ramabai was born in 1858. Ramabai would find her path to Jesus born in Bethlehem not by way of religous legacy, but out of longing, compassionate love. This is her story.
Ramabai broke nearly every rule confining the life of a 19th century Brahmin Hindu woman. Ramabai, called Pandita ("scholar), was taught to read sacred Sanskrit by a father who urged her to "serve God all her life." After losing her parents to famine, she was widowed, a young mother alone at 23. She decided, on her own, to convert to Christianity, convinced that the religion of Jesus promised spiritual life and personal liberation.
In defiance of custom, Ramabai travelled to England and the United States, where she spoke out about the plight of Hindu widows, considered "cursed" by society, truly "the least of these" in India. She returned to build a church and open the Home of Learning for widows, a Christian refuge where rescued girls and women were employed in gardening, carpentry, sewing, and dairy farming -- a community that continues today. In the name of Jesus, the One who loves best, Ramabai created a place of life-giving welcome for her sisters.
An Advent Story: The Courage of Nicholas
Advent is crowded with characters...
...from the visionary Hebrew prophets to the announcing Gabriel, brave Mary, loyal Joseph, expectant Elizabeth, silenced Zachariah, and wild John the Baptist. We will follow them to the stable, where startled shepherds, seeking magi and rejoicing angels complete the scene -- and welcome, at last, the long expected One: the infant Jesus, God Incarnate. This Advent, we are encouraged along by other guides, as well: brothers and sisters from across the centuries who have traced the path back to Bethlehem. As we tell their stories each week, may these Saints of the Season impart the gifts of Advent: courage, hope, love and joy.
Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, preached the Gospel simply, wanting even the poorest in his care to know the Good News of Christ's coming. For the sake of these vulnerable ones, Nicholas stood up to all who abused their power and position, and pursued justice for his people in tangible ways.
Though persecuted and imprisoned, Nicholas distributed his own inheritance to those in need, secured grain in time of famine, saved the lives of three men wrongly condemned, and secured lower taxes for the ordinary citizens of Myra. To spare young impoverished women from lives of sexual slavery, Nicholas secretly provided gold for their marriage dowries.
Nicholas shows us how to live with courage and creativity, committed to that Jesus who came to earth "to live and die as one of us."
10 x 10 Minutes: Refreshing Study Breaks for Exam Days
You need a break! It can be tough to step away from important assignments or materials for an important exam, but studies have shown that regular breaks will actually increase your potential for success.
Skip the Instagram feed for now: a recent survey by Huffington Post found that online activities can significantly increase stress. There are other ways to recharge your batteries.
Sleep is good! Researchers tell us that 10-20 minutes is the ideal ‘power nap’ duration. A 60-minute rest period helps when you are attempting to memorize facts, names, dates, and other important items. 90-minute naps boost creativity and emotion-driven memories.
Other ways to re-fresh and re-focus…
We’ve thought of ten creative ways to make the most of a ten minute pause—wherever you may find yourself around the Grounds of the University of Virginia.
#1 Stop in to the UVa Chapel. Walk along the windows and find a piece of stained glass that draws your eye. Sit down, set a timer on your phone if you like (then put it away), and take ten minutes doing nothing but gazing at the window. Let your eye wander deeply into the colors, the lines and the images. Breathe deeply and let the quiet of the chapel surround you.
#2 Open the gate into an empty Pavilion Garden (you’ll find them behind both the East and West Lawn rooms & Pavilions). Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes walking the garden paths. Step slowly, taking time to notice the path, the plantings, light in the sky. Listen for the noises of animals. Breathe in the fresh air. Walk a bit further along the path.
#3 Walk into the Fralin Museum of Art on Rugby Road. Leave your backpack in the coat room and wander into the galleries upstairs. Find a painting that intrigues you and stop in front of it. Sit down if you like. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to lose yourself in the painting--taking in the details, wondering about the scene, maybe even imagining yourself in the painting. There’s no hurry.
#4 Climb up to the top of the marble steps of the Rotunda. Put down you backpack and sit looking out on the view from that height. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to notice what you see from there: the people, the light, the natural beauty. Listen for sounds around you. Relax to know that, for now, you’re not doing anything at all.
