Imaginative Reading and Building A File

One of my favorite seminary classes was called Imaginative Reading for Creative Preaching, taught by then President Neal Plantinga and Professor Scott Hoezee.  I loved it because we read all kinds of wonderful books and talked about them with an eye to preaching.  We also had to collect quotes and observations from our reading as a start to a file.  I dreamed that as a pastor, I would be a voracious reader and my file would grow quickly.
But once I was a pastor, I didn’t read as much as I thought I would.  I was busy with meetings, answering e-mail, writing sermons, visiting people, and many more tasks.  One of my regrets about my first years of ministry is that I didn’t better protect time to read widely.  When I did read, I didn’t take the time to note those passages and themes I should save for later, so my file stayed about the same size.  On my list of things-I-want-to-do-better the next time I’m a pastor is read widely and be disciplined enough to add to the file. 

Perhaps you are wondering why it is important for me to read as a pastor.  Neal Plantinga has taken his thinking about this topic and discussions from classes and seminars he has led and crafted them into a new book called Reading for Preaching: The Preacher in Conversation with Storytellers, Biographers, Poets, and Journalists.  The premise of the book is that preachers should read widely because it helps us gain wisdom, improve our use of language, interact with new ideas and people, and find the best material for sermons. 

I studied English for my undergraduate education, and once I was in seminary I realized that all that reading and discussing and writing I did had taught me to do most of those things.  I had entered Tennyson’s grief at the death of a friend in his poem In Memoriam A.H.H.  I had grappled with stereotypes in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice.  I experienced Hester Prynne’s guilt and shame in The Scarlet Letter.  All of those experiences make me a better pastor, preacher, and person.
Reading brings me great joy—I love getting to know new people through a novel or seeing things in a new way from a poem.  Thankfully, Plantinga says to enjoy it.  “Good reading generates delight, and the preacher should enjoy it without guilt.  Delight is a part of God’s shalom and the preacher who enters the world of delight goes with God” (pg. x).  Plantinga’s blessing and exhortation in this book really encouraged me to be more intentional about reading and the less delightful (but important) process of recording some of my discoveries.   

At the same time, I have figured out some practical tips of what works for me which makes me much more motivated to do it.  First, the question of what to read.  My problem is usually having too many books to read at any particular time, but I often try to rotate through novels, non-fiction, and poetry.  Plantinga suggests “Just one novel a year?  And one biography?  And one-fifth of a book of poetry by one poet?  And a weekly visit to the website of Arts & Letters Daily to find out what the best journalists have been saying?  Not a bad plan, I think” (pg. 42).  Sounds doable, doesn’t it!  Plantinga offers a “Selected Reading List” at the back of his book to get started from.  Another way I like to select great books is from the Recommended Reading List for the upcoming Festival of Faith and Writing.   

When I am reading, if it is a paper book I have small sticky tabs that I place at the place on a page where I find something interesting.  Then, when I finish the book I go back through and if it still seems like something I want to save, I put it into the file.  (I picked up that tip from an interview Plantinga did for the release of his book.  Don’t ask how I had forgotten to ask him what his method is when I had the class with him.)  If I am reading on the Kindle app on my tablet, I highlight parts I want to save.  Then, when I am finished I go to my online Kindle account where you can see all of what you have highlighted.  Anything I want to save gets copied and pasted into my files.  Both of these methods have been working really well for me!

I keep my file in Evernote, which is a free software.  You can create multiple notebooks with various notes in each.  The best part is that I can tag each note with topics (love, grief, forgiveness, etc.).  Then when I am looking for something on a theme, I check out what I’ve tagged with it.  There is also a really convenient web clipper, which makes it really easy to save blog posts and online news clippings very easily.  Keeping my file in Evernote has been a key to actually using this system; I started out doing it differently and it was too much work.  (For the record, Evernote has no idea who I am, I just really like their software.)

I’m really looking forward to the day when I’ll be preaching regularly again and be able to use my file my often.  It is a great feeling to know that I am investing time now that should pay off in the future.  And now I’m off to Burma in a young adult novel I just started called Bamboo People. 

