by Rebekah Simon-Peter | Jul 30, 2012
Our wonderful nephew Max and niece Kate have been visiting Jerry and I for the last week. Once we got over our initial fears of entertaining kids for a week, we’ve had a blast! Of all the things we’ve done– the rodeo and rides at Cheyenne Frontier Days, hiking Casper Mountain, spotting deer and antelope, and a sleepover with the neighborhood kids–the very best has been horseback riding.
Yesterday, on horseback, we found ourselves retracing the route of westward settlers on the old Oregon Trail. We saw a bison jump used by the Native Americans. And an eagle’s nest. It was a wonderful immersion in American history and natural history.
All the while, trail horses Spot, Hope, Burrito, and Hancock were well-behaved and patient. They’ve been giving lessons and trail rides for years. In fact, they know the trails so well they didn’t really need us to show them the way. They knew exactly where we were and where we were going.
Nevertheless, when we let loose on the reins, they ambled along at their own pace, and stopped to eat whenever they wanted. That made for some slow riding.
It struck me that there’s nothing like horseback riding to teach a young person how important it is to develop a mind of one’s own.
If you don’t use yours, the horses will use theirs!
Kate, almost 11, looks up to her big brother, Max, 14, in every way. Whatever he wants to do, she wants to do. If Max wants to watch the Olympics, she wants to watch the Olympics. If Max wants pizza, she wants pizza.
“What do you want to eat?” I pressed her at one point. “I don’t know.” she said, “Ask Max.” “But what if one day Max isn’t right there to help you figure it out?” “Then I’ll call him.”
At some point, it’s important to develop a mind of one’s own. Our big brothers, big sisters, or others we look up to, may fail us. Nor can they speak for us forever.
Leaders must be able to articulate their own mind. Find their own voice. Muster the courage of their own convictions. And lead us into an uncharted future.
The Church is in need of just such leaders.
A pastor friend of mine recently posted on Facebook: “I wonder if we in America need to do a better job of defining our beliefs, acting on our beliefs, giving a better witness to who we are as 21st Century, progressive Christians and thereby redefining Christianity in America in such a way as to attract new believers…? Just a thought.”
Lots of people hit the like button.
She then went went on to ask, “Why are we so timid?? Lost?? Uncreative?? SILENT??”
Good question! Why are we?
I don’t think it’s that most of us don’t have minds of our own. I think it’s that we are afraid to give voice to them. For fear that others will disapprove. And the whole thing called church may come crashing down around us.
That silent timidity is what happens when we’re worried about surviving.
Surely, some will disagree. Some will disapprove. Some will leave.
And…
…just as surely others will gladly inhale the breath of life that is unleashed when someone dares to say what they truly think and believe. Even if they disagree!
It takes that kind of authenticity to move from survival into a new kind of growth. A growth that isn’t based on the safety and security of the past. Or on avoiding the pitfalls of the past. But one founded on a trust in the future. And the God who beckons us into it.
One day Katie is going to mature enough to trust herself and her future. Even when she makes a choice she regrets. She’ll learn to live with the consequences and feel an inner freedom in the process. She’ll discover her own mind. Articulate her own thoughts. Voice her own requests. And thereby create her very own future.
May we in the Church do likewise.
It’s that or die.
Meanwhile, it’s back on the trail for us. Giddyup!
by Rebekah Simon-Peter | Mar 14, 2011
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| The Uplift |
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It must have been about 20 years ago when I first drove through Wyoming.
“Look! You can see for 100 miles,” exulted my friend and the driver of the car, Rachel.
“My point exactly,” I grumbled. “There’s nothing here.” I was referencing the undulating brown mountains that sported no vegetation, no trees, no nothing. It looked like a moonscape.
“I could live here.” Rachel signed contentedly.
“Not me, ” I asserted. “No way.”
Imagine my horror, then, when I got a call from the Wyoming District Superintendent, Lynn Evans, about 8 years later. He wanted to appoint me to serve the United Methodist Church in Rawlins.
“Do you know where that is?” he inquired.
“No,” I confessed unhappily. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I had requested an appointment to serve a church in the Denver area, close to my friends and network of support. What was HE doing calling me? This was not good news.
I arranged a secret reconnaissance mission to go check out Rawlins before the official interview. As I was driving up there with a friend on Memorial Day weekend 1999, I realized that this community was near the same spot in the road where I had uttered those fateful words: Not me. No way.
When we left Denver that morning for the road trip, it was hot and sunny. We stopped in Laramie WY, just North of the Colorado border. The wind was blowing, and all of a sudden I felt chilly in my short-sleeved shirt, jeans, and Birkenstocks. By the time we reached Rawlins (pop. 9500), 100 miles to the west, it was snowing. Sideways. “Not me,” I thought. “No way. I’m not living here.”
The next morning dawned bright and sunny. A calm blue sky, blueberry pancakes at the local diner, a visit to the local bookstore, the very intriguing mountain formation called the Uplift within sight of the parsonage, and a peek at the church building itself all made me think….well, maybe.
By the time I got home, and spoke to Rachel, I realized I would indeed be moving to Rawlins. But I wouldn’t stay long; of that I was sure. Three years tops.
That was 11 years ago. Within a week of moving to Rawlins, I met Jerry, the wonderful man who would become my husband a few years later, and discovered the strong and ready congregation at the church. I got excited about doing ministry with this active congregation and got involved in all sorts of local activities. I came to appreciate the strength, creativity, and diversity of the community, even as I lamented its challenges. I grew to love the wide open spaces and wild landscapes.
Even after I completed my tenure at Rawlins First UMC almost 5 years ago, and left the local church ministry to found BridgeWorks, I found that I still had a place in this community. I became a Big Sister, taught classes on going green, organized local meetings and events, supported local institutions, made new friends, and am now teaching a Bible Study at the church. For all of this, I am very grateful.
I also began to serve on the Board of the Wyoming Association of Churches, discovered the rest of this massive state, and much to my surprise, fell in love with it. Not with its politics, mind you, but its geography, canyons, mountains, history, people, and wildlife.
Now, Jerry has accepted a new and exciting job farther North in Glenrock, Wyoming. He’ll be getting to do what he trained to set up wireless systems for the natural gas industry. That means we’ll be moving in the next few months to the big city of Casper, Wyoming (pop. 50,000).
I’m sad to leave Rawlins and the Uplift, it’s a tiny progressive subculture and green community, the church people who will always be “my people”, my Little Sister, and my great friends.
But this time, my heart isn’t rebelling at the thought of living in Wyoming. They say that Wyoming is like one small town with very long streets. I know I’ll see dear friends and faces again. I’m kind of excited about experiencing another Wyoming community. It might even be time to buy a pair of cowboy boots.
