Archive for ‘11 Thinking & Communicating’

In the fall of 2012, I enrolled in Dr. Sensing’s Homiletics class. Believe it or not, this was somewhat of a daring move for me to make. As a woman from the Churches of Christ tradition, I had heard for most of my life that I was not allowed to preach, not allowed to have a voice in the church. Though I no longer believed in or lived my life by that fallacious theological conclusion, the specter of it still haunted me.

You see, just a year before, when a funeral director saw me holding a Bible and asked if I’d be the one performing the service that day, my own family members had laughed out loud—right in front of me—at the preposterous idea that I, a woman, might be the preacher. And just a year before that, when I shared portions of my own narrative of my calling to ministry in a very public way, some responded with encouraging words, but others sharpened their linguistic barbs and aimed them directly at me and my fellow women ministers. But more than that, for my entire life I’d been silenced, simply because of my gender. And until I was in my mid-twenties (around the time I entered the GST) I’d not seen a woman preach or pray or lead a church, at least not while in the company of men. Not a single one.

These experiences haunted me. And my resulting inexperience at the homiletical task threatened me. I would be the only one in the class who’d never preached a sermon before. The only one who didn’t know what she was doing. The only one for whom all of this was intimidating—and not just because of its newness but because of the theological baggage that accompanied it. How in the world would I find my voice? And how in the world would I measure up? Besides that, how would I deal with the potential repercussions from my family if they found out what I was doing? Should I avoid the topic or come right out and talk about it? Needless to say, the class stirred up thoughts and feelings that most courses don’t.

Yet, intimidated as I was, I resolutely gave the class my all. I felt I owed it to myself, and not only to me but also to all women who’d been silenced in the church and not given this opportunity. And over the course of that semester I learned, at least in part, to preach. I was proud to do as well as I did in the class, and I’d like to share with you here some artifacts indicating my success. Below you’ll find a set of seven sermon sketches as well as manuscripts for the two sermons I preached in class. (I’d hoped to also include some audio files of me preaching the sermons, but the stomach bug, cold, and sinus infection I’ve had in two weeks leading up to my senior review have prevented that from happening. Alas.)

For many reasons, then, my participation in the homiletics course indicates greater competency in a wide range of MDiv outcomes. I was able to engage in spite of my own personal fears and limitations, showing a number of the qualities expected of MDiv graduates (outcomes 8abcd and 9abcd). And the content of the sermon sketches and the sermons themselves evidence my knowledge of the Christians scriptures (outcome 1abcd), my abilities to practice theology in contemporary contexts and lead the church as a minister (outcomes 4abcd and 6bcd), and my competency at written and especially oral communication (outcome 11abcd). Now, for your reading enjoyment:

Sermon Sketches

Christ in Us, the Sufficient One

Lament: Our Act of Faith

To be sure, there’s still room for improvement in my preaching, and I’ve received some good feedback from Dr. Sensing and my classmates to help with that. You know, I still don’t foresee myself becoming a highly skilled full-time preacher anytime soon (or ever, really, given my church background and my current ecclesiology). But I know now that I at least can preach. This experience has shown me that I am capable.

This experience has helped me jump the biggest hurdle of all: finding my own voice. And I’m not the only one who’s found my voice. Whether she wants it or not, so has the church. God grant that she may find the voices of many other daughters.

Some of the required outcomes of the MDiv program—language competency, exegetical ability, and facility in written communication, for example—are more easily measured through class grades than through posts in an electronic portfolio. Though this may be the case, I would still like to take advantage of this opportunity to draw attention to a few papers I have written in GST classes that I believe are good indicators of my language, exegetical, and communication skills (outcomes 1abcd and 11abcd).

First is an exegesis paper written in the spring of 2011 for Dr. John Willis and Dr. James Thompson’s Exegesis class. The paper looks closely at Philippians 3:7-16, concluding that this pericope is Paul’s theological narrative of kenosis in his own life, one of a number of passages throughout Philippians that indicates kenosis as the letter’s overarching theme. This exegesis paper received an A from Dr. Thompson, along with the comment, “Nicely done.”

