"Remember your Baptism"

Kristin's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

I've been thinking about baptism a lot lately. Perhaps it’s a little premature, here in the midst of Lent and all, but I’ve been thinking about the free-flowing, cleansing waters of baptism.

I think it all started a few months ago when I witnessed the baptism of little David. David’s was the first baptism I saw at the church where I’m interning. Granted, I had seen many baptisms prior to that day, but for some reason, David’s just inherently felt different. Watching it all play out in front of me, I was suddenly aware of just how momentous the act is.

David’s family and Bill, the head pastor, were gathered at the front of the sanctuary. David’s parents beamed as they passed their infant son to Bill. Bill cradled David in the nook of his arm and slowly chanted the ancient baptismal words: “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” With each named member of the Trinity, Bill covered David’s head with a small handful of cool water.

David’s reaction was priceless. A huge smile broke across his face, letting out a hiccupped laugh. He swung his head around to look out at the whole congregation, and more laughter escaped. It was as if he was simultaneously inviting us to share in the experience with him and commenting (with all of those baby giggles) on just how magical the moment was.

That sense of joy was contagious. As Bill invited the whole congregation forward to receive blessings of their own, there were smiles all around. “Remember your baptism,” Bill charged us as he traced the symbol of the cross in cool water on each of our foreheads.

I’m still pondering what it means to “remember my baptism,” seeing as how I can’t actually remember the physical event from my first year of life. But after witnessing David’s baptism, I’m sure of this: baptism is the joyous and mysterious experience by which we enter into the body of Christ. It might be a little too early to celebrate, but I’m looking forward to remembering – and even celebrating – my baptism as Easter approaches. I’m ready to think about those cleansing baptismal waters after this dry and thirsty time of Lent.

* * * *

Kristin Raley is a first-year Master of Divinity Student at Harvard Divinity School. Her interests include the intersection between faith and language and evangelical Christianity. She is also pursuing ordination in the PC(USA), and is currently interning at Fourth Presbyterian Church in South Boston, MA. When she’s not writing papers or working at church, you can probably find her perusing a local coffee shop for some hazelnut coffee … or saying something in her “funny” Chicago accent.

charity: water

As a team we wanted to show you some of the people charity: water is serving and some of the work they are doing around the world in picture form.


Sedaney carries water home from the unprotected spring in Blanchard, Haiti.


Kiesha grew up drinking water from a contaminated pond on the island of La Gonave, Haiti. Since the quake, 3,000 more have come to her village to live and also drink the unsafe water.


A child drinks clean water from an @charitywater funded well in Rwanda


Drilling wells is a dirty job. here, the @charitywater drilling partner in Rwanda gets it done.

Where do we stand you ask?



It has been amazing to see the outpouring of support for this project. We are closing in on the half way mark of our goal. Let's keep it up! Ask your friends if they would be willing to give $5. They can donate here: http://mycharitywater.org/churchisalive

"If you are going to ask yourself life-changing questions..."

I don't subscribe to cable television, so I don't watch a whole lot of television. It isn't much of a surprise, then, that I totally missed out on an MTV documentary that aired last week called "Summit on the Summit." The premise? Kenna (actually a pretty great musician) and some famous friends of his, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro to raise awareness of the global clean water crisis. Check out the trailer below:




Guess what? We're not the only ones concerned about the clean water crisis. This is a global movement. A movement of compassion toward those with less. A movement to makes the lives of people better. Guess what else? We've already made a tangible impact. With the donations received so far, Charity:Water will be able to provide clean, safe drinking water to 90 people for years to come. Think about that.

We've put our thoughts, prayers, energy, and passion for providing life-giving water to yield a tangible result. Where would we be if everyone did that?

"If you are going to ask yourself life-changing questions, be sure to do something with the answers."
- Bo Bennett

31 Days Into Lent. How are you?

Matthew's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

It’s been a little over four weeks since Ash Wednesday, since we gathered in our places of worship, and had ash-marked crosses rubbed on our foreheads. We were marked as Christ's own and reminded that "to dust" we would return. It has been four weeks of prayer, reflection, discernment and quiet. It’s been thirty-one days since those first steps into the season were taken, and, I have to wonder, how are you? Are you hanging in there? Are you tired? Are you ready for Easter?

I'm getting there.