#5 Step into the lobby of Old Cabell Hall. You are surrounded by Lincoln Perry’s mural, “Students’ Progress”. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to peruse the painting, stopping wherever an image or a color draws you in. You don’t have to examine the whole painting. Notice the details in the mural. Imagine yourself in the scene. Lose yourself for a little while.
#6 Stop at your favorite coffee shop or café. Buy your favorite drink (or make it for free in your room). Sit down in an inviting chair—or take your drink outside. Leave aside your phone or your book or your laptop. For now, only savor the warmth, the flavor of this treat. Take all the time you need to drink it. Feel free to close your eyes or look at your surroundings. Daydream about the coming break. How will you relax then?
#7 If you’re in the library, stand up and stretch. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to wander along shelves of books. Stop along the way to notice the titles; pick up books that interest you and flip through the pages, reading if something draws your eye. Look for engaging illustrations. There’s nothing you need to study or remember here. Simply enjoy.
#8 Find a place to sit down. Anywhere that feels out of the way. Outside on a bench, in the grass. Or inside in a comfortable chair or on the floor. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to close your eyes and let your body relax. Imagine yourself in a place you love—or with people you enjoy. Put yourself in the scene, picturing details that take you deeper into that welcoming space. Allow your eyes to stay closed; nobody is watching you. Just rest for a while.
#9 Choose a piece of music—or a favorite playlist--and listen to it with earbuds. Wherever you are, take a wandering walk, letting the sounds fill your mind and your body. Don’t check your phone or do anything else right now; there will be time for that later. For these ten minutes, let the music be the soundtrack for your walk.
#10 Pause wherever you are. Get comfortable. Use your phone or laptop to visit the website, Pray as You Go. Explore this link: https://pray-as-you-go.org/prayer-resources/imagining-the-nativity/
Here you will find a series of short guided reflections. Choose a character from the nativity story and listen to that very short podcast. Put yourself into the story.
Or try out their 4 minute guided breathing exercises: https://pray-as-you-go.org/prayer-resources/prepare/
Attention & Desire | Isabelle Andrews '20
In our meeting on "Calling and Longing," we read David Foster Wallace's "This is Water" and Chris Yates' "The Loss of Longing in the Age of Curated Reality. Two themes stood out to me: attention and desire, and the power of redirecting both towards God.
"This is Water" discusses the power of intentional "attention." David Foster Wallace says we need to cultivate this intentionality as a practice. It is "learning to exercise some control over how and what you think...Being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and choose how you construct meaning from experience" (Wallace 3). Wallace describes this as one of the hardest things to do, but it is the only way to "freedom." He says "freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able to truly care about other people and to sacrifice for them, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom" (8). Chris framed this in our discussion as "not freedom from, but freedom for something." In Wallace's description, by exercising limitation, we actually find limitless life. In difficult daily discipline, we find an abundance: relationship, joy, surprise. This inverse logic is the paradox of Christianity. I truly can't get over this! It confounds and delights me. For some reason, it has felt fresh to me this semester.
Foster proposes us to direct our attention towards others in the midst of the banal everyday. To do so, we need to practice intervening in our default "self-talk" that tells us we're the center of the universe. Recently, I've tried to become more aware of the "constant monologue inside [my] own head" (Wallace 2). When I'm walking down the street, I now notice what I'm thinking about: is it how I'm late? or I'm tired? Or I'm stressed? Or I feel confident? Or I have a great thing I can't wait to tell someone? How am I paying attention to myself as my "default setting" (Wallace)? How can I redirect my attention outward, expand my scope of vision to other people, and care for them? How can I practice this daily discipline so I can "sacrifice for them, in myriad petty little unsexy ways" (Wallace 8). I love that Wallace encourages us to build habits in the quotidian and every-day. It reminds me of Annie Dillard: "how we spend our days, is in fact, how we spend our lives" (Dillard). This theme of daily discipline builds on other texts I've encountered this semester on "the Good Life." In "Nicomachean Ethics," Aristotle described the construction of good character as a practice of habits. Ben Franklin used to account for his virtues in a daily book: critically and consistently checking himself. Wallace's commencement address is so powerful because it meets us here and now. It focuses on how we can practice in the grocery line or in traffic. Wallace challenges us to pursue something incredibly difficult but immensely rewarding.
