Last Sunday night I attended a hymn sing in Montreat. I’m not sure how long these Sunday evening sings have occurred, but they seem quite the tradition. The average age skews fairly high (as does Montreat’s cottager population in general,) but there’s also a good intergenerational mix.

As in many “y’all come” hymn sings, those who show up get to pick the hymns. The leader will then spice things up with some instructions as to whom might sing what parts and similar such funness. Heck, I’m a hymn nerd, I enjoy singing, and social situations are great too…ergo, I love the hymn sings.

But, last Sunday night, an odd thing happened. Or, at least, it was odd if you know just a little about Presbyterian history.

After thirty minutes of people shouting out hymns to sing, I thought it strange, but held my tongue. After another ten, I got real nervous. After a few more minutes, I gave up, spoke up, and took things into my own hands.

I requested we sing a psalm.

After 45 minutes, this group of mainly older Presbyterians had requested many a favorite hymn, several topical hymns for evening, and few noting July 4th, but not one psalm.

Psalm singing is our tradition. For many many years, Presbyterians ONLY sang psalms. Calvin was all about psalms. We still use many tunes from the Genevan psalter. Oh, and that Knox guy and his Scottish friends came up with a darn good psalter of their own. “What do Presbyterians bring to the interdenominational hymn sing pot luck supper?” Psalms. The answer is psalms. (Lutherans have some fancy fun chorales, Methodists bring Wesley…and Wesley, Anglicans at least have some chants, and so on…) But Presbyterians bring psalms, right?

Well, from this tiny sample size, at least, psalms haven’t stuck in people’s hearts and heads like they used to. I’m all for singing new texts, but I’m worried that those younger generations at the hymn sing will grow up without knowing, without singing their heritage. So I can’t wait for next week’s hymn sing. I already know what I’ll request. I have 150 options.

image by Julia Freeman-Woolpert

I just got back from a meeting with Megan. Yes, I have meetings with my spouse. Scheduled meetings for particular purposes. It works brilliantly. About every few weeks Megan and I will schedule a meeting to sit down and go over our budget. We’ll look at the shape of monthly income and expenditures. We’ll chat about any big purchases on the horizon. And we’ll make changes to the budget accordingly. We usually meet in coffee shops so it’s a little more business-like than just chatting — and its the quickest budget entry ever — coffee into the coffee line.

I haven’t blogged much about money before, so what follows are a few random thoughts, and some questions for the blogosphere.

First, our relationship would not be nearly as peachy were it lacking our money meetings. If money issues aren’t addressed, money thoughts can become all-consuming. On the other hand, if money matters are never addressed, well, checks bounce and things can escalate quickly. We’ve found no better way to deal with such challenges than addressing them head-on, but in a particular place at a particular time (yes, we’re both pretty strong “J”s).

Second, we keep account of everything we spend (well, we try to get darn close at least). Megan’s been the one to do so over the first few years of marriage by using a spreadsheet, but I’m going to take the reins next month. So, I need to find a method to call my own. I’m not a huge spreadsheet guy, or at least, I’d prefer to find a bitter way if one exists. Here’s where the blogoshere comes in…

I’m looking at Mint.com, Wesabe, and Geezeo. Anyone have experience using them? I think the interface of Mint looks great, but I wonder if it’s smart enough to handle our budget (not that it’s a big budget, just lots of line items that can be tricky — e.g. toothpaste, even if you buy it at the grocery store, must not be counted in the food line item). I’d say budgeting is my top priority for these sites, and then other functionalities are bonus.  Any other sites/resources you’d recommend?

Finally, I’d just like to say in public how strange I think it is that folks don’t have more real conversations about money and budgeting. I mean, sure, people talk about it when they reach a breaking point. But I’d love for churches and groups of friends to offer safe places to have other types of conversations as well.

One of the ideals I love held by those who are members of the Iona Community is that they meet annually to check in, to pray, to keep each other accountable, and also to talk about how they are using their money to serve God and others. Maybe that’s a bit idealistic of me, or maybe it’s not. In either case, I’m happy to schedule a meeting with Megan and to talk it over.

image by sanja gjenero

I bought my go-to pair of Chaco sandals in 2003 when preparing for the Global Semester at St. Olaf College. I wasn’t the only one. Most of the students on the trip had Chacos so our matching footware would cause quite the stir in Egyptian markets or Thai beaches. Some were even brave enough to sport their Chacos in winter with Smartwool socks. (Being from Florida and knowing sandals and socks is the ultimate faux pas, I remained pure.) But this is all to say: I literally traveled around the world in my Chacos and still wear them consistently six years later. Chaco makes some quality sandals.

