Mark Wirtz ('14) wins Mercer Research Award

The Swilley Library Award of Distinction for Most Outstanding Academic Research went to Mark A. Wirtz, a Master of Divinity Student in the McAfee School of Theology for his paper entitled "Wrestling with Leviticus 18.22 and 20.13."

Abstract

Leviticus 18 and 20 are part of a larger narrative construct in which Israel wished to separate itself from its cultural rivals, the so-called Canaanites, with whom Israel likely shared a great deal in common.  From an exilic or post-exilic point of view, one can see that the sexual laws of Lev 18 and 20 are a way to account for Israel’s destruction, and a means for avoiding any future demise.  Reading Lev 18.22 and 20.13 within its literary frame of didactic speeches (18.1-5, 24-30 and 20.7-8, 22-26) enables us to locate the prohibitions against male-male anal intercourse (not homosexuality in general) within a literary and historical context.  Here I use Iris Marion Young’s concept of “border anxiety” to critique Lev 18.22 and 20.13 as an attempt to define the insider (Israelites) from the outsider (Canaanites).  In other words, the proscriptions in Lev 18.22 and 20.13 are a descriptive of a social and historical location, not prescriptive for our contemporary understandings of human sexuality.  This reading can allow GLBTQ people to place Lev 18.22 and 20.13 within its historical and cultural milieu in such a way that draws attention to the destructive and often violent use of biblical texts to single out and exclude the Other. 

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Mark Wirtz is a second-year MDiv - Academic Research student at McAfee School of Theology.  His entire research project is available online in the Swilley Library Institutional Repository at Mercer University.

Rich Havard - 2013 Claypool Preaching Award Winner

Lindsey Summers had long brown hair, a huge smile, and big brown eyes. To my twelve-year old self, she had everything. There I was at my first middle school dance decked out in my finest khaki pants fresh from the husky aisle at the Duck Head Outlet. I stood in the corner of the gym with all of the other non-dancing young men. I had no intention of stepping on that dance floor despite the blaring Backstreet Boys tunes. I was content to simply stand and think about how beautiful Lindsey was.

Then, the unexpected happened.

While I was minding my own business, Lindsay walked over to my non-dancing crowd.

“Do you want to dance?” she asked.

What?! Why?! She wasn’t supposed to do this!

So, I did what any normal twelve-year old boy would do. I yelled “no,” ran, and hid. I’m not kidding. I literally sprinted away from her and hid. I knew Lindsey was beautiful. I knew I really liked her. I knew “yes” was the right answer. But when the moment of truth came, I screamed “no” and ran. I was afraid to dance.

My “no” pushed me into hiding. I didn’t get an opportunity to dance with Lindsey again. Turns out she isn’t into sprinters... or boys who hid. I don’t think my social life recovered from that one for a few years. Perhaps it’s still recovering. I said “no” a lot when I was younger.

While most of us have outgrown or embraced our social awkwardness, we still find ourselves saying “no” a lot. 

We say “no” to our true callings because we doubt our gifts and abilities. We deny opportunities to preach, take initiative in our communities, and lead God’s people. We’ll find another calling. The task at hand is too hard. We don’t know if we’re up to it. We don’t want to be challenged too much, and we certainly don’t

want to risk failure. 

We say “no” because we over-think everything. Before we make any decisions about vocation, a sermon, or where we want to go for dinner, we check out fifteen books from the library and ask every mentor we have for their opinions. We are frozen by our lack of confidence in God and ourselves.

We say “no” because the church is too messed up. It fights over things that don’t matter. It spends money on building bigger buildings. We don’t want to be a part of it. We quit going and quit investing. Instead, we’re content with talking and tweeting and blogging about how bad the church is. The church usually doesn’t

look anything like Jesus. 

We say “no” because we don’t believe in Jesus. The Kingdom of God is as make-believe as our favorite Disney fairy tale. The resurrection is a hoax. Our faith is in nothing more than pie-in-the-sky talk. Sometimes, we only make ourselves believe because we are so deep into seminary that we don’t know if we have

another option. 

