The class represents the beginning of an answer to prayer. Namely, we have been praying for God to call local leaders to guide the church into the future. For a church that has, in the last 40 years, never planted a church or had someone carry through to vocational ministry, and now to have 5 in the last year speak of their call to ministry points only to God's grace beginning to move. Praise God!
Once a month, we clear space for these students to share their Testimony. This past week, Polima Lopez, our worship minister and a second generation Samoan-American, shared her story during the sermon moment. I wanted to share a little of that story with you:
The fact that I'm standing in front of you today should be testimony enough. I would not have been able to stand here three years ago, but only by the grace of God. Many of you already know some of my struggles. A couple of years ago I believed the convictions of what others said about me, but now I understand that I am a daughter of God. All of the stories growing up wanted to claim me. I didn't know who I was, and so I struggled with my identity. I am a Samoan who grew up in Hawaii. American culture conflicts with being Samoan. The way we talk, our customs, our food, our language is different. And on top of that, my Dad is a Pastor, and so you can throw in religion too. These cultures clash and I was confused. I didn't know how I was supposed to think or act. I grew up thinking I was wrong. But I stand before you now to say, like Paul in Ephesians, that the old is gone and the new has come. I've been through a lot, searching for who I am and I've come to know this: God's grace embraces me, and I'm now able to embrace it.
I think this is a beautiful testimony; It is Limah's story of how God's grace has connected with her – changed her. We all struggle with Identity. We are all shaped by a multiplicity of stories that shape us. I can't connect with being Samoan, but I can connect with the cultural clash between growing up in American culture and my identity as a Christian. I inherit a story from my family: I grew up in Richmond, VA, a middle child of two white conservative evangelical parents. In this simple sentence recounting my past, you can begin to understand a little bit of my story…There’s the story of political allegiance, my parents were conservative, attached to the Republican party. I grew up in the South, which produces pictures of tobacco and cotton fields, deciduous trees, and southern comfort food (sausage and gravy). And I inherited a particular religious story: an evangelical faith. Each of these are various stories that interact and play with one another to form a confusing and muddled story that is my life. I have begun to understand how each has shaped me, though I have struggled with which defines me.
Each of us at some point choose whether to trust these stories that shape who we are, or whether to trust a different story, a story marked by the cross and resurrection. When we choose to trust a different story, to allow our life, the stories we’ve inherited, to be shaped by the story of Jesus found in Scripture and the Church, we call it faith. And we believe that those stories are worth telling.
This past Sunday was Pentecost Sunday. Pentecost is the day that the church remembers the gift of the Spirit that remains with us. It is the day that all the people of Jerusalem stood in confusion hearing their own language from Galileans. In a way, Christ's presence through the Spirit indeed confuses. It ought to confuse and confound our identity so that we may come to a posture that Limah has embraced, God's grace for us, a beloved of God. Emmanuel Katongole puts it like this:
"Christian faith is fundamentally about identity – who we are as embodied people. In Africa as in America, there is a multitude of powers and stories that try to define who we are: the color of our skin, the nation of our birth, the history of our culture, or the characteristics of our tribe. But when I baptize someone into the church of Jesus Christ, I see that God is making a claim on their bodies. Are they still black? Are they still white? Are they still Rwandan? Are they still American? Perhaps. But there is a real sense in which our identity gets confused (mixed up) with Christ's identity in baptism. Who we are becomes (or at least ought to become) confused and confusing to others."
May the work of Spirit continue to un-confuse our past identity, placing us safely in the identity of Christ, so that Christ in us may continue to confuse all other identities.
