Scripture reading:

Psalm 46

Genesis 25:19-34

Everyone loves to get a deal. Whether it’s a sought after discount on a new car, a buy-one-get-one-free special on a new set of summer shoes, or just a free cup of coffee with a biscuit at Bojangle’s — getting a deal on the things we want makes us feel good. But what is a good deal? Sometimes, we find out only too late that that new car shine blinded us to the real costs of ownership — expensive maintenance, high insurance and low gas mileage. Sometimes those shoes that felt so soft and comfortable in the store end up falling apart the first time you wear them out on the town. Sometimes even Bojangle’s messes things up, and that free coffee I was so excited about ends up burning my mouth on the way down, leaving me with nothing but a bitter aftertaste.

Everyone likes a deal, but not all deals are as sweet as they seem.

My grandmother loves to shop at Belk. Her closet is full of clothes that have only been worn once or twice; quite a few things hanging in the back still have the tags on them, waiting for the right occasion to take them out and show them off. She checks the sale papers every week, whether she needs anything or not. The employees at Belk know her by name, and know what types of things to point out to her when they need to earn a commission. But that’s not why she makes a trip out to Belk every Wednesday afternoon, coupons in hand. It’s not the quality products Belk has, or the friendly staff or the catchy slogans. It’s the hope of getting a good deal. My grandmother will buy baby girl clothes if they are marked down low enough — and there haven’t been any baby girls in our family for years! She just loves to think she’s getting a good deal. One weekend shortly after Kristen and I got married, we were visiting grandma and somehow, we found ourselves in Belk. Grandma knew we needed some new pillows — we were slowly getting the household items all new couples work for when they set out on their own, and new pillows weren’t really at the top of the list, although we definitely could have benefited from some. Our mismatched, thin and torn pillows had made it through four years of college and six moves into new dorm rooms, and that takes a toll on things. Grandma saw that the pillows at Belk were marked down to 50% off, and, unable to let a good deal pass by, she insisted on buying a set for us. We turned her down, trying to make a point of providing for ourselves and living as independent adults. After a few minutes of going back and forth with each other, Grandma realized she wasn’t going to be getting the pillows for us that day, but she couldn’t let the deal slip by either. She motioned for the saleslady to come over, and when she did, Grandma asked her, “How long are these pillows going to be on sale? I think I’ll have to wait and buy them next week, when I’m shopping by myself.” The clerk stumbled over her words for a minute. She wasn’t going to lie, but she didn’t want to upset her best customer with the truth that many a Belk-shopper has already come to realize. Finally, she came out with it. “Actually mam, you can wait until next week. Those pillows aren’t really on sale. We always have them marked half off.”

Everyone wants a deal, but most bargains aren’t really as good as they seem.

Sometimes the things we bargain for are a little more serious than discounted pillows or cheap coffee. Just ask the elderly widow trying to get her insurance company to give her a fair deal, because she knows she can’t afford to buy her groceries and her medicine next month, but she needs to find a way to get both if she wants to keep living on her own. Then there’s the husband and father who knows he’s let his family down one too many times, but he feels in his heart that if he can just get his wife to give him one more chance, things will be different; things will get better. A job interview at the corner convenience store may seem like no big deal to me and you, but for the teenage mother, abandoned by her family and cast out from the church she grew up in, it’s the most serious thing in the world. She fights for that opportunity with all she has, because in that moment of bargaining, it’s the only hope she can see, for herself, and her baby boy.

Everyone likes a deal, but we often find ourselves blinded when it comes to knowing what things are really worth bargaining for.

There is a lot of bargaining going on in our scripture passage today. Jacob, whose very name means “he who deceives,” is remembered as a great bargainer, always fighting for what he perceives to be in his own best interests. But he is hardly the first person in the Bible looking for a good deal. His grandfather Abraham had a reputation for bargaining with rulers and kings, and even with God. Abraham is held up as a model of faithfulness, having uprooted his family and abandoned his home at God’s direction, yet even Abraham dared to question God’s judgment when he learned the city of Sodom was soon to be destroyed. Abraham asked God how many righteous lives it would take for him to spare the city where his nephew Lot had settled. In classic bargaining style, Abraham asks God if he would spare the city for the sake of 50 righteous people. Then Abraham pushes his number down a little to 45. Then 40. Thirty. Twenty. And finally, ten. Abraham bargained hard with God on behalf of the people he loved, and God honored him for it.