I went to a wedding a few months ago on a Sunday afternoon in Lula, Georgia. After the wedding, everyone gathered inside for dinner. Seating was assigned and don’t you know I got seated with those people. You know those people. The ones who, when they hear you’re in a seminary, say things like:

“That’s so nice.” “You must know the Bible really well.” “Do you want to be some sort of preacher?” Or my personal favorite, “I’m so sorry for cussing earlier.” 

My roommate, Blake Tommey, was at the wedding too. After finding out his table-mates were much cooler than mine, I changed seats. At his table were two Anglican folks named Isaac and Rebecca. After a few minutes of small talk, they found out Blake and I were in seminary. And these people, unlike the ones at my

table, really knew how to talk to seminarians. They made jokes about Calvinism, church fights, and ministers. We also had some normal conversation - what a novel concept. And, Isaac asked me one question that I’ve been thinking about for a while.

He jokingly asked, “So, you’re in seminary. Do you still believe in Jesus?” After everyone laughed, I answered, “Yes. I still believe in Jesus.” Later that night, I thought about his question again. As I pondered it, I said to myself, “If I would have been completely honest, I should have said, ‘Today,

yes. Sometimes though, no.’” 

When I think about the 20 young children killed in Sandy Hook Elementary School or a bomb blasting at the Boston Marathon, I’m likely to say “no.” When I think about the damage Christianity has done in the name of Christ, from the Crusades to modern-day discrimination, I’m likely to say “no.”

When I read book after book and write paper after paper about God without making any effort to interact with God or God’s people, I’m likely to say “no.” Perhaps I am the only one who feels that way, but I’m betting most of us sometimes want to say “no” when we ask ourselves if we believe in Jesus. We may

never say it out loud. We may never even admit it to ourselves. But somewhere deep inside of us, we sometimes want to say “no.”

Peter doesn’t even try to hide his “no.” Or his multiple “nos.” Only a few days before this breakfast on the beach, Peter says “no” to Jesus three times. A woman asks him if he knows Jesus.

Peter says, “No.” A crowd asks Peter if he knows Jesus. Peter says, “No.” A slave asks Peter if he knows Jesus. Peter says, “No. Nope. Not a chance. ”

Shortly after Peter’s third “no,” Jesus is sentenced to death and crucified. A few days later though, he is resurrected, and Jesus appears a few times to his disciples and others. Peter has a chance to see him again.

Peter’s “no” still plagues him though. He can’t sleep due to the nightmares. He feels embarrassed around the other disciples. He was supposed to be the leader! How could he do this? Peter, previously known for being quick to speak and slow to listen, doesn’t say a word to Jesus the first two times he sees him after the

resurrection. His three denials keep playing over and over again in his head.

In an effort to get away, Peter and a few of his friends go to the north shore of the Sea of Galilee, a ways from town. A place that is familiar to them. Peter hops up at night and tells the group, “I’m going fishing. Night fishing is best, and I can’t sleep.”

Peter’s “no” pushes him back to his old way of life. He is running from his call, his identity as a disciple, and Jesus. His “no” has trapped him. Even so, the others agree to go fishing with him. After several hours in the

boat though, these fishermen are striking out. Picture Forest Gump when he first started “shrimping.” Net after net after net catches little more than a few sticks. When daybreak hits, a man starts screaming at them from the beach, “You aren’t catching many fish, are ya?”

They call back, a little agitated, “What does it look like?” while mumbling a few other words under their breaths.

The man offers his unsolicited fishing advice to a group of former professional fishermen, “Try the right side!”

Peter and his crew decide to prove this wise guy wrong. But, they catch so many fish that their nets begin to break.

Then they figure out that the annoying, crazy man on the shore is… Jesus! Peter is naked from diving in the water all night, so he throws on some clothes, leaps into the water, and swims towards Jesus faster than Michael Phelps. It suddenly clicks for Peter. He can’t go back to his old way of life. He can’t let “no” rule his life. He can’t go on with some humdrum existence. The other men follow closely behind him in the boat. When they all get to the shore, Jesus is cooking a breakfast of fish and bread over a nice little fire. The disciples sit down and eat a meal together, something they had done many times.

After breakfast, Jesus decides to quiz Peter.

