She didn鈥檛 plan to build, there was the hope that maybe she could inherit the family home, the one that鈥檚 been passed down through generations.

But the thing is…the home is older and wearier and rotting out. There are deep cracks in the foundation, the kind that make the house lean into the dusty earth a little more each day. Really, it鈥檚 not even a house anymore, just some hollowed out and ancient ruins on a lonely ground.

There鈥檚 sorrow here. Hope feels it burning through her hands as she runs them along the battered stones. , too. Maybe you feel it. I do.

As we move into this new year and decade, your anger is welcome. These ruins are here but we can see them, glory to God. It鈥檚 okay to weep with Hope as we tear down something that might have been beautiful in its time. This is dangerous work, it鈥檚 gonna make our hands bleed and our feet ache. But it鈥檚 good work, the kind of work for the courageous and desperate ones. It鈥檚 work for those of us who are done with putting up with, those of us who are cold and wet from living in old homes where the rain gets in the cracks and the foundations tremble when the thunder comes. It鈥檚 for those of us who have a fire burning in our bones that no longer lets us remain silent or cry peace when there is none to be found. It鈥檚 for those of us who long to dance on the ancient ruins and play in the broken places because really, we鈥檙e just little ones looking for home.

Hope can remind us that within the grains of these old walls, there is the possibility for something new.

If within the broken places, then here is where we can make a home. We can plant a garden. We can root our bare toes into this soil, and tend to baby trees. We can join together with the friends of Hope to build communities where our children can play in the streets. We鈥檒l sit on our doorsteps with our lovers and wine and say this is home, this is home, this is home.

The post Hope appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

Here, , reflects on the divine challenge of Jesus to love radically and how, even though we are in a season of waiting, we can be part of this holy transformation, the impossible possible, in the here and now.

You can sign up for our sixth annual Advent series, delivered via email every Sunday of Advent, here.

Advent is a transformational countdown to transformation itself. A paradoxical time, Advent is a time of expectation and anticipation for something that hasn鈥檛 happened yet and which can鈥檛 fully be imagined. In our corner of the world, Advent shows up on the landscape of our grey and (usually) rainy winter. Bundled up in our coats and sweaters, we wrap hands around our peppermint mochas and hunker down until the first light of spring when robins join us with their knowing 鈥渟ee-didn鈥檛-I-tell-you-it was-coming,鈥� tweet tweet tweets. And so we wait and trust that spring will come and we鈥檒l one day see the sun again.

Similarly, advent is a time of impending hopeful change and transformation鈥搒omething is coming but it鈥檚 not here yet. It鈥檚 a time when we turn our attention to the impossible possible鈥� the coming of what we can only imagine. Theologically we are waiting for the transformational presence of God in our time. We are waiting and counting the days for the breaking-in of a radical spirit of transcendent immanence.

In Christian tradition, God breaks into our time, disrupts time, displaces time, disorients time and all we can do is wait. And trust. Trust that that transformation will come, that divine love and peace is coming just like the spring blossoms. It鈥檚 a theology of radical rupture where the impossible becomes possible. This is a theology of hope.

Liturgically Advent marks the time of waiting til Jesus鈥� birth, but it鈥檚 so much more than that鈥�it鈥檚 a countdown for the message Jesus would bring into this broken world鈥搕hat of the kingdom of God where society would live in love, peace, and equality. Advent therefore is a time of waiting for the divine message, the promise, the hope for something righteous and holy.

Early 20th-century theologian Walter Rauschenbusch taught that the kingdom was not an apocalyptic vision of what was to come, but rather, a prophetic call for social transformation in the here and now. This radical message would become central to the visionary movement known as the social gospel. We live in a time where we desperately need to be reminded of this transformational vision for what could be, right here and now as we鈥檙e not just in the season when nights are long and days are grey, quite literally and figuratively our days are grey. Our political climate is dire, to say little of the state of the climate itself. There鈥檚 xenophobia, nationalism, gender inequality, economic instability, food insecurity鈥� these are but words pointing to deep hurts and pains inflicted on us and by us. We feel it in our bones when we see families separated at borders, when white supremacists spew hate, when gun violence and toxic systemic oppression abound鈥搕hese are dark times indeed.

