The Wild Animals Honor Me

Thankful and Free

2010-11-25T12:56:00.000-08:00

I am both thankful and free. These two words have so many different meanings to so many different people. We can be thankful for anything ranging from glad to be out from under tyrannical government control, to thankful we don't have to spend Thanksgiving with Cousin Eddie who drives us nuts. We can be free from institutional control on the outside, and be free from institutional control still on the inside.

As a dear Canadian-born friend of mine pointed out, Americans are relentlessly patriotic. Holidays such as Memorial day, Fourth of July and Thanksgiving are heavily promoted, especially by religious conservatives, those in or related to those in the armed services, and ahem, those whose homeschool product catalogues land in our mailboxes each year around this time. It's as though being Christian and being free is defined entirely by our cultural religious heritage.

Everyone knows that our Thanksgiving holiday is based on the memories of long-ago Pilgrims from Holland and England who fled their oppressive government to worship in freedom. They were willing to travel, leave their homeland and many family and friends, endure starvation and sickness, and go to a place they knew nothing about, in order to obtain the freedom to worship as they felt was right.

I look around me today and see most of the people I know making plans for Thanksgiving in traditional ways. This is a happy and fulfilling occasion for some. However, I know a number of people who complain, gripe and get nervous and tense when Thanksgiving approaches. They roll their eyes at the number of people expected to come over, worry about their husband and their mother getting into a spat, wonder if Cousin Eddie is going to show up drunk again, fret that the bathroom isn't clean enough for Grandma's white-glove inspection.

I had one friend sigh and say, "here it comes." She was going to drive to a relative's house for Thanksgiving, and admitted she didn't like the people who were going to be there. Another friend wondered if her mom would notice the tension between her and her husband. A third said that if her mother in law didn't think her house was clean enough, she could just go stay in a motel.

We invited friends over who had to decline because they were due at Grandma's house. Their kids said, "I don't want to go. Can't we go to THEIR house instead?" In years past, I've invited friends over for Thanksgiving who I could tell were tempted by my invitation, but they were going to go to their Mom's house to sit and try for several hours to get along with their nitpicky sisters and their boorish-joke-telling brothers-in-law without losing their cool.

For people whose holiday was founded on religious, spiritual and cultural freedom, so many of us Americans sure are die-hard traditionalists. For years, Thanksgiving meant making that green bean casserole (blech) with mushroom soup, watching no one eat it, and stick it in the fridge to finally feed to the dog. It meant going to relative's houses because it was expected. It meant turkey and dressing because that's just what you have for Thanksgiving. It meant taking home gobs of leftover pie that no one ate because no one is crazy about it, to appease the relatives so I wouldn't hurt their feelings. It meant eating more than I was hungry for, so whoever cooked wouldn't get their feelings hurt. Of course, there were hours of football to be watched all day (I can't stand football), and of course, it was ALWAYS raining and cold on Thanksgiving, and no one was really interested in talking, so I had no alternatives but to sit there.

As Americans, we've been heavily conditioned with the Norman Rockwell-styled images of Thanksgiving and how things are 'supposed' to look. This puts an enormous amount of pressure on everyone, perhaps especially those whose relatives treat them like crap or who have no family to get together with. I am thankful that this year, God is working to set me free from another set of 'shoulds' about how I've been conditioned Thanksgiving should look, that just don't apply in my life.

Certainly there is a time to endure food and relatives you're not crazy about. There is also a time to say "enough already! let's make some changes!" when the relentless marching of the years going by means that you feel emptier and more annoyed as each holiday is done mostly for the sake of tradition and appeasing others' feelings.

This year, due to several circumstances, we stayed home - just our immediate family. Our friends all had family obligations - I truly hope they all are enjoying themselves. We didn't have turkey - we had chicken, and a host of finger foods that we like. No yucky green bean casserole, giblet gravy or giant pecan pies showed up on the table, because no one likes it. Even if it is in the Tradition Rule Book that you're supposed to have all these things on Thanksgiving. We're free to follow the Rule Book if we like it, or toss it if we don't.

We didn't read the Bible or any Christian American Heritage books. These days I find that I just don't care any more about re-reading and trying to re-create what our early forefathers did. Just because they were 'founding fathers' of freedom, doesn't mean my freedom will look like theirs. So instead, we watched movies, played music and went walking.

As Christians we are actually free not to even celebrate this holiday, if we don't feel it in our heart to do so. The same goes for Christmas, the roots of which are actually pagan. I'm not making an argument for Christmas being wrong, just a choice rather than a rule or obligation.

To all who read this, I hope you are having, or had, a happy Thanksgiving, however that looked for you. If it wasn't a happy Thanksgiving, I ask you to consider, as I did - is it partly a problem of further renewing of the mind that has yet to take place? What does freedom mean to you?

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. - Galatians 5:1

Empty

2010-10-15T16:43:00.000-07:00

I've been left wondering what people do when we come up empty praying for a wounded, broken or faded relationship. When we leave our spouse and take the kids, or are no longer speaking to our parents, or get to the point where we have to block a former friend on facebook so they can't harass us anymore. How did things get this bad? we wonder. We certainly had good intentions... we never wanted to fight with this person, we wanted a good relationship, we did all we could to make it that way.

Sometimes, though, you come to the point of realizing that you are just empty. You have done your best to improve the relationship, or maybe just manage the relationship. Or maybe some of both. Then one day, you run out of gas, like a car on the side of the road. The relationships in life that are supposed to nurture you are draining you and making you feel as dry and cracked as a patch of ground in West Texas in August.

You wonder if anyone is praying for the person you felt you had to walk away from before they drove you insane. You feel like YOU should, but you can't. You try, but the words don't come. You are just drained. You're past caring much about anything concerning that person or relationship right now, except that you got out of it with your sanity intact.

For many of us, especially women, there's still that little voice saying it's our fault. We should have been more patient, tried harder, given more. Like with the Institutional God, anything you can do was never good enough. We all grew up watching TV shows with 'good guys' and 'bad guys' and that's how we've been taught to view people in broken or rifted relationships.

Maybe the first thing that is needed is to try to stop seeing 'the good guys' and 'the bad guys.' Although in some situations one person was clearly more at fault, can people just agree to part ways when they can't get along? Even if they're related, even if they used to be best friends?

Better yet would be to repair the relationship, but I've lost a lot of hope for that because I just don't see it happen. What I see a lot of is divorce, broken friendships, extended family who won't speak to each other. I know God's heart is for restoration. Do we have to wait for heaven to see this happen? Today I just don't know.

Discord

2010-10-07T11:27:00.000-07:00

For those of us who have been compelled to follow God 'outside the box,' we have come to realize that relationships, between us and God, and each other, are valuable above all else. Yet there are times when we experience the pain and frustration of realizing that we don't have ultimate control over how any of our relationships turn out.

A few journey-mates and I are all dealing with relationship situations in our own lives that we can't seem to fix, improve, or sometimes even hang onto. We ask ourselves and each other, was it us? After all, we're not perfect either. We re-comb the scene of destruction, re-playing family gatherings, arguments, and dynamics. Are we bad parents? Bad sons or daughters? Crummy friends? What could we have done differently? Would it have made a difference? Even if the break or the wound in the relationship wasn't our fault, is there anything more we could do to repair it? This question haunts many folks who love people that we can't live in harmony with.

So to all of you out there

-whose spouse seems distant, and you wonder if they'll leave you for another one day, or maybe they already have,
-whose parents seem bent on 'being right' above all else, including having relationship with their children or grandchildren,
-whose grown children won't talk to you and your efforts to repair the break are stonewalled,
-whose family members are making choices that are upsetting and bewildering to you,
- whose friend has discarded you like an old newspaper and you're still trying to recover from the shock so you can grieve,
-whose relationship with their child is going through a difficult season,
-whose family structure has fractured in a dozen different places and they're all hoping you'll take sides with them, even as they look to you to fix it,
-who wonders if their life will ever be the same after the loss of a relationship that was torn from their life and left an aching hole.

I'm going to talk about this for a few blogs. Relationship trouble, and seemingly irreparable rifts in relationships with folks we love, seems to be a given in a fallen world. Yet my heart of hearts insists this shouldn't be so, for people supposedly planning on spending eternity together.

May we all find peace as we tread through the valleys of life.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. - Revelation 21: 1-4

Unity

2010-10-04T11:42:00.000-07:00

Now and then, I’m blessed to see a time of unity among people who might otherwise have a hard time finding anything in common. I spend time with a group of people each month so we can play our stringed instruments together. We play folk songs, fiddle songs, hymns. Sometimes we sing with the music, other times we just play. We always have a great time and I go home feeling full.

Now if I were to spend the day in church with these same people, I’d likely go home feeling drained. After a day spent listening to a preacher talk and the group discussion (if there is any) is about trying harder to be good and please God, I’d be ready to go home and take a nap even if the group of people was my best friends. But then, at this point in my walk, this group of people couldn’t be my best friends.

So I spent the whole weekend at a folk music festival with a bunch of conservative WASPS, most of whom probably only miss the weekly church meeting for special occasions such as out-of-town music festivals. I’m sure none of them ever cuss, smoke or drink. I’m also sure they’d mostly think I’m off my rocker for being a ‘free believer.’ In this setting, though, I feel right at home with them.

Our focus was not on our differences in doctrine, or on dos and don’ts, or on religion at all for the most part. Our focus was on what we all love: music. We talked some, about the pretty weather and about how to play this or that chord differently, but mostly we just played. We played songs together that we knew, and listened to songs played by others that we didn’t know. We sang (sometimes off key) and laughed off our mistakes. We asked each other how long we’d been playing an instrument, rather than how long we’d been going to this church. We shared what we knew that someone else could learn from. Obviously there was no need to shove it down each other’s throat. Funny how only church doctrine conversations usually take on that tone.

There was an unusual and enjoyable church service Sunday morning, ending the weekend. We sang A Capella gospel music, then heard a sermon on unity in the church, and how that is what God’s heart is. There were many denominations represented there, and I wonder what the reaction was in some of them as they listened to the preacher tell them that many church traditions stand in the way of unity in the body. It’s true. Yet the whole weekend, this group of people had been unified through music and love for the God that we all worship. It was a balm to my soul. I hope this brought some healing to others, as well.

The most amusing and touching part of the weekend was seeing my conservative Baptist friends from our music group go wild cheering over the dynamic performance of a self-described black Indian named Bing Futch. Visually, he blended about as well as a chocolate bar in a sea of marshmallows. He was the only non-WASP there, with dark skin, dreadlocks down past his waist, and several ear and nose piercings. Moving among the crowd of conservative 70 year old Baptist ladies in their clean white tennis shoes and jackets with their church logos on the front, he seemed perfectly happy and at ease. Everyone there had wonderful things to say about him as a person as well as a performer; I didn’t get to meet him but he seems to really love people.

His music is full of his own history (his-story) which is African and Seminole. While I love traditional American folk music, I’ve often felt it’s very limiting to understanding the struggles, pain and joy of the human race. Hearing Bing’s music brought images of proud, brave, strong and yet often downtrodden people of the past and present, from all over the globe. People who have often been used as stepping stones for the white man’s greed and glory.

I have always felt that the WASP version of Christ and Christianity is sadly lacking. The blend of selfish ambition and self-aggrandizement that is so common to the ‘progress’ of the white race is all too obvious in most of Churchianity. I believe this prideful attitude is at the root of the insistence of the salvation-by-works doctrine that is at least blended into the doctrine of ‘grace’ at most church buildings. (Some buildings don’t even bother with the grace part).

So the idea of what Jesus might look like is not fixed in my mind. I have always laughed at the insistent images of Christ portrayed in most Protestant works of art, both ancient and modern. He is always slim, blue-eyed and lily-white, with immaculate brown hair to his shoulders. (My husband, who has access to a much better hairbrush than Jesus could have had, never achieves such a smooth look). He is always dressed in a clean and blindingly white robe, with a glow about his head and usually a martyred, distant look on his face. It has never appealed to me.

We can be Christ to one another, or at least try to. The 'Christ' I experienced in most of my time in traditional church was white, with freshly clipped short hair, starched to the nines and always carrying a Bible. If I asked for help, they had the answer in the book and sent me on my way (that is, if they even had time for me at all).

No, the Jesus I find appealing and long for, if I try to picture him in a fleshly vessel, is one of dark, dark skin and thick, knotted hands, scarred and tough from years of work. Maybe he has long dreadlocks, or maybe just long bad hair. Maybe he wears traditional African garb, or maybe a dirty t-shirt and jeans. His eyes are as dark and rich and filled with love as can be. He says “hey little sister” when he sees me and I find such comfort burying my face in his hair, breathing in his scent and feeling his warm, strong arms around me. He might hold me as I cry, or tell me a story. Maybe he'll take me on a ride down the highway on his Harley, telling me with a wink, "Hang on little sister, here we go."

What would the reaction be around here in the rural Baptist Bible belt, in one of the ‘white’ churches, if such a man appeared in their building? Would they run? Some might. Others might throw him out. Me, I’d want to leave the building and go have coffee with him. Maybe we could just talk, hang out. Maybe we could sing “Amazing Grace” together as we strummed our instruments, laughing at our off-key voices. I know he wouldn’t try to ‘fix’ me. We’d just love each other, and play our music, and that unity is what would bring healing.

Mask

2010-09-11T18:39:00.000-07:00

For some time now, I've felt inexplicably caught up in a longing to know God in the flesh. After years of having insitutional versions of "correct" drilled into me until I was ready to throw up, I'm tired. I don't even care about people's doctrines at this point, except to worry about how they're going to hurt someone else with them.

While I'm on my 80's movie kick, I'll probably revisit a lot of bad perms, leg warmers, music by Bob Seger and Kenny Loggins, and marijuana smoking movie scenes. I'm looking past the silliness to search for essence. So far, the most outstanding movie of "essence" that I've watched has been "Mask."

Eric Stolz plays Rocky Dennis, a teen whose face is disfigured by a rare disease called craniodiaphyseal dysplasia. Cher plays his drug addict, rock and roll, motorcycle-gang mom Rusty Dennis. Although I've always found Cher to be an overdone caricature as a singer and entertainer, she was truly outstanding as Rocky's mom in "Mask."

Modern day Pharisees, of course, would be horrified that anyone calling themselves a Christian would watch such a movie. Drugs! Sex! Dirty language! Rough elements! A prostitute! Oh my God, call the doctrine police! But for those mature enough to look past the exterior and see the essence, this movie is truly a gem. The essence of love is raw, simple and powerful throughout the movie.

Rusty's love for Rocky is evident in many touching scenes, in between her bouts with drugs and a revolving door of boyfriends. The love that her motorcycle gang friends have for each other is a lot simpler and stronger than I've ever felt loved at 'the church.' They drink beer, smoke, sing, brawl, and stick together through life, death, breakups, pain, and heartache. Rusty's on-again, off-again boyfriend Gar is far more of a nurturing father figure to Rocky than I ever had myself.

But the most touching scenes are between Rocky and Diana, the blind girl he meets while he's away working as a counselor's aide at a summer camp for the blind. They fall in love; the boy who 'couldn't get a girl' wins the heart of this beautiful young woman because though she is blind, she can see, far better than most people with 20/20 vision.

While riding horseback in the mountains, Rocky tries to describe colors and clouds to Diana. She doesn't get it; she's been blind since birth. Rocky loves her and wants her to understand, to share in the world of sight and color that he knows. Yet he knows she needs a way to be able to 'see' such beauty; the ordinary way that most people can rely on is not going to register with her.

Below is a scene from the movie; near the end is, in my opinion, the most outstanding scene in the movie, where Rocky has thought of a way to connect the concept of sight to a girl who was born blind. This scene is so overpowering to me now, as one searching for God in the rawest, purest form, that I'll remember it always. Diana can't 'see' the 'correct' truth, but she grasps the essence of truth. It doesn't matter now that she can't see 'red' or 'green' with her eyes; she understands their essence. There are some people who see these colors all the time, but their essence is meaningless.

I've felt stuck in being unable to understand the correct truth of what a father looks like. The concept of a brother seems safer, and I've gotten some help with that, but still have not been able to dive in and totally get the essence of either concept. I want to understand a totally safe and loving place in a father, a brother, but it just doesn't register. I'm hoping that someday this side of heaven, it finally will.