First question: “Do you love me?” Peter exclaims, “Yes!” without hesitation. “Ok,” Jesus says, “Feed my lambs.” Second question: “Are you sure you love me?” Peter says, “This is easy. Yes!” “Then, tend my sheep,” Jesus commands.  Third and final question: “Peter, be honest, do you love me?” This question sure does sound familiar. “Yes!” Peter screams. “This is the last time I’ll tell you, Peter; feed my sheep,” Jesus responds.

Peter said “no” to Jesus three times in the past few days. His “no” had led him back to fishing - his way of life before ever meeting Jesus some three years ago.

Jesus responds to Peter’s three “nos” by giving him three chances to say “yes.” Peter’s “no” haunts him. Jesus helps him let go of “no” and embrace “yes.” But Jesus doesn’t only give Peter a chance to say yes. Jesus reminds him what saying “yes” means. “Yes” means loving people. “Yes” means taking care of

all God’s children. “Yes” means leaning into his identity as a disciple. “Yes” means following his true calling even when fishing seems easier. “Yes” means following Jesus to the cross.

We, too, are able to change our “no” to “yes.” Peter was able to say “yes” as many times as he had said “no.” When we say “no,” we get pushed back into corners, into old ways of life. When we say “yes,” new possibilities arise. We get fresh opportunities to say “yes” even when we think “no” has trapped us.  We say “yes” to our true callings because we are confident in our gifts and abilities. We welcome invitations to preach; we take initiative in our communities and lead God’s people. We dive deep into opportunities to practice and explore our callings. The task at hand is not too hard. We are up to it. We want to be

challenged and we certainly want to take risks.

We say “yes” because we quit over-thinking everything. We stop freezing over every single decision we make. We realize that we don’t have to take a class on every possible situation before taking action. Instead, we make some of our own choices and start listening to the Spirit ourselves.

We say “yes” because the church is Christ’s presence on earth. We want to be a part of it. We start going and start investing. We quit simply talking about the church and begin participating in the church. We discover that it stands for justice.

The church loves the unlovable. It builds communities with deeper relationships than those our culture values. The church looks a lot like Jesus.

We say “yes” because we believe in Jesus. We believe the Kingdom of God is more real than this very moment. We live in the light of the resurrection. Jesus has already changed the world. Our faith is in something powerfully true, even when tragedy strikes or when we Christians act like we’ve never heard of Christ.

When we answer “no,” we find a life we can’t really want. A life of the same old, same old. A life lacking meaning or purpose. A life where we live like someone other than who we were created to be.

When we answer “yes,” we find a life we really do want. A life of seeking the Kingdom of God. A life with more purpose and meaning than we can imagine. A life of loving God and loving people. A life of following God’s call, listening to the Spirit, being the church, and believing in Jesus.

We will still say “no” sometimes. In certain seasons, we will say it quite often. “No” cannot plague us though. “No” does not have the last word. “No” is not our final chance. Peter got chances to change his “no” to “yes.” We, too, serve the God who gives us chances to say “yes” again.

May we let our “no” be “yes.”

1 NT Wright, John for Everyone: Chapters 11-21 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 156.

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Rich Havard is a second-year seminary student at McAfee School of Theology.  This sermon was preached by him in McAfee Chapel for the John R. Claypool Preaching Award.  

2013 Claypool Preaching Award Winner - Wesley Thompson

When I was younger, my grandmother would babysit me when my mom had to work. Every morning when she dropped me off, I already knew the schedule for that day…because it was the same every day. The routine went exactly like this. As soon as I stepped inside, the smell of strong black coffee would hit my nose. She would have a bowl of Kellogg Corn Flakes with banana slices ready for me at the table. After eating she would have me help her do the dishes. Then we would do the laundry. Then I would suffer through an hour of All My Children. Then we would sit and have lunch. After lunch I would suffer through an hour of Days of Our Lives. Then we would sit outside talking on the porch. And after that another television show… But this show was different. I actually liked and looked forward to watching it. Every afternoon around 4 we sat close together on the couch with a glass of ice cold Pepsi and bag of Lay’s potato chips, tuned in faithfully to watch Detective Jessica Fletcher solve another mysterious crime in Murder, She Wrote. Something intrigued me watching this old white woman piece the clues together to bring down dangerous criminals.

