Today was YAV Sunday at 2PC, so in addition to putting together the liturgy and picking the music for the morning, Mary Kate and I shared some reflections during the sermon time. Below is what I said, more or less. Some of it's been written on this blog before, some of it's new. (If you've been reading this blog or talking to me with any regularity over the past year you can probably just skip the first paragraph.) All in all I think this morning went really well...and I really don't think I'm ready to leave in two weeks.
For those of you that like listening more than reading, you can hear our sermon
here. To just read my half:
For those of you that are visiting, or who I may not have had the chance to meet, my name is Allison and I am one of the Young Adult Volunteers (or YAVs) that has spent the past 10.5 months living in what is lovingly known as “the Toolshed,” just on the other side of the playground. In addition to worshiping here at Second and getting to know the fantastic city that is Nashville, TN, I’ve spent my time this year working for the Presbyterian Student Fellowship at Vanderbilt and Belmont Universities. PSF, as it’s also known, strives to give students an opportunity to experience Christian community through weekly worship services, as well as through mission experiences and fellowship events. It’s been a whirlwind adventure of sorts, learning the in’s and out’s of campus ministry. Not having been involved in any religious groups during my time as a student at Furman University, I jumped rather blindly into a year of setting up projectors and tables of name tags, of going to movie nights, tie dying, hosting Room In the Inn, doing flood relief work here in Nashville and drinking countless cups of coffee. Throw into that mix a handful of other opportunities, like speaking at Presbytery, preaching at PSF, and attending a gathering of the synod’s campus ministers. All of those things and a host of others have been the puzzle pieces of my year as a YAV.
One of those other pieces of the PSF puzzle was spending most Tuesdays serving lunch for Isaiah 58, which is a part of Belmont Church’s outreach to Nashville’s homeless population. I started going every week as a PSF missions event, in hopes that students would join me. Sometimes one or two actually would, other times it was just me, but either way it was always a great part of my day. One Tuesday back in the fall, I met a woman who was also volunteering. In the process of getting ready to serve the meal for the day, as we were pouring water and tea, she said: "You know, this is what we can do for others. We're pouring ourselves out, pouring God's love out."
And there it was. All that meaning crammed into a few glasses of ice water and sweet tea. I couldn’t help but wonder, during the many times I’ve thought of that conversation since it happened, what it means exactly to pour oneself out. To pour God’s love out.
I think it can often show up in subtle acts of kindness and caring, and in things that may not seem as blatantly faithful as Sunday school or a Bible study.
As part of our weekly worship at PSF this year, once each month we would replace the sermon with a different type of spiritual practice. One of the last spiritual practices of the year was Sabbath. On that particular Tuesday evening, we gave students the opportunity to do one of several activities, from walking in Centennial park to baking cookies, to watching an episode of Modern Family. After that week at PSF, several students expressed their thanks for the space and time in which to experience some Sabbath. Sabbath, is, I think, a spiritual practice that is often overlooked, especially in college as exam season looms just over the horizon. So perhaps things as simple as some chocolate chip cookie dough and a walk around the Parthenon can be an outpouring of God’s love.
The text from Romans for this morning talks about the members of creation in this period of anticipation. Waiting for freedom from bondage and waiting to be adopted into this family made up of the children of God. It says “and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, and the redemption of our bodies. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”
“We, ourselves who have the first fruits of the Spirit.”
The fruits are already there, it’s just that, in the process of this adoption, we can figure out how to translate those inward fruits into our outward lives. I read in one interpretation of this scripture, that as we are adopted as children of God we gain an entirely new identity. And much like the peace of Christ that we shared earlier this morning, these new identities of ours are not easy, insignificant, or half-hearted.
They also probably aren’t obvious. So patiently we wait, going about our lives trying to pour out examples of God’s love, in whatever form that happens to take. We can’t always see the results of our efforts, but we try anyway, we hope, and we wait. It’s not always easy but here we are, an assortment of the children of God, living in hopeful anticipation that this ever-changing new identity will form our lives and maybe the lives of others.