The idea of Jesus roaring down a highway on a Harley, with me resting my face on his back behind him, is the kind of God experience I'm yearning for now. I don't care if I ever do another cheeze-ball fill-in-the-blank Bible study as long as I live. I just want the real deal. God in the flesh. This movie gives me hope that one day, I'll really, truly get it; the essence of God's love.

More Division

2010-09-10T11:52:00.000-07:00

The term "divide and conquer" is obviously well grounded in reality. Division makes any group of people, of any size, much easier to conquer, even destroy.

Each Sept. 10 now marks the anniversary of another remembrance of the last day that we experienced the feelings of safety and unity we once had, however falsely based that some of those feelings were. This year, I am especially sad at the the planned building of a mosque near the site of 9/11. I am even more distressed at the plans of the "pastor" Terry Jones to hold a public burning of the Koran in his church group. Really? Just what does he think this will accomplish?

I am going to quote a quote from Jim Palmer's "Wide Open Spaces" that is heavy on my heart today:

I Hate You.
You Hate Me.
We Hate Them.
They Hate Us.
What does it take to change this?

- Connie on MySpace, as quoted in "Wide Open Spaces"

These words planted a seed within me that has continued to germinate. Religion teaches that God is synonymous with a specific belief system. Each system claims to have "right" beliefs about God, which are passionately held by its adherants - so much so that hate, bitter resentment, bloodshed, and even war can result from disagreement about God. A brief overview of world history shows that bad things happen when religious belief systems clash. That is what Connie was feeling. She had experienced religious hate in her own world, was fed up, and voiced it in nineteen sobering words.

- Jim Palmer, "Wide Open Spaces"

I am also posting this video clip which immediately came to mind.

Food

2010-08-31T08:23:00.000-07:00

I was blessed to spend last weekend in Dallas with some wonderful free believer friends, both old and new. We had some edifying and thought-provoking discussions on both Friday and Saturday evening. Sunday, Darin gave an inspiring message on the difference between being a chef and being a cook. The spiritual parallels are endless when I start thinking about them. So I am going to write another blog as a series of contrasts.

A cook is more or less a servant. His job is to make a big pan of relatively tasteless filler and put it out for everyone to line up and plop some on their plate. He doesn't deviate from the recipe he's given; he just follows instructions. It doesn't take a whole lot of deep thought, or being closely in tune with his heart to do his job.

The Sunday school teacher couple whose class my husband and I have attended (endured?) make me think of a series of words that begin with the letter D: dutiful, diligent, dedicated... dry. If the people in the class had any original thoughts outside the approved religious voices, they kept them to themselves. Attending class was okay at first, we'd spent Sundays alone for so long. Eating warmed-over cafeteria food might be OK when you're really starving, but after a while it starts to leave a yucky taste in your mouth. It reminded me of my grandmother's cooking that I ate as a kid. I loved her dearly but still shudder at the memories of her vegetables cooked to beyond dead.

A chef, however, is an artist. Food is food? Maybe to people who have never tasted the difference. A chef prepares something unique, beautiful, perhaps unreproducible. He puts his heart into what he is doing; he knows each ingredient well and uses it wisely. The senses are on high alert all the time he's working.

I saw the bald guy with the grin and knew I was in the right place. Through the weekend, I listened one at a time to the people talk, trying to get a feel for their personality and their journey. Some were chipper and happy, some more melancholy and quiet. A couple didn't look like they were thrilled to be there, but maybe they were just unsure or feeling burned out on anything to do with God. Some were funny, some were sensitive and vulnerable and sad. Some had had real epiphanies and were not hesitant about sharing them. It was like seeing a bunch of fresh, bright, crisp vegetables, herbs, oils and spices turning into a huge salad delight.

Boxed mixes make it easy. Open these packages, add a couple of things, and bake until done. Mmm, good. The fact that the dehydrated potatoes still seem pretty flat and chewy after adding water and cooking shouldn't bother you. This is how it's done. Just do it and don't ask questions.

We sat for hours each evening, sharing our stories and our thoughts. Nothing was taboo. People could hardly wait for their chance to share, and listened to each other eagerly. The conversation kept going until we had to leave and lock the building both evenings. Darin facilitated the conversations, but he didn't have to do much. Kind of different from the Sunday school teacher's doing most of the talking and the quiet class reciting short, mostly rote religious answers when she urged us to give her feedback. My husband and I were the loose cannons, darn those people who keep trying to put foreign herbs and spices into that boxed mix meal.

The first time I drank a green smoothie, I turned my head sideways and looked at the glass with raised eyebrows every few swallows. Hmm, different. I think I put a little too much greens in. I tried again, this time with more fruit and a handful of pumpkin seeds. I had never had such a drink before, but it was like my body had been asking for this for years.

I went 'to church' at four different places over a ten year period. We were there anywhere from a few months to a few years. The conversations and the relationships rarely made it to a really meaningful level, and never lasted once we left the building. Hugs were often exchanged in a polite and rather distant manner. I often felt sadder and emptier than I had before arriving at the meeting.

At the free believer gathering, new acquaintances eagerly talked with each other openly. We hugged each other enthusiastically in greeting and in parting, genuinely glad to see each other as well as genuinely sad to leave each other. It was like we had always been connected in spirit, though many of us had just met each other face to face. Many of us didn't really even have an internet relationship prior to meeting. Good nourishment just tends to play out like that.

While teaching my kids to cook, I've had to tell them a few times that turning the heat up twice as high does not make the food cook twice as fast. The food will instead be burned on the outside and raw in the middle. Waiting for food to cook at the right temperature, for the right amount of time, can be hard when you have little patience and are really hungry besides.

While the weekend was wonderful, it also stirred up some painful and messy feelings and longings that sometimes I think I'd rather just not deal with, because it doesn't seem like they're ever going to go away or get much better. The longings I've held in my heart since I was a small child that I still carry to this day. The longing for a family, a huge family, a loving family, a whole bunch of people whose hearts are totally interconnected and who are just there multiplying each other's joy. While I know that these fellow free believers are my spiritual family, the fact remains that when the weekend was over, we still all had to get into our cars (or onto airplanes) and travel many miles, sometimes hundreds of miles, away from each other to go home.

I felt very sad late Sunday night at home, missing my free believer family. I found myself wishing that I'd had 'real' sisters and brothers just like them. That we'd been born into the same family and have that bond, along with the privileges of that relationship. That we'd have known each other all our lives, that our children would be buddies, that I know I'd see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas. That they wouldn't have to be relationships that had to wait for heaven to fully experience. Why do I always have to wait? Why can't the food cook faster and be done?

The bitter herbs must be tasted, chewed on, smelled; sometimes over and over, so that their essence is easy to recall instantly. You never know just when you'll need to take a pinch and add it, but you'll have a good idea of how much to start with. True culinary art cannot be done without real herbs. And you have to know which one goes with which food.

I'm trying to do better at understanding what my pain has purchased. Or, what is yet to come from it. I don't know how well I'm doing as a parent, but I know I'm doing better than my own parents did. Because I remember the pain caused by bad parenting and try hard to do better. My daughter is adopted; she carried some wounds from her past and I think our patience and love for her has healed most of it. We hope to adopt yet again. Perhaps there is a child God already has waiting for us, who is out there hanging onto hope in spite of hopelessness, longing for a family, a real family, like they can never remember having.

"...I have a photograph on my wall of this ancient crucifix at a church over in Corte Madera, a tall splintering wooden Christ with his arms blown off in some war, under which someone long ago wrote, "Jesus has no arms but ours to do his work and to show his love," and every time I read that, I always end up thinking these are the only operating instructions I will ever need." - from "Operating Instructions" by Anne Lamott

I realize I've permanently lost my taste for cafeteria food. I know the difference now. A chef is an artist; as Christians we are called to be chefs. Throw out the rulebook; our only law now is Love. Create a masterpiece. Live life.

Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters;
and you who have no money, come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on
what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me and eat what is good, and your soul
will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me; hear me, that your soul may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant with you, my faithful
love promised to David. - Isaiah 55:1-3

A Parting Chat with the Pastor

2010-08-25T12:50:00.000-07:00

After considerable discussion and prayer, my husband and I finally decided that when it came time for the parting discussion with the pastor, to try to be as peaceable as possible. This usually involves leaving out mentioning 95% of what's really going on when parting ways with someone. Maybe it was best this way.

Not wanting to bring the kids along and deal with potential emotional turmoil there, we decided it was best if my husband went alone to the meeting. He and I had decided beforehand that he would tell the pastor no more, but no less, than he pressed for about exactly why we were leaving. I wasn't surprised to hear that the pastor didn't press for information. We just deflected to the rather vague "God is telling us to move on" explanation. I wonder if God keeps track of how many times people have said that to get out of sticky situations they can no longer contend with.

But in a roundabout way, it's true. We can't live with the law-based, hellfire-and- condemnation laced sermons preached nearly every Sunday at this place. It's because the Holy Spirit has opened our eyes to the fact that this kind of talk is NOT our Father's heart toward us. No one can truly draw near to a God they're afraid of. And without drawing near to God, how can we hope for real sanctification?

The pastor accepted my husband's simple explanation without question and told us he was sorry to see us go, but that we are always welcome back. I know Jesus talks in the Bible about how he came not to bring peace but a sword, but did he mean a sword between brothers in the Lord who both love Him but have vastly different basic theology in many ways? There is no doubt, confusion is a far more effective weapon than black-and-white 'good guys' and 'bad guys.' Surely Jesus meant the sword between believers and unbelievers. But in my walk with Christ, virtually all of the contention, problematic relationships and outright alienation I've had to deal with have been with my brothers and sisters in Christ.

So even though I feel a bit disconcerted that a more honest and open discussion didn't take place, I also know that people tend not to hear things that don't agree with what they already think. They have to be really ready to hear something diabolocally opposed to their way of thinking. As many 'out of the box' journeyers have pointed out, really walking with Christ isn't about being 'right.' It's about being Love.

Perhaps at some point the Holy Spirit will arrange for a time for our paths to cross again with this pastor or with the people of this church group, and we can have more fruitful discussion. None of this is clear to me right now. I only wish that people could be totally honest with each other in difficult situations and something good would come of it, more often. It seems that rarely really happens though.

Situations like this leave me wondering about some of the same questions over and over again. Does love mean you speak up or remain quiet unless you feel compelled to tell the whole truth? Do people ever hear the truth about things they are blind to unless some 'bold' person comes along and lays it out for them? When does "love tells the truth" apply, and when does "love covers a multitude of sins" apply?

I welcome anyone's constructive thoughts on this situation.

So am I Crazy?

2010-08-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

Someone reading this blog might ask, is this woman crazy? I've already had a few comments directed at me since our time back in the building. "I would never go to a place like that. It doesn't sound healthy. I would get up and walk out in the middle of it. I wouldn't last five minutes there." etc.

If only life were that simple. If only life really was as black and white as people try to make it look, or as black and white as we would wish. (And if only there were as many other options available as we'd wish!)

While we've been at the building, even sitting through boring, dry Sunday school and thundering hellfire-laced admonishments from the pulpit, there have been good things. We have had somewhere to get up and go on Sundays as a family. We really needed something, after so long staying home by ourselves on weekends we were all getting stir crazy.

My daughter loves Sunday school. Her teacher has been so sweet to her. So have many of the other adults. While my boys aren't thrilled with the youth group, it has still given them something to do with people on Sundays and Wednesdays. They think it's worth going for the same reason my husband and I do - just being around people is a basic need being filled, if not in an optimal manner.

I have been privileged to indulge my love for senior citizens at this place. Watching old men hug my daughter reminds me of a time I can hardly remember when I was a little girl at church. Old ladies chase my teenage sons down and give them hugs.

Two dear ladies there always find me and get a hug. One is around 70, and always compliments what 'lovely' children I have and is so jovial and genuinely friendly. Another is about 4 feet tall and about 90 years old. She stands there hovering like a child near me until I turn around and see her and give her a hug. She peers up at me through thick glasses and says "I love you honey" in her tremory Texas accent. It truly breaks my heart to think of leaving these people behind.

We have no earthly extended family support in our lives and just for a few moments each week, we can pretend that we do have real family support. These people are our brothers and sisters, though we may not agree on some important issues. Before and after class and service, I can say howdy to people and hug them and experience a few moments of what it's like to have a feeling of belonging somewhere among other people besides my immediate family. This is something we all have a felt need for and the only place we know to find it is organized church.

There have been pot luck lunches at least once a month during the time we've been there. It has been such a blessing to sit and share home cooked meals with others and talk about kids and fishing and weather. I hadn't enjoyed a potluck lunch with homemade fried chicken and deviled eggs since I was a kid in church. We spent a couple of years at one church where the pastor thought pot lucks were an unspiritual waste of time. We spent several more years at church where no one wanted to be bothered with cooking and instead went out to eat at a restaurant together after church. Our family went home and ate sandwiches because we couldn't afford to go out and it's sure hard to have a conversation in a noisy restaurant anyway.

All these positives about this church outfit have been noted without even getting to my very mixed feelings about the pastor. We had known him for a while casually from another group and remembered how exceptionally kind he seemed. So when searching for an organized place to go, we decided to give his place a try. We never dreamed that he would preach the way he does. It's almost like someone else takes over when he gets up on stage.

At first, his preaching seemed okay. The sermons were louder than at all necessary, right from the start, but we figured that was so that all the elderly folks could hear him. But as the weeks went on, more things were said from the pulpit that caused raised eyebrows and distraught looks between me and my husband as we got in the car to go home. Things continued to get more heavy-handed and assaulting in tone, until we finally realized how badly we are NOT on the same page with this pastor on the Sunday he boldly and plainly preached about his views of "conditional salvation on your behavior and efforts."

My husband and I have spent no small amount of time since then praying and pondering what is going on with this pastor. For whatever reason, we believe it is no mistake that God brought our paths together again. We hadn't seen him in a while before starting to attend his 'church' and it is interesting how strongly we remembered our very positive dealings with him (in a different setting) from a while back. It's a long shot to think we were sent to him to open his eyes, but we plan on having a talk with him sometime soon to explain our viewpoints to him and see if we get anywhere.

This time back in this particular building has been a mini-education in fundamentalism. The time I spent in charismatic AOG-flavored settings exposed me to the Elijah-style prostrating before Baal type of 'worship.' They sort of shroud the 'conditional salvation' message in 'Satan will ruin you.' Watch out for Satan because he's a lot badder than God is good, and he's a lot more powerful than you are. So make sure you wake God up any time you're being attacked and call him down to help you, otherwise you're dead!

Fundamental Baptist style preaching seems to lean more toward "YOU will ruin you, because you are a sinner and you need to quit sinning or you will lose your place in heaven." Either way, you are presented with Eternal Insecurity in which you never know where you stand, so like a man in a desert, you have to keep coming back to them purchasing glasses of 'water' which ironically tend to leave you thirstier than you were before you started.

Even with all this insanity, I can see why people go to 'church' and I can see why they stay. In this place we've been, everyone has their friends there and are related to half the congregation. Especially in these parts, people wouldn't know what else to do with themselves. I'm sure there are people who feel the pinch of legalism, but know what's on the outside of it, just as I've walked through for nearly 3 years - a lot of time alone especially on the weekends.

I do understand that we've been brainwashed into thinking "we need fellowship" far more than is really necessary. But some people have lost (or would lose) ALL of their fellowship, indefinitely, without their 'church.' Teachers such as Wayne Jacobsen say that "Father will bring you the people in your life when he sees that you are ready." That's a nice idea but applied as a blanket statement, it's just another formula.

So, perhaps we're meant to be among the ones who are "in the building but not of the building." Now, it may be a matter of finding a more palatable building setting. We'll see.

Praise and Worship

2010-08-16T12:55:00.000-07:00

We have had a couple of weeks of grace of not hearing the weekly admonishment from the pulpit to quit sinning, or else. We stayed home the second Sunday of the month. Yesterday there was a guest speaker who was much gentler and more positive than we've been used to hearing. It was mostly a variation on Spiritual Kindergarten 101 but at least it was a week of rest.

However, Sunday school was an experience to ponder since we're studying Henry Blackaby's "Experiencing God" workbook over the summer. I remember dumping my copy of the original Blackaby manual in the Goodwill bin long before we ever began seeking God 'out of the box' and now I can remember why. Years ago I was naiive enough to think that pouring my all into a workbook about God was how to know Him, but it never worked for me even then.