The next paper, “A Divine Oikos,” was written for Dr. Niccum’s Advanced Intro to New Testament class in the summer of 2011. It traces the theme of household throughout Ephesians, viewing household as an organizing metaphor for the church that subsumes the letter’s other metaphors under its conceptual framework. The paper received an overall grade of 278/300 (93%), and Dr. Niccum remarked that “with a little work it could be presented at a conference or published.”

Writing these papers and others like them revealed at least two important things to me. First, though I don’t always like the writing process (sometimes it’s just hard to find the motivation!), I do like having written something that is deemed to be of decent quality or usefulness. I’m still not quite sure what that distinction means for my thoughts about possible PhD work and teaching, but I am encouraged that the same kind of feeling seems to have engulfed author Gene Fowler at times, for he said, “Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead.” (Quote found here.) I am in good company.

But second, and closely related, I very much enjoy the conceptual work that goes into forming ideas for my papers. I remember the moment when the idea of kenosis as a guiding interpretive concept for all of Philippians crystallized in my mind, transforming me from a frustrated, tired student to an inspired, voracious learner. That was an exciting moment! A similar thing happened with the theme of household in Ephesians. And developing those spontaneous moments of insight was just as exciting. And though I will be the first to admit that those ideas have probably been more fully formed—or, more likely, negated—coherently in the writings of better scholars, I still found and find gratification in having discovered them for myself.

All that having been said, I leave you now with the papers themselves.

Philippians 3 Exegesis Paper

A Divine Oikos

In the course of the past two years, my own experiences of personal growth and formation have made it clear that I have quite a passion for healthy spiritual formation and growth in both individuals and communities. Though this passion has been present throughout much of my life, it has particularly flourished in recent years. I have been challenged to think deeply and theologically about spiritual formation. I have pursued personal spiritual formation within a number of communities: the GST, MRNA, and the St. Ann Community especially. I have experienced the ups and downs of communal spiritual formation, primarily within the St. Ann Community. I have even coached, counseled, and mentored family, friends and—as my later post on the MLI endeavor will detail further—undergraduate students in spiritually formative ways.

My experiences in Christian community thus far have continually reinforced for me the momentous importance of purposeful, attentive individual and communal spiritual formation. I have been a part of communities that have thrived and communities that have struggled greatly, with the health of the community consistently being a reflection of the presence or absence of deep, intentional spiritual formation. Issues of identity and purpose and relationship emerge as either exciting opportunities or intimidating, overwhelming threats.  I have found that, at least within a Christian environment, an individual’s or a community’s attitude toward and interpretation of such issues rests largely on the kind of spiritual formation that is happening or not happening.

The artifacts that I have included below exhibit my developing thoughts on the importance of spiritual formation. First are three short monthly reflections on the beginnings of my time in MRNA. These reflections—meant to be descriptive and anecdotal rather than academic—demonstrate some of my own initial hesitations and frustrations with formation in the MRNA community as well as my growth in understanding of what spiritual formation looks like in my own life. For that reason, I believe these documents indicate maturation in outcomes 8abcdef and 9abcd.

MRNA Reflection — September
MRNA Reflection — October
MRNA Reflection — November

To give a little more substance to my own evolving perspectives on spiritual formation, I have also included below some assignments from Dr. Wray’s Christian Spiritual Formation class, which I was a part of in the fall of 2011, at which time I was also beginning MRNA and first entering the residential phase of life in the St. Ann Community. Given the parameters of the assignments, the “community in spiritual formation” document indicates something of my own context for and experience of community spiritual formation, and the “way of life” is a reflection of my own personal formational commitments, conveyed in poetic form. These documents articulate my beliefs about individual and communal spiritual formation in a more focused and more overtly theological way. For those reasons I believe that they too are good indicators of progress toward outcome 8abcdef. Furthermore, the passion for spiritual formation that they reflect—though admittedly only to a small degree in comparison with the ways my life in general reflects this passion—is an indicator of increased focus in ministerial identity, outcome 10abc. And finally, I believe my writing shows strength in the communicative goals of outcome 11abcd.