Advent though is a time of waiting for the transformational in-breaking of radical, vibrant, spirit incarnate. A divine presence in fleshly form come to tell us that there is a different way to live and be. While we often wrap Jesus in platitudes about love, grace, generosity, and equality, Jesus also posed a divine challenge to systems and structures by flipping tables in the temple and challenging the narrative of empire calling truth to power with divine love and righteous anger. The divine challenge Jesus brought is to love so radically, so boldly, that you question the very structures that seek to rob people of divine love, acceptance, peace, and abundance. In fact, the very narrative of Jesus鈥� birth and death defies all reason, it flips the script on what the world tells us is possible!

Our theology of hope therefore is not one that should rest on hope alone without informed action, or without conscientious response to systemic and structural inequality. Rather, the summons offered to us through Jesus鈥� divine in-breaking, is one that challenges us to love one another so much that we create the impossible through structural and systemic transformation鈥搕hrough our interrogation of political and economic institutions (those which Rauschenbusch called 鈥渟uper-personal entities of evil鈥�).

Rauschenbusch argued that these institutions perpetuate social sin drawing us away from one another and binding us in individualistic thinking, that which moves us further away from collective thriving. We may feel that the kingdom is too far from our own reality, too ephemeral to capture. And yet the work of persistent hopeful imaginative radical love is the very task we are given. Theological descendent of Rauschenbusch, Dr. Cornel West reminds us that, 鈥淲e鈥檝e forgotten that a rich life consists fundamentally of serving others, trying to leave the world a little better than you found it. We need the courage to question the powers that be, the courage to be impatient with evil and patient with people, the courage to fight for social justice. In many instances we will be stepping out on nothing, and just hoping to land on something. But that鈥檚 the struggle. To live is to wrestle with despair, yet never allow despair to have the last word.鈥�

This Advent, as in the past, we鈥檒l participate in liturgy commemorating the incarnational in- breaking of the divine. We鈥檒l buy Christmas trees and put up decorations, attend a Christmas pageant or Advent festival. But as we live in liminal time aware of the days that pass, might we imagine ourselves as part of the impossible possible? St. Teresa of Avila wrote that 鈥淐hrist has no body now but yours/No hands, no feet on earth but yours/Yours are the eyes with which he looks/compassion on this world/Christ has no body now on earth but yours.鈥� Might we remember to live into a love so potent, so present that it shatters the landscape of what is and reveals through our very hands and feet social justice and divine transformation of the here and now? Let us embrace this Advent, a divine challenge to be bold lovers who imagine and who question, who resist forces that seek to separate us from neighbor, and who believe that divine love binds us to one another and to the future that we create together.

The post A Divine Challenge appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

Faculty, students, staff, and members of our community gathered to hear Dr. Stearns explore how a trauma-informed theology can help us find new paths toward hope and restoration. As a community, we were invited to reflect on the integration of theology and trauma with our bodies. 鈥淥ur bodies,鈥� said Dr. Stearns, 鈥渟hould be holistically included in our spiritual practices.鈥�

鈥淗ope is not an illusion, but a witness to God鈥檚 presence.鈥�

Watch the full video of Chelle鈥檚 lecture on 鈥溾�楳y Heart Flows on in Endless Song鈥�: Lament and Hope Through a Trauma-Informed Theology.鈥� Following her lecture is a reflective panel discussion with Dr. Darren Sumner, Danielle Elliott (MATC 鈥�15), and Rev. Dr. Jane Roland. Each, through their respective lenses of theology, art, and integrative practices, offer valuable insight into Dr. Stearns lecture.