It was because of that show that I became a courtroom movie junkie with favorites like A Time to Kill, Rules of Engagement, Runaway Jury, and My Cousin Vinny.

When it was time for me to choose a major in undergrad, I decided to go into political science with the hopes of going to law school after graduation, becoming a big time attorney, and living out my dream of passionately banging my fist in the air shouting “I want the truth!” Like most of you, what I wanted to do did not coincide with what God wanted me to do, which led me to fulfill my calling to come to seminary. Although I’m happy and content with God changing my career path from becoming a high paid prosecutor to becoming a low paid pastor, I still have a love and desire to dig into, investigate, and question certain things as a good lawyer would. But for some reason common to many of us, my investigative questioning is directed more toward the spiritual than it is the secular.

There are times when we find ourselves searching for answers. Searching for an answer to why an aunt we just saw two months ago at a family reunion smiling and dancing, is now lying in a hospice bed unrecognizable because she’s dying of cancer. Searching for an answer to why after 20 years of marriage, mom and dad are getting a divorce. Searching for an answer to why a good friend was so depressed, they tried to commit suicide. Searching for an answer to why a great-grandmother days away from celebrating her 90^th birthday, is planning a double funeral for two children she’s lost within 48 hours of each other.

In our lives there are times when God either allow some things to happen or doesn’t allow them to happen, which causes us to question. Causes us to be confused and not understand. Causes us to wonder, “God, what are you doing and why?” Many of us have experienced the unexpected death of a loved one, and it caused us to question God. Many of us know someone who has gone from being on top of the corporate ladder…to now being in front of the unemployment line, and it caused us to question God.

Right now at this very moment, many of us are bogged down with the stress of balancing school, ministry, work, and family, and it is causing us to question God. Sometimes things can get so crazy in life, so hard in life, that the question is no longer “God, what are you doing?” but “God, are you even there?”

This is how the disciples felt. It’s only been a few days since they’ve watched with their own eyes the gory innocent death of their friend and leader. Hearts are mourning. Tears are shedding. Minds are baffled. And on top of all of that, fear is infested deep inside their nervous stomachs. They’re afraid they will suffer the same fate as Jesus did if they are found.

They lock themselves in a small undisclosed house. There is no candle light. The blinds are drawn. They’re gathered up tight together trying to stay warm because they can’t risk letting anyone know someone is in the house by using the fireplace. Frustration is beginning to set in. They have so many unanswered questions.

In a quiet whisper someone asks, “What are we to do now?” Another asks, “How long must we hide here?” With a shivering voice another asks, “If Mary claims she’s seen and spoken to Jesus, then where is he?” As time continues to pass, they start to worry about their friend and colleague Thomas. He is nowhere to be found.

This is an interesting, yet often overlooked part of this story. The Johannine writer doesn’t tell us where Thomas is. The commentaries give no suggestions of his whereabouts. So the more I engaged and imagined this story, that’s when it hit me. Thomas and I are just alike. He would be a Murder, She Wrote fan just like me. He would be a courtroom movie junkie just like me. Think about it. Thomas was known as the doubter. He was a person who questioned things. His favorite store would be Radio Shack because he would have questions, and they have answers.

Could it be that when Thomas heard from Mary that Jesus was alive and well, that he immediately wanted to find out for himself? Could it be that he doubted and questioned Mary’s statement and wanted to know whether she was telling the truth?  Maybe the reason Thomas was not with the disciples is because he went out to do some investigating. He went out to find answers. He went out to search for Jesus. Can you see it? Thomas in a long overcoat and detective’s hat with a magnifying glass in hand, disguising himself so he wouldn’t be noticed. He’s walking through the Jerusalem neighborhoods and market place hoping to see for himself the same thing Mary has seen. Thomas was persistent. He searches and searches, but gets nothing. Suddenly he sees a man who from a distant view looks like Jesus. His eyes quickly light up. He runs to get closer, but to his disappointment he’s mistaken. It isn’t Jesus. It’s getting darker. He’s been persistent walking for miles all day hoping to find his master. Finally he decides to give up the search. He carefully walks back to the undisclosed location to hide with the other disciples.