Theology of Christian Spiritual Formation
Community in Spiritual Formation
Way of Life

As I continue to move forward in life and in ministry, I plan to pursue further growth and refinement regarding spiritual formation, both on a personal level and as a way of being faithful to the calling it seems God has placed on me. Such growth will be nearly inevitable in the midst of the challenges of daily life, relationships, and Christian community. I also hope, however, to develop greater maturity in and a deeper understanding of spiritual formation through further academic study and through experience serving as a spiritually formative presence in the lives of God’s people. Mostly, though, I hope to learn how to more faithfully point people back to the Artist who is the most formative presence of all in their lives.

In the spring of 2010, I was approached by Dr. Ashlock about the possibility of working as a teaching assistant for Mike Cope’s undergraduate Bible classes. Due to my busy fall schedule, I was hesitant to accept the position at first, but I finally applied for and accepted the position because I came to view it as an opportunity to gain some very basic experience in teaching, something I had not previously had much of an opportunity for. This job would be a chance to see if I might perhaps be qualified for or interested in pursuing that vocational route further.

Additionally, I was motivated by the fact that my inexperience at teaching was largely due to my position as a woman in the Churches of Christ. I had already voiced my frustration at that injustice. How, then, could I in one breath ask for gender equality and in the next turn it down when it was offered to me? And the job offered me a chance to model for the students what it can look like for a woman to be in ministry. This is an important thing for all the students—male and female alike—to see. I decided that if I could be one more person who helped break the cycle of gender inequality in the Churches of Christ, then I would gladly take the opportunity.

All that is a prelude to what these past two years have entailed for me as a TA for Mike’s Life and Teachings of Jesus and Acts—Revelation classes. The position entails routine tasks such as taking attendance and grading exams, of course, but at the heart of it are the opportunity to learn pedagogical skills by observing Mike at work and the chance to develop some of those skills on my own by putting them into practice during a weekly teaching session on Friday mornings with my own group of 30 or so students.

I have learned a great deal through this experience. I have been reminded of the unfortunate limits of my own biblical and theological knowledge (outcomes 1&2), which has motivated me to continue my pursuit of knowledge with continually renewed vigor, now not just for my own sake, but for the sake of my students as well.

The teaching experience itself has led me to greater effectiveness in outcomes 6bdf, as it has required me to work collaboratively with the other TAs, and it has given me the chance to teach and guide undergraduates of various backgrounds, beliefs, and capacities about what it means to be a follower of Jesus in a 21st-century world.

Additionally, being a TA has developed in me a greater competence in oral communication than I previously had, demonstrating outcomes 11acd. I acutely remember how, the first few times I was teaching my group of students, it was obvious how extremely nervous and new at this endeavor I was. Now I am able to clearly communicate to the students what I want them to learn, navigating the classroom with much greater ease and confidence, which makes the whole learning process more enjoyable and effective for the students.

Finally, one of the greatest joys of being a TA has been the opportunity to develop relationships with my students. It has been a blessing to see the ways God has uniquely created and gifted each of them, and it has been an honor to be a part, even if a small part, of their formation as Christian women and men. In return, they have been part of my formation as a Christian woman and have helped me see how God has uniquely created and gifted me. The experience has, therefore, been clarifying for my own ministerial identity (outcome 10abc), helping me see my strengths as a teacher and my desire to pursue that path further.

