Assignment | Lesson 1 | Theology is A Person Place, and Thing

“All those people goin’ somewhere

Why have I never cared?

Give me your eyes for just one second

Give me your eyes so I can see”

-Give me your Eyes, By Brandon Heath

I woke up to the realization that I had lost most of my “closest friendships” overnight. I had decided to leave a campus ministry at Chico State University after a slow epiphany that they utilized control and fear as their primary evangelization techniques. I had spent three years building close knit relationships with these people, including being considered a student leader and someone who was “developing in wisdom”. I had recently had conversations with multiple people who had left the group, including a young woman who tearfully told me how she was encouraged to stop speaking to her parents, and break up with a boyfriend. I could no longer stay involved. But surely, I thought, some of the friendships would remain. After all, those friendships were based on more than just association in a club. I was wrong, and very quickly word spread that I was falling “to the ways of the world” and that I was not to be communicated with.

For a number of years after that, I shunned any kind of organized religion, preferring to focus on my spirituality and my personal relationship with God. But after getting married and the birth of my first daughter, I felt this hunger to be back in community with people, and give my children the opportunity to grow up in a loving community of people who could educate her in her faith. We had been trying multiple churches when we came across First Christian Church of Chico at the downtown Chico Pride celebration in 2016. Christians, at a gay pride event? And not protesting? We went for our first Sunday, and that evening we got the word that a close family friend had been killed by a drunk driver while out of state. Having barely known us for more than a day, the folks at FCC prayed for us, supported us, encouraged us, and held space for us. We immediately knew we were “at home” inside that Sanctuary. 

This was a pivotal time for our nation as well, as it became clear that Donald Trump was a real contender for POTUS, and as I grew in the depth of my faith, it was also being challenged by the circumstances of the world around me, discussing issues of morality with both conservative and progressive family members, and debating the very basis of the idea that children should not be separated from their parents, no matter the circumstances of their arrival in our country. In those early days, I wanted to fight with anyone, prove them wrong with facts, statistics, and logic. I’ve been learning since then that intentionally engaging with people on values driven issues is best done with compassion and being “impeccable with my word” as Don Miguel Ruiz writes in The Four Agreements.  

God continued to show up for me, and deepen my faith and reliance on God. And in the last few years, I feel that God is bringing me closer in both love and understanding, but also a desire to learn and deepen my understanding of my faith, other people’s faith, and to use my privilege and my strengths to uplift people. I’m still growing in my faith and in my understanding of my place in the broader Christian community, but I’m grateful to be doing it alongside lots of other wonderful people I’ve met along the way.

Y'all get ready for a ramble...Apologies up front!

Sometimes it’s in the moments that I’ve forgotten, and sometimes it’s seeing myself through others' eyes…

I have lots of stories that immediately come to mind that I recite about what has shaped me and brought me here to this moment. Most of them are stories of other people recognizing something in me that I didn’t see in myself. Like the time I was sitting in the Chapel of Transfiguration at the base of the Grand Tetons with my both of my kids, taking in the silence and peace, and then one of them said, “You should go to seminary, Mom,” and the other said, “Yeah, you love God so much.” Or the time when my pastor very casually asked me to help with something because he said, “You’re a leader in this church. People listen to you.” I recently had a friend going through a particularly rough time within our church, and we spent hours upon hours on the phone, and he said, “Thank you for this time. I needed your faith-based perspective.” None of these things is anything that I would have ever considered about myself. Ever. Seminary? No. Leader? Ha. And, yes, while I am grounded in faith, I didn’t realize it was coming through in my conversations. While I didn’t see it in myself, I’m glad others did, and I’m so humbled by their thoughts of me.

The story I forgot until today, while walking, was one that happened back when my kids were in elementary school. I received a call from a friend who had a child in kindergarten at the same public school as my older kids. She was upset that she had received an email letting parents know that the annual Polar Express party was being canceled due to the “strong Christian theme of the book,” however, please do not forget to sign up to bring items to the Hannukkah party the following week. I want to say that I said something badass like “We ride at dawn,” but I’m pretty sure it was more like, “I’ll schedule a meeting with the principal and we can sit down to discuss it with her.”

What followed was one of the worst weeks of my life (which is probably why I blocked it out). We met with the principal, where I spent an hour trying to explain why it was so important to commit to all or nothing in these moments. Let us all share and teach each other our traditions, or let’s keep off of it entirely. I advocated for all faiths, cultures, and traditions. I cited LAUSD policy. I shared my experience of teaching Sunday school at my Christian church, where half of my class was Jewish, and how amazing it was to have conversations with second and third graders about our commonalities. 

