Along with the new design, we’ve also added some new writers and contributors. We’ll be posting more from them shortly, so keep an eye out for their posts. We’ve refocused our blog to highlight the experiences of MHGS and hope that the stories of alumni, faculty, and students will help share the transformation happening within our walls.

Stay tuned for more posts and grab the RSS feed to keep connected!

From left to right: Kj Swanson, Jeanette White, Paula Womack. Photo by Joshua Longbrake, MDiv graduate, who has more photos on his blog.

Recently, Mars Hill Graduate School sent off another class of students with a meaningful graduation ceremony. Each year, a student from each degree program is chosen by the faculty and student body to speak on behalf of their class. This year, three phenomenal speakers gave us a glimpse of what they learned over the past few years. You can read or listen to the short speeches of each speaker below.

Paula Womack, MACP

All of you have, in some way, helped us get here and this was no small task.  So, it is an honor to be up here today, and an honor to be in the company of the other women from whom you will hear this morning.  It means a great deal that you have chosen to celebrate with us today.  Thank you.

As I thought about what to say today, I thought of the countless conversations, class lectures, practicums, reading groups, hallway meetings, office hours and happy hours that have impacted me, and will continue to shape my life.  However, there are two conversations in particular that I want to speak about today because they occurred at the beginning of my time at MHGS, and with two people I barely knew.  They have been present with me since then and have turned out to be eerily thematic during the last three years.  The first conversation was with Jo-Ann Badley, Professor of Biblical Studies and a mighty Canadian Woman.  Being the staunch Feminist that I was (and am), I had gone to see her to inquire about her work as a woman in the predominantly male field of theology, in addition to talking about what I hoped to be/do throughout my time at MHGS.  I do not remember what I said specifically, but I have no doubt that it included doing some great and mighty works of justice and salvation at MHGS. At the end of our conversation she offered me some profound wisdom.  She spoke to the essential task of seeking beauty and goodness in this life, as well as learning how to spiritually sustain oneself in the midst of battles if, in fact, I was created to fight them.  If I did not do this, I would become bitter and burnt out.  She ended with a call to be a woman of peace who could withstand the hardship of battles and to remain hopeful and to offer light.

Second conversation:  again, a conversation around the issue of social justice in the city of Seattle and included a discussion about my passions as well.  At the end of our time together, he looked at  me and said, “there is no doubt you will lead people through hard things, but can you learn to find rest in your own life in order to help those you lead also rest in the midst of those hard things?”  I remember being taken totally off guard.  In fact, these conversations made me wonder as to what it was that prompted these people to say such things.  What was flowing out of me that I was not even aware of?  And what did they know that I didn’t?   They exuded such a curious confidence in these strange ideas.  And everywhere I went, I heard similar themes, both in general and in response to me.

Well, what I am continuing to learn, in surprising ways, is that the rest, goodness and peace these two people were talking about had more to do with the deep soul rest that comes from knowing that to be the face of Christ means living into my humanity, not into some false notion of my divinity.  Yes, Jesus was God but he was also human and, since I was created to be human, to be a Woman, and not God, I am called to the non-glamorous work and play of being human. But, this has been one of the hardest tasks of my time at Mars Hill Graduate School because to embrace my humanity means to embrace my needs, my failures, my desires, my limits, my beauty and my power.  Unfortunately, but maybe fortunately, this is often awkward and messy and I do not like being messy.  However, it is where I have found more freedom than I have known for a really long time…maybe ever.  There is freedom because I have been surrounded by those who have loved my mess and called me to use it as a way to love others.  I hope this freedom leads to a freedom to be in my own unique skin.  This, I hope, will then help me to offer care and compassion to others as they seek freedom in their unique way of being.

That is my hope for all of us.  That, no matter what our calling, vocation or role in life, we are able to steward with wisdom all that we have learned at MHGS.  My hope is that our learning to rest in who we are as women and men emboldens us to rest deeply enough in our broken and beautiful humanity, that we are propelled to truly listen to wounded souls, and to “do justice, love kindness and to walk humbly with our God.”

Jeanette White, MACS

During my 3 years at Mars Hill Graduate School, a typical end of term assignment for classes has sounded something like this: Summarize, integrate, and synthesize twelve weeks of intense lecture and twelve-hundred pages of rigorous academic reading into a personally reflective and professionally researched paper.

Oh, and do it in just six to eight double-spaced pages, please! Sound familiar, class of 2010?