When he walks in he notices a different mood. He asks, “What are ya’ll so happy about?”

They answer, “Thomas, you missed it! He was here! Jesus was here! We saw him. We talked with him. He’s alive. Mary was right!”

With a disgusted look on his face Thomas responds, “You guys are lying. You haven’t seen him. I just finished searching every inch of this town and did not see him. If he was here, I would have eventually run into him somewhere. You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’ve been walking all day. My feet hurt. I’m not in the mood to be entertained by your lies and jokes. Unless I see him for myself and can touch his nailed hands and pierced side, I don’t believe you.” Just like a good detective, not only is Thomas persistent, but he also wants proof.

A week passes. Thomas is still irritated with his buddies for the practical joke he thinks they tried to play on him. But to his amazement, out of no where Jesus appears again. This time he speaks directly to Thomas. “Thomas, last week you said that you wanted proof. Well guess what…here I am. Touch my hands. Touch my side.” Thomas is standing in front of Jesus in awe. His jaw drops to the ground. He is lost for words. Jesus tells him, “Thomas, do not doubt, but believe.” Without hesitation Thomas looks at his savior and answers, “My Lord and My God.”

Thomas closed the case with that one answer. My Lord and My God. He did everything a good detective is supposed to do. He was persistent, he wanted proof, he got proof, and finally he was persuaded. Persuaded that everything Jesus had been telling him for the past 3 years was true. That he would die, be buried, but also be resurrected. Case closed. Thomas’ investigation was now complete.

Given the circumstance they were in, Thomas could have asked for so many other things. He could have asked for Jesus to get them out of that cold small house into a place more comfortable. He could have asked for Jesus to do something about the people who wanted to find and kill them. But Thomas isn’t concerned with finding out what Jesus can do; instead he is simply concerned with finding out who Jesus is. Thomas understood that if he knew who Jesus was, then there was no need to worry about what he could do.

And whenever we find ourselves in a storm, we must understand that although God may not take us out of that storm, that doesn’t neglect the fact that God is still God in the storm. Whenever we find ourselves in trouble, whenever we find ourselves in fear, whenever we find ourselves in doubt…we don’t always need proof of what He can do…but just proof of who He is.

Because when you know who He is, belief will overcome doubt. When you know who He is, faith will overcome fear. When you know who He is, hope will overcome worry. And you can be assured that whatever it is you’re going through, everything will be alright.

Just as Thomas was persistent, got proof, and was persuaded of who Jesus was, we too can do the same. When we find ourselves in trouble, the good news is we don’t have to search too far or investigate too long to find Jesus. The reason being is because Jesus is there with us all along. We don’t need proof to know who Jesus is, because He’s shown us so many times before. And when we look back over our lives and think about how good God has been, we can testify and say that we are living witnesses of what God can do, and most importantly who God is. When we are sick, God is our healer. When we are broken, God is our mender. When we are down, God is our lifter. When we think we’re never going to make it, God is our hope. When we’re abandoned by family and friends, God is that shoulder to lean on. When we’re overshadowed by dark valleys, God can lead us to bright mountains.

We are all proof. We are all evidence of what God can do and who God is. Somebody here may be in a pressing situation where you find yourself doubting who God is like Thomas. If so, then let me tell ya…

