Burning in My Bones: Location Matters We begin today a weekly series of conversations about the biography of Eugene Peterson. I never met him, well, I’m wrong: I shook his hand once when I was a young professor and I went into a room at a couple of events to hear him speak. But it’s personal for me because I’ve learned so much from his books over the years.
I was captivated by the bottom of page one! I love biographies but none more than those about individuals who loved Jesus, served Jesus, worshipped Jesus, shared Jesus, amid all the difficulties, disappointments, devastations, temptations, doubts, failures, weaknesses, infirmities and even perhaps the greatest snare of all: the successes. God help me, I want desperately to be one of those kinds of servants, knowing it’ll never happen on accident. I gotta say, I LOVED HIS MOM. :) That part was like stepping up to a fountain of sparkling lemonade in the Sahara for this parched woman.
I appreciate the specific question you’ve asked us, Scot. I’ve often thought how purposeful God was in my life to allow me to be raised in a small Arkansas town where all my people are from then, in the middle of high school, moving my family to Houston, Texas and entering a high school with 4600 kids in it. Stayed in the big city for the next decades and raised my kids in huge 5A schools and then moved to the country right outside Houston where we’ve been for the last 9 years. The neck-deep immersion in two different worlds and cultures has been priceless to me. God, in His kindness and grace, saw to it that I could adapt easily to either environment in ministering.
I have loved every syllable of the book so far and look tremendously forward to discussing it with this group! Peterson was such a unique person but his struggles, family challenges and losses call us each into the common ground where humans wrestle with angels and walk away wounded.
I greatly appreciate his connection to the sacred place of geography and beauty in creation. This was formative for me in that I felt God’s presence in a cathedral of trees in the winter in upstate NY. As a child I recall the relief that came— even after deeply harsh winters the trees that looked dead and brittle, would still grow buds. Little emerald leaves would always emerge. Bulbs buried beneath the frozen snow would emerge, almost as acts of resistance. God snagged my heart with beauty and wonder at a time when I desperately needed it.
Thank you for the book recommendation and space to share thoughts and read what stirs others.
When I read about his mother, I couldn’t help but feel like inside my heart I was high-giving her.
I resonated deeply with the idea that "place" shapes us. I've been a pastor in the north suburbs of Chicago now for 15 years (same town as Scot!), but I spent the previous 20 years as a pastor near Bozeman, Montana. There is something about the breathtaking beauty, the immense solitude, and sheer physicality of Montana that grounds me to this day. In fact, I return once or twice a year to fly fish in Yellowstone and its environs. Like Norman Maclean, a Montanan who spend most of his adult life as a professor at the University of Chicago, I am haunted by waters. I mentioned to Eugene a few years ago that I was coming back for a week of fly fishing (I got acquainted with him when I lived in Montana), and he referred to it as my "annual recovery." It is exactly that. As Eugene said in his memoir, THE PASTOR, Montana "has provided a protected space and time to become who I am. It has been a centering and deepening place of prayer and meditation, reflection and understanding, conversation and reading.”
And yet, I spend less than two weeks a year in Montana. So I have learned to be grounded here. The forest preserves, my neighborhood, and a nearby campus (University of St. Mary of the Lake) provide a wonderful spaces for immersion in the physical world. In these places I can practice long, wandering prayer. I also think the way Montana made me pay attention to the particularity of the land and the people has helped me pay attention to the particularity of my current ministry environment.
Something else I appreciated was Eugene's description of how his father's butcher shop was his introduction into the world of the congregation. For me, it was an apartment complex of 52 units that my wife and I managed in Portland, Oregon when I was in seminary. That's where I learned how to relate to people--to love them and pastor them.
And yes, Eugene's mother, Evelyn was a gem! I love the way that Eugene never disparages his spiritual heritage. He saw its flaws, and he moved on from parts of it. Yet his godly mother left her mark on him, and he speaks fondly of her. I grew up in a non-Pentecostal version of what Eugene experienced. I've seen some struggle to get over the excesses and quirks of that brand of fundamentalism. Yet Eugene is a model for how we can move forward, leaving behind the harmful while hanging onto the good.