This reflection has, unfortunately, gone on far too long already, though there is still much left unsaid (such as the fact that I have agreed to be the lead TA for Mike and Rodney’s class next year). To give some greater substance to the above musings, I have included below for you a link to the class blogs I constructed (the 2011-2012 school year versions), along with some downloadable documents that I hope exhibit the MDiv outcomes I would like this experience as a TA to demonstrate. Click on the links below to take a look at:

• my Life and Teachings of Jesus blog
• my Acts—Revelation blog
• a collection of lesson plans I have used
• “Images of Jesus” presentation
• “Parable of the Sower” presentation
• a compilation of my TA evaluations from my first two semesters of class
• a document describing an incident with a student that I believe demonstrates outcomes 6g and 7abc

This is a reflection I wrote  after listening to a podcast episode for Dr. Johnson’s Contexts of Ministry class. The podcast (from a series called “Dispatches from the Trails End”) focused on Don, a man whom the Buffalo Gap church has been able to reach out to and minister to (as well as being ministered to by him). Though I have not changed anything, the original post can be found here: http://blogs.acu.edu/1020_BIBM64001/2010/02/04/beall-dispatches-from-the-trails-end/

I’m not sure exactly of all the reasons I wanted to include this reflection in my portfolio. In many ways, it doesn’t do much to exhibit specific outcomes which are expected in the GST. I could make an argument that it fits outcome 7 (especially 7ad), as it might be considered an indication of my intuitive ability to see into people and read them, therefore allowing me to exercise compassionate soul care. And I’m tagging it as an indicator of outcome 11d because I feel that it does demonstrate my facility with words, even though I’m sure outcome 11 is generally meant to apply to critical, formal arguments rather than this more subjective, artistic creation.

As a bit of an aside, I think it would be amazing to emphasize the beauty and necessity of creative and artistic expression in some of these expected outcomes. Music, drawing, creative writing, acting, photography and so many other creative acts are poignant expressions of who our God—THE CREATOR—is. I believe that we shortchange not only ourselves but also our God when we emphasize our strictly “intellectual” and “ministerial” abilities while neglecting our creative ones as an indicator of God at work in and through us. But back to the point…

Like I said, I’m not sure of any official reasons I should include this in my portfolio. I can’t (or don’t want to!) analyze, evaluate, synthesize, and make application from this piece of my artistic expression, yet I think it says important things about me and my identity as a minister of the gospel of Christ. So I leave it to those of you who read it to infer what you will…

———————-

I know it’s a small thing in the scope of the entire set of podcasts. Just a few words, painting a mental picture. But those few words and that mental image are what really remain with me, even days after listening to the stories of the Buffalo Gap Church of Christ and their friend Don.

I can just see him. Don, leaning against his gate, feet planted firmly in place, willing to chat for a few minutes with these strangers who have come to see him, but unwilling to open the entirety of his life to them. Suspicious of their motives and aims, Don keeps his distance, clearly marking with his gate the boundary between their world and his. This far you may come, and no further, he says with his stance. Visit after visit, week after week, month after month. This far and no further.

Several months pass. The small talk over the top of the gate continues. But one day things are different. Things change. One day, Don, seeing his now-familiar visitors approaching, reaches down, unlatches the gate, and swings it wide open. This far you may come, and further. I am overcome by the magnitude of this particular moment, this simple yet immensely significant invitation. It is an invitation to a chair, to coffee, to conversation, to companionship. This far, and further.

Why does this unpretentious sequence of events catch my eye, catch my heart? Why are Don’s actions, seemingly self-explanatory, so important to me? It’s just a gate, right? No big deal, right? Somehow I don’t think so.

“I know a man who lives in a bus.” A man who lives in a bus? A bus? He lives in a bus?

I can only imagine this as the beginning of the series of questions that follow when someone learns of this “man who lives in a bus.” I can also imagine that Don can imagine this series of questions. To the general world around him, Don must know, he is “the man who lives in a bus.” He is an oddity at best, a cause for bewilderment or even scorn at worst. For what kind of person lives in a bus, anyway?!

Somehow along the way, in the telling of the story, in the relating of the facts of Don’s anomalous existence, the identity of this man, this person who is the created image of the living God, has been reduced to that of the man who lives in a bus. And the emphasis is not even so much on the fact that he’s a man or that he lives. It’s the bus we’re concerned about.

