Can a Zombie Fly?

It is an intriguing concept -- the idea that a zombie might be able to sprout wings and fly.  Perhaps it is an unrealistic hope or a pipe dream.  As I contemplate the last few months, however, this time that has now passed since my father died, I am beginning to wonder.

You see, dear ones, it feels as though I have been in a place of cocooning.  At the time, that is to say - in these past six months - I have often felt more like I had lost my way and was stuck, frozen even, in a dark space of anger, grief and despair.  Some degree of perspective has come now, and I anticipate more is on the way.

I am beginning to read again, to laugh a little more heartily, and to breathe a little deeper.  Getting through the first major holidays without my father being physically present, and walking the steep hill towards the interment of his ashes were important steps towards this shifting.  My eyes and mind both feel like they are gaining focus.  My physical body even feels like it is prepared for more mobility, stretching and moving forward.

I suspect that experiencing the darkness of grief and withdrawing from serving in public and private ministry for a time was necessary for my personal and professional growth.  It has been cocooning time.  Although I may not be fully prepared to exit the present darkness, the walls of the cocoon are becoming more transparent.  Perhaps this means my zombie self is shedding an old way of interacting with the world.

"The Old Self" - Photo by Trista Wynne

I am reminded of Paul's words in his first letter to the Corinthians: "When I was a child, I thought like a child, I spoke like a child, I reasoned like a child.  Now that I am an adult, I put childish ways behind me.  For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.  Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I am fully known." (1 Cor. 13:11-12)

I cannot know yet how this experience has shaped me, or how it will continue to do so.  I only know that something rather significant has changed.  In time, I trust that more will be revealed.

Again I wonder: can a zombie fly?

Once more my heart is brought to the Scriptures, this time to an interaction between the Eternal One and the prophet of old named Elijah:

The hand of the Eternal One came upon me, bringing me out by the wind of the Spirit and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. I was led all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. The Eternal One said to me, "Mortal, can these bones live?" I answered, "O Eternal One, only you know." (Ezek. 37:1-3)

 Can a zombie fly?  Only you, O Beloved, only you know...

A Child Leads the Way

I have been slowly digesting the delicious words of Mary Oliver's Selected Poems. Her work comes recommended by several of my closest companions along life's pathway. Today I have come upon a piece of work entitled "Mindful" that reflects my own interaction with the world.

When I was a little girl, I found myself often wandering away from the large crowds. Off into the little patch of "wilderness" I would go, into the small wooded area found in the park and the middle school behind my childhood home. There I would have respite from the nine plus people living in our house, and there I would find the Divine.

Photo by Theological Zombie - All rights reserved.

In the swimming tadpoles making their way down the little creek bed, in the dance of the scampering chipmunks as they stored their nuts and seeds for the winter, in the open wing of the robin and the hawk as they dove this way and that above my head – there, I would encounter my Beloved. Although remembering such times brings up memories that are perhaps less than pleasant, the experiences I had in these "wilderness times" were precious and life-giving. Remembering these things helps me remember what it is that once fueled my passion for ministry and comforting others. This causes a light, that has been dimming for some time now, to grow brighter once more.

“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.” – These promises that came through Isaiah have been interpreted as speaking of the Christ child. Today, however, I am thinking of them in a different way. The child within has the antidote of peace.

Our memories are often at war with one another. Some, like a wolf, threaten to devour us whole, eating us from the inside out. Others, like a leopard, are quick to dart away and vicious when hungry or feeling cornered. The parts of us that are joyful and life-giving, like the lambs and the kids, are often chased into the recesses of our inner beings. We spend so much of our energy trying to keep the wolf and the leopard at bay that we forget to feed the lamb and the kid. In the process, we forget who we were created to be. The zombie virus of frantic activity and fear spreads through our veins causing us to loose sight of the delight that our Beloved has always had in us.

What is it, dear ones, that brings you joy? What caused your heart to leap like a young calf birthed in a stall when you were younger? Does that have an impact on what you are currently doing?

When we meditate on such things, dear ones, the child within begins to stir. The inner child that has been sleeping with a fever through the onslaught of the zombie virus hears the calling of the Christ who, from the beginning, has been stroking their hair whispering “Little one, arise.”