Abraham’s bargaining was prompted by his love for his nephew, but more frequently, if we are honest with ourselves, most of our attempts at bargaining are prompted by our own greed.

Us humans, both men and women, young and old, wise and foolish, often mistake the true value of the people, events and things in our lives. When we perceive greener pastures just around the bend, or fear that someone else, God forbid, has been given a better share in life than we have, we turn to bargaining — trying hard to get the best we can for ourselves.

When Rebekah was faced with the reality of a difficult pregnancy, she questioned the wisdom of even having children in the first place. “If it is to be this way,” the mother-to-be said, “why do I live?” I’m sure there were days when my mother, and perhaps some others, had a few second thoughts about the benefits of bringing children — with all of their messes and needs and whining — into the world. But I imagine you would be hard pressed to find any mother or father who couldn’t affirm that parenthood is one of the greatest blessings of life. In the midst of her trouble, Rebekah was ready to trade that future, that joy, the excitement, and the risks, of parenthood, for an easier, more predictable, and certainly more peaceful path.

Fortunately, though, she stayed the course. Her boys were born. Twins. Life was certainly not quiet for Isaac and Rebekah, but I have no doubt their life was filled with laughter and joy as they farmed their land, moving occasionally when the herds required new pastures, and raised their boys together. As brothers will do, though, both Jacob and Esau sought to chart their own courses, to make claims on what they saw as the most important things in life — to be their own men — and so the bargaining continued. On this one day, both of Isaac’s sons, now young men in the own rights, were out doing what they enjoyed. Esau, a man of action and adventure, but also with a deep sense of connection to his home and his roots, was out working the land. Jacob — a curious thinker who loved solving riddles, didn’t mind spending hours in solitude with just his thoughts for company, and often became consumed with thinking of new and better ways of getting things done — decided to cook a stew while he worked over some ideas that had been troubling him.

Esau asks his brother for a bowl of stew. Hardly a big request. Jacob hadn’t bothered himself much with the meal — it was really just a way to pass the time while he worked out his thoughts — he hadn’t even put any meat in the pot! It was just lentils. Jacob seizes the moment though, and tells his twin brother that the bowl will cost him his birthright. As the eldest son — though only a few seconds older than his brother Jacob — Esau was entitled to the bulk of their father’s property. Although Jacob would be welcomed, and even expected, to live his life and raise his children on the family homestead, Esau, as the eldest, would be the patriarch. He would be the decision maker, he would be the one expected to provide for their father and mother in their old age, and he would be the one in control of things as the two brothers sought to bring up the next generation of their family in some measure of comfort.

The birthright is a big deal. It’s a crazy request to ask for in exchange for a bowl of soup. “Is he serious?” Esau probably thought to himself. “Surely Jacob is joking.” Esau jokes right back. His brother knows he is more than a little hungry after a full day’s work. “I am about to die,” Esau teased. “Of what use is a birthright to me?”

Jacob didn’t laugh. “Swear it,” he said. Esau had been doing some thinking that day too. He had been thinking that the traditional way of life seemed a little backwards. Why should he expect more from his parents simply because he was born a moment before his brother? The idea of lording over his brother, and eventually, his sister-in-law, nieces and nephews, didn’t seem very appealing to Esau. Sure he and Jacob didn’t agree on everything, but he was fond of his brother, and saw him as an equal. The old way of birthrights and favoritism didn’t sound like the idea of family that God would desire. Esau loved his father deeply, but he wasn’t very fond of tradition. He wanted to make a new path, to set a new precedent. He had no intention of lording over his brother. Esau had already made up his mind to give up his claim to the birthright. So he swore it. What did it matter to him? He ate his soup, and he left.