This story did not end well. The principal told people that “someone” was trying to shut down the Hanukkah parties without the rest of the context. It didn’t take long for people to figure out who the “someone” was. I was called an anti-semite on Facebook. I received a phone call the next day from the principal asking me if I would like to have security escort my children to me at pick up because she was fearful that they or I would be attacked. This is all because I had pleaded for a more inclusive vision for the school. 

I’m not sure how this story fits other than I am so deeply committed in my heart to letting people have the space to be who they are. As it turns out, I raised two kids who followed my lead because they both spent quite a bit of time in administration offices at school advocating for others and helping to create safe spaces. I’m so proud of them!

These are just little glimpses of many stories of how I came to be here and what I believe. I’ve been encouraged to live out my faith in a more life-giving way, and at the same time I can look back and see that I’ve been on this path of meeting people where they are and lifting up others’ voices.

I’ve always loved songs that seem secular at first listen but aren’t. “I Will Wait” by Mumford and Sons is one that I particularly love, especially the lyric, “Raise my hands, paint my spirit gold. Bow my head, keep my heart slow.” Slowing down, listening, in praise and love. That’s what I see when I hear that. I love it. 

As I considered the questions of who and whose I am, I remembered my mother insisting that we get a family photo at the front of the sanctuary on special holidays. When me and my four siblings were dressed up for Easter or Christmas and the sanctuary was filled with poinsettias or lilies, my mom could not resist having us gather at the front steps and requiring us to stand still and smile at the camera. We didn’t always cooperate. I remember being annoyed more than once, especially when the photographer took their time!

Somehow, as these things tend to do, that urge to snap a photo of my family on holy days has been passed down to me. I don’t have as many of these pictures of my current family as we do of my family of origin, but the ones I have are dear to me. I don’t regret making my own kids stand still and smile to get an image of us together, looking sharp and standing together in church.

What this progression of memories highlights for me is that most of the identity that I claim is as a family member - a daughter, a big sister, a mother, a spouse - and as a person of faith. Flipping through those photographs someone would be able to see how I have grown and changed through my life. Once the oldest of three, then the oldest of five children. Early on with both parents, then with just my mom. Later with my partner, then as a parent of two and also a minister, and finally as a family of six. Churches in different states - Washington where I grew up, where I experienced a call to ministry and where the mountain sang my name; California where my ministry has taken root and where the Redwoods give me deep peace. Sanctuaries that represent the growth and expansion of my faith as I moved outward and grew inward over the decades. Families embedded in community, valuing the holy celebrations of faith and life in the places we are nurtured and loved.

When reflecting on the events that brought me here, I thought of two experiences that, while common among many of my generation, still feel very personal and transformative to me. The first is attending Disciples summer camp in what is now the Northern Lights Region. I went to camp every summer of my life from the age of three until I had just graduated from high school. It was a place and a program that together helped me meet lifelong friends, understand my own self and who I was becoming, appreciate the sacredness of nature and creation, and begin the practice of seeing God in everything. At camp I learned to let loose and dance because I wasn’t afraid of judgement. I learned how to sing in harmony while someone strummed the guitar. I got to ‘preside’ over communion for the first time because I was invited to lead. Having sacred experiences in a sacred space where I felt safe and nurtured truly led to a deeper devotion within me. It was at camp where I first felt a sense of calling to ministry and it was the setting where I first whispered it out loud. It created a foundation of faith within me that still inspires me to listen to the still small voice within and look up at the night sky with eyes of wonder and gratitude.

The second common, yet personally transformative experience was living through the events of 9/11 and their aftermath. I was just coming of age in the fall of 2021, literally having turned 21 at the end of July. I was entering my senior year of college, living far away from my family. The grief and the fear and the outrage of that day were the first time I had experienced such a shattering of my world. It was the beginning of an adult ache and longing for healing in the world amidst so much brokenness. It opened my eyes to the kind of hatred and othering some people seem to default to when there’s an opportunity to act powerful.

In becoming so aware of the hurts of the world so quickly, I was led to dig deeper into my Christian values of peace, compassion, and connection across difference. I attended protests, led candlelight vigils, and lamented the loss of life and innocence among the people whose homes had become a war-zone. Through the lens of this experience my vision was expanded and my compassion grew. I learned that God could be present even in tragedy and through sorrow, and I began to rely more deeply on the promise of a better future for all of us through God’s grace and love.

Bonus pic of my family in December 2017 - one of my faves:

I am Annie Richardson. I am the mother of three and a widow. My husband of 31 years passed away in 2018. I am retired. I am a student.

I attend Abundant Life Christian Church and I’m very active there. I retired from NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) in 2021 after 43½ years and continued to be employed there for 4 years post-retirement.