It’s no wonder that Don eyed his visitors with suspicion. Why were they there? Who was he to them? Was he merely the freak show of the quiet little town of Buffalo Gap, his life a spectacle to be gawked at? I wouldn’t have opened my gate either. No one needs that kind of attention. There’s a line that’s got to be drawn somewhere. This far and no further.

But something was different about these guests. They came back. And not only that. They came back and even seemed to enjoy the conversation, seemed to want to get to know him. They came back, and instead of staring at the novelty of his makeshift home, they looked at him, into his eyes, into his soul. Again and again. Visit after visit, week after week, month after month. Don’s wall of “this far and no further” began to crumble, until one day it was no longer insurmountable. The gate swung open wide. This far, and further.

This far, and further. I truly believe that that is the heart’s cry of humanity. We long to be seen, to be known, to be loved. But caught in the midst of a world of pain, derision, selfishness, hatred, and apathy, we feel we are forced to keep the gate closed, leaning against it firmly to protect ourselves from the unwelcome outsiders who come to gape at our failures, our idiosyncrasies, our vulnerability.

But what happens when someone actually sees me? When it’s not the outward appearances and circumstances which are the focus, but rather it’s the reality of who I am as a human being, as a reflection and representation of God?

What happens when I actually see him, see her? When the real stories are told, the real identities found? When each person is viewed not with the eyes of the world, but with the eyes of the Creator? When he’s not just a good-for-nothing beggar on the street but a man who has no alternatives if his wife and three kids are to eat that night? When she’s not the haughty high school slut but a lonely and scared teenage girl whose only experience of acceptance comes at a great price? When he’s not my enemy but my brother? When she’s not a “ministry opportunity” but my sister?

What happens when someone looks not at the bus in the background but at the pain and longing for companionship that are present deep within his eyes, no matter practiced he might be at concealing them in order to safeguard himself, and no matter how heavily he might lean against that gate?

When this kind of vision is practiced—visit after visit, week after week, month after month—one tiny bit at a time, the defenses are let down. The gate of the heart opens, and the invitation is extended. This far, and further.

May we go, and may we see.

This is the first draft of my contextual theology paper for Stephen Johnson’s Contexts of Ministry class. I include it as an artifact here in my portfolio to represent progress towards outcomes 3bc, 4d, and 11d.

This paper is my beginning attempt to set forth an understanding of what contextual theology is. I start from my own definition of theology (taken from an assignment for Fred Aquino’s Systematic Theology class last fall). I then proceed to talk about how contextual theology is theology incarnate, and I discuss what exactly that means for our practice of theology. I also draw on a few assigned readings and experiences from the class, incorporating the insight I received from them into my own explication of contextual theology (4d). This paper, while not engaging a specific context, does lay the groundwork for that kind of endeavor in the future, so I believe that it shows progress towards outcome 3 (specifically indicators 3b and 3c).

While there is still more work to be done when it comes to formulating a firm interpretation of what contextual theology is and means in my life, this paper does provide a springboard for that kind of work to be done. This assignment was an extremely helpful one for me because it challenged me to define and articulate what I understand contextual theology to be. That will be helpful not only during my studies at ACU but throughout the rest of my life in ministry, I believe. It will give me a place from which to orient myself as I carry out contextual ministry and therefore contextual theology as well.

The paper seems to me, at least, to be well written (11d). This impression was confirmed by Dr. Johnson, who assigned it a 92/100 and commented, “Very well written reflection. I appreciate the care with which you have articulated a theology rooted in time, place, and practice.” Dr. Johnson pointed out a few areas for improvement as well, which I will be sure to focus on when I revise the paper towards the end of the semester.

Here is the text of the paper:

Contextual theology, to the best of my ability to comprehend and verbalize at this point in my academic and ministry career, is essentially theology incarnate. To borrow from Eugene Peterson’s language, contextual theology is theology that has become “flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14, The Message).