The post 7th Annual Stanley Grenz Lecture Series Featuring Dr. Chelle Stearns appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

The children鈥檚 song says we are all precious in His sight, but apparently that is not true in America. The Lost Cause narrative (as explained by ) comes post-Civil War, when an economy formerly propped up by slave labor was grasping at ways to ensure its power over African Americans (now technically free). It idealizes the antebellum South as virtuous and heroic. Tisby states, 鈥淎ccording to The Lost Cause narrative, the South wanted nothing more than to be left alone to preserve its idyllic civilization, but it was attacked by the aggressive, godless North, who swooped in to disrupt a stable society, calling for emancipation and inviting the intrusion of the federal government into small-town, rural life.鈥� This narrative fueled white supremacy and organizations such as the Ku Klux Klan.

The Lost Cause narrative has been cleverly regurgitated as Trump鈥檚 鈥淢ake America Great Again鈥� slogan. Using this story of an idealized time, our current President has played on the fears of many white Americans: an 鈥渋nvasion鈥� of Latinxs will steal jobs, increase crime, and disrupt society. He鈥檚 re-introduced an old, evil message: America was greatest when it was oppressing, harkening back to the days of nearly complete economic, spiritual, and social power of whites over people of color. The old America murdered, raped, and dehumanized African Americans long before and after the Civil War ended. America does not hesitate to do the same to other people of color. It’s not that things have drastically shifted since then, but he’s telling us they have.

2019鈥檚 massacre of Latinxs in El Paso and the Mississippi deportations are nothing more than the proliferation of the slave-era mentality, and The Lost Cause narrative 鈥� America would be greater without you. Trump and his supporters bank on Christian silence and complicity to spread their message of fear. The calls for peace, prayers, and reconciliation are platitudes that call us to overlook racism鈥檚 death wish for Latinxs and other people of color. I, too, want peace 鈥� a peace that comes after violence and wrongdoing have been addressed. There can be no peace without collective repentance (including mine) for the murders of innocent men, women, and children. Whether we have laughed at racist jokes, used stereotypes to justify our actions, or actually pulled the trigger of a gun, we have participated in a culture that hates difference.

When I am asked if I love my enemies, I can confidently say, 鈥測es.鈥� But loving my enemies means telling the truth, not sacrificing my family on an altar to the god of white supremacy.

“Jesus stood against the status quo, speaking truth to power and I must choose to engage life with the courage to advocate for myself and others.”

Am I angry? 鈥淵es.鈥� I am angry at the ways I have relied on the typical American narrative from textbooks written by people with power. I am angry that having acknowledged the harm done by my country I鈥檝e stood frozen and voiceless. And, I am angry at the proliferation of fear and dehumanization of Latinxs and other people of color.

We need to have conversations with our neighbors, family members, co-workers 鈥� the friend sitting next to us at church, and the leaders of those churches and organizations about the big and little ways white supremacy is still playing out today. I heard a white woman in her 80鈥檚, examine the stereotypes she has about people of other races. She questioned where she had learned to be afraid of men of color and is countering those stereotypes when they pop up. This is the kind of thinking we all need to be engaged in.

I belong to Jesus. His life of love is a beacon of hope. His offer of redemption is inclusive to white, black, red, yellow, brown, and anything in-between people. His message of reconciliation is a call for honoring all people. May Jesus find his way into our lives as hope, redemption, reconciliation and honor as we face racism鈥檚 violent past, present and future.

The post Precious in His Sight, Not Welcome in America appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

When Heather received her cancer diagnosis, she knew this was not a road that she could walk alone. So, somewhat on a whim, she got a Wonder Woman costume to match her daughter鈥檚 Halloween costume, and she wore it to her first day of chemotherapy. A friend, Bridget Beth Collins ( on Instagram), created a plant-based portrait of Wonder Woman for Heather, and #chemowonderwoman was born.

Soon, Heather鈥檚 friends and family were spreading the word and wearing Wonder Woman shirts in support, along with teachers from her kids鈥� school and strangers from around the country鈥擧eather shares in particular about a grandmother in Ohio who prays for Heather every day even though they have never met. Even Gal Gadot, star of the hit Wonder Woman film, for Heather.