I find this theme of "attention" colliding with the theme of "desire." Yates calls "desire" a "possessive agenda of self-creation" (Yates). It consumes and expands, and it sees the self as author and end-game (Yates). In a TED Talk by actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt, he describes how desiring "attention" inhibits him. He reports how he has experienced two powerful feelings: the feeling of getting attention, and the feeling of paying attention. When he is acting, he is "paying attention": an intense focus on something outside himself. He says "that feeling, that is what I love. That is creativity." This creativity sounds a lot like Wallace's "freedom," which we can only achieve by directing our attention outward, away from ourselves. Gordon-Levitt warns that, "our creativity is becoming more and more of a means to an end. And that end is to get attention.... In my experience, the more I go after that powerful feeling of paying attention, the happier I am. The more I go after the powerful feeling of getting attention, the unhappier I am" (Gordon-Levitt). There's that Christian reverse-logic again. It reminds me of the motto from my high school: "What we keep we lose; only what we give remains our own." Gordon- Levitt demonstrates Yates' point that desire (in this case for attention) consumes infinitely, but will never make us happy. Yates proposes that instead, we purposefully live on the boundary of "longing and satisfaction" (Yates 49). He, like Wallace, demonstrates that this "practice of longing" is difficult and illogical by worldly standards. We have to change our default setting of paying attention to ourselves and desiring "counterfeits" of longing. Yet, through this mindful practice, we can direct ourselves to long for and pay attention to God.
In Reverence & Thankfulness | Fourth Year Class Giving
As fourth year is nearly halfway over, I have begun to reflect on my time at UVa and the groups that played a major part in it. Theological Horizons is an organization that has blessed me beyond measure over the past three years, so that's why I'm giving back through Class Giving. Countless meals, intentional conversations, and unique learning experiences are just a few ways TH has enriched my UVa experience. Join me in giving back to Theological Horizons!
To give, follow these 4 easy steps:
Follow this link and fill out your gift amount.
Under the “I want my gift to support” section scroll down to the last option, “Other”, and designate how much you would like to give to Theological Horizons.
At the bottom of the page, select the box next to “My gift has special instructions” and in the text box that appears, enter “Theological Horizons” (completely spelled out).
Hit next to move to the next page and complete your payment information.
The most common gift is $20.20, but any amount helps! There is no minimum or maximum and we know the Lord will bless all contributions. For a local organization like Theological Horizons, donations go even further making a difference and impacting future students for years to come!
Grief & Grace - Reflections by Hannah Gross '20
For the first two years of my college, I tended to measure my faith in quantitative categories. I tallied the number of people I could convince to come to Christian events, the amount of Bible verses I could memorize, or how many quiet times I was able to squeeze in.
These practices are acts of faith to the Lord and are inherently good. The problem emerged once I began to equate my relationship with God to the output I was able to show for it.
I found pride and identity in how well I was meeting unspoken ministry expectations in college.
Then, in September of my third year, my stability was uprooted by tragedy. I lost my hero, my Dad, unexpectedly while I was here at school. I can’t really recall that week, but I remember being carried through the ER and how bright the lights were.
Coming back to school, it felt like the lights were still shining down on me. I was no longer in a place with God to continue serving in the roles I was in. This was terrifying, as I wondered who I would be without a title affirming my faith and goodness. Who am I if not the empathetic Christian? What if I don’t fully believe the scripture I read today? If God truly is all powerful and knowing, why would he let this happen?
All of the ugly, hard parts that I wanted to hide had been cast out and illuminated whether I like it or not. My deficits and fears had blinding spotlights on them and every person asked, “How can I help?”
I consider myself the luckiest to have such wonderful, caring friendships at UVA. However, that didn’t make it any easier to accept their aid. I had nothing to offer them in return and a voice in my head told me that I was needy, selfish, and inferior. I wondered if one day those people would grow weary of waiting for me to grow into a place where I had the emotional and financial capacity to give back to them.
For the remainder of the fall semester I was attempting to come to terms with my grief and depression. The latter a word I kept close to myself. I would walk around in a haze, overhearing complaints of papers, busyness, and traveling. It all felt trivial. Sometimes the sadness would drag me down to where I felt I couldn’t get up in the morning. Other times it would fade to the background and using a little bit of wit and laughter I could pass as okay.