But, after much hemming and hawing, I recently purchased not another pair of (brown) Chacos, but Keen Newport H2 sandals.  And I have to say, I’m smitten. Though I have been a strong advocate for Chacos for many years, I may be switching my allegiance to Keen. Yes, I know. What will the world come to next!

I, though, am not a quick decision-maker. I am a thinker. An analyzer to the extreme. So, scroll down to check out my Chaco/Keen showdown.

Chaco Z2

Pros:

• very comfortable (high arch)
• feet feel secure but not claustrophobic
• washable (dishwasher and clothes washer)
• come in a fair variety of colors
• great for hiking (I even know folks who run in them)
• replaceable soles/treads (though I liked my lighter tread before I replaced it)
• no back heel bump to bother you
• rocks easily slip out

Cons:

• not the best for ugly feet (lots of foot showing)
• the new soles are too heavy
• they do get smelly quicker than they used to a few years back
• toes are vulnerable to mean rocks when hiking
• not good for rock-hopping in Montreat (toe banging issue)
• straps sometimes move a little
• dangerous on the beach (can get sand in the canvas straps)
• tan lines

Keen Newport H2

Pros:

• cushier than Chacos, more comfortable even
• snug secure feel
• washable/waterproof
• good (more) color choices than Chaco
• toe protection (this is huge)
• good for slightly uglier feet (mine included)
• easy to dress up a bit

Cons:

• feet feel a little hot sometimes
• rocks get stuck inside and must stop to pop them out
• more mainstream? everyone and their mother and law has Keens (I love you LouAnn)
• tread perhaps tracks more mud than Chacos
• smelly possiblities
• the elastic cords may wear out one day
• even crazier tan lines (not sure about this yet)

After hashing that out, I’m still not sure if I have a favorite. My Chacos will always have a special place in my heart, but I have to admit I’m wearing my Keens more this summer. If you’re looking to purchase a pair, you can’t go wrong, but maybe this is my advice: for free spirits with a variety of footwear needs and wants, the Chaco might fit your personality best. For those who like things a little more ordered and comfortable, perhaps the Keens are up your alley. Or…. just buy whatever is on sale.

The past few days I’ve been meeting with the Presbyterian Committee on Congregational Song in Louisville.  It’s a formidable but fun group with whom it’s a joy to work. I’ll have a few more reflections going up in the next week or so, but this one I had actually been planning to write for a while.

It won’t be news to anyone that each worshiping community develops a kind of core to their congregational song repertoire. Some hymns, for identifiable reasons and un, are particularly popular in certain congregations. Obvious examples include hymns or songs written by members, or pieces commissioned for the congregation.

(A favorite song in Montreat is “Montreat How I Love You,” which is a camp favorite but, I dare say, not being considering for the hymnal.)

I’m not really sure why this is, but by far the most popular hymn for Columbia Seminary chapel services is the African-American spiritual “Guide My Feet”. Nobody keeps good records about this at CTS as far as I know, so I’m only claiming this as a frequent chapel attender, but I’m willing to say ‘“Guide My Feet” was the most-sung hymn in each of my three years at Columbia.’

Mostly, at Columbia, senior M.Div. students plan and lead chapel services for the community. Why, then, is “Guide My Feet” so popular? Who knows, but here’s a few possible reasons that come to mind.

• I’ll be generous with my first reason: “Guide My Feet” is just a very good hymn. It’s chosen often because of it’s high quality. There’s probably something to this. Though it’s a simple text, it’s one of very sound theology. While some hymns can be a bit wordy, or too showy, “Guide My Feet” gets right to the point: help us out God! The tune is catchy, easy to sing, and has a rich heritage. It also invites easy singing in harmony.
• Less generous second reason: the average musical skills of seminary students these days are not great. Many (most?) are not very comfortable reading music and they have been formed by congregations with fairly small core hymn repertoires. When this is the case, flipping through the hymnal is a daunting task — especially when one feels the hymns will be analyzed by students and professors alike. So, “Guide My Feet” becomes a comfortable, safe, and familiar choice. It looks good on the page, so students choose it.
• Third reason for right now: “Guide My Feet” has several verses, but they are simple repeated words and one does not need the have one’s face buried in the hymnal to sing. In fact, one barely needs the words written at all. Perhaps this gives worshipers a confidence to sing out, a comfort not to worry about the words.  Knowing the words make the hymn easy not just to sing, but to pray.