鈥淚 just felt really carried, I felt really held by hundreds of people I鈥檝e never met.鈥�

Heather tells Shauna that while she was grateful her journey could inspire and encourage so many people, she also launched out of her own need for support. 鈥淚 need people alongside of me, to cheer for me, to be with me in this,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 do this alone. I can鈥檛 do this even with just my small family tribe. I really need to, in some ways, open myself up to receive more help. I need connection and care.鈥� In that spirit, her friends told her, 鈥淵ou鈥檝e got this. We鈥檝e got you.鈥� It鈥檚 a truth that flies in the face of our cultural 鈥減ull yourself up by your bootstraps鈥� mentality: We need each other.

Shauna: 鈥淵ou allowed us all to experience something of your beauty in the midst of this seemingly daunting race鈥攖he way that you鈥檙e able to go after the experience of suffering with such play is profound to me.鈥�

Shauna shares that she can feel joy in her body, almost to an unfamiliar degree, when she鈥檚 with Heather, when she witnesses Heather鈥檚 鈥渃ome with me鈥� posture that is vulnerable, courageous, and infectious. Heather reflects on the intentional choice to hold onto her hope in beauty and goodness, even in the midst of darkness鈥攏ot in denial of the darkness, but in defiance of it. She shares how that posture is informed by the world around her, including the beautifully stubborn life in her garden, and by her eschatological hope in a new heaven and new earth.

Heather: 鈥淥ur body wants to heal. I really, really believe that, even more strongly after all this treatment than I did before. I talk about that as a gardener too: the plants are on your side, they want to live.鈥�

Shauna: 鈥淚 feel like the hope isn鈥檛 just optimism. It鈥檚 rooted in your theological framework, but it鈥檚 also rooted in your trust of creation鈥攖he plants want to grow, your body wants to heal. There鈥檚 this sort of rooted hope and trust in the evidence of life always moving toward goodness or growth or healing or wholeness.鈥�

Heather: 鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 mean that I believe with an optimism that every single story ends in healing and being alive here until you鈥檙e 95. That鈥檚 what I want my story to be, and I want that for everyone, and yet also knowing that we don鈥檛 have a guarantee of that. But we do have a guarantee that God is good, and that he has created us, and he has made us for more than we realize.鈥�

Heather shares how, at the time of this recording, there was no longer any evidence of cancer in her body. The journey of healing now offered a new challenge: The sprint for survival was over, and now she was facing the marathon of the rest of her life鈥攖he hard work of emotional healing after being so close to the experience of human fragility and finitude.

鈥淚鈥檓 going to have to suffer through being faithful here on this broken and beautiful earth.鈥�

Heather: 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what it means to be vulnerable. This is what it means to be human. I鈥檓 going to sit with that, and I鈥檓 going to accept that God, in all his goodness, is with me in the middle of the vulnerability, in the middle of when it鈥檚 scary, in the middle of when you feel blindsided by something.鈥�

Resources to Go Deeper

• You can follow the next chapters of Heather鈥檚 journey on Instagram 鈥攌eep an eye on , too!
• Shauna mentions that this conversation reminds her of the work of writer Annie Dillard. For a hauntingly beautiful example of Dillard鈥檚 writing about how the chaos of nature confronts us with the deepest parts of ourselves, check out her 1982 essay
• Parts of this conversation bring to mind the work of artist Makoto Fujimura, who wrestles with the role of beauty in the wake of tragedy and destruction. We鈥檇 especially recommend his inspired by Shusaku Endo鈥檚 book of the same name, and his , which 鈥渞eflects my journey with T.S. Eliot, and Dante, to recover my imaginative vision during the aftermath of 9/11/2001, living in ground zero, New York City.鈥�
• At the end of this episode, Kate Fontana, a Master of Divinity student, shares her poem 鈥淎n Imbolc Call.鈥� This poem is part of the latest issue of LIT, a student-run literary magazine that gets published here at 天美视频. You can read the full issue at .

The post Cultivating Hope with #ChemoWonderWoman Heather Abbott appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

I distinctly remember sitting in my apartment on the westside of Chicago, surrounded by the noise and clamor of my neighborhood, when I was notified of my admission to 天美视频. I had begun to fall in love with the under-resourced neighborhood I had moved into to live in intentional presence with my neighbors, to live out the values I ascribed to through my work and personal convictions. I was hesitant and excited to step into the possibility of graduate school鈥攌nowing it would mean major upheaval, loss, and also great possibility.