The institutions I had built my relationship with God upon in college, failed me. There is no room for healing or grace in places that demand a full emotional and spiritual capacity from twenty year olds. I didn’t finish the race I intended to and no longer fit into the community I chose first semester. My faith was stripped down to what it was all along, a messy relationship between myself, a sinner, and a God who loves me regardless.
No one voluntarily enters a liminal space. Yet in this default posture of surrender, I was able to experience some of the greatest love. I have been provided for, comforted, and pointed back to truth in countless ways. Assurance of my belovedness came in the form of dark chocolate peanut butter cups and long drives and song suggestions. When prayers no longer left my lips with ease, they found the words I was searching for. When I felt that joy and hope were scarce, they lovingly guided me back towards abundance.
“This is the most profound spiritual truth I know: that even when we're most sure that love can't conquer all, it seems to anyway. It goes down into the rat hole with us, in the guise of our friends, and there it swells and comforts. It gives us second winds, third winds, hundredth winds. ...your spirits don't rise until you get way down. Maybe it's because this - the mud, the bottom - is where it all rises from. ...when someone enters that valley with you, that mud, it somehow saves you again.” (Anne Lamott, a queen).
I was deep in the mud with my palms were open and high, trust that I was bitter and embarrassed about it, but radical grace found me time after time. Healing isn’t linear, it’s more like a half step forward followed by two giant leaps in the wrong freaking direction. As the seasons turned, I began to wonder if people were looking for me to transition back into my old positions of leadership. It was a pressure created internally, the pursuit of being “fine” enough to pick up where I left off.
Then I was gently reminded by those who entered the valley, that I serve a God of freedom and mercy. The Lord can handle the grief, doubt, and anger that still resurfaces now and then even if the communities and organizations I previously was apart of are not able to.
I trust that everything belongs, and that perhaps He will take the parts of my story that hurt and use it to remind someone else of how loved they are. He has the power to take grief and brokenness and turn it into a gift, an offering, to those around us. You don’t need a leadership title to do that, the title Child of God will suffice.
For the college student who is struggling, my hope is that you see your worth separate from your spiritual performance. May you instead count hard conversations, stillness, joyful banter, shared vulnerability, and even those moments of complete surrender as a reminder of your belovedness. Ah, the mystery of grace.
Seeking to Understand Belovedness in a World of Self-Actualization - Reflections by Caroline Carr Grant '20
As a child every night one of my parents used to sit on the edge of my bed and say a prayer before I went to sleep - a kind of spiritual “wrap up” to the day. These sweet prayers usually followed some kind of pattern - thanking the Lord for the day, for our family and friends, and finally for the “wonderful plan He has for my life”. And while this may not seem unusual or even particularly noteworthy, for many parents or guardians partake in the same kind of ritual every night, as I navigate my last year of college and am finding myself in a season of constant change - I have been thinking of these prayers a lot.
Fourth year is a funny thing - knowing that our time in college has an “expiration date” of sorts. Knowing that I am moving in a couple of months - just not knowing where or why. And while this is a season filled with lots of excitement and joy, for me it has also been a season of just praying, quite desperately at times, for the Lord to reveal to me, even in some small glimpse - the “wonderful plan He has for my life”.
However, the great fallacy of this prayer may be that what I actually seem to be asking the Lord for is not for him to reveal His plan to me - but rather to give me the control or sense of agency in my own life that I so crave. What I am really asking for is for Him to hand it all over to me - because my pride has tricked me into believing that I alone know what is best for my life. What I am really searching for is not a path to discerning the Lord’s plan for me but rather a path to self-actualization.
Amidst all of these things, these misguided and intimately human prayers, I have come to find myself living in a season that may be most characterized by tension. A tension between the voice of grace that whispers in my ear that I am the beloved of the Lord and in that truth I am meant to rest, and the other voice of my pride that tells me that I need to do it all, and actualize this “great plan for my life” myself.
However, as all too many of us know - at the end of the day the business of self-actualization is nothing shy of soul crushing work. It is wholly exhausting, and unfailingly impossible. Which for someone as prideful and controlling as myself, is a huge (continual) blow to my ego.