I admit, this Lenten season has been different for me. You see, each year I try to figure out exactly what I’m going to give up. I want to pick something that I’m not too addicted to, but I want to pick something that is so much a part of my normal everyday life that I will notice it’s gone. I mean the mere idea of giving up coffee is just crazy for me - I’m way too addicted to that to give it up. I need to give up something that I know, that I can succeed at not having for a season. I need to be slightly to moderately challenged. It’s become a pride thing. It’s more realistic that I give up chips for lent, or talking on my cell phone while in the car, or pizza or something that I enjoy but don’t really have to suffer to give up. I think some of you out there know what I’m talking about. There are plenty of things we will give up, but there are also plenty of things we believe that we just can’t live without.

This year I haven’t given anything up. Rather, I’ve added a few things. Namely the water project on this site was a big addition to my life. Water has consumed me for the past thirty one days. I have thought more about water than ever before. Right when I think I’ve thought about water in every possible way, another amazing post is published and my eyes are opened yet again. We have heard some amazing stories and reflections that involve water. Some of the stories and reflections are challenging, some heart warming, and others read like prayers. Needless to say, I’m thankful for each. These reflections have helped to keep me focused and going throughout what can sometimes be a grueling time of quiet. My eyes have been opened in new ways, and I can't fill up a glass of water without the recognition of how easy it was, and how thankful I am for that one glass. But, I then pray for those who don't have clean water.

I'm thankful that prayers have been matched with action. As of today, 49 people have donated, raising $1,717 $1,817 to serve 85 90 people. Amazing. As I scroll down the list of donors, I see names of folks from college, youth group, family, friends, and a ton of people I don’t know! It’s really great! Officially there are 59 days left in our water campaign, and we are $783 from our halfway mark. As we move forward, if you haven't donated will you think about donating? If you have donated, will you tell a few of your friends about the campaign, and ask them to donate? Together we can do this!

So it's been 31 days. It's been a different Lent for me this year; a Lent filled with community, action, and really hard questions. I'm hanging in there. How are you?

Water + Information

Jack's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

Sometimes, raw information can say more than anything else...

click on the infographic above to see the bigger picture from nextgenpe...

For more graphic-style water information, check out Ten Things You Should Know About Water.

[edit]: also, check out the Virtual Water Project, and this image from Wired Magazine that shows just how little freshwater there actually is in the world:

click above to enlarge

Discuss.

Going Without Water

Alfredo's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

I'm always amazed at the sources of wisdom that I encounter all around me.
One day, my mother was reacting to the war-torn images in the newscast on television, the typical manichean expose of the newscasters who divide the world into the heros and the losers, the saved and the vanquished. At the time, the rumors were that all the suffering and all the turmoil were due to the greed for oil and the need for its continual access so that the world (read: the United States) could continue functioning.

She turned to me with a foreboding sigh and told me that her mother used to say, many a decade before I was ever born, that the wars in the future would not be fought for oil. They would be fought for water.
I am not a religious man in the sense that those of you most likely reading this passage would consider religious. I am not partaking in Lent, nor will I be giving up anything in the coming days. But I am fully aware that one of the major parts of the Lenten season is its moment of deep introspection and reconception. It is, however, equally a time of action. You take actions at this time, like fasting, prayer, and meditation, as participatory of the season. But as you fast (if you fast) and as you challenge yourself (if you challenge yourself) in these days, I encourage you to wonder: what is it like to go without water?

A human body can withstand weeks, weeks mind you, without food. The eventual succumbing to starvation comes well after the last bite has been taken. And yet within 72 hours, you may find yourself six feet under unless you partake of water.

Allow that to sink in. Going without food for a fast can be a bit annoying during the day, but if you have done it before you can attest that your body assimilates and eventually the hunger pangs subside. Go without water for a whole day. In fact, eat all you want. But don't take a single sip of any liquid. I dare you. By the time your mouth reaches the paltry condition of that old fuzzy couch stored away in the dusty attic, you will have wished you had chosen to give up something else.

What I took from my grandmother's warning was not a message about ecological subsistence (although it most certainly can, and should as well, be read that way). I also took from it a much more uncomplicated, yet equally as important and profound, message. What is it that I fight for? What is it that I am worried about? How much of my energy is spent focusing on those things that I can live without? And how much of my time is spent making sure that others have access to at least the bare minimum (ie: water)?

