Liminality

If there’s one thing I wish we’d all experience, it's the sacred in the midst of the mundane.   But how do we do it? Church history argues the way we turn this wish into a reality is by practicing ‘spiritual disciplines.’  But if you are anything like me, I’m sure you’re saying, “Who has the time?”  We function on a level in which we constantly feel overworked, overwhelmed, tired, anxious, stressed, or a combination of them. What we need is a built-in, always reliable moment in which we can encounter the divine without it throwing us too far off course.  And I think we have it.  It’s the spiritual discipline of eating.  By definition, any activity in which we engage repeatedly is a practice or a discipline. The amazing thing about eating is that we all do it . . . several times a day . . . week after month after decade.  So this ritual can actually represent a spiritual vehicle for experiencing the divine.  Many people take yoga classes, martial arts, etc. (both wo

My ideal for the institutional church is this:  Live, love, and grow as an inclusive community that offers everyone a seat at the table.   To live together is to accept the humanness of the “other” and to not judge them for it.  To love together means genuine community is formed with Christ-likeness at the center.  To grow together suggests there is movement, momentum, education and discipleship taking place.  All three of these actions are vital to my ideal of what Christian community looks like.  Unfortunately, though, my ideal, crafted and tested in school, is getting punctured in a world where churches are in fact fractured.  I hear stories every day of how churches fail to live and love together – stories of congregations splitting over issues that, otherwise, could be resolved.  And I argue a reason for the dissension is that the congregation no longer grows together, for growth happens when people learn to live and to love together.    So how do fractured