Ever since reading this section of the book, I have loved imagining what his mom must of been like and what those Sunday school classes and evening classes were like. I keep picturing these rough and rugged Montana men getting caught up in the stories of scripture because of the way this woman taught and lived. There has been so much noise lately about the roles of men and women in the church and I keep thinking about what Evelyn and her community would think of the conversation. I love the line that described her as "A natural storyteller with a colorful imagination, she wove the Scriptures seamlessly into the hard-scrabble life of these men who spent their days covered in soot, snow and sawdust." I would love to hear about the impact that her teaching had on these men and their families generations later. It's so beautiful to watch a teacher in full stride, fully utilizing their gift, and I've enjoyed envisioning what she must have been like and thinking about the impact it had on Eugene.
I was struck by the rich sensory experiences he had, and how these were deeply embedded in his memories and the person he was. Breakfast around a campfire, the evenings with his mother playing the accordion and father the alto sax, etc. Long ago I was told, "the more senses involved, the more deeply imbedded the memory." Both positive memories and more painful ones (his grandfather sick on his bedroom floor after drinking). I had compassion for his father who didn't know how to connect, the likely result of his own history of disruptions in attachment in his own life (Mom in mental institutions and a father who drank heavily.) Of course, it drew me to many memories of my own "space" in childhood, and the memories created in those spaces. This week, my very first pastor, Pastor Donditt, died. The church was a small Brethren Church in a small town where settlers first came seeking an area similar to their German roots. Like the character in "A River Runs Through It" Maclean begins in the river, and is drawn back to it in his later life. "...immersed in the lives and histories of the ordinary, hardworking people who lived close to the land without pretense--was not a mere biographical detail but an elemental piece of his life."
I greatly enjoyed this opening section of the biography. As I read, I felt like so much of Eugene’s other writing came into focus.
Scot, thanks for this post. Your words spurred me on to consider my own upbringing and how that has shaped my life and ministry today. I grew up in rural NE Washington, not far from where Eugene spent his formative years. But I grew up in a “hippy” family. Ever since encountering Jesus in High School, I have felt like a political outsider- like I needed to embrace tea party politics and complementarianism to fully fit in with my peers. That feeling has persisted through the last 15 years of pastoral ministry as well. Authors like Eugene Peterson have grounded me in the hope that ministry can be so much deeper. That’s why I’m excited to keep reading!
I was quickly drawn by the rich imagery Mr. Collier paints to step into another time and place, take a seat on a bench in the town square and enjoy a front row seat observing the robust personalities living out their days in Kalispell!
A suburban “oil brat” upbringing in a variety of places, primarily in Texas, that blur together into a background of master-planned monotony created a surprising preparation for the awe, wonder & majesty of my brief, intermittent encounters with mountainous beauty as a child that always left me wanting more. I signed up for every youth ski trip & voted mountains for every family vacation forming a constant undercurrent in that space just in between the conscious & the subconscious of seeking: seeking his river of delights, seeking for great and hidden things of which I do not know, seeking more tastes of his goodness, seeking him. What a great question to explore how place impacts us! I’ve never put words to how he has lured me with the contrast of places in my experience.
Adolescent Eugene with his sense of separation amidst the myriad of people in his life is where I found myself most strongly identifying. Its a tension I’ve learned to appreciate over time, but not without tears & scars. I’ve often found myself in the outer rings of multiple circles of friends which has left me outside, but broadened my perspective through the diversity of friendships I have enjoyed. It meant I was not handed a prepackaged, label of an identity and I have had to be deliberate and intentional to pursue the woman I want to be. Ultimately, my few truly intimate friendships amongst a myriad of acquaintances became all the richer and I learned quickly that my foundational needs are not met by any but Jesus. And that is when anything in addition to him becomes icing on the cake!
I love the anticipation of a good book almost as much as a good book itself! Eugene & Winn have a captured my anticipation & I can’t wait to read on.