Exhibit A…He’s ALMIGHTY

Exhibit B…He’s our BRIGHT and morning star

Exhibit C…He’s our CHRISTOLOGICAL hope

Exhibit D…He’s our DELIVERER

Exhibit E…He’s ELOHIM and EL SHADDAI

Exhibit F…He’s our FATHER

Exhibit G…He’s a GREAT GOD

Exhibit H…He’s our HEALER

Exhibit I…He’s the I AM that I AM

Exhibit J…He’s JEHOVAH JIRAH

Exhibit K…He’s the KING OF KINGS

Exhibit L…He’s the LORD OF LORDS

Exhibit M…He’s A MOTHER TO THE MOTHERLESS

Exhibit N…He’s NICODEMUS’ answer

Exhibit O…He’s OMNIPRESENT and OMNIPOTENT

Exhibit P…He’s our PRINCE OF PEACE

Exhibit Q…He QUALIFIED us through his blood

Exhibit R…He’s the RULER of the universe

Exhibit S…He’s the SAVIOR of the world

Exhibit T…He’s our THEOLOGICAL motivation

Exhibit U…He’s our ULTIMATE provider

Exhibit V…It’s through him we the VICTORY

Exhibit W…He’s our WAYMAKER

Exhibit X…He has X-RAY vision

Exhibit Y…His YOKE is easy

Exhibit Z…He’s ZION’S keeper

There’s no need to worry! There’s no need to be afraid! There’s no need to be in doubt! There’s no need to question! I am proof. You are proof. We are proof of what God can do and who God is!

The old saints would sing a song saying, “There are some things. I may not know. There are some places that I can’t go. But I am sure, of this one thing. Yes God is real for I can feel him in my soul. I cannot tell just how felt. When Jesus washed all of your sins away. But every since that day, every since that hour, God has been real for I can feel his holy power. Yes God is real. He’s real in my soul. Yes God is real, for he has washed and made me whole. His love for me, is just like pure gold. Yes God is real for I can feel him in my soul.”

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Wesley Thompson is a second-year seminary student at McAfee School of Theology.  This sermon was originally preached in McAfee Chapel for the John R. Claypool Preaching Day. 

"My Dad is Awesome, but so am I" by Holly Johnson

My name is Holly Johnson, and I am a pastor's kid. There I said it.  I now wait for the clichéd throngs of "Hello Hollys" as if I am a member of a 12-Step program for recovering pastors' children.  

When Barrett first approached me about writing this blog, he said something to the effect of, "I want you to write about how your dad is awesome, but so are you." This was my greatest fear realized. You see, while I love my father, I am not my father, and I appreciate having my own identity.

I remember countless times as a kid being reprimanded by the laity for being "too loud" or "running around the sanctuary" or whatever else, and this was always followed with the caveat, "You are the pastor's daughter; you should know better." 

But at home, I was Holly. I was not the pastor's daughter or even a church member. I was just me. My family never compared me to my father, never expected me to be like him, and supported me in my differences from him (although, truthfully, there are not many differences).

Now that my father is prominent member of the CBF community, I was wary of attending a seminary so immersed in CBF life.  I was fearful that I would find myself stuck in a place that would say, "But you’re Ray's daughter; you should know better." 

I am so happy this is not the case. And I realize now why Barrett asked me to write this. Yes, occasionally I am introduced as Ray's daughter, but overall, the community at McAfee respects my own identity, my own calling, my own passions, and my own life. I'm free to be the person God has called me to be. Now, as a semi-grown pastor's kid, I can proudly say that I am standing here at McAfee on my own accord, embracing my calling, following the spirit of the living God within me.  

I have grown up "in the shadow" of an incredible man who has always supported me.  I am proud of that shadow, but I am not just "my father's daughter." I am Holly.  I am distinct, set apart, and called to be someone completely different.  I am called to be me. And I am so blessed to have found a school community that recognizes and affirms just that! 

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Holly Johnson is a first year seminary student at McAfee School of Theology.

Reflections from Capitol Hill

Earlier this week seven McAfee students joined the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship in Washington D.C. for Advocacy in Action.  This four day immersion focused on themes of poverty, transformation and the Christian response.  The group met with CBF partner organizations such as Bread for the World and the Baptist Joint Committee.  Conversation on advocacy, poverty and political processes took place as the group met with political leaders.  Below is the response from one McAfee student at the end of her week on Capitol Hill. 

There are beloved people in my life who live in the pains of marginalization every day, and my hear hurts for them.  My feet move, rushing to stand with them and wishing to take on their marginalization alongside them.

I see the dedication, and the perseverance, and the creativity, and the imagination, and the beautiful pride in a work well done in the faces of those I spend time with every week.  Volunteering at an afterschool program at Park Avenue Baptist in southeast Atlanta, I know the faces, voices, laughter, and dedication of boys who experience the struggle of structural poverty as a daily reality.  They work hard because they want to by lawyers and pediatricians one day.  But real life gets in the way most weeks, demanding their time and energy be channeled away from school.  So I want to rush to do whatever it takes to take down this system that is tying them into poverty.

