The Margins

Erika Haub, Nurse/Widwife

This morning Doug thought our crazy fish was going to give birth again, so he told me to keep an eye on her. Sure enough, things started to progress so I isolated her in a different bowl (a vase I was given in the hospital after Elijah’s birth–appropriate) and she went for it. Of course, she waited until Elijah was fussy and Mercy and Aaron were having a tiff over some toy so it was no small task to deal with her needs as well. Not to mention, I have no affinity for fish tanks and all things related…

So now here I am with a little batch of the tiniest fish I have ever seen! Doug says I need to separate her because she might eat them–yikes!

My friend Ellen was here for a bit and she asked me what we were going to do with all these baby fish and I told her honestly we have no clue. I don’t know if it is my postpartum state or because I have watched the opening “Circle of Life” song from the Lion King too many times on YouTube this week with the kiddos, but I feel attached to these fragile little creatures having helped usher them into the world.

Doug, Elijah and I had a perfectly delightful time with the folks from The Little Church by the Sea on Saturday. It was great to meet Jeff and Patty Tacklind in person, and the members of the church did a great job of welcoming us and making us feel at home. It was also a pleasure to meet Ron Pierce who was one of the presenters. And Laguna is beautiful! Driving through, both Doug and I commented that it would be fun to come back and spend some time exploring–very artsy, lots of shops and galleries and restaurants, and of course beautiful beaches.

The whole church was participating together in a symposium that dealt with issues surrounding women in ministry, and they had a series of speakers lined up offering different theological perspectives on the topic. As a church, they are seeking to discuss this issue in an open, safe, and loving way as a body, and for that I very deeply admire them. I think that their approach, and what I saw of its execution, is exactly how churches can and must learn to talk together about things that can feel volatile or divisive. I know that in our church context here we have wildly differing views on some things within our body–one of the by-products, and certainly challenges, of embracing cultural diversity. And it is often easier to simply avoid contexts where those divisions will be felt or seen rather than actually engage one another in constructive, and loving, dialogue.

One of my favorite moments of the day came when one of the older members stopped by my table after I had given my talk which focused on my own journey as a woman called by God as a minister. She sat down and looked me in the eye and said: “Now when you share about God’s calling, don’t forget to address the older people as well.” She proceeded to share with me how, at eighty-two years of age, she is just now stepping into God’s call to ministry as a hospital chaplain. I loved that reminder of how God works to call those who have ears to hear and a willingness to lay down their life. She was the perfect illustration of the point I was seeking to make about how God works to call and equip those whom he chooses, and how that is recognized by the fruit seen in their ministry and in their life. We would do well to hear more stories like hers from our pulpits and platforms.

Sometimes in leaning over to speak to the modern world, I fear that we may have fallen in! When, in our sermons, we sought to use our sermons to build a bridge from the old world of the Bible to the new modern world, the traffic was only moving in one direction on that interpretive bridge. It was always the modern world rummaging about in Scripture, saying things like “This relates to me,” or, “I’m sorry, this is really impractical,” or, “I really can’t make sense out of that.” It was always the modern world telling the Bible what’s what..

The modern world is not only the realm of the telephone, the telegraph, and allegedly “critical thinking,” this world is also the habitat of Auschwitz, two of the bloodiest wars of history, and assorted totalitarian schemes which have consumed the lives of millions. Why would our preaching want to be comprehensible to that world?

From William Willimon’s On NOT Reaching Our Culture Through Our Preaching

In a week, we leave for six weeks of family leave which we will spend with our families in Portland, Tillamook and Seattle. Doug walked through the dining room this morning carrying two books saying: “This is my reading for the trip.” I realized I have no clue what I should try (key word, per yesterday’s post) to read in these coming weeks. I would love to hear what people consider their “must reads” right now. I have a gift certificate at Amazon I would love to use…

A lot of people have been great about checking in with me and asking me: “How are things going?” My answer has often been: “It is what it is.”

I won’t glamorize the realities of these past few weeks. Between my recovery and being house-bound for yet another six-week period with two very active toddlers and a newborn, there have definitely been moments and even entire days when it has felt overwhelming at best. Like yesterday when I was breading chicken, feeding Elijah and figuring out how to turn the smoke alarm off with a broom handle all at the same time.

It is what it is.

That said, I have also been on the receiving end of great care and companionship from friends who continue to give their time and help to our family and there have been a good number of days that have been quite fun. Mercy and Aaron have banded together in a new way in their little friendship, and they both completely adore Elijah. Overall, I will be quick to say that life is very good.