The SS class is set up like a grade school classroom. The teacher is up front, we sit in neat little rows of chairs. Answers are encouraged at teacher-directed moments, but only short answers. You get cut off if your answer takes more than about 2 sentences. The teachers are the only ones who expound on their opinions.

So yesterday we got a mini-lecture about people missing out on the abundant life because - you guessed it - they don't read their Bibles daily and "learn about God." Since in their minds, God apparently dwells primarily in flat black and white print when they can't access him on days the building isn't open, we'd better not miss our daily devotions. Using this logic, it seems I could just throw a manual at my kids when they have problems, questions or just want to spend time with me. I could just take a mini-vacation from parenting. For that matter, God could just make sure everyone had a Bible, then put heaven on autopilot and go on vacation too.

After the Bible admonishment we were told that we 'should' praise the Lord. We were told that praising the Lord is mentioned at least 200 times in Psalms so we better take note and praise away. Of course, the verse about how God inhabits our praises was mentioned (Psalm 22:3). Never mind that this no longer applies to us as New Covenant believers; God is now ever-present with us and no longer waits until we praise him to be here with us and for us. The truth is I don't even like the term 'praise' anymore, the way it's been used over and over in 'church' to beat people over the head.

While it's true that praising God still blesses us and blesses him, it is not as though he won't show up until we do - he has already inhabited our hearts. Denying this directly or indirectly puts us back in the position of slaves and servants instead of sons and daughters.

There was some talk of how blessed we are materially here in the US, but how spiritually lacking we tend to be. The logic was that if we are feeling neglected of God's spirit, it's our own fault for not reading our Bibles and praising him more. After all, look at all we have here in the U.S. We can go to church in safety and peace, we have nice homes, great food, clean water. No excuses for not praising, right?

If we are lacking in praise, why is this so? asked the teacher. As I opened my mouth to say "Because we don't really know God," several others chimed in with suggestions. Because we're stupid. Ungrateful. Self-centered. Distracted. Oh, okay. We're just not disciplined enough or smart enough to praise him. Kind of like a bunch of dumb Israelites bellyaching about the food in the desert. I sat shaking my head trembling with frustration as the teacher placidly said "Well we're out of time now, let's close in prayer."

I will say, if there are a bunch of Christians not praising the God who loves them... I agree there is something seriously wrong. Starting with how retarded we have gotten that we think some workbook program is going to do anything to fix it. We as the institutional church in America have made God out to look like a self-centered, egotistical tyrant, then we beat people up for not praising him enough. Okay. Praise God that Sunday school really only lasts less than an hour. There.

On another note, the pastor at least took a step in the right direction yesterday to try to get people to come to Sunday evening service. Since the guest speaker had taken his usual Sunday morning time to warn us of hellfire, he tried a different approach. He first asked us to ask ourselves, in our hearts, if we really want to please God. He then urged us to ask God what he wants us to do, if we really do indeed want to please him. Then we were reminded again, Six o'clock. The logic seemed to be, I'll give you people a little leash room to ask God yourselves what he wants you to do, but since I'm the pastor, I already know the answer. If you're serious about him and really want to please him, you'll be here at six o'clock. Well, I was home getting the grill ready for burgers at six o'clock last night and was so tired and sad from the morning that I couldn't even think of going anywhere, let alone back to the building for another lecture.

There's no real point to this blog. I know most people who read this think I'm crazy for even being there. Maybe I am, and barring a miracle we won't be there much longer. I'm just sad and confused; life isn't all black and white. More about that in my next blog. Meanwhile, Jesus held me close as I cried in great sadness yesterday during service, the turmoil in my heart known fully only by him. I leaned my head on his shoulder and just cried. This was my worship yesterday. It surely wasn't good enough for anyone else, but I believe it was good enough for him.

Sin focus... or God focus?

2010-08-02T02:47:00.000-07:00

During our time back in the building, I have again been amazed (not in a good way) at how pastors can take a couple of verses out of the Bible and basically make them say anything they want them to say. Usually the end result leaves you feeling considerably less than helped or encouraged.

Yesterday we were given Hebrews 3:12-13, as an opening warning of the deceitfulness of sin. We were then taken to Matthew 7:21-23, a passage we've all heard many times. Jesus tells of the many who will say to him, Lord did we not do this-that-and-the-other in your name? And he will say, Depart from me, you evildoers, for I never knew you.

Based on these two passages, the pastor then proceeded to thunderously lecture us for the next 45 minutes on how our own sin could keep us out of heaven. We were warned that if we have a sin in our life that we're holding onto, we'd better get it out of our life, or else, we will be among those who Jesus turns away at the gate.

Messages like this leave the listener with the feeling that Jesus mainly came to earth to shove the law down our throat, rather than fulfill it himself. I can almost picture a colossal Father (like a giant version of my earthly father) saying to his Son, "Those stupid idiots just aren't getting it. I gave them the rules but they're still sinning. Now go down there and take care of it. I'm gonna show them in gory detail just how pissed off I am about this sin business, and what kind of awfulness will happen to THEM if they don't knock it off!" Thus we have an endless array of gory descriptions of the Cross in sermons, books and movies.

I spent the sermon time trying to read grace passages in proper context such as Romans 6 and 8, but it was hard to tune out the thundering admonishments. When I saw the pastor look around speculatively at the audience and emphasize that the Matthew passage says MANY will be turned away, I stopped reading and listened with a mixture of disgust, sadness and yes, fear.

"Most people won't make it. Will all of us in this sanctuary be there? I don't know. I hope so. A lot of people go to church, and do good things, and teach Sunday school... but many will still be turned away." It's amazing how the enemy works. A coctail of mixed truth and lies is far more potent than just straight lies.

It's true that works won't save us, yet this pastor regularly teaches that we have to work to keep ourselves saved.. I also think it's true that many religious appearing folks won't be in heaven. It's also true that sin is deceitful and can even ruin our lives. But to threaten a group of people trying their best to follow and know God with loss of heaven for their sins... that is saying Jesus came and died... just to show us we might be next if we don't shape up?

First of all, the Hebrews passage says not to be deceived by sin, because sin is deceiving. Period. If you keep reading into chapter 4, the importance of entering into REST (from our own works in effort to save ourselves) is discussed.

Second, Jesus said that MANY will be turned away on the day. He didn't say "MOST." I was able to talk to my friend Darin who pointed out Colossians 2: 13-15 where it describes Jesus' overwhelming triumph on the cross; he made a "public spectacle" of evil powers and authorities. I will paraphrase an allegory told to me by Darin:

If a family with 20 kids had a psycho-murderer break into the house, and the murderer killed 18 of the children before the father could stop the murderer and kill him, the father's role in the incident wouldn't be remembered as having made a "public spectacle" of the murderer. It would be more of a "well, at least two were saved" but what would the people hearing the story on the news remember? The two saved or the eighteen dead? Not too much of a triumph. In this case, it would sound like the enemy made far more of a public spectacle than the loving father. Just some food for thought.

I am really getting disgusted. I realize we are going to have to look for somewhere else to go 'to church.' I have no idea where we COULD go that the power of the cross will be acknowledged fully. But my conscience will not allow me to silently condone hearing the power of the cross nullified week after week.

I do not set aside the grace of God, for if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing! - Galatians 2:21

Burning Hearts

2010-07-25T18:21:00.001-07:00

They asked each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?" Luke 24:32

This scripture was given to open yesterday's sermon in the building. It seems that the pastor's key phrase for this season is going to be "fire," or more specifically, "holy fire." We were warned after the Oklahoma campmeeting of what supposedly might happen to us as a result of not keeping the fire going (loss of salvation). Obviously the pastor has more to say on this theme. So do I.

The pastor made some true points. Today's American Christians are, overall, a pretty lukewarm bunch of people. The pastor seems to jump to the conclusion that this is because of laziness, being fleshly, wanting the pleasures of material things more than we want God. I believe this is addressing the symptoms of a people who have never truly walked closely with the living God, rather than the heart issues.

I am going to provide a series of contrasting thoughts and images to give an idea of what was said yesterday (and what I've heard repeated over and over in most of organized Christiandom) with things that are burning in my own heart.

Sunday school and church seemed to be running on parallel tracks. Several key words and phrases were used at least half a dozen times apiece: we must be willing to (fill in the blank), we ought to, we should, we need to, we must, we better be, we need to be.

I hate flying. I get airsick and claustrophobic. But if I get to see my friends, where we can build each other up and be ourselves without fear of failure or criticism, it's worth it. I carry their smiling faces and kind words in my heart. No one will ever have to tell me I 'should' fellowship with them. Through them I feel God's love like warm sunshine. You can't "better be" love or any of its expressions. Nor can you infuse it with guilt, obligation or shame to give it life.

"This week's assignment is to answer this question honestly in your notebook. Do you love God with all your heart, all your soul and all your strength, as God commanded the people in Deuteronomy? Three boxes to check: yes, no, or maybe." The Sunday school teacher looked at the quiet class and said, "Any questions or comments? No? Well, you all have been good listeners today." With a pleasant smile and a closing prayer, class was closed.

I try to understand what a day by day, close, healthy, loving, protective, strengthening relationship with a face-to-face brother would look like. I have no frame of reference, other than stories I've heard from others. I can only imagine Mary on the third day, crying and babbling in shocked amazement and joy, while clinging to Jesus for dear life, probably shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. Does anyone think anyone but Jesus himself could have persuaded her to let go of his robe? If anyone had asked her to check a box saying 'yes,' 'no,' or 'maybe' to whether she loved Him, she might have responded, "Are you freaking kidding me?"

The pastor's stated goal in yesterday's sermon was to have us all "get on fire for God." We were also informed that "Christianity is meant to be a religion of flaming hearts." His frustration at our seeming lack of flaming hearts was causing him to get quite worked up. In a few short minutes, we watched a red-faced, sweating preacher shuck his suit jacket so he wouldn't pass out behind the pulpit. Freed from the extra layer of clothing, he found the strength to continue to shout and gesture excitedly for the next several minutes. He informed us that he knows he tends to repeat himself, but that if he says it enough times, he hopes that maybe around the 10th time it will actually get through!

Somehow, I thought the purpose of Jesus' death and resurrection was supposed to set us free from religion altogether and bring us this amazing, abiding relationship of Love like we'd never imagined. One thing that has never, ever worked for me in any relationship of any kind, no matter whether the person means well, is being shouted at. I still remember my earthly father shouting at me in anger. I also remember the physical abuse that often followed. I shut down like a bank vault when people raise their voices at me. Can't we as parents usually see the futility of shouting at or scolding our children? Sometimes they will do what we've asked just to get us to shut up, but it won't bring our hearts any closer. It's a good thing the Holy Spirit tends to speak in a soul-stirring whisper.

The pastor had made a number of good points, including the lukewarm state of the American church at large, the uselessness of a watered-down gospel, and the fact that the devil has used religion to make people miss out on God (although the irony of this last remark was not lost on me). So far, though, he had gotten through almost an entire sermon without totally sticking in the dagger. This was about to change in the next few seconds.

A few years ago, I sat in my back yard, reading a chapter of Jim Palmer's "Divine Nobodies." I was in tears over an especially touching and poignant essay about Jim's gay friend Richard. Richard had been looking for God in so many places, from church houses to gay bars. I asked Jesus, where do I go to find you? I have the same question! And he answered me gently, right here. Right here.

This business of his flock not making head count in the pen for Sunday evening service really is bothering the pastor. A firm admonishment toward those "not serious enough for God" was given, namely, those not in attendance for Sunday evening and Wednesday evening services. It was suggested that we're just too fleshly. Probably, we're off going to the movies, drinking, or somehow pursuing something else of "the world." We don't want to be inconvenienced to make a sacrifice, said he. Seemingly this passionate, irritated rant was fueled by the underlying belief that God still dwells primarily in the building, and there must we go to worship Him.

I wrote in my journal, The law brings death but the Spirit gives Life! Must we try to make 'church attendance' into a law to get people to come?

The pastor said, "I'll close now" and I seriously doubt I was the only one thinking, Hallelujuah! His closing statement (paraphrased) was one of those take-this-one-home-while-you-try-to-enjoy-your-Sunday-laziness clinchers: "There are two kinds of fire, holy fire and the other kind. Everyone will face fire, either the holy kind that cleanses them from all their sins, or the kind that is the fire of eternal torment."
Thanks for coming everybody! Have a nice afternoon! The alter began to fill up with folks repentant of being lukewarm for God.

Please Jesus... I grasped for his face, his shirt. Please, I need you. The real you. I want, I NEED to know you, ever more, always. Almost immediately I sensed His precious face near mine, kissing me ever so gently. I closed my eyes and breathed in his presence. Just basking in his love, clinging to him. Why, oh why do Christian preachers feel the need to threaten their flock, saved people, your own children, with hellfire? It's okay, said he. It's okay. I'm here.

And so was another morning of some form of Spiritual Kindergarten 101. Must must must. Mustn't mustn't mustn't. We'll give you a few chances to straighten up, and if you don't, guess what? You'll get an eternity of spankings! A spanking that lasts for-e-ver! I didn't hear a significant statement about how very much God loves us and how widespread his Grace is all morning. I guess they think fear and guilt are better motivators. Needless to say, we didn't attend the Sunday evening service. I wonder if his sermon worked on anybody else.

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. - 1 John 4:18

I hadn't heard or thought of this song in ages but it popped into my head as the sermon was ending. I think it's perfect for this subject.

Hello Spokane

2010-07-14T12:30:00.001-07:00

My butt was cramped and my back was tired from sitting in the narrow airplane seat for so long. As the evening wore on, my eyelids grew heavier with sleep but I resisted the urge. My tiny "in flight beverage" cup was empty again, and I gave up trying to flag down the busy flight attendant for more water even though I was thirsty. The airplane smelled like B.O, which didn't help my tummy, already off kilter from a combination of airsickness and hunger.

Finally, the magic words that made it all worth it came over the intercom. The pilot reminded us to remain seated until the aircraft had completely stopped, gave us a weather report, thanked us for flying Southwest, and said, "Welcome to Spokane."

I could hardly wait for the pokey people in front of me gathering all their stuff to move out of my way as I wiggled in impatience to walk off the airplane. But a few minutes later, I was hugging my pajama-clad friends as we exchanged tired but happy smiles. It had been over a year since we had last seen each other, but they looked exactly the same - beautiful.

It is so good to spend a precious few days around people you can just be yourself with. No religious posturing, no feeling of having to hide our true selves, no need to cover up our incomplete or hurting areas for fear of religious admonishment. We were there to just breathe in each other's company. Sometimes, the conversation naturally drifted to God, other times, we talked about a variety of other things.

I think the sad thing is when people feel the need to draw a sharp line between "things of God" and "things of the world." Many Christians I know are obsessed with "worldy vs. spiritual." Many people would say that since we didn't pull out our Bibles for a group study, the entire weekend was an unspiritual waste of time.

I know that all three of us needed each other's encouragement, each other's thoughts, each other's company. Just knowing I have sisters who I love and who love me gives me enough courage and edification to go another whole year without seeing them, if necessary. And it may be that long and then some, since we all live so far apart.

I know that God was there with us, and in us, as we (*gasp*!) tasted wine together at a winery, and as we sat together eating huckleberry ice cream and talking about child birth, and as we had a loud conversation by the lake that drew the attention of a few people around us. (The conversation was about the wrong of beating people over the head with the Bible).

I know that God was with us when Kim got sick, when Kirsten encountered a troubling situation, when I argued with my husband over the phone. I know God was with us when we had to say goodbye and remind each other that we love one another. Leaving Kirsten at the airport was hard. I managed not to cry, but I felt like I had so much more that I wanted us to talk about while I was there. But the time was gone.

I had the same poignant mixture of happy and sad feelings as I hugged Kim goodbye, crying, in the narrow aisle of the airplane as I left to go board my connecting flight to Dallas. I knew this time I was on my own, both friends were to be left hundreds of miles behind on the west coast. But I know we will see each other again, because we love one another and are spiritually connected, no matter how many miles separate us.

This morning as I sat through another admonishment from the preacher (it seems that some folks' lack of attendance on Sunday evening and Wednesday evening is really sticking in his craw) I thought about Kirsten and I in gales of laughter over a silly YouTube video, and Kim and I eagerly peering out the airplane windows together at the snow-capped mountains. No one would have to admonish me to be sure and spend time with Kirsten and Kim, because well if I don't, my sincerity for God is in question. Please. I spend time with them because I love them and I experience Father's love for me far more with them than I do through a hundred typical church meetings in the building, with the mostly surface level chit chat and admonishments to try harder to please God.