I grew up in the central valley of California surrounded by farms, produce, dairy sounds and smells, tree ranches of all sorts, rivers, lakes and the Sierras to the east and the Coastals to the west. I've dreamt of Montana infinitely but never with regret of missing out on the basics of beauty, grandeur, waters and rough & tumble life among hardworking, down-to-earth people. It was years later from my Calibornian beginnings that I pastored my first church in the least known, or desirable setting of the land of Enchantment (NM). It was there that I met this strangely familiar and gentle giant kind of man as he taught me the necessity of having three angles working constantly in life as a pastor. We would never meet, but not for lack of 'want to;' life simply happened. He's been my friend, though. When lured to find my Nineveh, my 'lights, cameras and celeb' place in and among God's church world, I found Eugene, the wise, confrontive friend telling me the story of Jonah struggling under the unpredictable plant. Incredibly, at just the right moments, almost as though Eugene actually knew me from his side of our friendship, he spoke of eating this book and how Christ plays in Ten Thousand places in ways that revived, enriched and helped me see again what it meant to be human and spiritual and theologian and pastor simultaneously. When tempted to 'run' a church I can't not think of his story of showing up at the church, a church that he'd empowered to actually take responsibility for ministry, to sit in on a meeting of some ministry group to see how things were going; certainly not to help them or give his approval. As he told it (and, as I remember it), he entered, sat down and suddenly the group's conversation stopped. "What are you doing here?" they asked him. "Just came to listen," he said. They insisted he leave, return home and trust that they were capable of doing what he had taught them they were called to do as church. I've sat through ministry courses that taught, lectured and diagrammed the principle of 'priesthood of all believers,' but Eugene's story and reflection was likely the most influential on my own practice. To his family and friends that gave up some of him so that he could give so much to all of us, thank you. peace
When I was in bible college, my childhood pastor oversaw my preaching internship and had me read numerous Peterson books. His book title A LONG OBEDIENCE IN THE SAME DIRECTION alone has had a life-long impact on me. I'm very much looking forward to reading his biography. I never had the privilege of meeting him, but had the privilege of learning from him, for which I'm grateful. I am also grateful for the way in which this book will set the record straight (no pun intended) on some of the more publicly debated moments that preceded his passing. https://religionnews.com/2021/03/15/eugene-peterson-biography-backs-up-that-yes-on-lgbtq-inclusion/
So what's the effect of a lack of sense of place? It's clear that location had a significant impact on Peterson's life but what happens if you don't have that connection or rootedness to a place? I labored with two men for 12+ years and each has that sense of place/home (one the TN mountains, one the MS coast). I've never had that sense and struggled with always feeling disconnected (which probably feeds a sense of being an outsider, which was also something Peterson experienced). As a pastor, I've never wanted to move around every 3-5 years and really wanted to give my life to one church in one place for a lifetime. I wonder if part of that is looking for that sense of place and why I've struggled leaving a place I had been for 15 years to come to a new work eight months ago. So if location matters, does it ever have a neutral effect or will it always be positive or negative or some mix?
Already this book has captured me but not in easy ways.
My church history professor talked about how geography can shape our theology (for instance, she pointed out how the Beguines had a theology shaped by living along the river Seine) - and that is what I saw in these chapters about Peterson's early life.
One of my "thin places" is in the woods, along a lake. If I picture a safe place to meet God - that is where my mind takes me - this how I believe that my geography has shaped my theology.
I too loved the chapter describing Peterson's mother. How beautiful!
Finally, I will take a second to brag...Peterson once travelled as a child to Weldon, Saskatchewan after coming by train to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. I live in Prince Albert - that is my small claim to Peterson's life :).
When I think of place and how it relates to my calling, I most naturally think of milestones. Here is where I put my trust in Christ; here is where I first discerned a sense of calling; here is where a mentor shared a life-changing bit of counsel. I think about the church wounds that shape my heart for the Church, and the beauty that followed. But I’m learning to think more about how my family’s history in that place and the people in my hometown were all part of God’s plan.
Also, I grew up in a small town in rural Arkansas, but have spent my adult life in the DFW metroplex. I go back every fall, and every time the contrast between the complexity and speed of the city versus the quiet stillness and relative consistency of my hometown is a great picture of God’s character to me. The Lord who is with me, guiding me through new challenges each day is the same Lord who was at work in my life so long ago. That’s both comforting and encouraging, especially in light of the complexity of the last year.
