An All Saints' Update from the Clemmons, on Mission
An All Saints' Update from the Clemmons, on Mission
Unusual Semester, Studio Time, Scenes
Dear friends and family,
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
It’s no coincidence, I think, that All Saints’ Day falls in the middle of autumn. Autumn is that season—at least in the Northern Hemisphere where the celebration originated—when dormancy and death fall over the earth’s vegetation. At this point the harvest has already been gathered, the merciless winter draws nigh, and we look around wondering what’s next. It’s the season when our minds are gently turned towards considering again our own mortality, the fact of our deaths yet-to-come. When many of us remember acutely those who have already gone before us. Every Sunday I think of Thurston and Margaret, John and Jewel, William Gary. I suspect you have names of your own.
Culturally, we get this—even as All Hallows’ Eve get commodified and twisted, we still recognize, as every culture has, that we can’t escape death, that we’re powerless before some forces still greater than us. We put fake skeletons in the yard, dress up as the ghostly and uncanny. But we keep it at an ironic distance, we sugar it over with candy.
On All Hallows’ Eve, we ask the question as old as sin—what happens after we die? Or maybe, when we’re a bit less self-focused, we ask the corollary question, the same question we find ourselves asking when we’re especially engrossed by a compelling story: what happens at the end?
On All Saints’ Day, we receive the answer.
All Hallows’ Eve and All Saints’ Day remind us that, though we do not yet see it, the world to come is closer than we imagine. The border between heaven and earth is thin, even porous. And what happens in heaven matters for how we live on earth, and vice versa.
Today is a day, as my pastor preached this afternoon, of deep Christian hope. Today we remember the saints who have gone before us, who have reposed in the faith of the Church and the grace of God. To whom and in whom God has proved faithful to the end.
How shall we respond to this hope? By living as martyrs. Every Christian—every one of us who has been buried with Christ in baptism and raised into the power of his resurrection life and given the Holy Spirit—is called to martyrdom. Jesus was a martyr, and we do what Jesus does. And what does a martyr do? A martyr witnesses and sacrifices.
Jesus witnessed to the love of the Father, to the joy of the Kingdom. He sacrificed himself, that we might be forgiven and set free. And so we, too, must witness and sacrifice. Our lives must bear witness to the authority and lordship of the risen Jesus. We must bear witness to the forgiveness of sin that we have received at Jesus’ hands.
And this witness we bear may cost us, as it cost the martyrs of Revelation. Perhaps we won’t be called upon to shed our own blood, but you may well be called to forfeit status, comfort, a promotion, a job for the sake of your witness to Jesus. And the reward for your witness—to rule with God in heaven—far exceeds the light and momentary affliction and tribulation we might face. We shall overcome, the martyrs say later in Revelation, we shall overcome by the blood of the Lamb, and the word of our testimony.
If that’s an intimidating call, it’s supposed to be. It’s a call to no less than sainthood. But take heart. It’s All Saints’ Day.
Peace of Christ,
Zack
An Usual Semester
I haven't done the math, but surely I must be more than halfway through this penultimate semester. (Do the italics sufficiently convey exasperation?) I shouldn't overstate it--it's been a fine few months. But this semester has had its own unique flavor--bitter at first, but perhaps mellowing into a sweetness here near the end.
My academic load--while still respectable, I hope--has been lighter. Or, light isn't quite right. Let's say, less academic. I'm in a Supervised Ministry Practicum which entails a dozen weekly hours of work in a church, a mentorship, a second mentorship (?), and coursework. I'm in a Preaching class (some of the fruit of which you can read here). And I'm in two (2) pastoral counseling classes. Between the four, I don't think I've read anything more than 50 years old. Which, if you've ever been a theology student, is not usual.
I find myself anxiously thumbing patristic volumes, perusing medieval treatises in the interstices of other study.
There's been plenty of reading and plenty of writing, but it's all been of the introspective stripe. So much of my writing this semester has been self-consideration, self-evaluation, reflections upon the ways in which I relate to others. I reckon Beeson wants to encourage a little self-reflection as full-time ministries loom, and that's fine and good, but I confess I'm ready for a more interesting subject.
The great joy of this semester has been to steal a taste, I think, of what life in full-time ministry will likely look like. That is, my time is organized, but only just. I have some dozen hours of class of week, but beyond that, the remainder of the week is mine to fill. And there is no shortage of claims to fill that time and more. The duties of a deacon, the privileges of a friend, the tasks of a husband and father and sometimes gig-economy schlepper.
There have been times (including in the past week), when I've found myself simply delighting in the work of a deacon. It's a great joy to pray for people, and then to check in on them. To have unexpectedly long--and unexpectedly rich--conversations. To encourage and affirm someone in their gifts or in their patient endurance through trial, or at least to get down in the trench with them a while.