In many ways, the task of composing this speech has felt much like the process of writing these papers: lots of material to cover, but little space, so I must thoughtfully narrow it down to the one essential thing that I most want to say. As daunting as these all-encompassing assignments felt each time I approached them, the routine of wading through everything to get to that one essential thing proved to be as much a part of my learning experience as the class time itself. The process not only deepened my understanding of the course material, but it also illuminated the concepts that became the most intriguing, challenging, or personally transforming for me.

So for this one last assignment of a graduation speech, which I am so honored to be up here sharing with you today, I reflected deeply on the impact that these three unforgettable years have had on my life. And if I had to name one of the most important themes from my time here, it would definitely be the way in which my faith has been shaped and changed. At its core, my work at MHGS has invited me toward a theology of increased space, which in turn has led to greater room in my heart for the wholly Other nature of God, as well as more grace and hope for myself, for those that I love, and for this world.

To understand what I mean when I say I have acquired a theology of space, I want to reflect for a moment on what I thought I wanted when I enrolled here. I began the Christian Studies program feeling like I didn’t know enough about my faith, and I was seeking concrete tools and answers to discern exactly what I should think and believe. In short, I wanted a clear set of skills and rules that would give me an “airtight” theology, so that I could once and for all understand God correctly.

But the thing about an airtight theology, is that once it is sealed, it is no longer open to being touched or changed by even the slightest breath of fresh inspiration. And when I truly consider how God has worked, and has been revealed over time in this world, it becomes clear that we are unable to predict exactly how he will choose to move and to love.

Through my studies here, I have determined that God’s motto for faith may be something along the lines of this: Be prepared to be surprised. Be prepared to let a little fresh air into that box of limited human understanding in which you hold me. Be prepared to make room for the unexpected movement of my Spirit, and to make space for me to show up in places that you did not think I could exist. Be prepared to be surprised.

I have often said over the course of these three years that, while I still believe many of the same things, I now believe them differently. For example, I leave this place knowing that God’s deepest desire for me and for all of you is redemption, relationship, and liberation. And while at its core this conviction is no different from what I believed upon entering this program, it holds a different kind of hope and expectation than it did three years ago — because my understanding of God has been stretched, and opened, to hold new paradigms and possibilities.

So I thank you, Mars Hill Graduate School, for rooting my belief in a God who goes to extravagant, mind-bending, Jesus-coming-to-earth lengths to stay connected with us, and to heal us. I thank you, Mars Hill Graduate School,  for helping me see that flexibility, curiosity, and the embrace of mystery are hopeful and necessary companions to both my faith and my ability to love myself others well.

Because you see, in making space for God to be revealed as bigger and different than we thought was possible, we suddenly gain more space to love and to honor both ourselves and the lives and stories of those around us.

This is what I have learned to do at Mars Hill Graduate School, and it is the everything and the one thing that I hope for each of you here today. Thank you.

Kj Swanson, MDiv

I’m not a fan of countdowns. At the turn of the millennium in 1999, I actually boycotted the new years countdown and did a movie marathon instead. I can’t deal with the pressure of those final seconds, the tick…tick…tick of what exists- suddenly becoming what doesn’t exist… The End has no time to be an End before in a second it’s replaced with a Beginning. But here I am, at the ten…nine…eight…seven of my life as a student at Mars Hill Graduate School. And so are you.

I’ve been in this community for fours years. Many of you today are completing the work of three years. Some of you, have done it all in two.  And a few mighty perseverant folk have been here for sevenish.  It is strange that we don’t end with everyone we began with. Last year, when I watched the main cohort of 2006 graduate with their three-year degrees, I felt like all of my stories were leaving with them. And I can only wonder at the strangeness for those of you graduating ahead of those with whom you began.  But I do know this–we are all ending together.

And here’s the significant thing about countdowns- at least the New Years kind.  In the incomprehensible moment between the End of a year and the Beginning of a new one–in the space between Then and Now, when the unfathomable weight and reality of unstoppable time threatens to crush your tenuous human consciousness- some brilliant person realized long ago- this would be a good time to kiss…To pass through that liminal space holding and being held by another.  And here in this liminal space of graduation, all I can really think of are those who have held me and whom I am holding.