...It is what I was born for -

      to look, to listen,

to loose myself

   inside this soft world -

      to instruct myself

         over and over

in joy

   and acclamation...

Excerpt from “Mindful” by Mary Oliver.  Found on page 90 in New and Selected Poems, Volume Two. Boston: Beacon Press, 2005.

In the Day of Trouble: A Psalm for Zombies

While reading the office for this evening at DailyOffice.org I found myself highly intrigued by Psalm 27.

Imagine yourself surrounded by a hoard of walkers or zombies and clinging to life by a hair's breath.



Smell the stench of rotting flesh.  Hear the moans of hungry foes.  See the flickering candle, your only source of light in the deep night.  Taste the salty sweat dripping down your face from your brow line.  And then read the psalm below...

The LORD is my light and my salvation;
whom then shall I fear? *
the LORD is the strength of my life;
of whom then shall I be afraid?

When evildoers came upon me
to eat up my flesh, *
it was they, my foes and my adversaries,
who stumbled and fell.
Though an army should encamp against me, *
yet my heart shall not be afraid;
And though war should rise up against me, *
yet will I put my trust in him.

One thing have I asked of the LORD;
one thing I seek; *
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life;
To behold the fair beauty of the LORD *
and to seek him in his temple.

For in the day of trouble
he shall keep me safe in his shelter; *
he shall hide me in the secrecy of his dwelling
and set me high upon a rock.

Even now he lifts up my head *
above my enemies round about me.
Therefore I will offer in his dwelling
an oblation with sounds of great gladness; *
I will sing and make music to the LORD.

Can you imagine, dear ones, what it must have been like for the psalmist?  When they composed this song of love and trust they must have been in the midst of a terrible war!  Yet even in the midst of crisis, they raise this song of praise knowing that God is truly the One who will deliver them.

Are we, in the midst of our daily struggles, able to offer such praises?  Can we sing songs of trust and love while we are surrounded by terrors of the night?  I desire with all of my heart to say yes.  I want to stretch my hands up in the air and trust that God will deliver me from the pains and struggles of this life.

Let's pray, dear ones, that we might experience the uplifting of our minds so that we, too, can sing with joy in the midst of the trial.  Let us run to the holy places where the Spirit of God is magnified, so we might feast on our Maker rather than one another.  Let us gather in the sanctuaries and be renewed by the Living God who enters into our midst and brings peace to us - body, mind and soul. 

Let us sing and make music before the Lord.  And then, dear ones, let us go into the hoard and do our best to offer the antidote of Christ to our zombie brethren, for we all know what it is like to have a hunger for flesh.  But we know the One who can fully satisfy this hunger and bring us (and all to whom we minister) peace and life to the fullest measure.

The Gift of Empathy: Tending the Zombie Vine

It's been a little while since I've posted, dear ones.  I've been working through some health issues and dietary changes trying to get my digestion to settle down.  But today I'm back, writing about an experience within the slight chaos that has been my life in the last month or so.

"Devouring the Vine"

As a zombie theologian, I've often struggled with this beautiful and frustrating thing called a body.  Sometimes there is passion and joy in every fiber of my being.  I feel connected to the earth, connected to my fellow human beings and the whole created order, and intimately connected to our Beloved, the Creator of all.  The zombie within has entered a time of remembering who she was created to be.  At other times, however, I loose my footing, I can't comprehend relationships and I completely loose sight of the Beautiful One we know as God.

In the times of forgetfulness and confusion, my body goes out of alignment, my muscles ache, my digestion is not as it should be, and it is difficult to maintain relationships with nearly anyone.  I forget who I am in relation to creation.  My communication gets all garbled.  And generally I begin to focus in on my ailments and the undiagnosed diseases I am certain are lurking somewhere within my system.  In short, when I am disconnected, I am withering, inside and out.  In such times, the zombie within becomes fully and completely visible to all who care to spend more than a few moments in my presence.

The Zombie Within - A Prayer for Release

Lord,
I desire to be at peace.  I desire freedom from anger, freedom from hatred, freedom from death, pain and darkness.  I desire fullness of love and abundant mercy to flow out of me like a wellspring of living water.  Dear Lord, I want to be whole.

