A Sister’s Lament

Rejoice, Grieving One

weep, groan

Rejoice, oh Righteous Wronged

howl, rage

Rejoice, Image Bearer

with arms outstretched for rescue

Rejoice, Survivor

standing through the pain

Rejoice, Living One

waiting.

Yahweh’s own breath fills the tormented

draws His loved one in

nurses the bruises

sustains His own

The God who sees wept.

He will be satisfied.

Rejoice

Oh, you desperate

The battle for the beloved is the Lord’s.

Evil will not carry away His cherished one

Not then

Not now.

Praise Him.

Praise Him.

Praise Him.

The storm is passing over.

Rejoice

 

Where do you do theology?

Several years ago, my mom gave be a small volume called Aquinas for Armchair Theologians (by Timothy Mark Renick, Westminster John Knox Press, 2002).  It was well written with great wit and a fun spirit that made very heady ideas accessible.  About the same time I discovered podcasting, especially iTunes U, bringing great colleges and speakers to my iPod over dishes and dinner prep.

When I think of an armchair, I think of a poorly lit, cozy room in solitude with a glass of something yummy with time to spend in contemplation or rest.  My life does not unfold that way.  I have a family rather than a 9-5 job.  I like doing things with my hands, knitting or quilting, seldom making my chair time a solitary or leisurely endeavor.

Carolyn Custis James wrote a book (When Life and Beliefs Collide, Zondervan 2001) whose introduction was subtitled “No Great Women Theologians.”  In it, she calls for everyone, including  women, to think about God because everyone is wired to know God, independent of gender, intelligence, aptitude, or training; we all were created by God to know Him.  I do not aspire to be a great woman theologian.  A good one will do.  Since I am a woman it would be difficult to do anything, least of all theology, as anything other than a woman.  I do aspire to know God more fully and to let Him inform me how to do life.  And it is fun to think big thoughts, especially snuggled in a rocking chair with yarn in hand and fuzzy slippers on feet.