Jacob, of course, had other ideas. Esau’s desire to buck tradition may have led him to make a rash deal, devaluing his inheritance. Jacob’s bargaining, however, proves much more costly. In his haste to seize a larger share of property for himself, Jacob effectively gives up the most valuable asset he had — his relationship with his brother. While Jacob persuaded his brother to forfeit the birthright and secured the blessing from his father, his fear of retribution overwhelms him, prompting him to run away from home without so much as a sleeping bag. Jacob misses out on the joy he could have had in his relationship with his brother. Few things are more valuable in life than family, and this was especially true in ancient times. In a society without daycares, nursing homes and health insurance, the family unit was the most dependable resource one could count on for support and welfare. Maybe it still is. Elderly parents depended on their adult children to meet their needs. Moms and dads depended on aunts and uncles and grandmas and grandpas to help raise their children. When tragedy struck, when crops failed, when wells dried up and livestock died, extended family networks were the only place most people could turn. Jacob and Esau may have been very different men, but as a team, they would have complimented each other perfectly. Building a family home, tending a farm, raising livestock and negotiating disputes with neighboring families would have been much easier with a trusted partner, but Jacob gave that up in his quest for control.

Jacob gave up the joy of raising his family alongside his brother’s. Jacob spent nearly two decades being abused, overworked and deceived by his father-in-law, Laban. He had no one to share his excitement with as he made plans for marriage. He had no trusted friend to confide in as he struggled with the challenges of parenthood, and trying to figure out how to be a good father to sons of his own. He had no one to give him advice, or to bounce ideas off of, when he began making plans for the future, trying to secure some wealth for his new family on his own, apart from his father-in-law’s household.

Jacob gave up all of this and more when he valued wealth and power over relationships. The irony is, of course, that while Jacob betrayed his brother and deceived his father in hopes of seizing the inheritance, he ends up fleeing from home. He severs connection with his mother, father and brother. He is forced to give up not only the share of property he tried to steal from his brother, but also whatever good things his father Isaac had intended to give him all along. Esau, who had no desire for the traditional birthright, gets it all by default. Jacob’s bargaining cost him everything. He is isolated from his family. He is manipulated by his father-in-law. His relationships with his wives and children are laden with strife and arguing.

It is not until Jacob gives up on trying to control people, and starts valuing his relationships, that his life begins to turn around.

When we give up on bargaining, we can fully embrace the good relationships in our lives; And ultimately, it is our relationships, not our wealth, that matter most. When Jacob gives up on battling with his father-in-law and begins to speak with honesty and truth, his family begins to experience peace for the first time.

It’s not until Jacob gives up his need to bargain, and commits to rebuilding his relationship with his brother, that he is able to begin truly living in relationship with God. To be sure, God has been with Jacob, as he is with each of us, every step of the way. God had promised to bless Jacob long before Jacob understood the significance of that blessing. Relationships always work two ways, though, and relationships with God are no different. When Jacob began to value the relationships in his life, he was able to finally begin to experience God’s presence. Jacob committed himself to being reconciled with his brother. He made himself vulnerable, and in his moment of vulnerability, he met God by the river’s edge.

The story of Jacob and Esau begins with conflict, but it ends with grace, as Jacob finally begins to understand what real wealth is. No longer concerned about hoarding things for himself, Jacob sends ahead elaborate gifts for Esau, hoping to appease his brother for all of the pain and suffering he caused him years before. He hopes for the best, but fears the worst. As Jacob came to realize, relationships are risky things.

The story continues in Genesis 33:

Now Jacob looked up and saw Esau coming, and four hundred men with him. So he divided the children among Leah and Rachel and the two maids. He put the maids with their children in front, then Leah with her children, and Rachel and Joseph last of all. He himself went on ahead of them, bowing himself to the ground seven times, until he came near his brother.

But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.

When Esau looked up and saw the women and children, he said, “Who are these with you?” Jacob said, “The children whom God has graciously given your servant.” Then the maids drew near, they and their children and bowed down; Leah likewise and her children drew near and bowed down; and finally Joseph and Rachel drew near, and they bowed down. Esau said, “What do you mean by all this company that I met?” Jacob answered, “To find favor with my lord.”

But Esau said, “I have enough, my brother; keep what you have for yourself. … Let us journey on our way, and I will go alongside you.”

(vv. 1-9, 12)

Jacob began to realize that real wealth lies not in money, or property or power, but in relationships with other people; Relationships that leave us vulnerable; Relationships that open us up to heartache and pain, but also to joy and love. For Jacob, reconciling his relationships with his family allowed him to experience an even deeper relationship with God.