Thank you Lord, for showing me that walking with you really is about a truly abiding relationship rooted and grounded in Love, with you and with my fellow saints. However that may look. I just hope that someday, you will open doors for abiding relationships with the people I see around me in my daily life as well.

"Hello Seattle" was the closest song I could find to my blog title "Hello Spokane," but I thought the lyrics fit my experience pretty well.

Eternal Insecurity

2010-07-07T20:01:00.000-07:00

The delayed posting of this blog is because of a busy schedule and a computer meltdown. However, it is the cherry on top of the 'hot fudge sundae' of the campmeeting I described in my last blog.

Rather predictably, the pastor of the place we attend gave a sermon on making sure we don't lose our 'fire' after such an experience of this camp meeting. A friend recently commented to me on memories of her own youth camps; she remembers her pastor saying the same thing after those meetings in her youth. She also remarked that fire is an emergency or at least high stress state not meant to be sustained for long periods - it's too stressful and will burn us out (or burn us up!)

The worst part of the sermon was that the pastor then took a passage out of Luke 10 where Jesus tells a parable of a man who built bigger barns to store all his 'stuff' and turned it into a warning lecture to make sure we don't 'slack off' spiritually and become lazy. According to the pastor, it matters not if you're tired from 4 days of a campmeeting (or anything else) because no 'spiritual vacations' are allowed for God's people. You have to make sure to study your Bible without fail, and keep following after God, and not sin, and... and... or else, well, you might not make it to heaven. He flat out stated that he believes salvation is conditional on these things.

There are so many problems I have with this theology that I hardly know where to begin. But I will just state here that it is a relationship killer. As "The God's Honest Truth" states and elaborates on, security that is not eternal is really no security at all. While it's true that sanctification is a very necessary part of salvation, eternal insecurity theology is spiritually paralyzing. It's like if I told my kids I'll love them forever, but if they don't make their beds and do their homework every day, I'll douse them with gasoline and light them on fire. This might motivate them to be a lot more punctual with their responsibilities, but it will ensure that I never have their heart. And without our hearts being closely joined their growth and well being will be stunted, at best.

Once people swallow this idea of eternal insecurity, they're set up to 'need' church as we know it for as long as they believe it. They never can know for sure where they really stand with God, so it's better to be safe than sorry. Following someone else's lead who seems to know more and be elevated above them (read: the pastor) and do what they're told, when they're told to do it (read their Bible daily, show up to the building when told) gives people a sense of security they so badly need. If you can't count on God or on yourself, you've got to count on something.

It's one thing to get out of the institution and read lots of good material explaining so well those sick feelings you had all along of something being wrong. It's another thing to go back and see it all again after your eyes have been opened.

What is most baffling of all is how happy most people seem with such theology. Like a bunch of drug addicts, they haven't learned to see it as a poisonous substance. I heard several loud proclamations as we left the sanctuary of what a great sermon that was.

As for me, the eternal insecurity message was like a noxious fume bomb had been set off in the sanctuary. My gas mask was my open Bible, where I read over and over, "He has made perfect forever those who are being made holy..."

Deliverance

2010-06-29T12:39:00.001-07:00

I found myself spending almost 4 days last week at a ‘camp meeting,’ which means combination youth rally and revival meeting. (To this day I grin when I hear the term ‘revival.’ As The God’s Honest Truth says, Christianity as a religion is like a Harley. It’s the most classic and authentic of all motorcycles, but it also breaks down every few hundred miles and needs to be ‘revived.’ Makes you think about what we’re showing the world… we have a religion that keeps dying on us). Since we’re back in organized church and this denomination is big on camp meetings, my sons and I went to check this one out last week.

The objective for the youth seems to be, feed them and preach the Bible to them and offer alter calls all day long and late into the night, and they will hopefully be touched by the Holy Spirit and saved, or delivered from some sort of bondage. Four services a day, stretching from mid morning to the wee hours of the next morning, ought to have some effect one way or the other. (Sometimes a real experience with God, sometimes an emotional response that looks like salvation, or even just an alter call response as a way of crying ‘uncle.’?)

Like so many other well-meaning religious efforts, I’m sure this approach does the trick for some people (teens and otherwise) but is ineffective, draining, and perhaps even detrimental to others.

Most of the participants in this camp meeting seemed thrilled with all the goings-on. The hosting church was more charismatic than our home church, which brought back a few bad memories for me although they were nice people. There were constant shouts of ‘Praise the Lord’ and ‘Amen!’ I guess this is just some people’s style, but it’s hard to sit through hours and hours of seeing people wear their faith like a flashing neon sign on their sleeve, when being true to myself is to quietly carry mine in my heart.

The theme of this 4 day weekend was ‘Deliverance.’ The idea was to get deliverance from anything that ails or hinders you, whether a speech stutter or a sin problem. Once this deliverance was achieved, we would supposedly be a better witness for Christ. After all, everyone assumes that real Christians have no serious hindrances in their lives that stay around for very long. So once we achieve being happy, ailment, and sin-free, every heathen we meet will want what we have.

I was glad to have brought along my mp3 with a few of Darin’s teachings on it. I lay in bed trying to sleep while listening to “The Truth About Pastors” from the “Institutional Mindset” series. Darin told of how deeply depressed he gets, to the point of contemplating suicide if it weren’t for his family. He also talked about how God is with him through it all the time, and about the things God shows him during these depressed times, and because of them – not in spite of them. This, to me, is what witness really is. Someone who shares in the fellowship of sufferings and knows Jesus is with them all the while, who is very human and yet more Christlike to me than all the Healed and Delivered Happy Christian Cheerleaders combined that I’ve ever met.

Sometimes having a sin or hindrance taken away is best. But other times, a mindset is what we need to be ‘delivered’ from. The charismatic approach of ‘power’ and ‘deliverance’ always made God feel like a big, impersonal vending machine to me. If you put in the right coins and pushed the right buttons while praying fervently, your desired snack would appear in the chute. All too often though, I remember being angry feeling that the machine had eaten my money while others around me were happily chugging their cold sodas and shouting, “Praise the Lord!” The big, mysterious, cold and impersonal humming of the God vending machine idea I held could have driven me to insanity, had I not been delivered, if you will, of that mindset.

The camp meeting people did mention the concept of a ‘personal relationship with Jesus’ from time to time, as I’ve heard it mentioned in other organized church settings. If we’re expected to be together in such abundance all doing the same thing in the same way at the same time, compulsively, over the span of a lifetime, I’m not sure how much room this really leaves for a personal relationship with ANYBODY. I guess this is where “making sure you get up at dawn to read your Bible every single day of your life” comes in.

I’m glad now to be in a place where I’m getting free of the mindset that if I don’t get what I want right away (or at all) and if I suffer, or fail to perform in some way, God deeply and steadily loves me and that will never change. To be forever delivered from fearing otherwise is one of the best gifts I’d ever hope for.

After the first two days of a steady diet of endless food, church services and people in my face all day long and late into the evening, I felt so stressed that I was unspeakably relieved to find a little bit of time to sit on a bench alone and talk to Jesus. I closed my eyes and pictured him driving us down a sunny highway on a shiny Harley through quiet countryside. I hung onto his back and rested my face on his shirt. He touched my face and told me he loves me.

The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by."

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. - 1 Kings 19:11-12

The Best

2010-05-11T16:47:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday, the “Mother’s Day” sermon basically boiled down to, make sure you give your children The Best, which is, of course, Jesus. The importance of our sharing Jesus with our children can’t be argued. I also appreciate the pastor’s reminder of the importance of praying for our children.

Other than that, the two roads largely diverged. Most of the sermon was on making sure that, as a parent (Mother especially, as Sunday’s theme reflected) you take your children ‘to church,’ preferably every time the doors are open. The pastor gave examples of upstanding Christian families who do this. One was a family who drives two hours each way for Wednesday evening service. Another was a family who had an errant uncle show up on a Sunday morning wanting to visit, only to be told no, this is when we go to church.

The pastor also made a big point of “serving Jesus.” It bothered me to hear this emphazized the way it was. The verse from John 15 came to my mind: “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends…”

My parents made sure I was taken (sometimes dragged) to church nearly every time the doors were open. I grew up with the idea that God dwelled in the building (another basic misunderstanding promoted at this organization we’re now attending). My parents did not teach me by word or example about Jesus much at all in the home; he was someone we went to the building to talk about. Certainly the pastor was promoting our teaching our children in the home as well, but I’ve seen that the emphasis on making sure they’re in the building without fail can sometimes end up being detrimental.

Popular creationist teacher Ken Ham advocates the idea that we’re losing our young people from ‘church’ as soon as they graduate high school because we haven’t taught them the facts about their faith. Presumably, as soon as they leave the nest of their parent’s particular doctrine, they go to university where secular professors and heathen fellow students convince them that their Christian faith is a bunch of bunk. Thus, their ‘faith’ goes down the tubes.

I assert that in such cases, the rubber met the road and the tires went flat. There is a big difference between what you believe and what you KNOW. You can have belief in a set of facts and in a book all day long, but until you’ve experienced a Person’s intense interest in and care for you, it isn’t faith. Youth aren’t inclined to settle for duty and commitment the way tired, discouraged adults are. They are looking for the real deal – something that grips their heart irrevocably. They have already spent countless hours in the classroom learning about things they’ve never had hands on experience with at school. I say that the ones who leave, haven’t seen that the church is any different.

I think the best we can give our children (and everyone else for that matter) is to BECOME the message. How can we be Jesus to our child, or to an errant uncle who shows up on the doorstep on Sunday morning?

Uncle Joe probably won’t be impressed if we tell him we don’t have time to visit on Sunday morning because we’re going to church. Perhaps he wouldn’t think of going because he thinks he’ll be judged (and perhaps he’s right). Maybe we could invite Uncle Joe to church and if he doesn’t want to go, stay home and visit with him. Ask him how he’s doing, really listen to his responses, and ask if we can pray for him while he’s there. If not, be a good host and a friend, then pray for him when he leaves.

We can leave Uncle Joe in the dust and hope he’s impressed by our piety because we chose “church” over him. Or, we can BE the church to him, given the face to face opportunity, and offer him company and support. We can talk about the Message, but it’s more effective to BE the Message.

As for our children, how can we be the message, how can we be Jesus? I was plopped in Sunday school for years. I sat through hundreds of church sermons, mostly doodling on a note pad. I see bored teenagers yawning in this place we’re attending now. I see children doodling on note pads just like I did.

Sometimes, the traditional route works, and adults who love God credit their parents for making sure they were “in church” all those years growing up. I daresay that statistics reflect that most of the time, that isn’t the case.

Could it be that sometimes as parents (the collective whole) we have left out the most important thing, making our children feel deeply loved? If we don’t make them feel loved as parents, we can’t hope to lead them to a true and abiding relationship with God. They don’t just want to hear about Jesus, they want to meet him.

I also believe it is crucial that we straighten out the erroneous thinking that God/Jesus are primarily found in the building. If we don't really understand the magnanimous difference of the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, how can we teach it to our children? God no longer dwells in a building, he dwells in the human heart.

If all they have distilled from their church experience that Christianity is about a bunch of facts, following the rules, being good, trying to quit sinning and showing up to a building religiously to listen to endless admonishments about not sinning and not falling off the straight and narrow, it’s likely they won’t want anything to do with Him, because they’ve never truly met Him. They feel like they’ve been sold a bill of goods, led on a “Where’s Waldo” chase that has left them literally disillusioned. It happens. A lot. As the old Wendy’s commercial says, where’s the beef?

“Jesus?” he whispered as his voice choked. “I feel so lost.”

A hand reached out and squeezed his, and didn’t let go. “I know, Mack. But it’s not true. I am with you and I’m not lost. I’m sorry it feels that way, but hear me clearly. You are not lost.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mack said, his tension lessened by the words of his newfound friend.

“C’mon,” said Jesus, standing up and reaching down for Mack. “You have a big day ahead of you. Let’s get you to bed.” He put his arm around Mack’s shoulder and together they walked back toward the cabin. Mack was suddenly exhausted. Today had been one long day. Maybe he would wake up at home in his own bed after a night of vivid dreaming, but somewhere inside he hoped he was wrong.

- from “The Shack” by William P. Young

Holiness

2010-05-03T18:06:00.000-07:00

Being back “in church” again is already proving to be a real "where the rubber meets the road" experience. I’m trying to remember the things I’ve learned and seen the past 2 ½ years out ‘in the wild’ and apply them as needed, back inside the walls.

I will say, the pastor at this place is one of the most sincere and good-hearted pastors I’ve ever met. I don’t think for a minute that he sits scheming over his sermon notes, wondering how he can make the people a little more afraid. I honestly think even the best of pastors in organized church preach some degree of “hybrid covenant” theology, whether they realize it or not.

This past Sunday’s sermon was on holiness. Early in the message, the pastor quoted the verse that says “Without holiness, no one will see the Lord.” (Heb. 12:14) I didn’t actually keep a tally sheet, but in my subconscious I was ticking off each time he repeated this phrase, and I think it was up to 8 or 9 times by the time he finished his sermon. Even after nearly 3 years of not going “to church” regularly, each time he said this I winced. He raised his voice passionately, whereas my ears were already stressed by over amplification of the microphone in a small sanctuary. I felt like a hamster in a cage being given a little shock jolt.

(While we’re on the subject, one big problem area I’ve seen over the years is the tendency for a teacher to start with one or two verses and make a whole sermon out of it, a whole doctrine, or even a whole religion. Other than “God is Love,” this rarely seems to produce a totally balanced and truthful picture).

We were reminded that we can’t go our own way and be holy, or follow the desires of our flesh and be holy. We can’t live a life of sin and say “but the Bible says I’m positionally right with God.” Remember, without holiness, no one will see the Lord!

I see a vicious cycle at work in most sermons I’ve heard inside the walls – the pastor tells the flock that God is grace, but implies that they better watch their step or they might slip out of grace. The people are afraid he’s right, so they keep coming back to hear more preaching on making sure to walk the straight and narrow, or else; which feeds their fear that they might screw up, so they come back for more preaching, so their fears can be fed again…

While the pastor talked, I read through chapter 10 in Hebrews. (The whole book of Hebrews describes what was accomplished by Christ). I think it would have been much better to focus on what has already been done. Like it or not, in God’s sight we ARE holy. We can’t erase this or screw it up by having a bad day or even a bad year. The trouble is, most Christians do not understand or believe this. It’s like we’ve all somehow gotten the message that Christ did not really accomplish too much at the cross, except to show just how angry God really is over this sin business and He had to take it out on Someone.

To be fair, the pastor did preach part 2 of his sermon later in the day, on love. He took us to the book of Jude where we are reminded to keep ourselves in the love of God, and he did preach that in its proper context. I think we listeners would have been better off if the pastor had stuck to part 2 and left it at that. If only pastors (and everyone else) would realize that our focus needs to be on our God, and his love - NOT on our sin, or any potential to sin, real or imagined.

The pastor summed up the main thing we need to know in regards to what holiness is: “Christlikeness.” We’ve all been taught in mainstream Christianity that God wants us to become just like Christ, who is God incarnate. But what is Christlikeness? The pastor described it as abstaining from sin and loving our neighbor. I can’t argue with either of these things, but is there more?

As I listened to the latest Into the Wild podcast, I paid special attention to a couple of comments made on holiness. Darin said that he thinks holiness is not just defined as abstaining from sin, because sin is not even a part of who God is. Holiness is so much more than we can altogether define. Darin thinks that our holiness is becoming more “whole” as in “whole-i-ness.” Fully ourselves, who and how we were meant to be as God created us.

I’ll ponder this one. Many earthly fathers seem to most want that their children not screw up, not get into trouble, to not do anything bad. They are also pleased if Junior is a “chip off the old block.” In other words, like Dad. There are numerous stories of dads who didn’t like Junior anymore once he decided not to become a lawyer or a doctor like Dad. This parenting agenda might produce results of clean-looking Dad clones in some kids, but totally alienate others. And I bet all folks who came out of a household of this parenting mindset have a hunch they missed out on a lot of real love. “Don’t screw up, and become like me” seems to be an incomplete picture of love at best.