But Devita emailed us last week and told us we would have to meet with our representatives, and suddenly I had no words.  As Tuesday approached, my voice got shakier, my confidence disappeared, and my story fell apart.

"Who am I that I should go?"

Every Wednesday I go to share some Spanish vocabulary with Matthew, and every once in a while try to figure out those Algebra problems with Darius.  I'm there to help them with their homework, but they are my community of faith.  They hold me accountable to the calling of my life and my attempt to follow Jesus as best as I can.  They help me worship and feed my soul like no other institution can.  Jesus is there with us on Wednesdays, with them it's always holy ground.

Our God is a God of compassion.  And our compassionate God, the one who has called us to speak on behalf of those who can't, comes down and suffers alongside the oppressed, never leaving their side.

"I have heard them crying...so I have come down to rescue them."

Because God favors the poor and the oppressed, we have no greater calling than to work to further the kingdom through advocacy.  By being their voice and by helping them find the power of their own voice, we are honoring God with the biggest re-creative power we have.

Just like Moses, no matter how small I felt making my way through the maze of congressional offices on Tuesday, no matter how few words I thought I had, they were all there.  And just like Moses, my voice didn't fail me.  God walks with us and energizes us as we proclaim the prophetic apocalyptic message of justice and renewal that God has placed on our lips.

_Lesley-Ann Hix

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Lesley-Ann Hix is a second-year seminary student at McAfee School of Theology studying Global Christianity.

"Great Expectations: year one of seminary" by Will Burke

Going into my first year at McAfee, I had a lot of expectations.  I figured it would be different from my undergrad work at FSU. I expected it to be an academic and spiritual place that would help me grow as a young minister. I expected to have late nights reading, studying and making last minute paper revisions. I expected to make friends with my fellow classmates that were going through similar experiences as me.

All of these expectations came true; however, McAfee also surprised me.  The main thing that surprised me was the faculty. 

Coming from a large school, I rarely spent time with my professors outside of the classroom. If I did, it was to meet about academic advising or a paper topic. I had never experienced professors that were so accessible and willing to spend time with students outside of the classroom. 

I did not expect to ride the Marta to Turner Field for Chipper Jones Appreciation Night with two of my professors. I did not expect to have conversations with Dr. Walker about our beloved FSU Seminoles and different workout tips (He’s a workout warrior!). I did not expect to eat food court Chinese with Dr. Massey, Dr. and Dr. Garber, and several other students after chapel. I did not expect to stay up late with Dr. Gushee and other fellow students at his house watching the presidential election results. I did not expect for my student worker supervisor, Dr. Grizzle, to take me out to lunch on my first day on the job.

I knew vaguely what to expect, but I had no way to foresee all the surprises McAfee has had to offer throughout my first year. 

Kudos to you, McAfee. You have set the bar high for my next two years. 

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Will Burke is a first-year seminary student at McAfee School of Theology. 

"An Ash Wednesday Wake-Up Call" by Brett Younger

Have mercy on me, O God,

according to your steadfast love;

according to your abundant mercy

blot out my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,

and cleanse me from sin.

For I know my transgressions,

and my sin is ever before me.

Against you, you alone, have I sinned,

and done what is evil in your sight,

so that you are justified in your sentence

and blameless when you pass judgment.

Indeed, I was born guilty,

a sinner when my mother conceived me.

You desire truth in the inward being;

therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;

wash me, and I shall be purer than snow.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

and put a new and right spirit within me.

Do not cast me away from your presence,

and do not take your holy spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,

and sustain in me a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:1-7, 10-12) 

For many years during Greek Orthodox baptisms, just before the priest administered the sacrament, he would take his large brass cross and hit the baby—pretty hard—on the chest.  You can imagine the reaction.  It’s another argument against infant baptism. 

The priest did this to remind everyone that the cross hurts and that there’s a price to be paid in taking it up.  The Orthodox baptism is meant to wake people up to the realities of the Christian life.

Ash Wednesday is a wake-up call.  This day means to hit us squarely between the eyes, forcing us to face our mortality and sinfulness.  We hear scripture readings that are urgent and vivid.  The prophet Joel tells us to put on sackcloth and cry.  We say things like, “We are children of dust.”  We’ll end up with ashes on our foreheads.