Attempting to set aside the contextual aspect for just a moment, theology is, by my own definition, human attentiveness to mysteries pertaining to and revealed by God, entailing discernment as to what those unfolding mysteries indicate about and demand from the faithful. It follows, then, that because God is the one doing the revealing, and because the mysteries of God are always revealed to people located within specific historical, personal, and cultural settings, no “pure” form of theology exists apart from context, at least not to us as human beings. Perhaps for God, but not for those of us to whom God has revealed Godself. In that way, then, it is not truly possible to lay aside the idea of context when speaking of theology. All theology is contextual theology.

That is not to say, however, that all contextual theology is created equal. Some theology is only contextual in the limited sense of the above definition. Some of it, though, is contextual in a much deeper, much more committed way. This kind of contextual theology is theology in an earnest attempt to take on flesh. It is theology that engrosses its devotees in the amazing yet often disheveled world that God has created. It is theology that has abandoned its sheltered existence in academic isolation and has “moved into the neighborhood” of the real lives of real people. The embodiment of theology in concrete contextual settings means that theology is no longer theology in theory only, merely an intellectual exercise of systematizing knowledge about God. Rather, theology is lived out in a particular place and time among a particular people. This kind of contextual theology is also practiced in particular ways.

For one, contextual theology is just that: contextual. It takes into account and is informed by the cultures and contexts within which it is located. In their chapter entitled “Theological Thinking as Contextual Practice,” Brelsford and Senior assert that theological thinking “is not ex nihilo ideation; rather, thinking is always a project of reconstruction of preexisting assumptions and perceptions formed from the material of tradition, history, and experience” (42). Their statement applies to contextual theology as much as it does to theological thinking. Contextual theology does not emerge from nowhere, and it does not proceed into nowhere. Rather, it is birthed in the interaction of the traditions, histories, and experiences of specific individuals and communities, and it engages those same traditions, histories, and experiences even as it exists among them.

Secondly, and closely related, theology applied in context will always involve others. Brelsford and Senior also claim that theological thinking is far more of a communal pursuit than an individualistic one. Again, I would argue that the same is true for contextual theology. Although I suppose it is possible for one person to receive, interpret, and apply theological insights in his or her own individual life, even this undertaking in the limited sense of contextual theology would be a communal one insofar as no human being has lived in total isolation from the outside world for the entirety of life. More to the point, however, a contextual theology is a theology formed through interaction with a certain people and/or lived out among those certain people. So whatever way you look at it, contexts are always contexts that involve others in one fashion or another.

Furthermore, the relationship of theology and context in contextual theology is a mutual one, for the association serves two purposes simultaneously. Locating theology in context not only makes theology more contextually driven, but it also makes contexts more theologically intelligible. So while theology is challenged and strengthened by context, being focused and streamlined to reflect a particular experience, that experience can be brought further into the light of a growing understanding of who God is and how God is at work, allowing the people in that context to interpret their situation theologically. Take, for example, the Martin Luther King, Jr. Day march earlier this year. Theology shaped participation in this event in a number of ways. First of all, a certain theological understanding of human personhood and what it entails led to the crisis of extreme racial injustices that were being protested. Secondly, theology helped fuel the Civil Rights Movement and its most notable leader who was being celebrated that day. And personal theologies (ever-present even if subconscious) led to my and others’ participation in the rally and march. At the same time, however, our participation shaped our theology. Seeing people coming together to stand up for justice and claim that God supports their cause might lead me to consider the idea that justice might be something of great importance to God. And perhaps, if it really is important to God, it should also be important to me and to us as a community. Rather than existing as a set of two monologues, in which theology speaks to context and context replies with its own lecture for theology, however, this kind of contextual theological development is a dialogical process. The two resources of theology and context inform each other in a deliberately interactive way; give and take occurs between the two, and a discussion in the hopes of learning and transformation continues until a balance is struck and communion is found.