It is our healthy relationships with other people that prepare us for relationship with God.

You see, scripture tells us that God loves us like a father, running out to the road to meet a son whose been away from home for far too long.

But Jesus also says God’s love for us is like a mother hen’s love for her chicks; She longs to gather all her scattered chicks together under her wings, but she refuses to pull them in against their will.

God’s love is like a grandpa, well versed in the joys and hardships of life, offering seasoned words of wisdom and encouragement to his offspring, knowing all the while that many of life’s most important, and most difficult lessons, they will have to experience for themselves.

For Moses, God’s love came in the form of a wise father-in-law, stepping in to fill the void too many men and women experience when, for whatever reason, a biological father isn’t able to do his job.

God’s love is like a mother, the first to shed a tear when her baby falls, but also the first to reach out, pick that child up and set him on his way again.

God’s love is like a brother who doesn’t cut you any slack. He can always be counted on to watch your back when you find yourself down and out. He pushes you to be more than you are, because he sees more in you than you often see in yourself.

God’s love is like a sister who walks beside you every step of the way. She shares your pain, and your dreams. She knows you inside and out.

God’s love is like a friend — a best friend. He never asks you to explain yourself. He never expects a good excuse. He never looks down on you when you fall. But he’s always there when you need him, offering an open hand, and an invitation to share the journey.

The Taylor Cup Softball Game pits the Divinity School students and faculty against the undergraduate Religion Department each spring at Campbell University. This year, for the first time ever, the undergrads won. In truth, their victory was likely the result of a lesson in mercy from their wiser and (typically) older colleagues in the Divinity School.

I have a more complete gallery of pictures now ready for viewing and ordering here.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For there is more to life than food, and more to the body than clothing. Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn, yet God feeds them. How much more valuable are you than the birds! And which of you by worrying can add an hour to his life? So if you cannot do such a very little thing as this, why do you worry about the rest? Consider how the flowers grow; they do not work or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed like one of these! And if this is how God clothes the wild grass, which is here today and tomorrow is tossed into the fire to heat the oven, how much more will he clothe you, you people of little faith!

Luke 12:22-28 (NET)

Last week on one of the days Samuel and I spent at home together, we had the rare opportunity of watching a miracle unfold before our eyes. I call it rare, because seldom do I take the time to be still and enjoy the many small miracles that happen every day, in the ordinary moments of life. Lately, I feel that I have been so busy trying to get on with the work of life, that I have failed to truly live in the moment. Monday morning, my frazzled scheduled was wiped clean as the elegant simplicity of a flower reminded me of the value each moment holds.

We have a tulip tree growing outside of our kitchen window at the corner of the house. Normally, this tulip tree causes me nothing but frustration. It grows up over our house and drops leaves right into the gutter, which I have to clean out. It grows into our kitchen window and smudges the glass, until I trim it up every few months, knowing it will grow right back. It makes it nearly impossible to keep a neat flowerbed around our kitchen in the summer, when its dense foliage blocks the morning sun. For the other nine months out of the year, the tulip tree is completely bare — a messy tangle of branches and twigs that I’m tempted to cut down each winter because it just doesn’t do anything for our house. But for two weeks out of the year, it is covered with beautiful blossoms that pop up overnight, as if someone gingerly sculpted each one from a block of soft marble swirled with layers of pink and white stone. It’s beautiful, but its beauty is short lived. Next week, its flowers will lay wilted on the ground, replaced with thick green leaves that keep the tree — and my yard — covered throughout the spring and summer.

The tree works hard all year, growing thicker and faster than anything else on our lot, just to spend two weeks in bloom. Last Friday, there wasn’t a blossom on our tulip tree. Sunday afternoon, it was covered in little green buds. Monday morning, as Samuel and I ate breakfast, each bulb, one by one, started to pop open. By the end of the day, the tree was decked out in full colors, basking in the sunlight and radiating with a splendor that surpassed the glory of even the most stately king.