I want to be able to give from an infinite wellspring of life and abundance.  This sort of giving is only possible through intimate communion with You.

But You are not all I desire.

Dust and Ashes: Mortality, Ash Wednesday & Collective Memory

Fellow zombies attempting to remember our Identity,

Yesterday we began one of the most intense seasons in the Family year.  As our heads were marked with ashen crosses, we exhaled and sighed, remembering that humankind was created from the dust of the earth and animated by the Breath of our Creator.  We all know, don't we, the pain that comes with the return to the earth?  Death hardly ever comes easily or quickly.  Very few people simply drift from this life into the next without a fight.  We live in a society seemingly hell-bent on retaining animation as long as possible.

Ash Wednesday, dear brothers and sisters, reminds us that we will return to the earth.  But this is not the end, dear ones.  Oh no, this is not the end.

Zombie Brains Contemplate Relationship

I can't believe it's been so long since I've posted here!  My goal was to be on top of posting at least once a week, but it turns out this was only the case during the summer, and it is an unrealistic expectation during seminary study time.  So, perhaps once a month will be my new goal.

Since posting last, we've meandered through the season of advent, celebrated Christmas, closed out a new year and begun a new one.  I've also begun a new term and come to the realization that my time in seminary is drawing close to a wrapping up point.  Only four classes and a part-time practicum stand between me today and the zombie wearing a grad cap and gown with velvet stripes.  I'll be a Master of Theology & Ministry then.  How's that for brains?

Mmmm, braaaaiiiiinnnssss!

Ahem.

Sorry about the drool.

This is my Body - Given for You

As my neighbor and I observed the weather two days ago, we were thrilled to see sunshine!  Cabin fever had hit us both.  I was particularly ready to get out of the apartment since I have been in school for over a month.  With all of my classes online, I spend much of my non-working hours in the same room(s), and in the autumn and winter months, the darkness begins to wear on us here in the Seattle area.  So, when the sun broke through the clouds and it seemed to be likely that we would have sun the rest of the afternoon, my neighbor and I hopped in the car and drove eastward.

After a delicious lunch and a stop by a small town market for fresh veggies, we noticed a creek flowing freely nearby.  So, we slid down the slopes towards the creek, muddying up our walking shoes, and we looked around.  What beauty!  With the crisp autumn air, the vibrant hues of crimson and goldenrod above and the swiftly flowing creek just a few feet away, we began to maneuver over the stones. 

We passed a bridge.  Then, a funk rose to my nostrils.  A few feet later, my neighbor stopped in her tracks and turned towards me. "Doesn't it smell like fish to you?" 

Just before she had spoken, my eyes landed on the rocks near her feet.  Oh my!  She hadn't even seen it yet.

There at her feet lay a huge, moldy salmon with its eyes gone and most of the meat rotted out.  "There's a reason for that," I said, hardly containing my laughter, "look at your feet."

Her own eyes nearly popped out of her head and she shrieked, jumping backwards.  I nearly lost my balance and fell onto the fish from laughing so hard at her comment timing and response to our discovery.  Quickly, I whipped out my camera and snapped a photo.

As we continued our walk, adjusting to the smell and our surroundings, we realized this was not simply the remains of someone's lunch.  We were witnessing the end of the salmon life cycle.  Only a few weeks ago, we had seen a neighboring river nearly overflowing with salmon preparing to lay their eggs.  Now we were seeing the results of that life-giving effort.

Someone less interested in the macabre probably wouldn't have snapped a picture of the rotting salmon corpse.  But I was captivated by its beauty.  I still am.

This simple fish is willing to give everything in hopes of new life sprouting forth.  There are no guarantees.  Even if their eggs are fertilized and sheltered until they mature, the little ones must survive the treacherous journey downstream where predators lurk around every corner.  Still, knowing all that the little ones must go through and aware of the probability of failure, the salmon gives up its own life so that others may have the hope for new life.

This image of the salmon carcass gives me new eyes to encounter the Eucharist.  This is my body, given for many; this is my blood, shed for all. -- Jesus' willingness to give himself so that others may know the meaning of life -- this is a holy mystery embodied today in a salmon returning to the earth.

Light to the Ends of the Earth...