Even with a book as good as “The Misunderstood God,” I feel like I’m gleaning great but still largely second hand information. The God described in this book sounds wonderful. But much of the time, it still feels like trying to hook up a seatbelt when the latch is busted. It doesn’t fully connect, it doesn’t click and stay put. Even so, I can imagine it might look something like this:

illustration by Pamela Barcita

When a child is safe in her father’s care, she becomes the most beautiful, vibrant, whole and complete person she can be. How much more so with our heavenly Father than with even the best of earthly fathers. I don’t fully know this in my heart yet, but I can imagine.

Meanwhile, I will keep hanging on for dear life to remembering how important it is to focus on being first and foremost, rooted and grounded in love. As the pastor repeated that “without holiness no one will see the Lord” for about the seventh time the other day, I fixed my eyes on 1 John 4:19: “We love because he first loved us.”

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love. – 1 John 4:18

Moving On

2010-04-16T18:33:00.000-07:00

Life takes turns unexpectedly sometimes. Darin, Aimee and Amy’s recent discussion on Moving On was timely. I can see the truth of it being unhealthy to stay stuck in a place of bashing or being mad at “the institution” forever. However, there is so much more to journeying with God outside the religious box than being mad at ‘the institution.’

There is so much more that I feel like I haven’t gotten to live out, and now don’t know how or if I will get to live it out. The road is taking unwanted turns for me. I feel like life is propelling me to move on in ways I don’t want to. We just don't live in an area that is "free believer" friendly. Because of my children’s needs, we have decided it’s time to go back to organized church. We found one that we like well enough. The pastor seems an exceptionally kind man. The congregation seems friendly enough. Maybe it won’t be the gagged-and-bound experience I remember from the past. I’m not crazy about it, but I don’t hate it.

The timing of going ‘back to church’ is also coinciding with changes in the internet gatherings. People move on when they’re ready, but sometimes I’m not ready for them to move on! Seeing them on Facebook with blurbs about their dead hamster or their broken air conditioner just isn’t the same. I miss the talks we used to have, or seldom get to have. I’ve never had friends I could be so honest with before. The idea that they will become less central in my life makes me sad.

I’m certainly not through with the journey in my heart outside the box of religion. I’m just frustrated because I’m feeling like it has been largely cut short before it has had the chance to change from a new and better set of beliefs to an amazing transformation of both my heart and my life. I feel that if I had the opportunity to wholly follow the non-traditional path wherever it leads, I’d have more revelation than I could ever have sitting in a church service listening to sermons every week.

This time of year is usually a happy time for me, when winter is finally over and spring arrives. I am planting my gardens as always, enjoying the warm air between sneezes, watching the hummingbirds dart past each other, seeing my cats poking around the now-green yard. However, I’m feeling a certain sadness because this time last year was when I attended my first “Free Believer” gathering. I got to meet my friends Cheryl, Kim, Suz, Kirsten and Darin face to face, and meet other new people exploring God in a new way. I miss them very much now, when I think of that wonderful time, almost exactly this time last year.

While sitting in church listening to a sermon on something I basically already know, I find myself daydreaming about sitting in Kim’s back yard in California, smoking a hookah pipe and talking about how God swings us around in crazy circles like a Daddy with a little girl, delighting in hearing us laugh.

Please God, don’t let this be over when in some ways I feel it’s hardly begun. I'm trying to hang on to faith that when things don't look the way you would like, it's not over. This song came to mind as I brooded over the way things look right now. For those of you who aren't familiar with Stevie Nicks' life, she wrote this song when she and boyfriend Lindsey Buckingham were in financial straits and she had to go back to work doing what she hated, waiting tables and cleaning houses. At the time, it looked like their musical career dreams were washed up. About 4 years later, Fleetwood Mac's best-selling album "Rumours" came out. To date, it was the second best selling rock album of all time.

Alabama part 2: The Word

2010-01-31T08:52:00.000-08:00

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John 1:14

One thing I have learned in my journey into the wild is that relationships begun and largely maintained over the internet can be profoundly encouraging and healing. I've also had the privilege of learning that when you finally get to spend time face to face, it will add new and wonderful dimensions to your understanding and experience of the person, no matter how well you thought you knew them from a geographical distance. If I had to name the main impression I got from Huntsville, it was "The Word becoming flesh looks like this."

In “The Shack,” the story tells of Mack’s painful history in his relationship with his earthly father. Wounds like this can truly take a lifetime to heal, and perhaps even then some, as portrayed with Mack’s father later in the book. I laughed when I read that “Papa” Father God was a big black woman cooking dinner in the kitchen when Mack arrived at the shack. This portrayal caused so much controversy, yet I understood it instantly. This was the flesh that Mack needed to see at the time. He couldn’t handle a father. He needed to see someone who looked safe, who was warm and inviting.

I stared at the email as if it was going to bite me. “Call me anytime if you want to talk. I’d love to hear from you.” I had enjoyed emailing with her for a couple of months now, but I knew what happened when you opened your heart to a new friend. I replied that I was sorry, but just coming out of a new ‘friendship’ badly burned and couldn’t find the courage. She didn’t seem put off, she was very kind and understanding.

When I finally got to meet Aida face to face a couple of weeks ago, I thought she looked like an angel (who came up with the idea that they have blonde hair and blue eyes?). The curly hair she complains about in damp weather was snowy white and in perfect soft waves. Her warm brown eyes and dark complexion reminded me of my oldest friend, the only one from years past who has stuck around over time. She is also very warm and friendly, also small and dark-skinned with warm brown eyes. It was like Father was trying to show me, I am safe and kind. I am a friend you can count on, I won’t leave you either. This is what safe and kind looks like.

Aida has commented about the love shared during our weekend in Huntsville. I have thought about what was unique about it. Really, I think the absence of manipulation and self-serving agenda is a primary factor in any group (or pair) of Christians being able to enjoy a real atmosphere of love. Aida has let me know on many occasions that she trusts me to grow, to make good decisions, to do the right thing. She doesn’t want to fix me, she wants to be my friend. Safe and kind is allowing others to be themselves; love trusts.

For years I imagined I needed a spiritual 'mother' in my life. But perhaps, Father is telling me I’m no longer a child, that he trusts me to be an adult. That what I need most is sisters, such as this older sister who is patient and kind, advise me when asked, but never tries to lord over me or make me feel like a child.

“Call me. Here’s my number,” said the email. I looked at it with the same suspicion as if it had said, “You’ve won the sweepstakes! Call this toll free number now!” Why would this “man of God” want to talk to me? Didn’t he have more important things to do? I emailed him back instead, and the reply came back, “Call me. Let’s talk.”

I understand all too well how Mack must have felt about his father. The words ‘safe’ and ‘father’ still don’t feel like they belong in the same sentence. I think Father decided he needed to start me off with a brother. Someone not quite so intimidating, a relationship that doesn’t feel impossibly unsafe.

I still find it uncanny how much Darin reminds me of my earthly brother, and yet he doesn’t. The reminders are there – the sense of humor, the restlessness, the mischievous grin, the adventurous spirit. Yet there is so much difference – Darin’s kindness, his focus on others, his ability to really listen.

Women need men in their family, brothers and fathers and others. Father knew it would take someone unique to get through to me. Someone who would give his phone number to a woman halfway across the country, simply because he wanted to be a friend. Someone who was concerned with reaching out in love, rather than maintaining religious appearances. Someone I could look at and think, “He truly is my brother.” It’s like Father is saying, you are important to me. Brothers and fathers can be safe and kind. This is a good place to start.

Family is not just supposed to be about rituals with people you’re related to by birth. Nor is it supposed to be about rituals with people you go to the same building with on Sundays and Wednesdays, and say “Hey Brother” as a generic catch-phrase of greeting. It’s a sacred word that I hope to have the privilege of fully living out in this lifetime.

An interim thought: Children

2010-01-25T17:47:00.000-08:00

He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. “

Matthew 18:2-3

I have always found it interesting that Jesus said this, since most little children can’t read. However, my experience inside of our culture’s Christianity largely consisted of ‘wrestling’ constantly to make myself read and understand the Bible.

Reading a book about someone I didn’t really know was overwhelming. When you throw in a few confusing and misleading translations, numerous conflicting ideas about what this or that passage really means, and mix it together with people who think they’ve been put on earth to set everyone else’s Bible doctrine straight or declare them to be destined for a really hot place, well - somehow the above Matthew verse never made much sense to me.

I spent years agonizing over the Bible, trying to understand it, and trying to get someone to explain it to me in a way that would help me grow spiritually as promised. Sometimes, the offered explanations further confused and scared me half to death. Things only grew worse over the years, the more I tried. The final blow came when I read a book written by a master of Scripture Twister. After that, the only reason I had any desire to remain a Christian at all was, hopefully, to keep from going to hell. I was a lot more like a 39 year old basket case than a trusting little child at that point.

These days, I find myself asking my heavenly Father to help me see what a daughter looks like in his eyes. To understand what it is like to be like a little child, in his arms, safe and loved forever.

Alabama part 1: The Experience

2010-01-24T11:02:00.000-08:00

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

Jesus, John 13:34

I was privileged to spend a weekend recently in Huntsville, Alabama, with some great folks, a couple who have been dear journey mate friends for over two years. Trying to describe the blessing of this weekend is hard to do. I decided to write a series of contrasts between some of the discouraging times in organized church, and a few snapshot moments of our weekend in Huntsville, as follows:

“That’s too far to drive. Why don’t we just meet somewhere in town?” was the reply I got after inviting a new acquaintance to my home for lunch and fellowship. This woman lives about 45 minutes away from me. And of course, there are the old friends from a city 3 hours away who are still ‘going’ to come and visit. None of them have showed up yet. Gas prices, you know.

Two women plotted for weeks on how they were going to work this out. Their friendship had grown and blossomed despite several hundred miles that separated them. One plan had fallen through, so they’d just make another one. After a flurry of emails and changes of plans that were beyond their control, it was finally time to pack their bags. They each drove eight hours to meet in the middle, their eagerness at being together making the miles fly by.

I went to church like I thought I was supposed to, faithfully, every week and sometimes twice or even three times a week, for years. The same people were there each week. Some of them ignored me altogether, others were ‘glad’ to see me if they wanted something. A few were genuinely kind and pleasant, giving me a hug of greeting, before rushing off to do their duty for the church, whatever it was that day.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of two women screaming for joy as they threw their arms around each other, laughing and crying. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s really you,” says one of the women through her tears as they cling to each other for a long moment. Then dancing for joy, they shouted gleefully, “We did it! We did it! We’re here! Yaaaayyyy!”

When my family was first saved years ago, we were told by the church we were attending that fellowship was most important. The way to have the ‘right’ kind of fellowship was to faithfully attend the home group meetings, Bible studies, and other church functions. One thing I remember about this time is the generic greeting from some of the people we saw all the time, of “hi, boys” to my two sons, close in age. Keeping their names straight must have been too much trouble, although I repeated them numerous times.

A man is talking to two teenage boys about their interests. After only one weekend of spending some time around my boys, this man tells their mom how light-years beyond most teenagers they are. They are great teens, and yet, it doesn’t really take a lot of intentional notice to see their special qualities. It just takes a few minutes here and there of choosing to listen. Knowing how to listen is one of the greatest gifts one person can give another.

“We have a great children’s program!” is one of the favorite tag lines of up-and-growing organized churches. This is code for “We have a place for you to drop your children off so they won’t bother you or anybody else during the worship service. After all, their little peeps and coos might distract the worship team from focusing on the Holy Spirit, or the pastor from delivering his sermon.

A beautiful lady with curly white hair is holding a little girl she just met. She tells her how beautiful she is and gives her a hug. Later, the man who was talking to the teen boys takes this little girl in his arms and gives her a hug. He winks as he tells the girl’s mom that he’ll take her any time Mom wants to trade kids.

I remember a typical home group meeting at our first church, everyone sitting there trying to look spiritual. It was usually very quiet except for the home group leader droning on with his Bible lesson, pausing here and there and asking if anyone had any comments. A couple of people’s eyes were often drifting shut, but they would snap to attention and put the ‘serious spiritual’ looks back on their faces. Someone might sneak a glance at his watch. A toddler might escape crying from child care in the other room, and the mother would jump up and whisk him out of the room lest the lesson be disturbed.

“I love the art work on your walls,” says a woman to the hostess. The guest is then treated to a tour of some of the paintings, each with a story. They walk past a man and woman in animated conversation, two teen boys waxing enthusiastic about their sports to a listener, and a little girl happily chasing a big girl through the other room. The woman’s husband, normally not a social guy, is talking animatedly with someone he just met. Normally this couple is eager to get out of these ‘home group’ meetings. Tonight the evening ends all too soon.

“I’m going to go wait in the car,” I snapped to my husband on more than one occasion when trying to get out of the building after Sunday morning church. He would be busy picking up scattered bulletins from the floor as part of his usher duties. My children, holding a wad of Sunday school papers, treasure chest toys, and lollipops, would be whining, “Mommy, I’m hungry.” Swirls of chatting people would be moving around us like we were a rock in a rushing stream, passed over just as swiftly and casually. We’d make our way through the crowd to the door, then through the parking lot virtually unnoticed.

“I have an idea,” says a man with a kind smile. “Let’s just give each other a hug, say goodbye, and leave.” So with tears in their eyes, the women give brief and final hugs to each other and him, climb into their cars and leave. It is about time, they have been saying goodbye, smiling through tears, for 20 minutes.

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now abide in my love. If you obey my commands, you will abide in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and abide in his love. I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.

John 15:9-11

Laddie

2010-01-20T18:19:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite heart books is “Divine Nobodies” by Jim Palmer. Two and a half years into my journey outside of organized religion, it remains among my very few favorites.

For those who haven’t read it, the book is divided into chapters drawing spiritual journey parallels with personal experiences and folks in Jim’s life. One of these ‘folks’ is Laddie, although Laddie had fur and four legs.

“The Black Hole of Intimacy: Laddie the Dog” was the hardest chapter for me to read because it was so sad. The theme of this chapter was Jim’s struggle with depression.

Laddie the dog was Jim’s childhood friend. Jim rescued Laddie from his abusive older brother’s neglect and harsh treatment, and began to care for Laddie himself. The two of them helped fill the empty spaces of hurt and loneliness in each other. Jim wrote, “Laddie and I arrived at a certain understanding: we needed each other if we were going to make it.”

When Jim’s family had to move to an apartment, his mother informed him that Laddie was going to have to go to a new home. I could hardly read the description of Jim and his sister going to leave Laddie behind in a new home. Such loss from separation from someone you love is truly a bottomless pit, in and of itself. It can seem that God simply isn’t big enough to compensate for how deep the pain goes.

As Jim so eloquently said in this chapter, “I have not easily let go of the secret hope that somehow it could all be magically erased or made right or the wishful expectation that someone or something could compensate for the sadness.” I know this feeling all too well myself.

Many years have passed since this time in Jim’s life, and almost three years have passed since I read Jim’s story of himself and Laddie. I remember at the time thinking I wish that there was some answer to these awful, unfair situations that seem like they’re nothing but a black hole of sadness that has made a permanent home inside a human heart.

Meanwhile, last month I found myself coping with feelings of emptiness and loneliness with a few too many boxes of chocolate covered cherries and viewings of “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.” This is a long season of no close local relationships in our lives, and the desire to reach out and really make a difference in someone else's life was eating at me day and night.

I suppressed a tired sigh as we rumbled down the road toward a relative’s house for an annual obligatory Christmastime visit. This one was particularly uncomfortable, someone who I never knew how to talk to and wasn’t ever really sure whether they even want us to come visit. Visits with these relatives usually consist of hours of sitting and chatting sporadically as a TV blares in the background, and this one was no different, but for one thing. As we turned into the drive, I noticed a young black Labrador Retriever lying in a bare spot on the snowy, soggy front yard.

The little guy got up and wagged his tail as we got out of the car. We patted him, being dog lovers. As I scratched behind his ears, he plastered himself to me and groaned in a way that caught my attention. His groan was so desperate – hungry for food, for warmth, and most of all, for attention and love. I noticed how thin he was. He seemed to say, Please, please help me. Please love me.

We asked the relatives about him, and they offhandedly replied that he was a stray who had wandered into the yard and they were planning to take him to the animal shelter tomorrow. We started to eat lunch when the ASPCA commercial with Sarah McLoughlin came on TV. I put my plate down and tried not to cry. I saw my son do the same.