I vividly remember my interview for a summer position at JPL. It was 1977 and it was still my first year being at college. I was young and skinny with big eyes, and excited to be there. As they showed me what they did, and what I’d be doing to help, I just kept thinking and saying “wow.” My summer position turned into 40+ years. For most of those years, I still thought and said, “wow,” about the science and engineering that happened there. As an earth science outreach specialist, I had the job of translating the science and engineering into words and illustrations that the non-science public could understand. I thrived in that environment. I know that job was preordained for me.

For as long as I can remember, the church has been a big part of my life. Even during my teenage years when I was rebelling, it was hard not to think of God. My parents when they were alive, aunts and uncles, siblings and my church were and are the community that spiritually rears me. It is the African American community that rears me culturally.

I grew up in South Los Angeles but have lived in Pasadena for more than 40 years. I love this town. This is where my husband and I lived our marriage and raised our kids. This is home. Actually, it’s probably better to say L.A./Pasadena is home, because my younger sister still keeps the home where we all grew up. What the two places have in common is they are the places of my immediate family.

As a child, I knew that I was brought up in a different culture than Caucasians, Latinos, Asian, and any other non-black cultures in America. But, in my adult years (especially, working at JPL) it was amazing to be able to work with and learn from people of many different cultures.

I had my first child at 29 years old. Throughout my pregnancy I never felt good, but the doctors said everything was fine and to expect differences because after all, I was living for two.  Around 15 weeks, I had the standard Alpha-Fetoprotein test and the value was high. This automatically put me in the complicated obstetrics category. At my 30-week checkup, my blood pressure was high so, I had to come back the next week to make sure things were going well. When I went back, my blood pressure was higher. I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia and the HELLP syndrome (I’ll tell you all about it another time).  They couldn’t get my BP down and determined they’d need to deliver the baby.  A tiny baby girl was delivered by C-Section.  Afterwards, things went from bad to worse. My husband was told to  tell anyone that he thought should see me to come to the hospital. It was bad. My family prayed for me. I learned later that some of my doctors prayed along with them.

As I look back, I know that God has been ordering my steps from the very beginning. Because my parents taught us right from wrong and modeled what it means to love your neighbor and to treat others the way you’d want them to treat you, it’s apparent to me that I’ve been given direction. Now, I have to stay on course. When I was very sick after delivering my daughter, I know that it was prayers of the righteous directed to a loving God on my behalf that made a difference in me being here. God is great!

I can never truly say that God was not active or present because I believe that He is always present and that He’s in control. With the shape our country is in now, I CHOOSE to believe that no matter how it appears, God sees and knows and will get glory from the outcome.

One of my favorite gospel songs is titled, “Worth,” by Anthony Brown and group TherAPy. The song talks about what Jesus did for me. He thought I was worth saving, keeping, cleaning up, and sacrificing for. The song evokes feelings of gratefulness for what he did for me and shame because there’s no way I could have earned it or repay it. The debt I owe can only begin to be repaid by letting others see how grateful I am.

Hi Leli,

So far, I’ve made it a habit to read everyone’s post, starting at whatever is at the top when I log on, and reading through to the end. I do this to see to which one I’m led to respond. Tonight, it was your video. I came into this course without any real understanding of what theology is, other than it’s the study of God. I know that’s probably the definition that many of us lay people relate to. I’m closer to “getting it” thanks to Dr. Yuki, the resources, written postings, and your video. The theological “aha moment,” for me came from the video, when you introduced yourself and gave words of appreciation first in Tongan, then in English. I thought, “this is theology.” It’s our daily lived, love of God shown to the world. It arises out of our culture and our spirituality and how those two interact.

I learned in this course that theology is a person, place and thing. I’m thinking, the person is you; the place is West Valley, Utah; the things are the Tongan culture and your spirituality. Culture and spirituality together give us the words for our autobiography.

I think the hand of God is all over your life, and if I had to fit you into a typology, I’d make up this new one: “Wanderer/Visionary” – Seeking answers from God while you see a vision for being an intermediary between “Old-school Tongans, and New-school Tongan Americans.” God has uniquely gifted you to be that intermediary and has uniquely put you in a place to do it. If I didn’t know it was one of the commandments, I would covet your clear Call. I’m not assuming to know, but the foregoing thoughts came to me from your spiritual autobiography video.

While I don’t feel a specific Call to my cultural community, I specifically include my community in whatever I’m doing. After all, I’m usually talking to myself too.

With Dr. Yuki’s genius first lecture as she walked us around her community, and your video, I know that our spiritual autobiography is not yet written, but is being written by what we do in our daily lives. Theology is seeing God in our world, community, our neighborhood, our homes, and his image in every person we meet.