Or should it be light from the ends of the earth?

One of the books that I am reading for class this term (which just began yesterday -- welcome to my blog during the school year!) is The New Global Mission by Samuel Escobar.  Thus far I am a little over three chapters into the reading, but am finding quite a strong response welling up within, so here you go...

A major focus in Escobar's book is a challenge to rethink what it means to participate in Kingdom growth.  One of the sad truths about the way our culture often does mission work is that we focus on growing churches or denominations.  Escobar challenges us to evaluate how we are equipping women across the board as well as the oppressed or marginalized groups in the third world for ministry and mission. Allowing the voices of women, children, oppressed and marginalized peoples throughout the third world would curb our tendency toward top-heavy, or what Escobar refers to as “culture Christianity” (p. 59).  This reading, and indeed this class on Church and Mission in a Global Context comes at a fairly critical point in my vocational consideration.

As a woman who has felt the calling to ministry since I was a young child, I have found in recent years that the three denominations I have opened ordination conversations with are more interested in promoting their version of theology than of making disciples of Jesus the Christ.  The “non-denoms” that my husband and I have been visiting lately are showing that they are no different in this regard.  It seems that most churches do not recognize their neighbors down the street, and they either overtly or show through subtle hints and membership requirements that they are the true church.  Now, I could be wrong, but I doubt that this was Jesus' call in what we call the great commission.  My point in writing this is not to condemn these churches as they currently stand, but rather to acknowledge that I see things differently and I would like to see us open to other ways of doing church while all seeking to love and serve the same Lord.

If you have been following my blog up to this point, you probably know that I am currently seeking a community of grass-roots origin, and wondering what my role will be in such a group.  Having been called to a pastoral role from a young age, yet finding myself clashing with the current culture of the western church, I have felt fairly alone in my seminary studies despite being surrounded by fellow seminarians trying to find their way in the Kingdom.  I did not know until recently how beneficial my willingness to share my struggles and spiritual lament has been to my fellow seminarians and professors.  Perhaps it is best to work through these issues together as we each, in our own contexts, strive to remember what it is to live to the fullest measure.

My husband and I have had some experience with a smaller community, but since it sprouted forth out of a typical congregation, we found that for most who were involved it was simply an interesting experiment, and many have returned to their “old ways” of doing church.  Remember several months ago when we looked at the bio-hazard symbol and my icon found at the top of this site?  The inward focus which was not part of our Lord's original gift of life has overtaken us, and it often infects our churches.

I strive to fight that infection with the help of Sophia-Spirit but, like the apostle Paul, I find that it is a difficult battle to wage.  Still, like Escobar, we are looking for a different, outward-focused way to follow Christ.  He says that our passions may be re-ignited by interaction with the two-thirds world (p. 69) and the missionaries who are flowing forth with a “new expression of Christianity” (p. 15).  I hope that he is right because I have been greatly disheartened by the processes and requirements for the western church leadership and recognition of ministers.  Perhaps the light that we need cannot be found within our walls.  It might not be the ends of the earth that needs the light; it might just be that the Light needs to come from the far corners of the earth so we can find our way back to the side of our Beloved and live to the fullest measure.

There’s nothing easy about saying goodbye to an old way of thinking.  Thus far, Escobar has not set the conditions to allow for proper lament, but my life has.  My journey leading up to, and throughout, my seminary years thus far has brought me to a place of great transition and, although there is room for lament, in the midst of it is potential for great joy.  One of the videos we watched for our discussion this week spoke of "giving up".  Although it was focused on giving up our resources so that others might have greater potential to thrive in the mission field, there is a different way that we may need to “give up” as well.  I know that for me, this means giving up an old way of seeing “pastor” as a job title and instead embracing a pastoral way of living no matter my occupation.  What might it mean for you?

Zombie in Training

Hello, dear ones,

It has been several weeks since my last post here.  After going on vacation at the end of July, my mind and spirit remained in the zone of relaxation, and my creative juices have been focused mostly on kinesthetic activities.  The computer has sat mostly unused save for a few minutes to check e-mail and see how my friends are doing via social media sites.  