There is a lot I still have to learn from my tulip tree; Things like patience, faithfulness, focus and determination. I find it so easy to get anxious, especially now as I near the midpoint of this semester, and in a few weeks, the midpoint of my M.Div. degree at Campbell. I have learned so much and felt my call to ministry affirmed again and again, but in many ways, I am more confused than ever about what path my life will take after school. I am anxious about the future, but I am reminded that in the end, God is faithful, and my job is to be faithful to the many opportunities for ministry and preparation that I am given each day.

It’s probably not much of a stretch to think that my tulip tree can get a little anxious in November when I bring out the chainsaw and start cutting back the brush around the house, but it keeps growing, and I remember what it will look like the first week in March when the time is just right and all of that hard work pays off in a beautiful way.

Life goes on for the both of us, but how I long to have the faith of a tulip tree.

I spent this evening reading through the book of Acts (yeah, the whole thing) in preparation for my New Testament II class with Dr. Robert Brawley. In true twitter style, I thought I would just shout out the first thoughts that came into my head out of this reading, before giving myself, or my readers, the benefit of careful reflection.

But was there ever really such a time? Why did Christians begin celebrating the birth of Jesus to begin with?

Despite its contemporary prominence in Christian culture, formal celebrations of Christmas did not begin until the fourth century. Easter, not Christmas, was the focal point of the year for the early church. The gospels themselves reflect this: only Matthew and Luke give any account of the birth of Jesus, and they vary greatly in details and significance, while all four gospels share a powerful record of Jesus’ arrest, crucifixion and resurrection. When Christmas celebrations began to take shape in the church, Christians combined elements of the nativity stories presented in Luke and Matthew with other traditions that had been picked up along the way. The first record of Christians celebrating the birth of Jesus is found in the Philocalian Calendar of 354. Long before this, however, December 25 had been a high point in Roman culture.

Traditional calendars marked December 25 as the winter solstice, and it was popularly celebrated as the birthday of the pagan god Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun. The festival for Sol Invictus fell right in the middle of two other popular Roman feast days — the harvest festival, which began on Dec. 17, and the New Year’s festival that typically lasted five days (ending on what also became an important Christian holiday, the Day of Epiphany, or “The Twelfth Day of Christmas” according to one obnoxious Christmas jingle)

Naturally, it made sense for the church to take advantage of the existing excitement that surrounded the winter festival when forming a new holiday to celebrate the birth of God’s son. From the very beginning, Christmas has not been a day set apart for Christians to retreat from the world; rather, it has been a day Christians use to celebrate with, and hopefully, transform the world. Taking unholy things and making them holy, as the 4th Century Christians did with the pagan worship of Sol Invictus, is a fitting way to remember the reason that Christ came into the world to begin with. He has transformed us, unholy as we are, into new creations. Let us continue searching for new ways to do the same.

One of the most exciting elements of my Divinity School work this semester has been the opportunity I’ve had to study Hebrew with Dr. Barry Jones. I’ve never been very good in the foreign language skills department. In high school and college I dabbled in a couple of different languages, but simply trying to get a handle on the nuances and grammar of my own native tongue has been more than enough to push my linguistic abilities. For brevity’s sake, however, let me simply say that Hebrew is fun.

Working through scripture in its original language has been challenging and invigorating. Each little gain in understanding of these sacred texts opens up new truths and insight for me, but I still have a very long ways to go before reading a book, or even a sentence, in Hebrew is as natural and clear as it is in English. So why bother with trying to read the Bible in its original language? Aren’t there already enough English translations available? Haven’t hundreds of translators and scribes been pouring over these texts for thousands of years already? What can I possibly find in the original languages that hasn’t already been identified, dissected and translated by other, more qualified biblical scholars?

Probably nothing.

But that’s not really why we read the Bible, is it? It’s true that some people spend great amounts of time and effort scouring the letters and phrasings of scripture for secret codes, looking for hidden messages that supposedly reveal everything from the date of the apocalypse, to which candidate will win the 2012 presidential election in the United States of America. Others aren’t searching for secret codes, but they are reading the texts in hopes of finding a special verse or word that supports their own presupposed view of God and what he deems to be right behavior, as opposed to reading the lessons and stories of scripture with fresh ears, trying to understand them within the context of the overarching message of the gospel.