When I said yes to 天美视频, the next six weeks felt like an almost paralyzing state of transition, on the threshold of learning what it is to remain in a liminal space. In a strange way, that time of liminality allowed me to resonate with my under-resourced neighbors in a unique way鈥攑eople who are constantly experiencing displacement, loss, joy, grief, and so admirably holding it all in tandem with a hope like I鈥檝e never known.

That disruptive and exciting feeling of transition did not end when I finally made it to the Emerald City from the Windy City. Even after several months, I still unabashedly described myself as 鈥渋n transition.鈥� That said, over time, I could feel bits of myself that had been scattered start to settle into place. I learned to developed a new set of rhythms between work, school, and trying to create a sense of place and community here.

I have taken to referring to this time as a wilderness. As a student, I was asked to invite the transformative possibility of engaging, naming, celebrating, and grieving my own story. I would much rather engage, name, celebrate, or grieve the story of those around me, but I learned very quickly that my ability to engage the stories and heartache of those around me required that I first do that work for myself. How dare I imagine otherwise? At the end of first year, my Listening Lab Facilitator applauded me for learning how to show myself the same compassion I extend to others. My capacity for grace and mercy for others was expanding as I learned to engage my story with the same gentleness.

In the midst of this journey, we are encouraged not to rush through to the other side, but rather to dwell in the wilderness. I have come to believe this is a profoundly beautiful and necessary task. Like the nation of Israel in the Old Testament, I believe the pillar of cloud and light goes before me as a figure of hope.

One of the most memorable images from my first term was part of a lecture on our capacity for hope. We looked at a well-known image of modern dancer and choreographer Martha Graham, known for creating a movement language based on the expressive capacity of the human body. Dr. Chelle Stearns referred to this sweeping motion as a 鈥済esture of hope.鈥� Such a gesture is only achieved through intentional practice. Like Martha Graham, we practice ourselves into a hopeful posture. As a result, we must learn to bless what life is in this moment鈥攁ll that we are holding: possibility, potential, all that is unresolved in our hearts. I have no doubt that Martha Graham endured hours of practice and her fair share of pain to achieve such a gesture. So it is with hope. What a beautiful emblem of the resurrection!

As a part of the Artist鈥檚 Way class that spring, I completed a creative project inspired by Martha Graham鈥檚 gesture of hope. In an effort to practice my own posture of hopefulness, I created a flip book that traced the movement of the dancer into the full gesture of hope. 35 small drawings of a dancer and her sweeping motion. At the presentation of our creative projects, I shared my piece and how my neck ached and my eyes burned after several late nights drawing and re-drawing only slight variations of the same motion. 鈥淎h, yes. But that is what it is to practice a hopeful gesture,鈥� Dr. Stearns commented. She was right. In the very execution and embodiment of my project, I had tasted hope. It is bittersweet but absolutely worth it.

I hope that in the days to come, my little flip book can serve as a reminder of the beauty we鈥檙e working towards. Like that pillar of light in the wilderness, it calls us back to the wilderness at our feet and the promise of a Presence that transcends our circumstance.

In one of the readings I encountered as a student, the author noted a poem by Julia Esquivel. She says we have been “threatened with resurrection鈥� and this is what keeps us up at night. I can鈥檛 imagine a better reason for a vigilant night than the profoundly hopeful and startling threat of resurrection.

Join us in this vigil
and you will know what it is to dream!
Then you will know how marvelous it is
to live threatened with Resurrection!
鈥揓ulia Esquivel,

If Jessica鈥檚 story of hope resonates with you, and if you鈥檙e wondering if 天美视频 might be part of the next chapter in your own journey, we鈥檇 love to chat. It鈥檚 not too late to join our 2019 cohort starting this fall, and the next application deadline is June 24. Learn more at .

The post Alumni Story: Entering the Wilderness appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.