I grew up in a world of God-fearing, Texan independence. All sides of my family boasted of a rich, Christian heritage. I heard stories of how Sam Houston had recovered from hangovers with my great x4 grandmother (his mother-in-law) perched on his bed reading the Bible. I heard about how a great-grandfather had come to Texas with his missionary uncle. At family gatherings on both sides of my family trees, most of the men were preachers and most of the women were teachers. I laugh at how my vocation for the past 17 years has been in the field of Christian education.
My family drove from our north Houston suburb to our little country church building just outside of Cut-N-Shoot (real name with a fascinating, church-related story, involving two of my great-great grandpas) anytime its doors were open. I was intensely shy everywhere else, but in the safety and encouragement of my church family, I thought nothing of mounting the platform to sing a “special”. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough for them to say “amen” after I sang instead of clapping.
In the Bible Belt of the 80’s and 90’s, your identity wasn’t so much associated with being a Christian...but in *what kind* of Christian you were. Distinctives were the basis of Christian unity. I knew the Baptist kids from the Methodist kids based on their cliques. I was too shy, my congregation was too small, and our beliefs were too unique for me to feel like I fit in anywhere.
When I picture my formative place, I see it as a little enclave on a map of the Kingdom of God. It was full of love for one another, but it had its own unique traditions and practices that served to keep us a bit isolated from other Christians. In my prayers, I trudged its paths throwing out seeds from a heavy seed bag only to see far too many seeds land on rocky soil. But Jesus invited me into a home near the enclave’s opening, and I eventually learned to venture out to the crossroads to meet and learn from more well-traveled servants-of-the-King.
Eugene’s story helps me see how place can shape and propel you onward even after you have left that place. How you can stay in communication with it without letting it lay claim on you. And even how it can eventually become a respite.
Thank you for hosting this discussion! I greatly appreciate being able to reflect on this book in community.
I just began the new D-Min cohort focused on Eugene Peterson and the Pastoral Imagination through Western Seminary and led by Winn. I have read a few of Peterson's books, and have always loved the Message, but as I work my way through more of his works I found myself wanting to know more about Peterson's story. The first few chapters of Burning in my Bones is definitely helping to fill in some of the blanks and provide a foundation for his writings!
I was captivated by the bottom of page one! I love biographies but none more than those about individuals who loved Jesus, served Jesus, worshipped Jesus, shared Jesus, amid all the difficulties, disappointments, devastations, temptations, doubts, failures, weaknesses, infirmities and even perhaps the greatest snare of all: the successes. God help me, I want desperately to be one of those kinds of servants, knowing it’ll never happen on accident. I gotta say, I LOVED HIS MOM. :) That part was like stepping up to a fountain of sparkling lemonade in the Sahara for this parched woman.
I appreciate the specific question you’ve asked us, Scot. I’ve often thought how purposeful God was in my life to allow me to be raised in a small Arkansas town where all my people are from then, in the middle of high school, moving my family to Houston, Texas and entering a high school with 4600 kids in it. Stayed in the big city for the next decades and raised my kids in huge 5A schools and then moved to the country right outside Houston where we’ve been for the last 9 years. The neck-deep immersion in two different worlds and cultures has been priceless to me. God, in His kindness and grace, saw to it that I could adapt easily to either environment in ministering.
I have loved every syllable of the book so far and look tremendously forward to discussing it with this group! Peterson was such a unique person but his struggles, family challenges and losses call us each into the common ground where humans wrestle with angels and walk away wounded.
Thank you for leading this, Scot!
I greatly appreciate his connection to the sacred place of geography and beauty in creation. This was formative for me in that I felt God’s presence in a cathedral of trees in the winter in upstate NY. As a child I recall the relief that came— even after deeply harsh winters the trees that looked dead and brittle, would still grow buds. Little emerald leaves would always emerge. Bulbs buried beneath the frozen snow would emerge, almost as acts of resistance. God snagged my heart with beauty and wonder at a time when I desperately needed it.
Thank you for the book recommendation and space to share thoughts and read what stirs others.
When I read about his mother, I couldn’t help but feel like inside my heart I was high-giving her.