Ash Wednesday is a hard day, but at least we can be sure that this is one religious holiday that won’t fall into the clutches of retailers.  There aren't any greeting cards celebrating sin and death; no shop windows are decked out with sackcloth and ashes; they don’t play Just as I Am in the mall.

On Ash Wednesday, we come to confess, pray, and ask God’s forgiveness.  We come to remember that we sin and we’ll die. 

At most of our churches we don’t talk about sin much.  We talk more about forgiveness than repentance.  We need to be more honest.  It’s only by waking up to the possibility of change that change ever happens.  We have to be honest about who we are to become more of who God created us to be.

Graham Greene tells the story of a man he calls a whisky priest.  During a period of religious persecution, the priest is on the run in one of the southern states of Mexico.  He’s not a good priest, because, like a lot of ministers, he’s learned to compromise:  “The good things of life had come to him too early, the respect of his contemporaries, a safe livelihood, the trite religious word upon the tongue.” 

The whisky priest knows that he’s gotten used to making concessions: “It’s hard for a sleek and well-fed priest to speak of poverty” (The Power and the Glory, 71).  He recognizes that he’s gotten good at appearing religious:  “God might forgive cowardice and passion, but could God forgive the habit of piety?” (169) 

After running for weeks, the priest is asked to perform last rites for a dying man.  He knows the police will arrest and execute him, but the priest does it anyway.  As he looked back on his life in the church: “He felt only an immense disappointment because he had to go to God empty-handed.  It seemed to him, at that moment, that it would have been quite easy to have been a saint.  It would only have taken a little courage.  He felt like someone who has missed happiness by seconds at an appointed place.  He knew now that at the end there was only one thing that counted—to be a saint.” (210)  “It was no good praying any longer: prayer demanded an act and he had no intention of acting.”  (30)

He didn't pray, because he didn't want to change.  That’s been true for us.  We avoid praying about things that we have no intention of changing.

Most of the time we’re afraid to pray about what we could do, because we have chosen a life given to comfort over a life given in prayer.  It’s easier to live for the same version of the good life that everyone else wants.  We like what we have—including the vices we've gotten used to.  We don’t avoid confessing because our prayers go unanswered.  We’re afraid our prayers will be answered.  We try not to see our potential, because we know far more of what we should be doing than we do.

We've learned to pray: “God, make me a better person, but not so much better that I have to change the way I live.” 

Prayer is hard because we don’t want to stop doing what we've gotten used to doing.

King David went a long time without praying.  One afternoon a look turned into lust and David didn't pray about it.  The lust turned into manipulation and David acted in ways that he never would have considered if he’d had the courage to pray.  David didn't pray, because he didn't want to face the harsh realities. 

Psalm 51 is the cry of a person who struggled to find the courage to pray.  The amazing thing about this Psalm is that for all of its agony, there’s also a sense of relief.  What David has ignored for so long is finally brought out into the open. 

Telling the truth about himself couldn't have been any easier for David than it is for us.  There is no painless way to stop protecting our easy lives and be honest to God.  And yet painfully honest confession finally leads to joy.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes that she’s come to believe that sin is not a list of specifics; sin is different for everyone.  The trick is to identify sin for yourself, to really know yourself.  To do this look for the experience that makes part of you die, “that makes part of you die.”

Have you ever gotten frustrated with your family, irritated with your friends, and aggravated with everyone else, and then in a moment of clarity you realize that what you really need is to confess your sins and be forgiven?  We’re thinking of ourselves as victims when it finally occurs to us that we are the problem.  We need to be forgiven so that we can get on with life.  Part of us dies in confession, but a whole new life opens up. 

Sin is the experience that makes part of you die.

What’s the heart of our troubles?  What makes the best parts of us die?  How do we choose not to be God’s people?

We are dust, and to dust we will return, but with God’s grace we learn to live more fully, confessing our sinfulness, allowing God to transform us.

On this sobering day, may God grant us the wisdom to know ourselves; the courage to admit our sins; and the grace to receive God’s forgiveness.