One interesting part about being a YAV in campus ministry, is that come mid-May, a good 2.5 months before the end of our YAV year, the school year ends and the vast majority of our students leave for summer break. While I’ve managed to have several coffee and frozen yogurt appointments since the end of the school year, this summer I was given two weeks to do greater service the the church, one of which I spent as a small group leader at Montreat Conference Center’s high school youth conference. During youth conference high schoolers from all of the country converge at Montreat for a week of energizers, keynotes, worship, and small group discussions. For a total of three hours each day conferees meet in small groups to process the morning’s keynote, play some games, and further explore the day’s scriptures. Having never been to a youth conference before, I’d be lying if I said I was totally confident going into my first couple small group sessions. And for most of the week, the feedback I’d received about how our small group was going was pretty much limited to things like “that activity was pretty fun” or “really? another name game?” It seemed like things were going well though, and the conversations had been great. Each time we gathered--25 high schoolers, one adult chaperone and me--the conversations grew more meaningful, and I was amazed by the willingness of most of my group to share their personal thoughts and experiences. From youth who go to church every week by themselves because their families just aren’t into it, to children of church leaders who aren’t sure they even like going to church in the first place, there were all sorts of faith journeys represented. During our last meeting together, we ended our week by writing affirmations on a piece of paper for each member of our small group. After a group picture and some frisbee throwing, small group number 53 disbanded and went our separate ways, and it wasn’t until later that I got around to reading my piece of paper. But when I did, four simple words stopped me in my tracks.
There I stood on the last day of week 2 of the Montreat Youth Conference, and in teal Crayola marker staring up at me from the page was the assurance that I had been looking for. Just four words.
“God pours through you.”
To read that these youth--or at least one of them--had experienced God in our time together was truly a blessing.
My brother asked me on the phone the other day to sum up my year in six words. I quickly told him that was impossible. Maybe with a substantial amount of thought I could do it, but I haven’t attempted to tackle that yet. I remember being at YAV orientation at the beginning of this year, reading the YAV slogan--A year of service for a lifetime of change. I didn’t really doubt the truth of that phrase, but I was eager to see the ways in which I would be changed this year.
Here I faced the challenge of being farther away from my friends and family than ever before, but I gained self-assuredness and a handful of friendships that will, I hope, be life-long. I faced the challenge of a job that I was entirely unfamiliar with, but gained a year’s worth of priceless experience and relationships. I faced the challenge of brown recluse spiders, and gained the ability to be fine with all of those non-poisonous bugs that bothered me before. The list goes on, but in all seriousness I think it’s safe to say that those YAV tshirts and water bottles are right on--this one year of service has certainly changed my life.
Next year I will continue my journey as a YAV, this time working in a hospital chaplains department in New Orleans. Some challenges will stay the same, some will be added--being even further away from those friends and family, fundraising all over again, having a completely different job...in their differences though, I can only hope that these challenges will be equally rewarding.
And I want you all to know, in case you haven’t been told or even if you have, that God pours through you. Through this congregation, through your welcoming Mary Kate and I into your community, and through all of the things that each of you does every day. God pours through you.
The response and support we got after the service was really heartwarming, and made me even more thankful to have been a part of 2PC this year. It seems a little bit crazy that it's the end of the year already, and that two weeks from now I won't be a Nashville YAV anymore. Granted, I'm super excited about getting a totally new YAV experience in New Orleans, but I don't feel like I'm quite ready to give up Nashville yet. But here I go, jumping off the Nashville cliff into another unknown...we'll just see what happens!
I read a Bible verse on camp's Facebook page (don't judge) yesterday that I feel like speaks to the YAV experience quite well. I'll leave you with that...
You are a letter from Christ written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.
2 Cor. 3:3
Love,
Allison