I resonated deeply with the idea that "place" shapes us. I've been a pastor in the north suburbs of Chicago now for 15 years (same town as Scot!), but I spent the previous 20 years as a pastor near Bozeman, Montana. There is something about the breathtaking beauty, the immense solitude, and sheer physicality of Montana that grounds me to this day. In fact, I return once or twice a year to fly fish in Yellowstone and its environs. Like Norman Maclean, a Montanan who spend most of his adult life as a professor at the University of Chicago, I am haunted by waters. I mentioned to Eugene a few years ago that I was coming back for a week of fly fishing (I got acquainted with him when I lived in Montana), and he referred to it as my "annual recovery." It is exactly that. As Eugene said in his memoir, THE PASTOR, Montana "has provided a protected space and time to become who I am. It has been a centering and deepening place of prayer and meditation, reflection and understanding, conversation and reading.”
And yet, I spend less than two weeks a year in Montana. So I have learned to be grounded here. The forest preserves, my neighborhood, and a nearby campus (University of St. Mary of the Lake) provide a wonderful spaces for immersion in the physical world. In these places I can practice long, wandering prayer. I also think the way Montana made me pay attention to the particularity of the land and the people has helped me pay attention to the particularity of my current ministry environment.
Something else I appreciated was Eugene's description of how his father's butcher shop was his introduction into the world of the congregation. For me, it was an apartment complex of 52 units that my wife and I managed in Portland, Oregon when I was in seminary. That's where I learned how to relate to people--to love them and pastor them.
And yes, Eugene's mother, Evelyn was a gem! I love the way that Eugene never disparages his spiritual heritage. He saw its flaws, and he moved on from parts of it. Yet his godly mother left her mark on him, and he speaks fondly of her. I grew up in a non-Pentecostal version of what Eugene experienced. I've seen some struggle to get over the excesses and quirks of that brand of fundamentalism. Yet Eugene is a model for how we can move forward, leaving behind the harmful while hanging onto the good.
Ever since reading this section of the book, I have loved imagining what his mom must of been like and what those Sunday school classes and evening classes were like. I keep picturing these rough and rugged Montana men getting caught up in the stories of scripture because of the way this woman taught and lived. There has been so much noise lately about the roles of men and women in the church and I keep thinking about what Evelyn and her community would think of the conversation. I love the line that described her as "A natural storyteller with a colorful imagination, she wove the Scriptures seamlessly into the hard-scrabble life of these men who spent their days covered in soot, snow and sawdust." I would love to hear about the impact that her teaching had on these men and their families generations later. It's so beautiful to watch a teacher in full stride, fully utilizing their gift, and I've enjoyed envisioning what she must have been like and thinking about the impact it had on Eugene.
I was struck by the rich sensory experiences he had, and how these were deeply embedded in his memories and the person he was. Breakfast around a campfire, the evenings with his mother playing the accordion and father the alto sax, etc. Long ago I was told, "the more senses involved, the more deeply imbedded the memory." Both positive memories and more painful ones (his grandfather sick on his bedroom floor after drinking). I had compassion for his father who didn't know how to connect, the likely result of his own history of disruptions in attachment in his own life (Mom in mental institutions and a father who drank heavily.) Of course, it drew me to many memories of my own "space" in childhood, and the memories created in those spaces. This week, my very first pastor, Pastor Donditt, died. The church was a small Brethren Church in a small town where settlers first came seeking an area similar to their German roots. Like the character in "A River Runs Through It" Maclean begins in the river, and is drawn back to it in his later life. "...immersed in the lives and histories of the ordinary, hardworking people who lived close to the land without pretense--was not a mere biographical detail but an elemental piece of his life."
I greatly enjoyed this opening section of the biography. As I read, I felt like so much of Eugene’s other writing came into focus.
Scot, thanks for this post. Your words spurred me on to consider my own upbringing and how that has shaped my life and ministry today. I grew up in rural NE Washington, not far from where Eugene spent his formative years. But I grew up in a “hippy” family. Ever since encountering Jesus in High School, I have felt like a political outsider- like I needed to embrace tea party politics and complementarianism to fully fit in with my peers. That feeling has persisted through the last 15 years of pastoral ministry as well. Authors like Eugene Peterson have grounded me in the hope that ministry can be so much deeper. That’s why I’m excited to keep reading!