Crocheting has been the focus of many of my evening hours of late.  I have three friends who are expecting, and their status has prompted me to pick up the hooks and yarn after months of hiatus.  I've made several blankets over the years, but never attempted anything more intricate.  In the last month, I've learned to create hats of all sizes, circular blankets from a pattern and even made my first bootie, though I have decided I need some smaller hooks and a more delicate yarn for that final project in the future.

During the days that I haven't been working, I've been taking advantage of the sunshine that, here in the pacific northwest, (especially the Seattle area) we receive in rather small doses throughout the year. After realizing how zombie-like I had become during the school year, and seeing the effects of my neglected physical body, strengthening and tending to my body has taken a high priority in the last month.  For a year and a half I've been walking with my neighbor a couple of times per week, but lately running, dancing, tai chi and, more recently, rollerblading and weight lifting have become more and more appealing.

Remebering How to Ride

Zombie Bike Ride Seattle
Photo by Matt Wynne

I haven't ridden my bicycle in over a year.  Getting on after that amount of time caused my heart rate to skyrocket, especially when my husband led me out toward the main road.  Still wobbly and unsure of which way to turn the nobs on the handlebars in order to shift up or down, I followed after him cursing under my breath the whole way.  Eventually we made our way into a more secluded area where we didn't have to pedal so quickly and I could experiment with shifting gears without worry of falling into traffic.

When I was a child, I'd ride my bike with great freedom.  I had no gears, and pedaling backwards made the bike stop when I needed it to.  This adult bicycle with lots of gears causes me trepidation, but I am determined to re-learn how to ride a bike since this is my husband's desired form of exercise and I want to be with him.

A Simple Zombie Credo

The following was just posted in response to a comment on ZombieTheology.  I invite you to read the post here, and then to continue reading this one.

**********

Dear Sonny ~

You said,

“Zombie Theology isn’t about finding cool walking dead references in the Scriptures (we’ll have fun with some of that, who can resist?), it’s about the disease. How it’s contracted,how it’s spread from host to host. How they can be stopped (got to shoot them in the Soul, their head) and the most important question of all, how do we cure ourselves once we are bitten by the overwhelming Zombie Army?”

Here, dear one, is the gospel: we don’t have the cure. God does. The cure came in the form of Jesus Christ and is being distributed by the Holy Spirit breathed into the world as Jesus breathed His last. Jesus came to resurrect our imaginations, to give our brain-dead appetites something other than each other to gnaw on. One day, all of creation and all of humanity will remember the goodness and freedom it was crafted with. We look forward to that day.

You are right when you say that many Christians are acting in ways that resemble zombies. We are part of a world that is infected with the virus, (or the toxin, or the radiation, whatever imagery we find in zombie literature can be applied). We’re born into it, we’re raised by infected beings, and we’re exposed to it every day. The zombie infection is everywhere. It’s what gives all humans (and other animals, for that matter) a tendency towards violence, self-preservation, destruction of others and other behaviors that are not conducive to societal uplifting.

Touch a New Perspective

I love music!  I have since I was a little girl.  Singing along to my parent's LPs of the Beach Boys or Peter, Paul & Mary, my ears and vocal chords have been trained to pick out harmonies, to match cadence and to blend well with others from a very young age. 

Since I have graduated from college, I have added a few instruments to my musical endeavors.  You may have seen the photo of my hand drumming in an earlier post, or a photo of my sweet twelve-string which I have used to lead worship for two and a half years.  Despite my love for music, walking in to an instrument store used to depress me.

Oh I loved the instruments and the shine and the sounds, but I was always held back by something.  I couldn't see myself playing these great works of craftsmanship.  As far as I was concerned, the precious instruments were always  meant for somebody else, someone who had more time, more talent, more money to spend.  I would never even look at the instruments that were at eye level, only those close to the floor or on the clearance rack.  That's what I allowed myself to touch.

Living in a Zombie World

As part of my seminary instruction and preparation for ministry, one of our required classes at Fuller Northwest is Homiletics.  In this preaching course, we are given the opportunity to preach for one another and to hear future pastors in action.  For my second sermon, I chose a passage from Paul's letter to the Ephesians in which he is reminding that fledgling congregation that because they know the hope that is found in Christ Jesus, they are called to act in ways that are different from the dark, tumultuous world around them.