I went outside in the cold and sat with the dog hungrily nuzzling my lap. Then I thought of my longing to make a difference to someone. I knew what we were going to do. We decided that that someone this Christmas was this sad-faced little dog, with his fuzzy puppy face and skinny ribs sticking out of his poor shivering body. When it was time to go, we put him in the van and started on the long drive home.

We realized that doggie might go to the bathroom on the car floor, so we stopped at a store to get a plastic cloth for him to lie on. As we tried to urge him to move so that we could spread out the cloth, he cried and trembled all over from head to toe, like Wile E. Coyote after taking an “Earthquake Pill.” We realized that he was afraid we were going to dump him out in the parking lot and leave him there. This was probably how he had ended up abandoned the first time.

I stroked his trembling body, and told him through tears, “No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to leave you. You’re safe with us. We’re going home now.” We all petted him and talked to him, and he soon went to sleep on the floor of the van and didn’t make a peep the rest of the way home. He is truly an amazing little guy. As many whining, yelping, blow-outs-from-both-ends episodes as I’ve had taking our other pets to the vet over the years, five hours in the car without a hitch with a scared young pup was more than a small miracle.

The picture at the top is our new furry friend. He is fed, he is comfortable. Already the sinkholes behind his ribs have almost disappeared. He has new furry friends to play with (my other dogs). He has humans who pet him, romp with him and scratch behind the ears where he can’t quite reach well enough. He has room to roam and run, a dog’s paradise. He is no longer abandoned, no longer without a name, no longer without a home.

Although he is young, he is like an old dog in some ways. He is gentle and wise, thoughtful and melancholy. He sits for long stretches and is clearly in deep thought. I think he remembers what life was like before, and is able to ponder where he is now, and be glad. He once was lost, and now is found.

I called to make a vet appointment for him the next morning. The receptionist asked the dog’s name, and it came to me instantly.

“Laddie,” I said. “His name is Laddie.”

My thoughts on "Bo's Cafe"

2009-10-25T03:06:00.000-07:00

I have mixed feelings about this book; that's not to say I didn't like it, but still I will share some thoughts that I hope someone will benefit from.

In some ways this book reminded me so much of "So You Don't Want to Go to Church Anymore" that I had to pinch myself and remind myself it was a different book. It was kind of like eating a casserole made with Thanksgiving leftovers - tasty, while at the same time you feel like you've eaten this before.

I also had to remind myself several times that this is a work of Fiction - like a movie, where things are so nicely resolved in an unnaturally short time span. I remember the movie "Facing the Giants" which had the same producer as "Firewall" and "Flywheel." I've heard several free-believing Christians say they didn't like these movies because they were canned and unrealistic. I'm actually having some similar feelings about some of the 'out of the box' Christian novels I've read, even though I do enjoy them to some degree.

I actually liked "Facing the Giants." I took it at face value as a nice feel-good escape from reality, a movie that was safe to watch with my kids. Not one that I would look to as encouragement for difficult situations in my own life really. My feelings about "Bo's Cafe" are rather similar.

For anyone who hasn't already read it, "Bo's Cafe" is the story of a man named Stephen who has some serious relational issues. He carries unresolved anger and a sense of underlying shame that frequently spill over onto his co-workers and his family. Things blow up when he gets into a huge fight with his wife; she kicks him out and he moves into a hotel.

By this time, a mysterious friend named Andy has shown up in his life, who knew Stephen's dad and has seen Stephen around for years, riding his company's yacht from the pier where Andy works. Andy takes him under his wing and introduces him to a group of his friends who meet each Thursday at - you guessed it, Bo's Cafe. Nine months later, things are amazingly better in Stephen's life. In a safe group of friends, he has found validation, healing, transformation, and wouldn't you know it, even a great new church. It just so happens that one of the folks at Bo's is a pastor and now Stephen and his family are enjoying a wonderful place that is good for them all.

I can't fault these guys for writing the book. They make their points well in the conversations that transpire between Stephen, Andy, and the rest of the gang. They do a good job of exposing the real problems in people's hearts and the various ways that we attempt to hide and compensate for them.

I just wish they hadn't wrapped things up all nice and neat in such a short time, and a relatively short book. Again, it seemed a lot like the nice feel-good but not-so-realistic Christian movies that I've heard complaints about. The reality is, things just don't happen this way for most people.

I know I'm not alone in saying that I've struggled for years in my search for real community. I've never in my life witnessed anyone acting as badly as Stephen and still had real friends stick by and help him through. My experience has been that people often run like rabbits when you unpack the rough, raw stuff. They can't or don't want to walk through it with you.

My experience has been that healing, and the people who really share community in my life, have been few and far between, and often just for a short season. The truth is, many people have to wait for a long, long time to find this type of community, and I believe some never do. I personally would have found Stephen's story more realistic (and more encouraging) with a few changes.

Some ideas are: Stephen's friendship with Andy is off again, on again. Andy disappears without explanation (often when Stephen needs him most) for months at a time. Maybe Andy drops away altogether and Stephen waits (perhaps for a couple of years) for someone else to come along who feels like sharing a friendship. Then, that friend gets tired of him and moves on. Maybe he tries the church where Carlos the pastor presides, only to have that situation fall apart because Stephen is 'too raw.' Meanwhile, the group at Bo's begins gossiping about what a pain in the neck Stephen is, and begins meeting on Fridays without telling him. Stephen suffers and is angry. Yet he struggles to hold onto the few pieces of the puzzle that he collects from each relationship. Slowly but surely he knows God is always with him, helping him walk the lonely road, sending him a friend here and there and then helping him walk alone again. Maybe by this time his wife has gotten fed up and left him, but he is rebuilding his relationship with his now-grown daughter and even finding a peaceable relationship with his now ex-wife.

I'd really like to see someone write a novel more along these lines. There are starkly realistic movies that still leave the viewer with hope and great thoughts to chew on; why not a novel? I'm thinking that part of the problem is the fact that publishing companies are now coming out with shorter, more condensed books to accommodate the average reader, who doesn't have the time or attention span to tread through a longer book. Hmm, this is the same lack of time and patience I normally see in society these days that make communities like the one in "Bo's Cafe" seem just too story-bookish to be anything but a nice idea.

Bound and Loosed

2009-10-11T07:11:00.001-07:00

Here is another Bible verse that I've always wondered about: "I tell you the truth, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." Mt. 18:18

I've seen this verse applied something like this: A person with a cold has the 'demon' of illness over them bound, and is expected to instantly be healed. Or, someone with financial trouble has a prayer binding the devourer prayed over them, with the expected result of money appearing to solve their problems. I'm not even sure what the 'loosed' part of the verse means.

The following verses, Mt. 18:19-20, is often simultaneously applied. "Again, I tell you that if the two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my father in heaven. For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them."

I've seen this passage used as the 'vending machine God' approach. Supposedly if two or more people agree on any type of healing, problem solving, or blessing prayed a certain way, God just has to do it for them. They have this verse as 'proof.'

I've seen this approach fail often enough that I'm looking for better answers. I think the lack of real relationship between people and between God may be the key as to why we often see little in the way of results from our asking prayers. As if God is just someone to go to to fix your problems, not someone to walk with as a friend and Father.

What I've usually seen when Christians get together for the "two or three" prayers is to get some sort of quick fix for something, not just to hang out with each other and God out of sheer enjoyment and love. People want quick fixes because they don't necessitate the kind of relationship it takes to walk through things with each other on a more realistic, God-orchestrated timeline. That's my .02 worth.

So, what are your thoughts?

A beautiful poem

2009-09-13T09:07:00.000-07:00

Here is a beautiful poem written by bretttact, from the Free Believers site. In case you missed it on Aida's blog, here it is:

Heavenly Deception

There is so much Lord,
That is claimed in Your name,
For which we are ashamed.

Truth whispered from ear to ear;
Prized, hidden, cloaked,
Disguised from the world;
For we are one of the chosen few,
Initiates into the mysteries of time,
And the world laughs at us.

The works of man feel soo good-
Discipline, love, acceptance,
Unity in uniformity,
Common belief,
With no grief, no pain-
We’re anesthetized,
So we believe everyone else is insane
Living in vain,
While we're mindless -
Drugged out, washed out,
Unable to know our feelings & doubts,
Because we know Truth,
We're in the Family,
We're his 'children'
And must express the reality thereof;
Perfectly loyal, without fear, doubt,
Or equivocation.
Just claim emancipation,
As we sink deeper,
And deeper,
Thru mere participation,
Into mindless submission,
Performing the deception,
Ordained of god,
To advance the Work,
Amongst all these clods.
Heavenly Deception -
In the name of Truth.

We sit back,
Having it all pat,
Swallowing Satan's con:
Surface religion.
Tired of his standard brands,
We searched for truth, peace & love.
He offered us suitable facsimiles,
(Empty & hollow,
The only level deception survives at)
Just prior to our reality confrontation;
Plucked out of the rat race,
Placed into Satan's deceptive grace.

But then the moment comes,
The true moment of truth,
When we see
From the simple gut level values of our conscious,
That what the group speaks,
To its members
And the world,
Don't match.
The moment of confrontation -
When we find politics preempts truth.

"God, what do I do?
This group teaches the truth,
The fruits are good,
But God,
This is hypocrisy,
Help me Lord!
I want to believe!
I want to belong!
I want to serve You,
I want to do what is right!
Help me God,
Show me how to reconcile the two,
Maybe this…
Or maybe that…
But it doesn't fit!
It just doesn't fit.

Lord, why aren't you answering me?
Can You?
Maybe they don't reconcile -
But they've got to -
What they preach and write is so true -
I've put so much into this organization -
They can't be hypocrites,
Can they?…
Why not?
Why do they have to be different from other men?
Why can't money, power & fame
Get to them,
Making religion one big game?
God!!
Help me!!!
I don't want to think these thoughts,
I don't want to believe this to be true,
I want to believe in You,
I want to do Your work,
And they're doing it.
God!
Help me!!
I can't figure this out!
Its driving me mad!
Help me!!!

Then more information came pouring in,
Confusing me more,
Friends desperately bombarding me with questions and facts;
The dilemma worsens;
I can't hold on,
But I must,
They are God's chosen,
The true church,
The only way to eternal life.

"I just want peace Lord,
I don't want anything new in my life;
I just want to sit home.
Leave me alone everyone,
I'm busy hanging on to the truth;
Please, don't change anything in my world,
I'm just barely in it now.
Oh Lord, I can't wait till the day I die'
Thoughtless death,
Sweet death,
Please come to me."

But it didn't.
Instead, You sent a message,
You reminded me of our first meeting,
How You convicted me to search for the Truth,
Showed me to judge honestly.

Thank You Lord,
For renewing my faith in You to see me through.
Be with me as I study YOUR Word,
Let me not take sides,
Nor make artificial standards to measure by,
But seek the Truth,
Which shall make me free;
If I am free
I am free totally.

There is so much Lord,
That's destroying people in these cults;
Use me to help them,
To help pluck them out of the fire somehow,
As You have plucked me,
Saved me from deception's misery.
Come Lord Jesus,
To save us all from ourselves.
Come.

Infamous quotes from the Bible

2009-09-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone, due to numerous computer problems and time constraints I have not posted in a while. I am hoping that I can do better in the next few weeks! I have enjoyed reading others' blogs though.

I am going to post a few of what I believe are the most well-known 'proof texts' that have been misused over and over to put people into some sort of bondage and keep them there. I would like others' feedback on what you believe was really intended for us to glean from the text.

I will start with the infamous Hebrews 10:25. "Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another - and all the more as you see the Day approaching."

I'm wondering why some of these people had 'given up meeting together.' The early church sounded a lot more spiritually healthy overall than most of what I've seen in my day. Maybe I'm wrong? As I stated some time ago on my 'Going to church' blog, why would people NOT want to go to a meeting with other believers if they left feeling enouraged?

What are your thoughts?

Women of Grace

2009-06-20T18:35:00.000-07:00

This cartoon is only funny if you’re coming out on the other side of this life. Most of us as former trying-to-be-perfect home schoolers on the performance track know that this sort of thing can be a focal point causing many sleepless nights. I believe that anyone who has spent any amount of time as a home schooler knows what I’m talking about.

There is an extra burden in the performance-based world of institutional Christianity for us. We feel the burden of being absolutely responsible for all our children’s development, moral choices, and most of all, spiritual walk.We are inundated with “experts” who lord over us and make us feel incapable. Listen to us, they say. We have perfect grown children; we’ve been home schooling for at least 25 years. We’ve been in ministry for longer than that. We can quote tons of Scripture and we’ve written lots of material telling dummies like you how to interpret and apply it. If you buy our books and copy our methods, you too will gain interplanetary alignment and domestic bliss. If it doesn’t work, you have unconfessed sin in your life or you’re just not trying hard enough.

As former institutional-mindset people, we’ve all been subject to this general line of reason by those who are ‘authorities.’ It’s certainly burdensome enough to try to pull this off for your own salvation. It’s unbearable when you’re trying to do it for your children. The enemy really knows how to pull the strings. Those of us who love our children want to do the very best for them, but following the above theology locks us into a mindset that our best just isn’t good enough. One popular “teacher” in the conservative home school realm flatly states that “we as parents are responsible for our children’s souls.”

I am so glad that Father has led some of us out of that awful place. I am glad to have come to realize the foundational flaws in such theology. To follow the ‘experts’ advice instead of our own hearts is to treat them as Old Testament priests. But we are all priests in the Lord now. To see ourselves as responsible for our children’s souls is making us God. I am glad to finally see the meaning of “rest in the Lord.” He is my child’s ultimate parent – I am here to be a human guide and protector.

It is frightening how badly blinded many home schooling parents are by intimidating ‘experts’ who remind you of ‘how high the stakes are’ when reminding parents of their duty to flawless diligence at all times. As though our children’s immortal soul really is in our hands and not Father’s.

I am thrilled that Father has led me to talk with other women who were caught up in this world and now recovering. I especially want to thank Kim, Kirsten and Marie, who have been women of grace to me. Kim had her own tribute on but I want to give her another kudos here for being open and honest about the fact that she can’t fix everything perfect for her children, nor ensure a spotless outcome by formulas or her speckless performance as a parent. Instead, she emphasizes what is really important – a real heart connection with our children. This is something I believe all parents would do well to take to heart.

Marie is a very laid back and mellow person. She is now a former homeschool mom, but she spent some time running around the track. I didn’t get a chance to meet her children, but I imagine they are probably some of the happiest and most well nurtured children on the planet with such a mellow, gentle mom. I am sorry that she doesn’t live closer to me. But how glad I am that we have gotten to meet and hopefully will again!

Marie’s gentle ways and quiet thoughtfulness are a stark contrast to the in-your-face, “Train Up A Child” – flapping zealots that I spent way too much time around for years in home school circles. I can never in a million years imagine her shoving unsolicited advice on anyone, let alone another mom. I can never imagine her boasting on how much better behaved her children are. I can’t imagine her judging another parent. Her wry sense of humor is thoughtful and encouraging.

Kirsten and I “met” online only a few weeks before we were able to meet in person in CA. Almost immediately we began trading “war stories” via email about our experiences in the home school world. It was amazing how similar our experiences were. We felt judged and looked down on by our own “friends” and “support groups.” We were caught on the “never enough” performance track so often popular in conservative Christian mothering and marriage teachings. Yet it was cathartic to be able to laugh together at ourselves, our experiences, the things that used to bind us.

We have reassured each other that we aren’t perfect. We have shared the “gasp!” truth about many things. Neither of us keep a particularly tidy house, a super trim figure, or a rigid academic schedule. We both let our kids eat junk food, watch TV, and disobey without punishing them with ‘the rod.’ We don’t fit the submissive wife mold or the tireless mother model. We’re both capable of downing a pan of brownies by ourselves. I will admit to having done so on more than one occasion. Thank you ladies, for being human with me – for not only admitting that you’re human, but for laughing about it with me, and understanding my struggles. Thank you for being women of grace in my life.

(cartoon courtesy of Todd Wilson, Family Man Ministries)

Family

2009-05-24T06:52:00.000-07:00

The desire for more abiding love and unity in the family of Christ is something that Father has put heavily on my heart lately. As I’ve previously discussed, there was always more talk in IC about how “we are a family” than I ever saw lived out. Some of the time I’ve spent in Christian circles reminds me of spending time with the in-laws when you don’t really care for each other: you’re a family – but in name only.