I can't tell you how angry it makes me when I miss the bus. Or about how I fume because vegetarian options at restaurants are meager. And slow internet? Don't get me started. But water. It is surely the simplest thing we all need. Have I gone without it? No. Have I ever had to struggle for it? Never. Will I conceivably find myself in want for it? Probably not. And yet it is only because of this simple need being met that I have even the ability to whine and complain, to cherish and laugh.

It is said that necessity is the mother of all invention. I would venture forward from this, then, to say that FRUSTRATION is the mother of all action. More specifically, and more pertinent to this post, frustration is the mother of action in the form of social justice. Go without water. I look at you straight in the eyes, eyebrows furrowed with penetrating pupils underneath, and challenge you to complain about anything else after you have gone without it.

Lent is about humility, about recontextualization. It is, however, also about action. And I would venture that within this context, lent must therefore be about frustration. Without frustration, there is no action, the kind of action that I write about in this post. Use the themes of lent and water to allow the frustration to become productive. What is it that we are fighting for? What is it that controls our minds at the moment, that frustrates the hell out of us? And what is it that we will do about it?

The importance of it all can be shaped by a simple question: have you gone without water?

* * * *

Alfredo is a first-year masters student at Harvard Divinity School. Concentrating on Religion and the Social Sciences, Alfredo's research interests include the sociology of religion, religious disaffiliation, and the rise of non-religiosity in America. His goal is to one day become both a gentleman and a scholar.

Charity:water update 2

Your generosity is a testament to the kingdom of God! By giving of your selves, your resources, you are proclaiming God's providence for those in need. The church is ALIVE because people like you are committing to transform the world around and to be transformed.

Let this practice of giving also open us up to new relationships during this Lenten season. May we continue to be open to how God speaks to us through giving and may this lead us into a deeper relationship with our faith.

THANKS for the donations, we're at $1,540 now! Help us spread the word. Talk to your church or youth group about it. Tell your family and friends. Keep coming back on Mondays and Fridays to read inspirational posts during this Lenten journey.

Remember, you can check our progress at:

http://mycharitywater.org/churchisalive

"To Dust You Will Return"

David's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

“Remember David, ‘you are dust and to dust you will return.’” (Genesis 3:19)

With that my professor dipped his thumb in the small cup of ashes and oil that he held against his chest, lifted my hair, and wiped his stained finger on my forehead.

First down.

Then across.

The smudged cross left on my skin in that Ash Wednesday ritual signified the beginning of the Lenten season; a time of preparation, repentance, and reflection.

Lent leaves space to reflect on many things.

Our finitude is one of them.

Among other things, the ashen cross is supposed to point us to the temporal nature of life. I think that is why the words of my professor wrapped themselves around me so tightly.

I am dust. We are dust. Particles of dry earth.

I guess it makes sense that we are dust. After all, a potter formed us (Isaiah 64:8), and potters work with things of the earth, even dust. Dust that with the help of minerals and water and time has become clay.

On its own, dust is just parched dirt, but when water enters the equation, something new happens. A new substance is created. One that with some time between the hands and fingers of a caring potter becomes a beautiful creation.

That cross of ash on my forehead is gone, long since washed away, but it still challenges me, and perhaps it challenges you. What if we could spend a few moments reflecting on the role that water plays in transforming our substance from dust…to clay…to a beautiful creation?

This is the season for just that sort of reflection.

* * * *

David Powers is currently pursuing a Master of Divinity at Columbia Theological Seminary, which he will finish up in May. His interests include running, learning new things, and Clemson Tiger football.

Louisiana 1927

Katie's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

“Louisiana, Louisiana. They're trying to wash us away, they're trying to wash us away.”

In Randy Newman’s famous song, Louisiana 1927 he sings - laments even - the power of water, rivers, and rain. He captures in this simple but powerful song the damage that the Great Mississippi River flood of 1927 did to the states of Louisiana and Mississippi, leaving 700,00 people homeless. This song has most recently been identified with Hurricane Katrina in the public consciousness since Aaron Neville sang it on a televised hurricane relief show a few years ago.

This song always makes me stop and think about water. Water’s many and varied uses are quite remarkable when you think about it. We drink it, bath with it, cook with it, clean with it, swim in it, extinguish fires with it, and water our lawns with it. During my tenure as a volunteer organizer with the RHINO program at Saint Charles Avenue Presbyterian Church in New Orleans, I was struck by the many ways that water is also destructive and harmful. It can smudge and stain your 50 year old wedding album, it can pick up your bed and move it in to your kitchen, it can turn the walls of your living room fuzzy and black, it can drown the family dog, it can crack your grandmother’s china, it can push a barge on top of your house, it can fill your refrigerator with an indescribable smell, it can completely rearrange and destroy your life.