I have delighted in the labor of my education here. And to be graduating as a woman with a Masters of Divinity means no small thing.  But right now, what I most want to name about this school, this community- is that with you and because of you, I have loved better and failed more than I’ve ever been allowed to love or fail before. Because, through thesemen and women, and the women and men you’re sitting next to right now, we learned to set down our Missions to save the world, our Plans to construct the most airtight theologies, and instead– learned to love and honor God by honoring and loving one another.  We may have come wanting to save souls, but what we learned is how to care for souls. We learned that the effort of trying to be honest with ourselves, with one another, and with God- is much harder and far more worthwhile then the effort to convince others of our best guesses.  We have learned and forgotten and learned again the humility and joy that come from being transformed through relationship.

And our transformation continues as this liminal space between Student and Graduate gets smaller. In a few minutes, we’ll start walking across this stage. Then Naomi will sing to us. We’ll pray with Chelle and Rachael, and Keith will bless us. We are Ending and we are Beginning. And here in this space between, I cling to the words of the psalmist who promises “Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet, righteousness and peace will kiss.”

Happy New Year.

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Congratulations to all the graduates. We are so proud and cannot wait to see what new adventures you will take on.

Below are all six individual presentations along with a link to download the PDF of their papers.

Wholeness
Toward an Agrarian Pastoral Hermeneutic
By David Rice
Download Paper

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Place, Embodiment, and Diverse Particularity
Developing Spiritual Practices Rooted in an Orienting Myth of Biblical Trinitarian Theology for Local Communities in a Context Dominated by the Myth of Globalization
By Daniel Tidwell
Download Paper

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Why are You Apologizing for Bleeding?
Confronting the Evangelical Embrace of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga
By Kj Swanson
Download Paper

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Friday, Saturday, Sunday
The Particularity of the Tridum and Its Rhythm for Humanity
By Joshua Longbrake
Download Paper

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The Language of Suffering and the Words of Life
A Journey of Grief through Holy Saturday and the Psalms of Lament
By Ben Oldham
Download Paper

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Embodying Anglican Theology
Applying the missional Impulse of the Book of Common Prayer to an Urban Context
By Buzz Matthews
Download Paper
Note: Our video camera had some technical difficulties during Buzz’s presentation so this video begins partway through.

Mars Hill Graduate School is a learning community located in Seattle and dedicated to transformation through the study of text, soul, and culture. MHGS offers three graduate degrees:

M.A. in Counseling Psychology ·   M.Divinity ·   M.A. in Christian Studies

Our students are writers, artists, bloggers, theologians, and counselors who are devoted to experiencing God through relationships. Learn more about joining us in a transformational education today or see when an MHGS conference will be in your city.

Rob Bell on MHGS

“I always like the questions and your responses that come out of this place. I am such a huge fan from across the country. Keep being who you are and pursuing that unique thing…you are an inspiration to lots of us.”

This past week, Dr. Dan Allender spoke at Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Dan spoke on the core categories of sin: lust and murder. These aren’t just hyperbole’s but are ways that sin manifest themselves in our lives everyday. The call was to be aware of our own proclivity towards these sins and how to live in freedom of them. Listen to the whole sermon here or download it off of Mars Hill Bible Church’s site.

Dan Allender is the founding president of Mars Hill Graduate School and a Professor of Counseling Psychology. He’s got the greatest stories about fly fishing so be sure to ask him for one.

The schedule includes “classes” from core faculty including Dr. Dan Allender, conversations over coffee with current students, stories from alumni, and many other blessings. The weekend is also a great time to conduct an interview for admission.

Register for the visit today or learn more about the visitation weekend. We look forward to seeing you here.

The confusion between the school and the church becomes all the more problematic when you realize how different we actually are. David Von Stroh explains some of the basic disparities:

Since I find myself having to explain several times a week how Mars Hill Graduate School (my seminary) is not affiliated with Mars Hill Church, I thought it would be helpful to set the record straight. I know, its confusing. We’re both here in Seattle, and started around the same time, took our names from Acts 17, and both have red brick buildings in Belltown. But the similarities drop off there. My seminary, Mars Hill Graduate School, is actually of a very different orientation than is the Mark Driscoll pastored Mars Hill Church here in Seattle. For example. we are very affirming of women in leadership in the church, where Driscoll’s church takes a stance against it. We have a very progressive education, though still very much evangelically-theological. (Though we’re very diverse, there is no “party line” at my school. Everything is questioned. Deconstruction and reconstruction are the norm.) The gospel is most often talked about at MHGS in terms of justice issues and real-world transformation. Poverty issues, sex trafficking, trauma recovery, counseling (pastoral and professional psychology), engaging culture and contextualization…these are all important issues for us. I understand that Driscoll is now of a more fundamentalist orientation, even with his innovative and helpful approaches to missional models of church. Brian McLaren, Dan Allender (one of our faculty), N.T. Wright, Jurgen Moltmann, Richard Hays, Martin Buber (“I and Thou” is probably THE foundational text at our school), Pete Rollins…these would be some of the primary influences at MHGS, whereas Driscoll’s church is probably most influenced by John Piper. The Rob Bell pastored Mars Hill Church in Grand Rapids, MI is actually far more similar to MHGS than is the Mars Hill Church of Seattle.

