An Anniversary Update from the Clemmons, on Mission
An Anniversary Update from the Clemmons, on Mission
Perfection, Pentecost, Portland
Dear friends and family,
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
Seven years ago today Erin and I were wed on a July-mild Tennessee evening. It remains the best wedding I’ve ever attended. I say this as an objective, disinterested observer. As a subject and active participant, I say it’s the best wedding that has ever taken place, and will remain so until the second coming.
I'm generally one more for private correspondence than public, but do permit me to take this opportunity for acclamation: Erin Constance Clemmons is a wonder. She is a patient and tender mother, a patient and gracious friend, a faithful and forbearing and fortifying wife, a faithful and searching disciple. She grounds me in the real stuff of real life. She makes good work. She tends to life. She endures, hopes, believes. I bless God who blessed me with such a woman—my co-laborer, helpmeet, dearest companion.
Seven's the number of perfection in the Scriptures, so I suppose we finally have a perfect marriage.
Now, onto our regularly-scheduled programming (ha).
I wrote most of this thinking it had been three months since my last update, only to find—to my shame—it's been four. Much happens over the course of four months, too much to include in an already-oversprawling newsletter (which is why, Zack, you might consider actually writing a monthly newsletter, I don't know, monthly). So I've chosen two representative events to detail below.
Do give me a call if you'd like to catch up in more detail!
Peace of Christ,
Zack
Where is that Fire Which Once Descended?: A Pentecost Arts Gallery
One of my major church-projects toward the end of last semester was an experiment.
It began as a ranging conversation between Erin and myself on a January drive to Huntsville. Erin's an artist, I'm a clergyman, so naturally we're concerned with the relationship between the Church at the arts. And not just the consumption of art--a cul-de-sac in which church/art discussions often get stuck--but also the production of art. Where and how does the church encourage her people to submit their artistic gifts—given by the Spirit—to the worship of God and the edification of the body.
We spoke of establishing a gallery event in and for the church, of inviting the artists of the church--visual, narrative, musical--to offer their gifts in a sacrifice of beauty. All we needed was a proper occasion, and being liturgical Christians, thought Pentecost was the nearest momentous feast which would also give time for unrushed production.
And so it was: a gallery and event devoted to exploring the work of the Holy Spirit in the world.
I took the theme from George Herbert's lovely Pentecost poem "Whitsunday":
Where is that fire which once descended
On thy Apostles? thou didst then
Keep open house, richly attended,
Feasting all comers by twelve chosen men.
Such glorious gifts thou didst bestow,
That th’ earth did like a heav’n appeare;
The starres were coming down to know
If they might mend their wages, and serve here.
Where, indeed? The Holy Spirit is God, doing what only God can do--e creates, he gives life, he consecrates, he sanctifies, he inspires Holy Scripture, he illumines, he dwells in believers, he comforts and consoles them.
At Pentecost, the Holy Spirit descended in dramatic power—filling the room in wind and flame, distributing gifts, reversing Babel, convicting and then converting hearts. He works powerfully in and through the apostles to lead the Church into all truth, and has been doing so for some two millennia and more.
And yet, for whatever reason, Christians often act like the Holy Spirit has gone silent, like the mighty rushing wind has died down. The Holy Spirit is at work in the world, doing what he has always done. Where can we see his work? Where should we? How is the Spirit at work in the world? We invited the artists at Christ the King to turn our eyes and ears to hear and see.
Several months of work later—inviting and organizing and encouraging and planning and setting and editing and publishing and transforming our narthex into a proper gallery space—the event finally happened, on Pentecost Eve.
Again, not an objective observer here, but God was gracious to make of the event something contemplative, convivial, and glorifying. We had over a dozen artists, just from CTK, contribute poems, stories, original songs and compositions, paintings, sculptures (in ceramic and glass), quilts, and an incredible spread of food. We produced and printed a literary journal (cover image below). All told, around 75 people came to the gallery opening event, and I believe most left with a renewed joy in the work of the Spirit.
Here's to Arts Event II: Advent, coming at you December 3rd.
Portland, Maine
One sneaky part of my M.Div. program at Beeson is the CCMP (Cross-Cultural Ministry Practicum). Essentially, it's a required two-week-minimum missions trip to some culture which differs substantially enough from Birmingham's to earn the "CC" part of the designation. Let me assure you: Portland, ME qualifies. Regularly vying for the #1 or #2 spot on the list for "Least Churched American Cities," Portland is post-post-Christian and as progressive* a place as I've encountered. (*progressive here used to indicate primarily the aggressive affirmation of sex-and-gender nominalism/nihilism and post-Dobbs, Bans Off Our Bodies-type abortion hysteria, the two issues which were vociferously promoted in every shop window and half the homes. The prevailing ideology is Acceptance and Inclusion, both loosely and narrowly defined.)
Most people in Portland (at least whom I met) are a generation removed from the generation who left the church, either through conscious determination or indifference. Many have never heard the term 'gospel,' have never set foot in a church, and have never held, much less navigated, much much less read, a Bible. For most (again, speaking of the ones I met, whom I think form a pretty representative sample), the "church" is primarily a suspect organization that wants to take people's money and freedom away.