On My New Found Love of Poetry

When I was in seminary, I heard Eugene Peterson speak at the Festival of Faith and Writing.  He was asked what advice he would give to young pastors.  I think he had three pieces of advice, but I only remember two.  Those two have stuck with me, though: learn Biblical languages really well and pick a few poets to read deeply.  I inwardly groaned at the first and was intrigued by the second.  Peterson said that as people who use language extensively, pastors should read poetry to increase your grasp of how English works.  Poets are the people who play with language—vocabulary choices, rhythm, stress, imagery, metaphor, punctuation.  He suggested picking 3-4 poets who you read regularly and get to know well.  I haven’t been as intentional as he about sticking with certain poets, but I have found myself reading poetry more in the last two years of my life than any time before.
    
Before this point in my life I have not been a huge poetry fan.  I didn’t actively dislike it, but with few exceptions I didn’t love it, either.  I am not the best poetry reader and I’m a worse poetry writer.  I did read enough poetry when I was an English major to get a sense of styles I am drawn to and those I’m not (lets just say that T.S. Eliot will never be one of the 3-4 poets I dwell one).

So why did I start reading more poetry once I became a pastor?  I don’t think it was just because Eugene Peterson said I should or the inner English major who always wished I was better with poetry.  In the “Author Q & A” of Lauren Winner’s Still: Notes on a Mid-life Faith Crisis she talks about why she reads and writes about poetry.  Winner bases her answer on an observation by Richard Rohr that our spiritual lives have two halves—the season where you build a spiritual identity and the season where you face crisis and come to know God in a deeper way.  “Rohr says that in the second half of your spiritual life you may find yourself reading a lot of poetry.  Maybe, before, you read dogmatics or self-help how-tos or narrative history.  Before, poetry may have seemed elusive and loopy.  In the second of Rohr’s two halves, you like the space that poetry offers” (pg. 205-206). 

In the messiness of being a pastor, I like that space poetry offers.  Every day I face questions and ambiguities about faith and life.  There are the questions that inevitably come with reading scripture.  There are difficult situations in people’s lives that pastors are called to walk through with them.  There are specific applications of how we love our neighborhood, like do we help this person with their rent?  And who am I in all of this; what does it mean to be a pastor? 

In the messiness, poetry gives space.  Space to be.  Space to live with the ambiguity.  Space to question and wonder and enjoy something beautiful.  In her book about being good stewards of language, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies, Marilyn Chandler McEntyre says, “poetry can teach us specific skills that we need now more than ever to cultivate if we are to retain a capacity for subtlety” (pg. 159). 
Good poetry doesn’t try to give all the answers and tie everything up into neat bows.  It isn’t full of platitudes.  I appreciate that because it is honest and authentic.  That's the kind of person I want to be, too—someone who can hold up to the pressure of the ambiguities in my own life and others lives.  I don’t think that it is a coincidence that one of my favorite books of the Bible is Psalms, a book full of poems.  In the psalms I find that same sort of honesty and authenticity as in other poetry.  The psalmist doesn’t usually sugarcoat things.  If he (or possibly she) is angry at God or feels wronged by God, he says so directly.  The psalms don’t always wrap everything up neatly, although they almost always end with a statement of trust in God.  The psalms, and other poems, give space to live with the ambiguity that comes from living in a broken world.  Poems can also point us towards  the hope that we have in Christ, that things are ultimately secure, even if they appear to be falling apart. 

I’m going to keep reading poetry, to keep finding that space and keep honing my skill with language.  I’ll keep sharing some of my favorite poems here, as I’ve done in the past.  The poets I have read the most in the past couple of years (in addition to the Psalms) are Scott Cairns, Mary Oliver, Robert Frost, and Luci Shaw.  The Poetry of Robert Frost is on my bed stand right now, so perhaps he’ll show up here next. 

Photo by Liesbeth den Toom, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: We Will Not Be Afraid

My prayer this afternoon is Psalm 46, which was my sermon text this morning, for my last sermon at COS.  It is a prayer of trust for people whose world is changing.  

God is our refuge and strength,

    an ever-present help in trouble.
 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
 though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.