The impact of these early years of motherhood on the practice of one’s spirituality cannot be overestimated. I was just telling a good friend on Monday night that basically everything I have always relied upon for my spiritual growth and well-being has been, in some way or for some amount of time, taken away from me these last few years. Spiritual retreats, silence and meditation, scripture reading and study, contemplative prayer: these are not the markers of my every day. I have learned instead that my portion is now a rugged, earthy spirituality that is situated amidst dirty diapers, dishes, Cinderella dolls and sippy cups; it is the Brother Lawrence life (minus the monastery and set in South Central) and I have not always known how to embrace it.

Last night I received a distressing phone call from my parents alerting me to an urgent need for prayer for healing for a little one who is precious to us. It was the kind of phone call that should be responded to by dropping to one’s knees and crying out to God. But I had a tired infant who needed to be held and walked and soothed to sleep. Elijah loves it when whoever holds him sings. And so in place of prayers I could not speak, I sang the words to a worship song that the sick baby’s grandparents taught me when I was a young child. In the moment, that was the best I could do to connect my spirit with theirs and with God while doing what I needed to do to soothe my own baby in my arms.

“Make me a servant,
humble and meek,
Lord let me lift up those who are weak,
and may the prayer of my heart always be,
make me a servant,
make me a servant,
make me a servant, today.”

As I sang this simple song over and over, my spirit somehow interceded, wordlessly, on behalf of little Matthew. It is not how I would have chosen to pray for him, and yet as I paced the living room singing, I felt a deep and beautiful sense of prayerful communion between me, my dear friends, a very sick baby, and my own little one and the God who is near to us all.

My spirituality is not what it used to be. But it is what it is. And I am learning that that is okay.

I have been invited to consider this question: What Would Jesus Say–to Me?

Here goes…

“Buy the field. It may seem like barren land, and it might appear dreadfully overpriced. You may not feel fit to manage the land and it could look much more appealing to simply live as another’s tenant. But trust me: you want to own that field. Nothing that you have to sell or sacrifice can even begin to compete with the value of what is hidden there.”

I’m not very good at the tagging part of these, so anyone inspired to participate, feel free to do so and you may link back here and at Jim’s original post.

I have the wonderful opportunity to speak at a symposium on women in ministry at this church this coming weekend. I am looking forward to meeting the great folks who have invited me, and hearing from those facilitating discussion throughout the day. I will be offering the keynote address during the luncheon, and I will be sharing my own story of being called by God to serve as a minister. I will do something similar to what I did when I spoke for Scot McKnight’s Women, Mary and Jesus class in April.

This will be my first time public speaking since Elijah was born. I remember the first time I did any public speaking after Mercy was born: I was invited to speak to the Freshman class at Azusa Pacific, and I remember catching myself unconsciously swaying back and forth during my lectures. Too many hours spent soothing an infant (Mercy was our fussiest so there was a LOT of walking and bouncing and swaying and shushing) can do that.

The day will be filled with talented and sincere Christian scholars and leaders providing a range of opinions about scripture and tradition concerning women’s leadership in the church. My job on Saturday is not to try to persuade anyone of any position, but rather to offer my own very personal experience of receiving a calling to serve in places and capacities that some would restrict to men. But, as Scot McKnight likes to say: “not infrequently the observation is made that one of the most compelling apologetics for women’s ministries is the compelling story of a woman.”

“Michael Wilkins, professor of New Testament and dean of the faculty at Talbot Seminary, regularly asks two questions when he speaks to groups about discipleship…The first question is, ‘How many of you can say, in the humble confidence of your heart, that you are true disciples of Jesus? Please raise your hand.’ Wilkins says that people are genuinely confused as to what they should do. Most do not raise their hand. Some put it up hesitantly and then quickly pull it down. Then Wilkins proceeds to a second question: ‘How many of you can say, in the humble confidence of your heart, that you are convinced that you are a true Christian? Please raise your hand.’ Immediately most hands go up without hesitation.”

From Transforming Discipleship by Greg Ogden

Today is one of those days when I marvel at the wealth of our life here in L.A. When I look around and see the diversity of the people in Mercy, Aaron and Elijah’s life; when I see the kind of love and devotion that our church family shows to them daily; when I stop to consider the scope of joy that these people bring to our family, I realize that for everything that can feel so hard here, we are so richly blessed by things that money or security or comfort simply do not give.

My husband is a brilliant songwriter (as someone once said to me, before I ever met Doug: “Douglas Haub is the most naturally talented person I know”). Today I caught myself singing the words to a song he wrote a long time ago:

“I am a pauper,
Yes I am poor.
Let there be no lies told, let no lies be told here,
My cup runneth over, runneth over,
I am an heir.”

Every once in a while, I will walk into a room and see the remains of one of the kids’ play. I am always amused at what toys end up companions in Mercy or Aaron’s imagination. Today, I caught this dramatic scene on the bookshelf by the window in the living room. Doug and I laughed as we speculated the caption that could describe this particular exchange between the Lone Ranger and Ariel…