Before the grace of you, go I.

As I race to the finish of my two year Masters program, I have not been very good about blogging, but will hopefully get back to it soon, as there are several stories causing a stir in my mind! In the meantime, I would like to share a song I seem to turn to a lot during times of change, and when the things that are beginning don't seem to have a chance to grow, and the things ending don't really want to die.

Amen. I can haz.

Ministry

Today, I believe that I ministered for the first time, and not by example or deed, or any of those creative ways in which we hold tribute to living in the way of God’s kingdom, but in real conversation as a woman with a past to a woman with a past. I didn’t realize that I had ministered this afternoon, until several hours later while washing my dishes, and it just came over me. I remembered the joy I felt in my afternoon ministry; the comfort I felt in being there, and most of all, the normalcy of it to me - - it flooded my body, and I left the soapy sponge, in the crusty pasta sauce, in the bowl, in the sink, so I could sit down and think for a few minutes about the encounter.

Despite all the discussion about the topic at Divinity School, my brain is continually skeptical of forgiveness. My heart, - - a big fan of grace. But mercy, -- that’s what gives me a lump in my throat. My friend Sam who lives at Riverbend Maximum Security Institute is sort of like a grandfather figure to me, and he says that I must always remember mercy. He says God is only about mercy. “If he can remember mercy, why can’t I,” I often wonder.

Today I sat with a woman who is pursuing her PhD, and we talked about our lives, and the story of our twenties. I asked what she had done before her graduate school work. Laughing, at first she said she was a prostitute. I made a joke about her clientel. Then she paused and she said, “No, actually, in all seriousness, I was a drug dealer and I went to jail. And my boyfriend who I told you about, I met him in a halfway house.” In the shadow of Vanderbilt’s Kirkland Hall, I thought she was pulling my leg. But I quickly thought about my own life. A montage of my past came through my vision: the struggles, the goodbyes, the violence, the wilderness of my existence. I remembered that I am as much a victim and a sinner, as everybody else, and I realized that this woman was telling me the truth. She was a drug dealer before she was an academic. She was a liar before she was seeking the truth in these halls. So we talked, and talked, and talked, about our lives. There were no tears. There were no ah-ha moments. And when we were done, we got up with our lattes, and walked in the sunshine, back to our school work. And when I washed my dishes, I realized that I finally understood what ministry was about. Mercy.

14th and You

Forty years ago today, the prophet Martin Luther King, Jr. was martyred.

Like other cities, Washington, DC broke out in riots. In my opinion, DC has never recovered from these riots. I am not only speaking of the store fronts, and the buildings in-and-of-themselves, I mean that in many places the physical ruins of the riots continue to symbolize the brokenness of race relations and the punishment of poverty prevailing in our country.

Today, white residents in Washington, DC continue to fail our black brothers and sisters with irresponsible gentrification- having left the post-riot neighborhoods in decay for thirty years- and then buying cheap, moving in, driving up property costs, pushing folks out, and taking over the neighborhoods with places like Whole Foods where an apple costs two dollars.

Don't get me wrong, I think the intentionality of living in diverse and walkable communities is fantastic. And of course I want my city to flourish, and to be safe. I love having food and cocktails at some cornerstone places like Busboys and Poets, and Saint-Ex, - I just think we must exercise caution and awareness when throwing our hats into the inequity game of home-ownership. This of course means different things in each situation, but participating in gentrification comes with responsibility. Being white, we are the minority in DC, - -and as George Clinton said, "We didn't get our forty acres and a mule but we did get you, Chocolate City."

a response to the mortgage crisis

"Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need." - Acts 4:32-35 (NRSV)