Whenever I move through the pages of the Bible, I know that I am walking down a path that many, many people have tread before me; I take comfort in that, and I do not for a moment hope to go one step further than anyone else has already gone. At the same time, I believe that God’s truths aren’t simply passed down from one generation to the next like genetic characteristics or inherited wealth. For scripture to have any real value for an individual, it must be read and understood by that person. If we hope to gain even a glimmer of understanding into the nature of God, we must, each one, seek him out. Knowing how God has worked among the human race in the past is a good place to start. The better informed we are as to the nature of God, of his relationship with mankind, of his movements in history and how he has revealed himself to others, the better equipped we are to identify his presence in our own lives as we seek to live within his will. This is the primary reason that I read the Bible — to know God.

One of the simple benefits of understanding the original language of scripture came through this week’s vocabulary lesson. Among our list of new words to learn for the week was the verb נשא (pronounced: nă•sá) which means to lift or to carry. This is the verb used in Exodus 20:7, the third commandment, translated in the NET (and similarly in the KJV) as “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain”. In my experience, most people have understood this to be an admonition against using a name for God as a frivolous slur or in conjunction with obscene language. The verb נשא certainly does support this interpretation. The commandment makes it clear that “lifting up” the Lord’s name to invoke a curse is a sordid thing to do — unless of course, you really, really mean it. However, נשא has another meaning here that, at least in this case, seems to fit this context better than the traditional understanding of “lifting up” God’s name alongside other language that is in poor taste.

The second meaning of the verb נשא, “to carry,” seems to fit in well with the rest of the Exodus story, and even with the rest of the Biblical narrative. Beginning with the exodus and continuing on for much of history, God’s people were not associated with a particular place; they were not known for their great wealth and possessions; they were not known for military superiority or for their hold on a valuable resource. They were known by the law they had been given, and by the God, Yahweh, who gave them that law. As they roamed through the wilderness, carrying all of their few possessions with them, they always found themselves to be strangers in foreign land. What kept them together — what set them apart from the other nations that surrounded them — was their identity as a people chosen by God, called by his name. This act of “carrying” God’s name was not a small thing for the Israelites — it was the most important thing they had!

In 2 Chronicles 7, during a relatively brief period of prosperity and national wealth in the history of Israel, God reminds Solomon, the great king, of this first treasure the Hebrew people had claim to, saying:

When the prophet Jonah was sleeping onboard a ship in peril, the ship’s crew woke him up and asked him who he was. Jonah didn’t tell them his name. He didn’t tell them which town he was from, who is parents were or what he did for a living. He simply said, “I worship Yahweh.” This statement, of course, wasn’t entirely true. It was simply the latest in a string of mistakes Jonah had made. He claimed to be a worshipper of Yahweh, but in reality, he was caught in the act of fleeing from the Lord, of ignoring his responsibilities and following his own desires. Jonah was “carrying” the name of the Lord, but he was not living as one who truly belongs to God.

As Christians, we often divert our attention and make known our disapproval when we hear the name of Jesus used as a statement of anger or frustration, but are we as quick to hold ourselves accountable when our actions or words — though they may be perfectly acceptable by society’s standards — are not worthy of one who carries the name of Christ? How many Christians today pay lip service to God when it’s convenient, but don’t put forward any real effort to follow his commandments to honor the Lord in all we do, and to love our neighbors as we love ourselves? Is it worse to ignore God altogether, or to acknowledge him in word but not in deed?

Let us strive to never carry the name of Christ in vain.

Several weeks ago, I was presented with the opportunity to be a part of Campbell University’s first official mission team sent to India. After much prayer and discussion, Kristen and I decided I should take advantage of this unique opportunity for ministry, spiritual growth and education. I am very excited; I know God will do great things with and through our team. The trip is quickly approaching, however, and a few things still have to be worked out. 1,825 things, to be exact. I am responsible for raising $2,500 towards the expenses of our mission team, and there is still a good ways to go. Oh yeah, and I need to get this together within the next three weeks or so.

If you are able to help with this effort, in any way whatsoever, it would be much appreciated. I have setup a secure PayPal account that allows you to easily make a contribution to this mission opportunity using your check card or any other major credit card. Donations can be tax deductible, but contact me first so I can be sure your donation goes through the proper channels.