For me, much of Lent is about considering those things in my life that have been damaged and hurt and are in need of redemption and healing, and making the journey towards that healing. In the broadest level, New Orleans is certainly one of those things in my life that I lift up in need of healing. How do New Orleanians, or any one for that matter, come to terms with the things that have destroyed, changed, or hurt their lives? How do we make peace with the things that have harmed us, be that water, people, racism or sexism, governments, schools, etc? As Christians we seek redemption in and through the Holy One who claims us and washes us with the waters of baptism. In knowing whose we are and trusting this claim on our lives we can travel to Jerusalem, confident that the joy of Easter Sunday will be waiting for us at the end. We will move through the waters, and rather than be washed away, as Randy Newman and Aaron Neville sang, we will be held and saved.

A pilgrimage to New Orleans every Lent has been a spiritual practice of mine ever since leaving my job there. In a few weeks I will make that pilgrimage with a group of volunteers from the church I am currently serving in Annapolis, MD. In the meantime, I leave my apartment every morning and look at the water stained postcard that was salvaged from one of the flooded homes I worked in and that now hangs near my front door. I read these words written on it:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
when there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

It is my hope that my mission group will be an instrument of peace, that we will help a city that has been damaged and washed away move towards redemption and healing, and perhaps find grace in our own lives in so doing. Let us all make this Lenten season a time when we will all be able to reclaim our lives and find grace in those things that have hurt us or those around us. Let us make the journey towards Jerusalem, remembering the One who goes ahead of us, and make peace with the water.

* * * *

Katie Cashwell served as the Field Coordinator for the RHINO program (Rebuilding Hope In New Orleans) of Saint Charles Avenue Presbyterian Church from 2006-2007. She's now the seminary student intern at First Presbyterian Church in Annapolis, MD. She has one year remaining in the MDiv program at Union-PSCE in Richmond, VA.

Charity:Water update!

Wow. I'm floored. Floored by the generosity of the community here. This Charity:Water thing is incredible.

In just 14 days, we've had 35 donations totaling $1,314. The money we've raised thus far will provide clean, healthy drinking water for up to 65 people in need of it. This is a real, tangible difference we're making. Thank you.

We'll try to provide a weekly update, and if you feel so moved, be sure to share our progress with your friends, family, and co-workers. You can check up on the progress of the campaign at any time by visiting our Charity:Water campaign page at:

http://mycharitywater.org/churchisalive

In the Wilderness…

Katelyn's post is part of our Lenten Water Project. Throughout this Lenten season our writers will be focusing on the subject of water and what that means to them. Please donate to our well-building efforts, and if you have something YOU would like to say about water, let us know and we'll post it here!

After the Israelites had gone out of the land of Egypt, on that very day, they came into the wilderness of Sinai.
Exodus 19:1

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.
Luke 4:1

The wilderness is a not a place where most people would choose to be. It’s a scary place, full of uncertainty and devoid of life. In the wilderness, survival is a daily struggle, disorder and danger are everywhere, and desolation and drought threaten life.

For our biblical ancestors the Israelites, the wilderness is where they wandered for forty years, wrestled with God, and questioned whether God’s promises to them would be fulfilled. Jesus, still dripping with the waters of his baptism, was led into the wilderness where the devil was waiting for him.

The wilderness is nothing if not humbling. Perhaps it is appropriate then, that this is where the Lectionary has us begin our Lenten journey every year. We start in a place that reminds us of our dependency on our Creator God, the life-giving sacrifice Jesus made for us in his death, and the mysterious movement of the Holy Spirit in our lives.

Yet we are assured that the wilderness is not the final destination. The Lord led the Israelites out of the wilderness, and the Holy Spirit did the same with Jesus. God leads us out of the barren wilderness to green pastures and still waters where life is abundant, and we are called to share this life with one another.

May this Lenten season be a time when we remember what it’s like to be in the wilderness, find hope in God’s faithfulness, and rejoice with one another for the incredible gift of grace we have received in Christ Jesus.

* * * *

Katelyn Gordon is a graduate of Columbia Seminary and is the Children's and Family intern at Trinity Presbyterian Church Atlanta, GA.