My journey-mate Free Spirit has written an impressive series of BLOGS called, “The Last Cow Standing.” I thought her title was great, and fits well especially here in the buckle of the Bible belt. Here in Texas, IC and “kin” rival each other for first place.

Sometimes, IC wins. There was a story that I heard in the context of a sermon about a man’s dying father who chose to attend his usual evening church service rather than his granddaughter’s birthday party, the last he would ever be able to attend in this lifetime.

Other times, “kin” wins. I wish I had a nickel for every time I’ve tried to invite someone over from the IC who couldn’t make it because of a family engagement. “Family” always came first. I heard an endless list of excuses from some former friends why they never had time for me. It was often some family get-together with relatives they didn’t even like or get along well with, but hey – family is family and they should rightfully eclipse everyone else at all times.

Either way, I wish I had a dime for every time I thought someone made a choice that showed how far out of whack their priorities were. It’s not necessarily about whether “church family” or “blood relatives” come first – it’s about making the heart choice that is reflective of abiding in Love. I think Free Spirit said it better than I can, so if you want a thorough run-down on this subject please check out her BLOGS. I’m just going to add a few more cents’ worth here.

There’s a reason we’re being awakened, called out of the catacombs of lifeless tradition. I am specifically speaking right now of the lack of understanding of just what family really means to Father. I’m not a doomsayer; I don’t try to pinpoint when Christ is coming back or spend my days combing the news for anything to line up with Biblical prophecy. However, I believe the time is coming. Just as the Bible says, the Church will be persecuted in the last days. It is commonly agreed that you depend on family during hard times. But I think we’ve barely tapped the significance of this idea in spiritual terms.

What are we going to do when the church is persecuted? When “building church” becomes illegal or even dangerous? When it becomes totally acceptable to be anything BUT a Christian? What if our own biological relatives turn on us and report us to the government for living our lives as we feel led? What if the people we called our “family” at church all run for the hills, forgetting our name as they do so? If we don’t know the difference between relatives, institutional church-based friendships, and true spiritual family – well, I think the day will come when we’re in real trouble. These things can be one and the same, but sometimes they’re not.

I don’t feel afraid of what may be coming as I write this; I’m not trying to scare anyone else either. Nor do I feel that Father is trying to scare or condemn anyone. Father may be concerned for us learning to live as family for practical, life-saving purposes that are to come only-He-knows-when. But even more importantly, I think is that he loves us so much that he wants us to deeply learn how to live as Christ said, “By this they will know that you are my disciples, that you love one another.”

Touch

2009-05-21T04:54:00.000-07:00

I found a couple of interesting articles that you can read HERE and HERE . It’s no wonder we as the American church have so much difficulty living in love. Touch is a very natural part of love. While these articles are good, I think it’s indicative of a very sad problem that this even needed to be said. Throughout most of history, such an article would probably have been met with a befuddled stare. It would have been like handing a shepherd a manual on why sheep bleat when they’re not fed. Only in a society as warped and far off the meter as ours is, would we even need to be told these things.

But indeed, warped the American culture has become. We’ve been so conditioned to live in fear of our affections being misconstrued. Someone might think we’re behaving provocatively. Someone might suspect us of being gay. Someone might even think we’re child molesters in disguise.

The second article reported the observed low amounts of touch between teens. Then it stated, “The low amounts of touching in these studies was surprising, given the high levels of physical intimacy reported among U.S. students.” Excuse me? DUH! Where is the surprise? Based on the overall report in this article (which I think is dead on) desperate teens in a “no touch” culture will do whatever it takes to get a hug, some contact with another, anything disguised as affection and love. And I don’t think this phenomenon is in any way limited to teens.

It is easy to see why there is so much sexual deviance in our culture. We all hear stories of teen promiscuity, same-sex partnerships, adultery. But even many who live in healthy and functional marriages and other family relationships may find ourselves worrying about sexual sin and thinking we’re just a step away from it. With the number of sexual images being bombarded at us on a daily basis in our culture, it’s no wonder we may tend to have “sex on the brain” whether we want to or not.

Even standing in line at Wal-Mart we’d have to close our eyes and try not to get run over by the cart behind us to keep from being bombarded with images. Each time we are greeted with obtrusive magazine covers that try to force-feed the public endless details of the sex scandals of celebrities and other sexually related things we didn’t really want to know. Yet we’re often cautious of giving a simple hug or squeeze on the shoulder for fear it will be misconstrued. How sick is that?

I couldn't find any conclusive scientific evidence to support the following statement, but I'm going to make it anyway: I think that nearly all sexually deviant relationships and desires are the product of an environment in which healthy expression of love and affection isn't allowed or available.

I wish all this didn’t affect the Church, but sometimes I think we are the worst affected of all. We’ve been so conditioned to think that Christianity is about Not Sinning, rather than Living in Love. Therefore, the plumb line has been making sure you don’t do anything that looks wrong, rather than making sure someone else feels loved.

I’m just sick of it. And I hope and pray that Father will continue to work to heal this sick cultural phenomenon that has infected his Bride. It was so wonderful at the Free Believers gathering in California to just hug my brothers and sisters. I’m looking forward to seeing lots more of this next year in Phoenix. Meanwhile, I’m going to try to keep my eyes open for anyone who needs a hug.

Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat. – Mother Teresa

A Brother

2009-05-09T18:50:00.000-07:00

I believe Father is working to heal an old wound, one of no nurturing male relationships in my family of origin. The sadness over the loss (or really lack is a better word) of relationship with my biological brother is something I thought I was just stuck with. It is such old news that I went years hardly thinking about it. Yet it had been bothering me a lot again for a few months. I’m noticing a pattern over my years as a disciple, that when something really begins to eat at me, Father often is actually working on healing that area.

The warnings about adultery and sexual sin in the church have had me treading carefully over the years. Supposedly we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, but IC protocol dictated that I wasn’t truly allowed to have relationship with any of the men. At some level this always saddened me. What good is a family if you can’t abide in love with the other members?

Well, I knew I was supposed to keep my distance in order to avoid sinful temptations. I didn’t find myself really drawn to many of the men anyway, some were cool and distant, others friendly enough but didn’t stand out as anything super special to me. I even thought some of them were Total Geeks. So I didn’t really see what the big deal was. But I certainly didn’t want to be guilty, so I dutifully followed the rules.

Occasionally though, I would talk with someone who I really liked. They might be especially good listeners, or have a great sense of humor, or an exceptionally gentle and compassionate personality. I would find myself wanting to talk to them more and get to know them more. I would even find myself looking forward to seeing them again.

Then of course, I thought "oh no. This must be adultery in the making. A tiny flame can be fanned into a wildfire, so snuff it out!" I would stuff down thoughts of wanting to talk more in depth with a man I liked, or of really liking him for this quality or that. Especially if he was anywhere near my age. I figured it might be OK if he was young enough to be my much-younger brother or old enough to be my grandpa, but anything else was Not Allowed.

Fortunately I have come to realize that most of the "adultery" paranoia is based on the "depraved sinner" mentality, rather than acknowledging we have new hearts. After all, many of Jesus’ friends who followed him around were women. I assume they were single, but Jesus obviously wasn’t "available," as that wasn’t what he’d come to earth for. I remember Mary finding Jesus alive and well on the third day, falling at his feet and weeping overjoyed. What love she must have had for him! Yet I don’t believe for a minute that they were having an affair or any sort of inappropriate relationship. They were simply and very powerfully loving each other as brother and sister.

Meeting Darin in person at the "Jake BBQ" was a real blessing. After a year and a half of reading his writings and listening to him online, I got to see added dimensions of how kind and insightful he is. I really enjoy his personality and sense of humor. And his compassion and understanding of people is truly special. He doted over his daughter, approached everyone with a friendly smile, patiently answered the questions of hungry people.

On the last evening, I listened as Darin talked with someone who was struggling and had a lot of questions. I hoped to have something helpful to say too, but there was little I could add to the conversation. So I just watched as Darin did as Jesus did -took the time to listen and get to the root of the problem.

As I sat listening to Darin, I recognized some of the feelings of affection and being drawn to a man that I had had in the past that I’d been told were wrong, sinful, deviant. The knee-jerk reaction of, "Oh, I'm sorry Lord, let me not sin" kicked in. In the past, the "oh no, I'm sinning" thoughts made it easy enough to change channels and think about something else.

This time, that didn't work. The feeling grew stronger and I know Father wanted it that way. Then, I felt Father was saying softly to me, "It’s all right. Let it out. It’s okay." So I let a wave of love for him just wash over me. I just love Darin, I told Father, and I felt Father smile as he said, I know you do. And it’s all right, as well you should. He is your brother.

I believe that brothers are just as important as fathers are. They can give their sisters friendship, protection, advice, the feeling that she is important and special and beautiful. Or, they can hurt hurt her and make her feel worthless. Is it really Father's plan to allow the loss and the wounds from our earthly family to remain a burden we have to carry all our days? Many Christian circles seem to hold a view of "you're a depraved sinner, so don't look at, talk to, or allow yourself to have significant feelings for anyone of the opposite sex unless you're married to them." Is this really reflective of Father's view of us? As Proverbs says, as a man thinks, so he is. I'm coming to see how we've shortchanged ourselves thinking this way.

If you haven’t already listened, the link to the latest FBN podcast is HERE. The subjects of sex, relationships, and the distinction between healthy and unhealthy ways to express our love for one another is a subject I hope is opened up for discussion more. Certainly there are appropriate boundaries, but Father is showing me what we are missing by 'drawing the lines' way too rigidly. We're missing out on relationships of love that could work to heal, help, and encourage each other.

Sunny Kim

2009-05-03T13:41:00.000-07:00

Kim's usual signature is "Kim in sunny Sacramento." One day when she told us it was raining there, however, I reminded her that it's always sunny wherever she is.

The invitation to come out to California came as a wonderful and very unexpected thing. After quite some time of very little meaningful face-to-face interaction with anyone outside my immediate family, out of the clear blue Kim called and invited me out for a Free Believers weekend. I thought of Jesus who goes around collecting the straggling sheep. This time he put one on a plane to Sacramento. So, well armed with gum and a barf bag in case of airsickness, I found myself clinging to Father, and he to me, as the plane left the ground.

Kim had invited friends she’s met from all over. Some were single, some were older, some younger people her children knew. Some had significant life issues they were struggling with. Many of them were those that I know from experience the IC would dismiss. Young, old, black, white, affluent and financially struggling - everyone is the same to her. We’re all looking to make heart connections, and this is something Kim is great at. She doesn’t see people in terms of outward appearance - she looks at the heart.

This wonderful quality has also brought her close relationships with her grown daughters and son-in law, who spend time with her because they WANT to. Three of the four young adults live out of their home now but were there so much I had to stop and remember who technically lives there and who doesn’t.

Kim spent a lot of time in the kitchen preparing food to feed everyone, but she didn’t seem to see it as a chore or a bother at all. She chatted with everyone easily as she worked, totally unlike the harried "Martha" stereotype we’ve all heard of. As she worked, she talked of how she loves to have people over and sees it as a privilege to prepare for a house full. Her entire family reflected the attitude of hospitality, right down to her mom who made a huge pan of wonderful biscuits and gravy for breakfast one morning. (I was touched that she even called me on Kim’s cell phone on the way to the airport to say goodbye since I’d missed her earlier that morning!) This love for people, this attitude of outreach and hospitality, is a precious and sadly unusual commodity in today’s society.

Kim’s optomistic outlook is one of the first things I saw in her personality the first time we talked on the phone. Being a more melancholy sort myself, she is a great influence and balance for me. An incurable optomist is something that many of us need. Seeing the sunny side of life doesn’t necessarily come easily to me. Having her lens to see things through has been very good for me.

My family of origin tends to have a strong negative outlook. Then of course, there was the time spent in charismatic IC where there was supposedly a demon around every corner that we had to be all wound up in fear over. If we didn’t "break the curse in Jesus’ name," we were goners for sure.

Kim’s sunny outlook on life has been a breath of fresh air that I had long felt a need for. Something good IS going to happen. Father IS going to work any situation out for good. There IS reason to hope in spite of a bleak landscape. There IS something good waiting for you around the corner. We DO have control over some things that bother us and the things we don’t have control over WILL get better. Father IS faithful. This is a message I didn’t get for years and years of my life, and am so glad to be drinking in now. A stream in the desert, and sunshine through the clouds.

Father is working through people like Kim to show me that I have worth, that I am special and of great value to him, just the way he made me. The wilderness can be a hard place. It’s just been very, very lonely at times. Even in my active "church" days it seemed I was mostly just valued for being the dependable one who would man the nursery or pass out bulletins. Feeling overlooked as a person for so long can certainly leave its toll on a person’s self-esteem.

Part of me felt like there must be some mistake when I was remembered this way, to have an invitation for a whole weekend in sunny California, to meet not just one but three people whose online friendship I've enjoyed. The whole experience served to remind me that Father never does forget us. I have needed more sunshine, and am glad to have found it in Kim… in my spiritual family… in my Father.

Flying

2009-04-29T07:07:00.000-07:00

I had a great time in sunny Sacramento with my free-believing friends. I am trying to decide how to share what Father has shown me, and have some blogs "in the works" in my mind that I hope to post before long.

Meanwhile, I thought you all might enjoy this movie clip, especially those of you who know I'm a little flying-challenged (though fortunately, not nearly this much!)

Painted Bunting

2009-04-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

This is a photo I found on the web of a bird we saw in our own front yard at the feeder just now. I have never seen one before. I love birds and feel Father has remembered me each time I see a pretty one.

Minnows

2009-04-18T07:22:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite parts of fishing is catching minnows. This is especially fun in a creek with running water. For those of you who aren’t fishermen, a minnow jar is a wide-mouthed jar with a funnel-shaped cone that screws onto the lid and goes down into the jar. You set it against a rock so it won’t wash away, with the mouth of the jar turned downstream. Add a few wads of cheap Wonder bread, and watch the magic.

One minnow will see that interesting white blob and make a run for it. Next thing you know, he’s happily feasting! Wow! Wonder Bread! Much more exciting and yummy than microorganisms and tiny bits of plant matter. Soon, another hapless minnow comes along and sees excited flashes of a brother minnow ahead. He must be missing something! He goes over to join his brother and soon the two of them are gobbling up the soggy Wonder bread.

Before you know it, several other minnow brothers and sisters have joined the feeding frenzy. It just gets easier to attract newcomers, the more flashing fish there are in that packed little minnow jar. Surely there is something great in there, and so more and more come and join the frenzy.

There are a few interesting things to note here. First of all, Wonder bread, while bright and exciting, was never God-intended to be a healthy source of nourishment for fish (or people, for that matter). Second, the more fish show up in the jar, the more buzz and activity there is, but the less actual food is available. Third, and most importantly, once they get in there, they’re trapped.

They wait in the jar for their time of use. Then, they have a hook shoved in their backside. They can still flail around, but they can't go anywhere. Inevitably, their purpose in life is to bait another, bigger fish… once their job is done, they’re disposed of. Either they get eaten by a bigger fish, or they die on the line waiting for one to come along. Then they are tossed out and another minnow is captured and put in their place.

This post was inspired by my wonderful country-boy husband.

The Baby and the Bath Water

2009-04-08T16:35:00.000-07:00

One of the things we ‘free believers’ hear often from those who still faithfully attend an IC is, "Well, you don’t want to just throw the baby out with the bath water." The implied meaning may vary from "Do you really have to be so extreme?" to "Your leaving organized church is the same as leaving the Lord" to "Are you sure you aren’t getting into some New Age religion?"

Our family is considering moving to a place closer to town, so have begun casually looking. We want a fixer-upper, not a new home. So last weekend we were shown … let’s just say, a REAL fixer upper.

This house was once beautiful, but had been so badly neglected for many years that only someone with lots of money and time to invest would want to try and salvage it. The cost of repairing this house to full functionality would far exceed any market price of the house itself. It just wouldn’t be practical for a busy family with modest means to take the time, money and labor to try and restore this house.