I look forward to sharing more information with you as we continue to prepare for the trip. You can bet photos and stories from India will be popping up on the blog during and after the trip. In the mean time, here is an excerpt from a letter I sent out to a few close friends.

Thank you all for your prayers and support as we prepare for this mission, as we travel and as we serve others in the name of Christ in India.

In December, I have the opportunity to participate in a unique experience: a mission trip to Kolkata, India. This will be the first time a mission team of Campbell students will travel to India. The majority of our time will be spent in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), working with the Missionaries of Charity — the society of aid workers founded by Mother Teresa in response to Christ’s call to carry his gospel, and his love, to the poorest of the poor in our world. Our team will minister alongside the Missionaries of Charity, assisting them as they care for orphans, the sick, the dying and those with special needs. We will also participate in “as you go” ministry, providing food and a word of prayer for the poor on the streets of Kolkata, Delhi, and Agra as we move through India.

First of all, I ask for your prayerful support of our endeavors. Pray for our team as we prepare to travel to India. Pray that Christ would give us open minds and open hearts, that we will be able to recognize the specific opportunities he has called us to as we seek to minister to his hurting children in India. Pray for us during the days that we are in the country (Dec. 27 to Jan. 7) that we would not be overwhelmed or discouraged by the needs that come before us, but that we would be strengthened by the Holy Spirit to listen as only he can, to speak a word of truth and encouragement to the ones who need to hear it, and, most of all, to demonstrate the love of Christ in all we do. Pray for the brothers and sisters that oversee the mission houses in India. Pray that they would be strong and courageous as they go about their work, especially during the hard days. Pray that they would not be lured into feelings of complacency or despair by the nature of their work, but that they would be alert and sensitive to the movement of the Spirit in their lives as well. Additionally, if you feel led to contribute financially to this mission trip, checks can be made payable to Campbell University and given to me or sent directly to the school.

I look forward to partnering with you in this endeavor, as we seek to share Christ’s love with those in need.

Today, September 16, 2010, was a very special day for me.

This morning just before 11 o’clock, with a handful of my friends looking on, I was baptized in the tradition of my faith.

Then, before I had time to really process the moment, I was baptized again.

And again.

And…again.

Hopefully persistence counts for something.

The scene might have been a little odd to passersby, but it was a great experience for me and my fellow Divinity School students. Understanding the purpose and practice of baptism is included in the curriculum for our Life and Work of the Minister course, and practicing baptism means getting in the water.

The mission statement of Campbell Divinity School is “to provide Christ-centered, Bible-based, and Ministry-focused theological education.” These three elements are represented, to some extent, in every course the school offers, but the three-fold purpose also guides, in a larger perspective, the multi-facted approach of the entire Master of Divinity program. Most of the courses required for the M.Div. degree can be classified as either a spiritual development course, a course in classical theological education, or as a practical, vocation-driven course. Balancing these three aspects of theological education really allows students to grow spiritually and academically as they work to discern God’s call on their lives, and it is something Campbell does very well.

It’s amazing how my experiences in and outside of the classroom continue to build on each other. Just last week, in Church History I, our discussion was focused on the baptismal practices of the early church. Very quickly in the life of the early church, baptism became such an important part of the spiritual development process that a waiting period of at least three years was implemented for catechumens in order to give them sufficient time to contemplate their own faith experiences and develop healthy practices of discipleship that would allow them to contribute to the church once they became full members. Understanding this influenced our discussion on the spirituality and theology of baptism in Life and Work of the Minister. With this discussion still fresh on our minds this morning, we waded into the water to practice the practical aspects of baptism before we are called on to lead a formal baptismal service. The M.Div. degree at Campbell is really almost like three degrees in one — and at 90 hours, it often feels like enough work to earn three separate masters degrees — but there isn’t anything else I’d rather be doing at this point in my life.

Having professors and peers that I know are genuinely concerned about my spiritual growth is an indescribable blessing. Having courses that keep me challenged academically makes every day fresh and exciting. And besides, where else could I go to get my feet wet, knowing all the while that a quick hand is there to catch me if I slip off into rough water?