So that’s a few thoughts on the popularity of “Guide My Feet” at Columbia Seminary. What’s the most popular song in your place of worship? Any ideas why?

image by chris1961

As of this afternoon, I am certified in CPR and First Aid. Well, as much as a day’s course can provide. I’m very glad I took the course, and am happy to work with 120+ other Montreat Summer Staffers who did likewise. Having CPR/First Aid certified folks around makes Montreat a safer environment in which to work and live.

That said, the course and the questions it elicited from us, reminded me of my culture’s severe penchant for fear, anxiety, and worry. Perhaps this reaction is just part and parcel of such a course and considering the dangers we face daily. On the other hand, I wonder if twenty-five years ago such a course was even offered, and if so, if there was any discussion about the necessities of mouth guards for giving CPR, or having to get verbal permission to treat injured parties to avoid later lawsuits.

One of the things I love about summer is its carefree nature. Kids without homework and counselors without the same. Long evenings of hanging out and ice cream. Fewer demands, perhaps, or at least, a change of pace.

Call me old, but I wonder if summers have lost a bit of their fearlessness. Maybe it’s the economy or our better knowledge of allergic reactions or just the fact we know so much these days (like the CDC’s daily tracking of Lyme disease cases), but it all makes me wonder about what all the anxiety is doing to us. Was camp without cell phones, tb screenings, and antibacterial gel so bad?

Preach the gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.

St. Francis preached plenty, but he never used those words. That, at least, according to his biographer Mark Galli.

It’s one of those fantastic quotes that sometimes gets things just right. Us Christians tend to be a bit too wordy. Not enough action. So when one uses the quote, it feels only right to attribute it. And recent tradition has done so to St. Francis of Assisi.

But as Galli writes in the article “Speak the Gospel” in Christianity Today online, the quote wasn’t attributed to Francis in the first two hundred years following his death and, in actual fact, Francis was a darn good preacher of words — turns out that’s what made him famous in his own day.

It’s an overused quote, but a good one I suppose in a culture that likes its sound-bytes and emotive phrases. And, heck, I’ll probably refer to it again before too long. But, thanks to Mr. Galli, I shall do so without attribution. Those words seem necessary.

It’s been quiet on the blog front recently, but there’s been plenty of action otherwise. So I graduated last Saturday. That was sort of a big deal, I guess. It was a fun weekend. Appropriately celebratory and the like.

The day after graduation we packed our stuff into a storage unit. The day after that we cleaned our apartment and packed our car. And the next day we drove to Montreat, North Carolina for me to begin work at Montreat Conference Center. I had two blessed days of address-lessness which actually were a bit freeing. For a brief time I had only two keys to my name. Oh the light pocket, the freedom, the peace.

Then I got to Montreat, and, well, have a bit more responsibility now if responsibility can be measured by one’s key chain (and there’s several more keys to track down).

Work has been fun — hardly exactly “work” — and had taken plenty of mental, organizational, and even physical energy. My position, Director of Recreation and Community Life, calls for supervision of a broad and varied range of persons and activities around the conference center. So it should be a summer of thinking on my feet, working with some great folks, and enjoying God’s great activities in the mountains of western North Carolina.

So, as they say in Scotland, “that’s me” for now. I’ve got some posts coming up next week. I’ve also got to buckle-down and finish some writing for an actual paying gig so I won’t be posting abundantly for another few days or so. Keep checking back, though.

Spend enough time in coffee shops and you’ll see the darndest things. Now I know Decatur/Atlanta area isn’t New York or San Fran, but we’ve got our fair share of God’s most curious creations.

Sure, I do spend a fair amount of time in coffee shops so I have a big sample size. (Re the time spent, a few months ago I realized that I had an accidental streak going of 10 days straight with coffee shop stays.) So amidst packing boxes and cleaning and packing boxes and looking for a job, a few coffee shop highlights:

• Not sure how I feel about people having Skype or video chat meetings using headsets while in coffee shops. Totally messes with my public/private space assumptions. If they’re not too loud, I’m cool with it. Otherwise, get a room.
• At Starbucks this week I witnesses what has to be the most picky customer in the history of the world. She ordered her drink, her SPECIALIZED drink in a process that took at least 10 minutes. She had to have an employee assigned to her and she walked her through every step of the enormously complicated beverage (without even any coffee in it!) Bless the Starbucks staff for accommodating her (or did this just affirm her narcissism?)
• Fun fact: Megan asked me to marry her in a coffee shop.
• I enjoy people who bring their instruments to practice/play at coffee shops.
• I’m not a fan of PDA, not in coffee shops, not anywhere I can see (…or hear)
• Job interviews in coffee shops always strike me as a bit, umm, unprofessional (that said, I’d love to have any interview these days)
• Photo shoots in coffee shops are ok I suppose, just a little disruptive.
• But even after all these curious experiences I’ve yet to witness my dream: someone coming in and shouting, “This round’s on me!”