I was quickly drawn by the rich imagery Mr. Collier paints to step into another time and place, take a seat on a bench in the town square and enjoy a front row seat observing the robust personalities living out their days in Kalispell!
A suburban “oil brat” upbringing in a variety of places, primarily in Texas, that blur together into a background of master-planned monotony created a surprising preparation for the awe, wonder & majesty of my brief, intermittent encounters with mountainous beauty as a child that always left me wanting more. I signed up for every youth ski trip & voted mountains for every family vacation forming a constant undercurrent in that space just in between the conscious & the subconscious of seeking: seeking his river of delights, seeking for great and hidden things of which I do not know, seeking more tastes of his goodness, seeking him. What a great question to explore how place impacts us! I’ve never put words to how he has lured me with the contrast of places in my experience.
Adolescent Eugene with his sense of separation amidst the myriad of people in his life is where I found myself most strongly identifying. Its a tension I’ve learned to appreciate over time, but not without tears & scars. I’ve often found myself in the outer rings of multiple circles of friends which has left me outside, but broadened my perspective through the diversity of friendships I have enjoyed. It meant I was not handed a prepackaged, label of an identity and I have had to be deliberate and intentional to pursue the woman I want to be. Ultimately, my few truly intimate friendships amongst a myriad of acquaintances became all the richer and I learned quickly that my foundational needs are not met by any but Jesus. And that is when anything in addition to him becomes icing on the cake!
I love the anticipation of a good book almost as much as a good book itself! Eugene & Winn have a captured my anticipation & I can’t wait to read on.
I grew up in the central valley of California surrounded by farms, produce, dairy sounds and smells, tree ranches of all sorts, rivers, lakes and the Sierras to the east and the Coastals to the west. I've dreamt of Montana infinitely but never with regret of missing out on the basics of beauty, grandeur, waters and rough & tumble life among hardworking, down-to-earth people. It was years later from my Calibornian beginnings that I pastored my first church in the least known, or desirable setting of the land of Enchantment (NM). It was there that I met this strangely familiar and gentle giant kind of man as he taught me the necessity of having three angles working constantly in life as a pastor. We would never meet, but not for lack of 'want to;' life simply happened. He's been my friend, though. When lured to find my Nineveh, my 'lights, cameras and celeb' place in and among God's church world, I found Eugene, the wise, confrontive friend telling me the story of Jonah struggling under the unpredictable plant. Incredibly, at just the right moments, almost as though Eugene actually knew me from his side of our friendship, he spoke of eating this book and how Christ plays in Ten Thousand places in ways that revived, enriched and helped me see again what it meant to be human and spiritual and theologian and pastor simultaneously. When tempted to 'run' a church I can't not think of his story of showing up at the church, a church that he'd empowered to actually take responsibility for ministry, to sit in on a meeting of some ministry group to see how things were going; certainly not to help them or give his approval. As he told it (and, as I remember it), he entered, sat down and suddenly the group's conversation stopped. "What are you doing here?" they asked him. "Just came to listen," he said. They insisted he leave, return home and trust that they were capable of doing what he had taught them they were called to do as church. I've sat through ministry courses that taught, lectured and diagrammed the principle of 'priesthood of all believers,' but Eugene's story and reflection was likely the most influential on my own practice. To his family and friends that gave up some of him so that he could give so much to all of us, thank you. peace
When I was in bible college, my childhood pastor oversaw my preaching internship and had me read numerous Peterson books. His book title A LONG OBEDIENCE IN THE SAME DIRECTION alone has had a life-long impact on me. I'm very much looking forward to reading his biography. I never had the privilege of meeting him, but had the privilege of learning from him, for which I'm grateful. I am also grateful for the way in which this book will set the record straight (no pun intended) on some of the more publicly debated moments that preceded his passing. https://religionnews.com/2021/03/15/eugene-peterson-biography-backs-up-that-yes-on-lgbtq-inclusion/
So what's the effect of a lack of sense of place? It's clear that location had a significant impact on Peterson's life but what happens if you don't have that connection or rootedness to a place? I labored with two men for 12+ years and each has that sense of place/home (one the TN mountains, one the MS coast). I've never had that sense and struggled with always feeling disconnected (which probably feeds a sense of being an outsider, which was also something Peterson experienced). As a pastor, I've never wanted to move around every 3-5 years and really wanted to give my life to one church in one place for a lifetime. I wonder if part of that is looking for that sense of place and why I've struggled leaving a place I had been for 15 years to come to a new work eight months ago. So if location matters, does it ever have a neutral effect or will it always be positive or negative or some mix?