If you have spent any time with me over the past year you may know that I have been reading and re-reading Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved. Finishing it, and living on the high of the inspirational and comfortable words of belovedness for about half a day, to just then come crashing down - falling back into old patterns of seeking affirmation for the life I live and the person I believe myself to be. However, I pick up this text again and again because in each and every “crashing down” (note - not in the “high”) - I do indeed learn a little bit more about the ways the Lord has called me His beloved. The ways he has freed me from my own pride, even when I don't want to be freed.
Nouwen tells us that “we were intimately loved long before our parents, teachers, spouses, children and friends loved us or wounded us”, and that this is “the truth of our lives”. Nouwen insists here that we were loved and chosen by the Lord long before we could even conceive of achievement, or pride, or GPA’s, or “wonderful plans for our lives”. And while I thank the Lord that this is true, I don’t want to gloss over the ways that this can be a hard pill to swallow. It is hard work to look at yourself in the mirror and reconcile with yourself (and the success obsessed world that we live in) that the truth of our belovedness, in all honesty, has nothing to do with us - and everything to do with God.
This is hard work - but if we are to exist in this world and not be crushed by the weight of it - it is important work. For me, in this season of uncertainty and prideful searching for answers to what constitutes this “plan for my life” I have found that attempting to cling to the truth that no matter where I am headed ( or not headed) come graduation in the spring, and no matter how many times my attempts at prideful self actualization continue to fail - the fact that I was loved by the Lord long before I knew of things like “consulting jobs” or “research fellowships” is not only never failing, it is perpetually freeing.
Recently I heard someone say that “God does have a wonderful plan for your life. But blessedly that is not the point”. Praise be to the Lord that it is not the point - but that undertaking the lifelong journey of claiming the truth that we are beloved by God is.
Farmers & Hunters | Reflections by Horizons Fellow Callie Gaskins '20
The evening of our September Horizons Fellows gathering, one of my "fellow Fellows" shared a bit of advice that her mother had given her when she was growing up. "Some people," she said, "are farmers. They cultivate the ground where they are. Others are hunters, always chasing their prey to new places." We dwelt on this idea as a group for a while, easily relating it to this time in our lives—our fourth and final year at the University—in which imminent transition is never far from our minds. Some of us—the hunters—felt pulled forward to the "next thing," and the next, and the next, ambitious and hungry for the future. Others—the farmers—felt deeply rooted in the present, and hoped to avoid thinking about this "next thing" for fear that it would diminish the beauty of the now.
I immediately identified myself as a farmer. I'm a self-diagnosed homebody whose idea of fun is to clean the house so that I can revel in the joy of a sparkling kitchen as I wait for the tea kettle to brew. I've never been one to look too hard for new experiences, and when they do show up at my doorstep, I spend more time than necessary evaluating them and making sure that they won't disrupt my routine too much. Recently, I've found myself gritting my teeth when my peers exclaim with excitement that they're off to the career fair or a job interview. Just a minute, I want to tell them, this moment isn't over yet! Slow down!
Like so many others, I am all too inclined to think that my way is the right way, and this remains true in the farmer-hunter breakdown. As the hunters in my life have rejoiced in their steps towards the future, I haven't wholeheartedly celebrated these joys with them. There's a small part of me that believes that they're wrong. I begrudge them their excitement because I'm content with the way things are now, even though I know that change is inevitable.
As I've continued to ruminate on our evening together over the last few weeks —and this part of the conversation, in particular—I've realized that the farmer-hunter dichotomy isn't as clear cut as it initially seemed. Although I do long to remain wholly invested in this place and in its people, I feel my heart tugging me towards other places and other people. As much as I love devoting my time to the extracurriculars that I have been involved in for the past few years, I'm beginning to realize that I'm ready for new and different ways of spending my time. I still see beauty in my day-to-day, of course, but I've noticed myself longing for a new routine.
I'm no hunter, and I don't think I'll ever be one, but I'm beginning to learn that it's okay—even good!—to venture forth with anticipation, that doing so doesn't have to mean giving up on the present moment. So, I'll continue to till and plant seeds in the soil where I am, but eventually the crops will need to be rotated, and when they do, I'll be ready.