image by Kostya Kisleyko

As my friend Brian put it, I’m now a “ seminarian* ” — the asterisk means I’ve completed all my courses but not yet graduated. Commencement is next Saturday, May 16. So as I look at it, I have about a week to reflect on this whole Master of Divinity thing before I get the paper that acknowledges, officially, that I have in  fact mastered all things divine (Or as Megan looks at it, I have a week to pack.)

As the situation has it, I have the fun of task of searching for non churchy jobs with a M.Div. degree on my resume. For you pastor types out there, this may not seem difficult since we pastor types tend to think the M.Div. is a pretty tricky generalist degree that takes at least three years to earn (sometimes four depending on the seminary and denomination). Those lawyers spend three years and get a Juris Doctor, but we can spend four and get a piddly masters!  That means the M.Div. is a big worthy respected masters degree. And on the one hand, that’s right. The M.Div. covers a huge amount of ground and is a formidable masters degree.

Let’s consider. In the last four years I’ve taken classes in Greek and Hebrew; read and practiced the latest in counseling methods; taken multiple courses in public speaking, rhetoric and public relations (we call them “preaching courses”); learned to analyze systems and communities; studied conflict management; investigated a variety of budgets large and small; gained a boatload of critical thinking skills; and learned to be more self-aware than, I dare say, most other masters degrees require.

Sure, the M.Div. as a generalist degree is very broad and very handy for life. I haven’t for a minute ever regretted my studies at Columbia, and Columbia Seminary especially has proved a darn good place to undertake them.

On the other hand, however, the M.Div., because of its generalist nature, does not really translate well into much outside the church. Sure, it sets a solid foundation for many activities, professions, and contexts, but it doesn’t quite order great respect in the marketplace. The M.Div. feels like another liberal arts degree — I loved to earn it, but I’m left with a bit of a let-down feeling when flipping through job postings. I think: I know I could do that job and that job — well, in fact — but the letters after my name don’t exactly back that up. The M.Div. is a hint in the right direction for many positions, maybe a wee nudge towards an interview, but it’s not a key that will magically open any door outside a church.

So as a seminarian* I’m really looking forward to graduation and earning my Master of Divinity degree. One day, perhaps, I’ll frame it and put it on my office wall. In the meantime, I’m wondering a lot about what that office wall will look like: a cubicle? a delivery truck? a church study?  a classroom? an evergreen? Maybe plain old plaster or sheet rock.

So if you’re a would-be employer reading this, wondering if I’m qualified for your position even though I have an M.Div., simply ask me and I’ll explain. My studies included lessons in persuasion as well.

One of the challenges of living in Scotland for a year was just that — we only lived there for a year. A year is long enough to do many things in life, like plan a wedding, write a book, wear out a pair of running shoes, but not nearly long enough to really get to know a place. A year is not long enough to feel like you belong to a place.

The language North Dakotans speak is a unique version of English. Though they don’t have thirty different words for snow like the Inuits are said to have, sometimes a local will come out with a phrase that’s new for me, but a phrase that just works. One example of such a phrase is to say something like, “Sam is Fairdale” or “Jenny is Park River.” A person’s name followed by “is” and a town name works as a great indicator for some. One’s hometown becomes very descriptive of oneself.

I’ve lived in Decatur, Georgia now for about four years — or at least, my possessions have stayed in the city limits for about four years and I’ve usually be with them. I’ll never “be Decatur” as they might say in the midwest, but I sure do like it. That said, it’s taken me about three years to really feel it, to get those windy roads but also to feel like I understood it. After three years of breaking it in, I’ve got my favorite restaurants and waiters, running paths and dogs to see jumping at the fence, book store and dry cleaner, and my particular drinks at specific coffee shops. It took about three years to feel at home, but that did it. It did it good.

When you get a drivers license with a new home town, it looks strange for a long time. Eventually, though, if things are going well that state and town name begins to become a part of you. You don’t have to say anymore, “I live in ________, but I’m actually from ______.” You might change your facebook hometown and subscribe to the local paper.

Feeling settled takes a while, maybe even three years or so, but the trick, I think, is to enjoy the transition, to not rush it, and just be where you happen to be.