It is ironic also that we have the name Mars, being that Mars was the Greek god of war. MHGS has many pacifists, in fact, pacifist/Anabaptist/Mennonite views on war and peace are probably largely in the majority here. The Mars Hill reference, however, refers to Paul’s preaching to the Athenians on the Areopagus (Mars Hill) about the “unknown God”, using a piece of their own religious devotion to begin explaining the story of Jesus.

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While there are many differences between our school and the church, many students are members at Mars Hill Church and find great connection and community through their ministry. Still, it is helpful to know our differences so that prospective students can make an informed decision about studying at MHGS.

David lives in the Rainier Valley and is a student in the Master of Divinity program at Mars Hill Graduate School and worships at Rainier Avenue Church.  Before moving to Seattle, David ministered in the slum communities of Bangkok, Thailand with Servant Partners for five years, pioneering new house churches, mentoring Thai leaders, organizing squatter communities for relocation, and consulting micro-business development operations.  David loves researching the Buddhist context and pioneering new ways of sharing the gospel of Jesus.  His pioneering work on Buddhist contextualization has been published in Communicating Christ in Asian Cities: Urban Issues in Buddhist Contexts, edited by Paul De Neui.

Same goes for blogging and politics.  And blogging and family.  And blogging and anything, really.  Blogging is like, so 2004, and analyzing blogging is so 2005, and that means I am four years too late in writing this post…which is pretty standard for how quickly I catch on to trends.  At least I’ve stopped talking about the Information Super-Highway (raise your hand if you came of age in 1997).

My husband Jack is never behind on internet trends.  Which is why, before starting this post, I asked him what he thought it meant to be “a spiritual person on the net.”  I hoped he could give me the 2011 answer and I, for once, would have archived proof of my coolness.  Take that, The Future!

Jack got really excited, as he always does when I ask him about the internet, and started speaking in engaging, witty, and fully edited paragraphs about blogging and spirituality.  I hate it when he does that.  He explained that everything online is instantly open to everyone else’s response, and he called this the “Rapid Feedback Cycle.”  You write, you publish, and you skip the process of meditating on your own writing because you already have 36 comments on your post (or, in my case, maybe two).  Contrast this with the Apostle Paul, Jack said, who sent off a letter and six months later the church in Corinth was shocked to read that their pastor did not approve of incest and adultery.  Imagine if Paul had a comments section at the end of his epistles!

This Rapid Feedback Cycle (oh please tell me someone got here by googling that phrase) is what makes blogging hard for me.  What can I say that won’t be criticized, debated, or objectified?  Will there be space for my voice before it’s drowned out?  Will my writing be my own, or will I numbly absorb the praise and criticism in my inbox?  Will my readers know that there’s flesh and a heart and tears behind my words?

I keep these questions close when I blog.  I write about normal things, like what I learn at Mars Hill, or the women in my church, or how many moles my Italian ancestry gave me.  But before I hit “publish,” I have to acknowledge (at least to myself) that I don’t understand this internet thing.  I wish I could see the faces of the people who read my blog, and ask them why they were searching for “celebrity teeth” or “restless in marriage.”  I’d like to tell them that I am not very smart and they shouldn’t listen to me, but to please still give me lots of attention and continue reading my blog.  It all seems so desperate and impersonal, both on my end and theirs.

And yet, relationship still happens in the rapid feedback cycle.  Sometimes I feel a stranger’s humanity as if it was radiating from my laptop.  Often, in the security of that private-yet-public blog space, I write words that are truer than even my best friend could coax out of me.  I don’t love the rapid feedback cycle (especially now that I know it has a name), but it might be worth dealing with.

Christine is finishing her first year at Mars Hill Graduate School, in the MACP (Master’s in Counseling Psychology) program.  She blogs regularly (that means once a month) at madcheshire .