Church planting in such a culture is slow, dispiriting work. Many of the pastors I spoke with--desperate for faithful co-laborers--instinctively cite Jesus' call, "The harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few." The reality, though, is that much of the harvest is still many seasons away. The work of the church planter is that of the evangelist--lest harvesting would-be believers just waiting for the invitation, and more breaking up rocky soil and planting seeds, praying that the Spirit would bring growth in his good time.
That said, the gospel is good news to any broken, incomplete, sin-racked, embittered, self-satiated culture or person. Whether they know it or not, countless Mainers are eagerly longing to hear that their sins can be forgiven, their wounds healed, the aching gap at the secret center of their lives filled with Christ's new life and purpose. In the words of E.L. Mascall, this is, in the end, a "Christian universe," as the rocky salt-sprayed beaches of Maine ceaselessly testify.
But first, it must be confessed, a COVID-bungled plane trip from 2020 and some obliging in-laws meant Erin and I had the needing-to-used-immediatley flight credit and the calendar-space to have our first childless getaway since children. Where better than summertime Vacationland, where I was already required to be?
Well-equipped with local recommendations, we packed the full Portland experience into just two days--ferry rides, island-exploration, rock beaches, lighthouses, L.L. Bean, lobster rolls, the paintings of Winslow Homer and the Wyeth family, the Portland Art Walk, and more.
Lest anybody think it was all leisure and lobster—the following two weeks did amount to some real work. The first week was Culture Week—this is when I and two other seminarians had meeting after meeting with Portlanders of all stripes, getting a sense of New England culture, spiritual life (or lack thereof), and what church planting in such a climate is like. Drinking good coffee, beer, and seaweed tea along the way, of course (my friend Chase quipped that while some Beeson students are called to complete their CCMP in Tanzania or on Native reservations, others are called to the outlet mall in Freeport).
Week Two was more hands-on, as we helped to run a Christian sports camp for Portland youth aged 4-12. It was an effective means to speak the gospel to many children who had never heard it, for Dan Wolf (the church planter with whom we worked) to pitch Rise Church to a big group, and to provide one solid witness unto Jesus in the heart of the city. We seminarians also helped lead & support a few missions teams (from Florida and Massachusetts) who came up to help run the camp. That may sound a bit underwhelming, but I was grateful to depart Maine with some clear ideas about God intended to accomplish through me and in me through this trip.
And I can't skip mentioning Stan—our gracious, generous, gregarious host for two whole weeks. He's a good Mainer and a better man—faithful to the Lord, a fountain of practical wisdom, a friend to those struggling with addictions. He introduced us to the recovery community in Portland and to Moxie soda, and I'm glad to call him friend.
Meanwhile Erin faithfully held down the homestead, weathering storms both literal and figural—solo-parenting three children for two full weeks through illness and VBS and trees threatening to fall. She also, somehow, has been able to keep producing excellent ceramic work.
We were reunited after a nightmare day of travel, and are busy re-establishing rhythms of mission, prayer, work, and leisure in our own home before my next semester starts in late August (as will Eleanor's first semester of real-deal homeschooling).
SummerScenes
Pictures from Birmingham, AL, April-July, 2022.
Status Board
Reading: I'm finally nearing the end of John Updike's In the Beauty of the Lilies, a multi-generational tale of the consequences which have attended America's slow replacement the centering principle of Christian belief for spectacle and hedonism. Updike probably at his tamest, but still working with his full lyrical power. In May I listened through and Erin is just about finish Andy Crouch's latest book, The Life We're Looking For. It's a wonderful little book, which will help you to hate Mammon, love the household, moderate the technological mediation of your existence, and long for the effective rule of God in your life.
Listening: Nothing new here. Maine felt like an appropriate place to revisit Vampire Weekend's catalogue, a band who have always typified a certain New England affect for me. Here's the playlist I put together for our Pentecost Gallery Opening, one which attempted the nail the delicate balance between hip gallery and sacred gathering. If you find yourself desperate for content, I preached at CTK the Sunday after the Dobbs decision came down on Galatians 5 and the meaning of freedom. You can listen to/download it here.
Watching: Exhausted from the full-tilt itinerary of our first full day in Maine, Erin and I sought the dark respite of a movie theatre, where we took in the spectacle that was Top Gun: Maverick. I drove our little electric vehicle so aggressively afterward.
Food & Drink: One of my last days in Maine we were meeting with a church planter from New Hampshire when we accidentally happened into a gin-distillery we mistook for a restaurant. There we happened upon an amazing barrel-rested gin which somehow combines the best features of gin and bourbon into one compelling spirit. I brought back a bottle from which Erin and I will toast our 7 years together this afternoon.
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 the Lord would guide us into a restful and worthwhile season before the semester starts
that Erin’s would continue to be energized by her artistic and business endeavours, and hit her monthly income targets
that we would be diligent in our practice of hospitality
that Eleanor would love her new co-op, and that Erin and I would have initiative and energy for undertaking homeschooling
that Ames would act in love and obedience
that Virgil would sleep well
that God would go before us to begin preparing our post-seminary ministry
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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