 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy place where the Most High dwells.
 God is within her, she will not fall;
    God will help her at break of day.
 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
    he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
 He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields with fire.
 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”

 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Personal photo, Muskegon State Park, April 2013.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Visitation

Today I share a poem I read this week by Scott Cairns from his book Love's Immensity: Mystic on the Endless Life.  It is a collection of poems based on writings of saints and mystics.  This poem, called "Visitation" is based on writings by Saint Dorotheos of Gaza (c. 490-c.560).  

My heart was lead, and my mind

"Regardless, the grace of God arrives/ rushing to the soul"

was murk.  Nothing proved a comfort,
and I remained for that wretched season
shut in on all sides, stifled, gasping for breath.

Regardless, the grace of God arrives
rushing to the soul when its endurance
is exhausted.  Of a dreary morning, I
stood gazing round the courtyard, pleading

God for assistance; suddenly I turned
toward the broad katholikon and saw
one dressed as though a bishop enter
the open doors, as though borne on wings.

Within the nave, he remained standing for some time, 
his arms raised in prayer.  I stood all that while
there behind him in great fear, trembling in prayer,
for I was very alarmed at the sight of him.

When his prayers were spoken, he turned
and walked to me, with each step vanquishing
incrementally my pain and dread.  And then
he stood before me and, stretching out his hand,

touched me on the chest and tapped my tender breastbone saying aloud:
       I waited, I waited for the Lord
      And he stooped down to me.
      He heard my cry.
      He drew me from the deadly pit,
            from the mire and clay.
      He set my feet upon a rock
            and made my footsteps firm.
      He put a new song into my mouth,
            new praise of our God.

He spoke these lines three times, tapping
me each time on the tender breastbone.  Then,
he turned and was gone, and instantly, light
flooded my mind, and joy split my heart
with an awful, aching sweetness. 

"Visitation" by Scott Cairns in Love's Immensity, pg. 67-68.
Personal photo, April 2013

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: A Prayer of Resurrection

It has been a long winter for me, and a friend knew I needed some beauty in my life.  She gave me Mary Oliver’s newest book of poetry, A Thousand Mornings: Poems.  In this book I found a poem that gave me an image and a prayer for my life.  It points to the hope of resurrection, which makes it a good prayer for today.

Hurricane

It didn’t behave

like anything you had

ever imagined.  The wind

tore at the trees, the rain

fell for days slant and hard.

The back of the hand

to everything.  I watched

the trees bow and their leaves fall

and crawl back into the earth.

As though, that was that.

This was one hurricane

I lived through, the other one

was of a different sort, and

lasted longer.  Then

I felt my own leaves giving up and

falling.  The back of the hand to

everything.  But listen now to what happened

to the actual trees;

toward the end of the summer they

pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.

It was the wrong season, yes,

but they couldn’t stop.  They

looked like telephone poles and didn’t

care.  And after the leaves came

blossoms.  For some things

there are no wrong seasons.

Which is what I dream of for me. 

              

In Lieu of Logos

This is a poem by Scott Cairns, found in his collection of poetry, Recovered Body, pg. 70-71 (The whole book is amazing!).  This is really a poetic rendering of Prof. Bosma's concept of "optionsville," and the reason I prefer Hebrew to Greek.

In Lieu of Logos

Let's suppose some figure more Hebraic

in its promise, more inclined to move

from one provisional encampment

to the next, then discover the effect

wandering tenders even as it draws

the weary hiker on to further

speculation, crossing what has seemed so

like barren country but whose very

barrenness proves a prod for yet another

likely story.  The old Jews liked davar,

which did something more than just point fingers

to what lies back behind one's fussy, Greek

ontology of diminishing

returns.  I have come to like it too, word

with a future as dense as its past,

a Ding Gedicht whose chubby letters each

afford a pause at which the traveler

rubs his chin and looking up entertains

a series of alternate routes, just now

staying put at the borrowed outpost,

but marveling how each turn of the head

gives way to distance, layers every term

of travel--each terminal--with reprieve,

invites indeterminate, obscure enormity

to gather at the glib horizon's edge.