I was at church Sunday morning; a rare occurrence for me these days. As my attention span ebbed and flowed, I heard words in the Pastoral Prayer that caught me—not because they were convicting or inspirational, but because they made me mad.

The pastor alluded to our need to ask forgiveness for paying more attention to email, cell phones, and blogging than scripture, prayer, and service. I am still mad.

It’s not the first time I’ve considered it—the connection between my spirituality and blogging; but that prayer got me to thinking (and blogging—God, forgive me) in a more concise way. The two are not, nor should they be, mutually exclusive. And for me, they have served and enhanced one another in powerful, transformative ways. I would go so far as to say that blogging has become a manifestation of my spirituality—my prayer.

I have known many seasons, frankly many years, in which my spirituality has been sterile, isolated, hard work. It has been taught and understood as a discipline with specific activities and manifestations that somehow mark or define me as a Christian. But blogging has not felt anything like this. It has been a gift. The antithesis of sterile, segmented, hard work, it is messy, integrated, and life-giving.  Call me crazy, but this seems far more consistent with what spirituality ought to be about, how it ought to be defined, experienced and “practiced.”

Mary Oliver’s poetry never fails to speak to me, to express something in words and imagery that I otherwise could not. Her poem, Five a.m. in the Pinewoods is no exception.  Consider these three lines:

So this is how you swim inward,
So this is how you flow outward,
So this is how you pray.

She captures what blogging and spirituality have become for me: rhythm, movement, breathing, introspection, expression, ever-shifting currents. So this is how I pray; this is my spirituality—articulated and lived: I blog.

Blogging has created this vast and expansive context through which I can express my thoughts. Sometimes they are deeply profound or heart-wrenching. Other times they are silly and irreverent. And often they are just whimsical, hopefully thoughtful collections of what is going on in my head and heart. My blog posts are ways in which my spirituality is made manifest, ways in which I both speak and listen, am heard and spoken to.

“Wherever we may come alive, that is the area in which we are spiritual.” (David Steindl-Rast)

Blogging invites me again and again to come alive – to live boldly, out loud, and in truth. Blogging is a space in which I can dream, think, imagine, process, lament, and grieve. That is spiritual. That is prayer.

So this is how I pray. Not like the pastor in Sunday’s service—calling me to “higher” forms of spirituality; but in the virtual world, on a screen, through my keyboard, in the heads and hearts of those who read what I write, reaching the eyes, ears, and heart of God, experiencing life—abundantly.

I’m not as mad as I was on Sunday. Writing this post definitely helped. It reconnected me with what I know to be true, what I know brings me life. Indeed, it is my prayer. So this is how I pray.

Ronna Detrick Miller received her MDiv from MHGS in 2004 and then served on staff until March, 2009. She is now launching her own business: Renegade Conversations through which she offers coaching, spiritual direction, consulting, and speaking on ways that women and the systems within which they live and work can be reimagined, recreated, and restored.

I am astonished by the pages upon pages I’ve written for school papers that only one pair of eyes usually ends up seeing.

One time in my undergraduate, after writing a 15 page research paper, I randomly inserted a sentence two-thirds in that said, “If you’re actually still reading this, can you make note of it at the end?” To my amusement, (and embarrassment,) sure enough, the professor wrote, “nice try, I read it all.”

My desire to know that someone is actually reading what I write gets to a core human issue of futility: Does anything I do really matter? If I write myself onto a page, will I be engaged? Will I move anyone? Do I trust that if I’m real when I write, readers will actually enjoy what I have to say?

I sometimes buy into a myth that suggests that everyone else’s lives are invariably sexier and more purposeful than my own. Who would want to read about my life? Speaking from my own experience, to share my own story, no matter how tragic, mundane, or uncool it is– it’s risky, to say the least. Of course there are others who can write, review, and photograph better than me. And yet, I believe that offering small portions of my life to those who desire to read, shows us something of our dignity, humanity, and value.

I have an artist friend who puts her “in process” and unfinished artwork on her blog. Some galleries prefer that their artists don’t present their work in this medium, because in their eyes, it creates a diluted version of the real thing. Which leaves me asking: “what is the real thing?”

I think my artist friend is on to something: it’s about where we are in the process of this thing we call life– When I blog, what I offer is raw, unpolished, and in progress. This is what I’ve found: people are moved.

Jamie is a recent graduate from the Counseling Psychology program. She blogs and shares her photography regularly at her personal blog.