Already this book has captured me but not in easy ways.
I would love to jump in on this - in the reading plan are the page numbers listed based upon chapters?
My church history professor talked about how geography can shape our theology (for instance, she pointed out how the Beguines had a theology shaped by living along the river Seine) - and that is what I saw in these chapters about Peterson's early life.
One of my "thin places" is in the woods, along a lake. If I picture a safe place to meet God - that is where my mind takes me - this how I believe that my geography has shaped my theology.
I too loved the chapter describing Peterson's mother. How beautiful!
Finally, I will take a second to brag...Peterson once travelled as a child to Weldon, Saskatchewan after coming by train to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. I live in Prince Albert - that is my small claim to Peterson's life :).
When I think of place and how it relates to my calling, I most naturally think of milestones. Here is where I put my trust in Christ; here is where I first discerned a sense of calling; here is where a mentor shared a life-changing bit of counsel. I think about the church wounds that shape my heart for the Church, and the beauty that followed. But I’m learning to think more about how my family’s history in that place and the people in my hometown were all part of God’s plan.
Also, I grew up in a small town in rural Arkansas, but have spent my adult life in the DFW metroplex. I go back every fall, and every time the contrast between the complexity and speed of the city versus the quiet stillness and relative consistency of my hometown is a great picture of God’s character to me. The Lord who is with me, guiding me through new challenges each day is the same Lord who was at work in my life so long ago. That’s both comforting and encouraging, especially in light of the complexity of the last year.
High five for Evelyn! I smiled through the pages about this fiery spirit.
I grew up in a world of God-fearing, Texan independence. All sides of my family boasted of a rich, Christian heritage. I heard stories of how Sam Houston had recovered from hangovers with my great x4 grandmother (his mother-in-law) perched on his bed reading the Bible. I heard about how a great-grandfather had come to Texas with his missionary uncle. At family gatherings on both sides of my family trees, most of the men were preachers and most of the women were teachers. I laugh at how my vocation for the past 17 years has been in the field of Christian education.
My family drove from our north Houston suburb to our little country church building just outside of Cut-N-Shoot (real name with a fascinating, church-related story, involving two of my great-great grandpas) anytime its doors were open. I was intensely shy everywhere else, but in the safety and encouragement of my church family, I thought nothing of mounting the platform to sing a “special”. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough for them to say “amen” after I sang instead of clapping.
In the Bible Belt of the 80’s and 90’s, your identity wasn’t so much associated with being a Christian...but in *what kind* of Christian you were. Distinctives were the basis of Christian unity. I knew the Baptist kids from the Methodist kids based on their cliques. I was too shy, my congregation was too small, and our beliefs were too unique for me to feel like I fit in anywhere.
When I picture my formative place, I see it as a little enclave on a map of the Kingdom of God. It was full of love for one another, but it had its own unique traditions and practices that served to keep us a bit isolated from other Christians. In my prayers, I trudged its paths throwing out seeds from a heavy seed bag only to see far too many seeds land on rocky soil. But Jesus invited me into a home near the enclave’s opening, and I eventually learned to venture out to the crossroads to meet and learn from more well-traveled servants-of-the-King.
Eugene’s story helps me see how place can shape and propel you onward even after you have left that place. How you can stay in communication with it without letting it lay claim on you. And even how it can eventually become a respite.
Thank you for hosting this discussion! I greatly appreciate being able to reflect on this book in community.
I just began the new D-Min cohort focused on Eugene Peterson and the Pastoral Imagination through Western Seminary and led by Winn. I have read a few of Peterson's books, and have always loved the Message, but as I work my way through more of his works I found myself wanting to know more about Peterson's story. The first few chapters of Burning in my Bones is definitely helping to fill in some of the blanks and provide a foundation for his writings!