Finally, the dialogue of contextual theology follows a certain kind of procedure. While the exact details of the process will vary some from situation to situation (for what else is to be expected of a contextual theology?), the method remains basically the same: a contextual theology must engage its context, and it must interpret its context.

Engaging a context can take on various forms, some more integrated in that context than others. At the very least, engaging a context requires presence. Whether physically, relationally, intellectually, ideologically, or in some other way, one must be present to a context in order to engage it. The next step, once that necessary presence has been established, is to engage the context by devoting attention to it. This begins with simple observations about who is (or is not) there and what is (or is not) happening in the context. In her chapter on attention, Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us that “the practice of paying attention is as simple as looking twice at people and things you might just as easily ignore” (34). And beginning from this simple foundation of looking twice, paying attention can draw an observer into a context in even greater ways, leading her or him to ask the question, “Why?” It is at this point that aspects of interpretation come into play, but before moving on to those, we must look at one further aspect of engaging a context: interaction. Appropriate interaction with a context is key to engaging that context well. While in some situations, the only appropriate interaction is that of presence and attentive observation, in other settings, one may ask questions of those present or even participate in the context’s rhythms oneself. The level at which one is allowed to interact with a context in an approved of way can sometimes be sensed intuitively, but at other times the observer-participant might want to ask what would be considered appropriate.

Interpreting a context is generally more difficult than engaging it. While presence, attention, and interaction may be relatively straightforward for even an outsider, the history and meanings behind a context are often extremely complicated and are difficult to spell out without great care. Vanhoozer’s chapter, “What is Everyday Theology?” provides an excellent discussion of cultural hermeneutics that could also be applied to the hermeneutics of contextual theology. Vanhoozer admits that interpretation will be both messy and provisional, for, in his words, “Interpretation is not an exact science” (36). His categories of the worlds behind, of, and in front of cultural texts could well be applied to the process of interpreting contexts of theology. In other words, “Who made this [context] and why? What does it mean and how does it work? What effect does it have on those who receive, use, or consume it?” (48). And Vanhoozer also admits to the dialogical nature of context and theology, saying, “We don’t simply read cultural [or contextual] texts but we read through them. In short: the cultural [and contextual] texts we love best come to serve as the lens through which we view everything else and as the compass that orients us toward the good life” (36).

As we communally engage and interpret our contexts, making space to involve ourselves intricately in the dialogue between those contexts and theology, I believe that we will see a strong contextual theology developing. It will be one that allows us to observe the mysteries that God is revealing to us in a particular time and place, discerning both what those mysteries tell us about God and ourselves in that time and place and what they subsequently ask of us who live as God’s people in that time and place. This will not just be theoretical theology. This will be theology incarnate.

While I will be the first to admit the limitations of this artifact, I am proud to include it as part of my portfolio, for this document is a highly symbolic one for me. To begin with, this was the first time in the history of that particular congregation that a woman was included in the adult curriculum-writing process. I was honored and humbled to be that first woman, and even more honored and humbled when the minister who invited me to participate was willing to defend that decision to some who questioned it. Additionally, this is the first and only formal lesson plan I’ve ever written. As such, it represents both a challenge and a success to me. Because adult teaching and curriculum-writing opportunities are highly limited for women in the Churches of Christ, this was a relatively new and intimidating task for me. And although there are surely innumerable ways in which the lesson could be strengthened, for me it was an accomplishment to even complete it and have it used.

This lesson plan seems to demonstrate several outcomes required by the MDiv program. Serving as a guide to Psalm 8, this lesson plan at least demonstrates beginning growth toward competency in exegesis and interpretation of a biblical text using the resources available to me at the time (1cd). It was also an exercise in bridging the gap between theology and context (4ad, 6b), as I was able to guide the teachers and therefore the class participants through some of the implications of the text for our lives as Christians. The lesson and the entire series were prepared collaboratively for teachers of adult classes, so by my participation in this effort I was able to work with and for a variety of people, communicating clearly to them what I believed to be the significance of the psalm. (6df, 11acd).

Psalm 8