There have also been real highlights lo these past four months. In September, I was able to preach up at Anglican Church of the Redeemer in Chattanooga, TN (sermon here). In October Eleanor and I took a delightful trip (along with my friend Sam) up to Memphis, TN, where I led a Deacon's Mass at Faith Anglican (sermon here) and we were able to visit with our good friends the Hetricks. And now I'm furiously preparing for our second Arts Gallery & Event, this one entitled: "Behold, the Bridegroom Comes!: Anticipation, Arrival, and All That We Await."
November promises to be a whirlwind.
Studio Time
Have I mentioned that my wife is an artist?
I kid. But she's still at it, folks, in really compelling ways. The world of small art businesses is heavily weighted to the autumnal + pre-Christmas seasons. Which means Erin has been filling most every brief nap-time respite, free Saturday, and exhausted evening with diligent work. She's teaching classes, leading workshops, experimenting with styles, sculpting sculptures, and producing whole subdivisions' worth of her trademark mini-houses and dioceses’ worth of her mini-churches.
Recently she's been doing some sgraffito work, which, imho, is turning out beautifully.
October is the densest month of celebration for our family--birthdays, feast days, the soaring beauty of autumnal settling. We've also had two historically rough Octobers the past two years, so we approached this one with white-knuckled wariness.
It's turned out to be a lovely one. We've pumpkin-patched, and garden-walked, and bug-hunted, and birthday-partied, and hay-rided (-ridden?), and fire-pitted, and art-showed, and dined outside, and trick-or-treated, and hammocked for hours and hours (at least, Eleanor has).
Eleanor's homeschooling has begun well. Predictably, she soaks up new learning like a sponge, but we've had some hesitations regarding the co-op scene. But then, I shouldn't speak, Erin has been doing all the work on this front. Eleanor's a brilliant and curious and outrageously verbal lass, who's also made notables strides in her sociableness, but we need wisdom as to how to proceed, how to divide labor, where to devote resources, etc.
We've seen great development (and plenty of almost-four-year-old difficulty, of course) in Ames, who, for his indomitable will, is also exuberantly loving and unceasingly imaginative. And Virgil's little personality grows larger each day. He loves to go "'side" (outside), and is in the midst of a very serious Truck Phase.
Scenes
Photos from in and around Birmingham, AL, July-October, 2022.
Status Board
Reading: Since the Summer, I've been on a more or less continuous Ron Hansen kick. His writing is poetic but well-plotted, densely textured with period detail, perhaps the most compelling literary description of the internal movements of real faith that I've ever read. I start with Exiles, a kind of biographical novel of Gerard Manley Hopkins. Marriette in Ecstasy is a strange, impressionistic picture of a stranger sainthood. Atticus is the parable of the Prodigal Son if it were retold as a Western potboiler. It'd be hard to recommend these books enough.
Listening: Earlier in October, Erin and I went to a house show (we're not that cool, it was a once-off thing) for a songwriter named Andy Squyres. It was a lovely evening, and a strong one-man show, primarily with songs form his latest album, Poet Priest. His songs "You Bring the Morning" and "Kingfisher" are both keepers.
Watching: Nothing of note to report here. I guess the World Series is on. Oh! I did get to have an unexpected conversation over dinner with Terrence Malick’s producer Josh Jeter and let me just say, Malick’s next production will be the Jesus movie we’ve always wanted.
Food & Drink: A couple days ago I finally found a cheap charcoal grill on Facebook Marketplace. It's been nearly 5 years since I really grilled out, lugging the Weber (of blessed memory) to our little Castle Rock strip of grass. I have some lamb chops marinating in the fridge and I am ready to crank the autumnal energy to 11.
Prayer Requests
The best way to support us is to join with the Son in remembering us before the Father. If you’d like to pray with and for us, here are some things you can remember:
that as serious considerations have begun to arise as to what-comes-next-for-our-family, we would be granted wisdom and courage to make the right decision
that Clemmons Studio would meet with success in major upcoming markets
that Zack would have a fruitful time at the ADOTS Synod, and would be given words to speak at his next preaching engagement at Faith Anglican near Memphis
that Zack & Erin would be given wisdom as we think through Eleanor’s education
that our children would delight in the Lord’s world, and would come to know and love him ever more deeply
in your charity, please pray for the son of a friend and mentor of mine, who has recently been diagnosed with an aggressive brain cancer
We’d also like to pray with and for you! If you’re reading this, you’re probably already in our prayers, but we’d love to know more specifically what we can pray for. You can text us, of course, or you can email us prayer requests at clemmonsonmission@gmail.com
We’re the Clemmons family–-Zack, Erin, Eleanor, Ames & Virgil–-living & studying & working in Birmingham, Alabama for sake of God’s Kingdom.
If you’d like, you can support us financially by ordering a Clemmons Studio subscription, as we navigate this season on mission, with part-time income.
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