I sighed with regret, seeing the beautiful hardwood floors still in great shape in some of the rooms, the large windows, the huge living area, the brick fireplace in the bedroom. There was so much personality and history to this place. Yet there was the old, leaky roof; the serious foundation issues obvious in the floor, the laundry porch literally falling off of the house, the large lawn completely overtaken by weeds, the falling-down carport loaded with junk. Worst of all, there was a large split between the two halves of the house in the roof, and the brick wall on one side had completely pulled away from the roof! It COULD possibly be salvaged, but much of it would still have to be torn down and replaced. I’m often one for trying to save things. I love old homes; we live in one now. Yet I could see it would make more sense to just tear that place down and build a new one.

Many "free believers" have found that trying to salvage the situation at the institutions we’ve been in is more than we, or our families, can really afford. We gave them our time, our money, our efforts, our hearts, our children. We were told that we’d "reap a harvest" by "sowing" as they specified. It didn’t happen as they said. We became more and more tired, drained, and discouraged as time went on.

We sat under some of the better pastors out there, I believe. I really can’t pin the fault on anyone, nor do I want to. I believe the primary issue was with the system, rather than the hearts of the people inside of it. We were trying to build on, or even salvage, a ‘house’ with serious structural flaws.

Darin Hufford wrote a blog that distinguished what the bottom line misunderstanding often is. People tend to see the institution as the baby. That’s why they worry that we are throwing the baby out with the bath water. But really, Jesus is the ‘baby,’ and we aren’t throwing him out… he’s with us always. Now we’re just swimming in a different place ... now it’s more like a river than a bathtub.

Walking with Jesus

2009-03-21T17:49:00.000-07:00

"He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering.
Like one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not."
Isaiah 53:2-3

When I was in the sixth grade, I wasn’t what most people considered cute. I was tall and gangly, with buck teeth, a big nose and unkempt hair. Two other sixth graders, whom I’ll call "Buffy" and "Fifi," made life torture for me that year. Among the most cute and popular girls in our grade, Buffy and Fifi sauntered about in their Calvin Klein jeans and top-of-the line Nike tennis shoes, chattering with their numerous friends. But they took breaks from socializing at regular intervals to torment me.

Each morning they cornered me in homeroom, then again in math class, making fun of my clothes, my hair, my lack of friends, or any other thing they could think of to make me feel small and stupid. Fifi would make ugly remarks, and when I'd retort, Buffy would mimick whatever I said in her high, squeaky voice. Sometimes other kids would sit in on the 'fun' and add their own two cents worth.

The daily bus ritual was the worst. Somehow I got stuck sitting by them nearly every day, I couldn’t get away from them. They would pull my barrettes out of my hair, pull my papers and books loose from my stack, scathingly tease me and call me names until I was nearly in tears. I would hear their taunting laughter sail through the open bus windows as I tried to make sense of my tattered belongings once I got off at my stop. Sometimes they'd do me the courtesy of returning my barettes or books via chucking them through the bus window, sometimes not. More than once I fished my wadded-up math homework out of a rain puddle. I always managed to hold back the tears until the bus was out of sight.

"The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe and went up to him again and again, saying, ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’ And they struck him in the face.’" John 19:2-3

It seems detrimental to dwell on such experiences as my sixth grade year. So I haven’t allowed myself to pull the experience out of the file cabinet of my mind and examine it for quite some time. Yet for some reason it has surfaced and stayed in the forefront of my mind, a couple of weeks after my "going to church" experience.

I’m not totally clear on the connection here myself, as there is still a gap between the people I liked the least at IC on their worst day, and Buffy and Fifi on their best (if they had one) day. Yet perhaps Father has brought the sixth grade experience to mind to remind me of a couple of things.

First, being happy, comfortable, popular, and having a place you ‘fit’ does not necessarily mean you are living with a right heart or doing as Father would want. Second, even if you are unattractive, mocked, lacking a circle of friends, a 'misfit' and badly outnumbered, it does not necessarily mean you have done anything wrong or that you aren't where Father intends you to be.

I’ve never truly understood how suffering is supposed to help mold us into the image of God. It is counter-cultural, both in and out of the church, to see suffering as anything but a result of your failure in some way. Hence my struggles in accepting suffering even now. It’s going to take time for me to ‘get’ this, but I’m at least beginning to understand.

One day recently I was praying, again telling Father how this path feels like traveling through west Texas and I really don’t want to be wrong. I want my heart to be conformed to his, and things sure don’t look too promising on the outside. If it’s him leading me, I will go wherever he leads. Yet we’ve all heard the name calling and perhaps at low points wondered if it's true. Unrepentant, unteachable, unsubmissive, "Jezebel spirit," lone ranger Christian, rebellious.

It can make a person feel a little crazy some days. In sixth grade I would walk home from the bus stop crying, wondering why a girl like me who was never mean to anyone was viewed and treated as a nobody. And why these mean girls had SO many friends and apparently no one else was ever bothered by (or hardly even noticed) the things I saw! If I could have put myself into a Transformer machine and come out with a cute new face, new Calvin Klein jeans and a vivacious personality, I would have.

I'd be hard pressed to believe that anyone staying on this 'out of the box' path for any length of time just said, "hey, that emergent church thing looks trendy, I think I'll go hop on that bandwagon." If I had any reason to believe I could go ‘back to church,’ find a good fit, and actually grow and thrive spiritually, I’d be there this Sunday! It might be easier to be happily oblivous to the things we wrestle with and yearn for. We could just put on a nice Sunday dress and go Belong to the Sunday crowd. No, we don’t walk off the beaten path because we enjoy being labeled or looked down on. We as humans naturally tend to take the path of least resistance. Walking through west Texas is something I'd only want to do with the Lord! He calls us, and he equips us, even though we may struggle and suffer along the way.

As a Christian, the most frustrating part of not fitting in is wondering when Father is going to finish working it all together for good. I’m still waiting to see the kingdom purpose in a lot of the things I’ve suffered. Waiting is hard.

But as I prayed I felt Father take me by the shoulders and hold me comfortingly and firmly. It’s all right, he said. It’s gonna be fine.

Going to church: an eye-opening experience

2009-02-22T11:58:00.000-08:00

Due to our children’s participation in a youth program with an organized church outfit, we attended a service there this past weekend (the youth sang several songs and passed the offering plates). It had been some time since we’ve even dropped in on a service, and it’s interesting how my perspective has changed.

In some church services we’ve visited and attended over the years, it would have been a much more pleasant experience if we could have just skipped the pastor’s sermon. This was no exception. The music was nice. The people served us a nice potluck lunch. We know a few of them slightly and I’m sure they’re good people.

This pastor gave a sermon on making sure you attend "church." We’ve all heard the admonishments. Do not forsake the gathering. I shake my head at how unimaginative and unchanging these IC messages are. They are all variations on a theme: Come to church, preferably ours. Otherwise, something bad is sure to happen to you.

This pastor told a story that years ago I would have thought a clever illustration. A young man was backslidden; had stopped going to church. His pastor came to see him one evening, of course to check up on him and bring him back to the fold. The young man let the pastor in and the two sat by the blazing fire, not speaking for several minutes. Finally the pastor took the fireplace tongs, removed one ember and set it on the hearth. The two watched as the coal cooled, finally becoming completely cold.

The pastor turned to leave without a word, and the young man followed him with tears in his eyes and said, "I’ll be in church this week, pastor. Thank you for a wonderful sermon."

This story was enthusiastically received by the rest of the audience. Of course, the institutional interpretation of Hebrews 10:25 was admonished from the pulpit. Then several more comments from the pastor and the others in the congregation: "Go to church. Your fire for Jesus will eventually die out completely if you stay away from the group. You will become a 'dead coal.' We need each other. You need the fellowship. You need the accountability."

After witnessing this whole scene, I was left with several questions and ponderings of my own. Like:

1. Does this sort of thing really happen, just as told? Are born again Christians who quit "going to church" EVER truly backslidden? Is there really even such a thing? Or is this an oxymoron?

2. If the fire just dies, away from the group, what was the source of the fire in the first place? Real love and passion for the Lord, or group dynamics at work? Ever notice how a group of kids can get your kid to do something they’d NEVER do at home, be it good or bad? Ever notice how YOU have done things with a group that you’d never do alone? How can a PERSONAL relationship with Jesus possibly fit into this mentality? I know the Bible speaks of encouraging each other along in good works, but I’ve discovered that the average person doesn’t understand the difference between encouragement to do what you were made to do, and pressure to do as the group wants.

3. Most importantly, if a person is experiencing genuine love, acceptance, encouragement, and edification by participating in a group, why in the world would they ever want to leave??! I can really only imagine, but I have a hunch that if the church was functioning at even 75% capacity of what Father has in mind for us, they wouldn’t be able to barricade the doors of the gathering house strongly enough to keep folks out! I wonder if it would ever occur to this pastor (among many others) what a glaring indicator of something seriously amiss in the gathering, for the people of God to need an admonishment to "come to church."

4. The pastor was, essentially, telling the people that if they stopped attending 'church,' Jesus would leave them. I shake my head in sorrow that some people sit in pews and listen to this sort of teaching their whole lives. The lady sitting next to me mentioned she was 90 years old. That's a long time to live with fear that your Lord might leave you! Do some institutionalized Christians know true peace in the Lord in spite of such teachings? I hope so.

The whole "backslidden" idea doesn’t even make sense to me. Why would anyone experiencing an uplifting, authentic time with God and his people find sin or staying away more appealing? Even if they are struggling with sin, I think it’s more likely that they left because the IC is not a safe environment to reveal their struggles.

Yes, fellowship is important. Gathering in Jesus’ name is important. And this is where it gets sad. When the service was over I sighed with relief. Then I went to the ladies’ room and prayed. It saddens me to this day how far away I feel from most of my brothers and sisters. What are the answers, traveling down this long and often lonely road outside the box?

I have found some of them. I know that Jesus can and will keep me spiritually safe anywhere, anytime, in any circumstance. He is much bigger than the club house and their accountability program. I also see what Old Testament mentality so many Christians are stuck in. I see many reasons WHY "going to church" was largely such a miserable and frustrating experience for me. The main one being I never heard the simple and untainted gospel there! I know that I could never "go to church" again and I’d only long to know and love my Lord more.

I also know that the opposite of the "cooled coal" story is true with me. I could not, in my heart, even BEGIN to believe how much God loves me until I got AWAY from the institutional group and went down a less-traveled path with him. While being a 'good little Christian' and faithfully 'attending church,' I was dying inside. I was steadily being strangled with the ropes of bondage that the institutional mindsets had me tied up in. A hundred different Jesuses were propped up before me over the years, and in my heart I was crying, "Will the real Jesus stand up!!" And finally, I am seeing him. He's so simple and pure, it's awesome.

It isn't easy being 'outside the box' in some ways. But I couldn't, for a minute, trade knowing that he loves me, and that IT IS FINISHED just like He said.

Yet some answers are still disquietingly absent. For all their faulty doctrine, the people inside the walls still get to experience a certain degree of structure and fellowship that I miss having. I never really fit in during my days of attending IC, yet I wonder how long will I remain isolated outside? Will I ever get to experience satisfying face to face Christian fellowship as a regular part of life? What purpose does my being different and failure to fit into any church box really serve?? This last question is the heaviest of all on my heart.

I recently had a conversation with Darin Hufford in which he talked about eccentricity being a heart set aside for a special and unique purpose. I know Darin has gone through a lot of rejection and isolation as a result of being different. I also know that what God has done in him and through him is incredible. He has offered hope to many system burnouts who had all but given up hope. He is one of those few and far between Christians who is trying to BE Christ to others, rather than just talk about him.

I am praying for Father to show me that he has special plans for me too, because I am different and set apart for something unique. I will travel as far down this road as Father leads me to if it is truly him leading me. But it can be like traveling through west Texas. If any of you have ever done that you know exactly what I mean. I sure as heck don’t want to be going down this road and not even be on the right road. When you’re traveling through west Texas, you keep a sharp eye out for any road sign telling how many more miles to your destination, otherwise you might start wondering if you just missed it and they’re gonna find your skull next to the one of the longhorn cow lying next to the cactus. I don’t see any road signs and that makes me nervous sometimes.

Father, give me ever-growing perspective. Get me through these times of uncertainty with ever-stronger faith.

"May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it." 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24

North and South

2009-02-04T07:03:00.000-08:00

Here's a geography lesson for everyone, as I try to work on a more 'serious' blog.

Clip Art Of.com ~ Royalty-free Redneck Clipart, Redneck Illustrations

Posted using ShareThis
The North has Bloomingdale's, the South has Dollar
General.

The North has coffee houses, the South has Waffle Houses.

The North has dating services, the South has family
reunions.

The North has switchblade knives; the South has Lee
Press-on Nails.

The North has double last names; the South has double first
names.

The North has Indy car races; The South has stock car
races.

North has Cream of Wheat, the South has grits.

The North has green salads, the South has collard greens.

The North has lobsters, the South has craw fish.

The North has the rust belt; the South has the Bible Belt.

FOR NORTHERNERS MOVING SOUTH . . .

In the South: --If you run your car into a ditch, don't
panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a
tow chain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them,
just stay out of their way.
This is what they live for.

Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in
the same store....
do not buy food at this store.

Remember, 'Y'all' is singular, 'all
y'all' is plural,
and 'all y'all's' is plural possessive

Get used to hearing 'You ain't from round here, are
ya?'

Save all manner of bacon grease.
You will be instructed later on how to use it.

Don't be worried at not understanding what people are
saying. They can't understand you either. The first
Southern statement to creep into a transplanted
Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective
'big'ol,' truck or 'big'ol' boy.
Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect
this way. All of them are in denial about it.

The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer
proper!

Be advised that 'He needed killin.' is a valid
defense here.

If you hear a Southerner exclaim, 'Hey, y'all watch
this,' you should stay out of the way. These are likely
to be the last words he'll ever say.

If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even
the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required
at the local grocery store. It doesn't matter whether
you need anything or not.
You just have to go there.

Do not be surprised to find that 10-year olds own their own
shotguns, they are proficient marksmen, and their mammas
taught them how to aim.

In the South, we have found that the best way to grow a
lush green lawn is to pour gravel on it and call it a
driveway.

AND REMEMBER: If you do settle in the South and bear
children, don't think we will accept them as
Southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven,
we wouldn't call 'em biscuits.
*****

Agin, from some unnamed clever source on the internet - hope you n' your kin git a kick out of it!

Invalidation ... and loneliness

2009-01-17T18:33:00.000-08:00

My free-believing sister Dena sent this link discussing a serious wound that we as human beings inflict on each other - invalidation. I agree that it is one of the most damaging things we can do to one another. Browsing this link, I am reminded how sad it is when people are ready to kick others when they’re down and shoot them once they’re wounded.

There are of course many ways of invalidating a hurting person, but today I want to talk about invalidation of loneliness. We’ve all heard ideas such as this from the church:

"If you’re feeling lonely, it’s your fault. You’re too self-focused. You need to get out there and find someone to serve, someone to love. That will take the focus off you." Or to a person who is struggling with no one reaching out to them, "You don’t come to church to get your needs met. You are here to serve."

While there is sometimes truth to both statements, I’ve never understood how telling these things to a lonely person is supposed to help them. Like Job’s friends during his suffering, people tend to spout off all the religious truth they know, without really understanding (or bothering to find out) what is really going on with the lonely person in front of them.

Loneliness is not best dealt with by telling the person to pull themselves up by their boot straps and get over it. I think the common American IC view on loneliness is rooted in the famous myth, "The Lord (only) helps those who help themselves." The truth is, severe loneliness can be like trying to help yourself out of quicksand. Does the church mean to say that these people are out of luck until and unless they can do this?

Jesus knew he was dealing with some very lonely people indeed. After all, he talked to tax collectors and prostitutes all the time. But as I recall he prioritized making them feel loved, rather than making sure they knew their loneliness was "their fault." He validated them as human beings, he took the time to see their hurts. As Darin well stated in his Religion of Correction blog , correcting someone works much better after they have been made to feel safe and loved.

It’s true that we all share responsibility for the state of loneliness in today’s church culture. But, there is an important distinction between urging people to share the responsibility for loving one another (thus erasing loneliness) and blaming people for their own loneliness. Blame brings condemnation, but loving people and helping them see a better way brings conviction.

Jesus left the 99 sheep who were in the fold to go out and find the one that was lost. Now, this could be taken as a simple illustration of salvation, but I see meaning in this parable for believers. I’ve seen many IC situations where the 99 in the fold (the inner circle) having too much fun with their friends to notice the one standing shyly off to the side. I’ve cringed when I’ve heard pastors imply that the one who isn’t included is to blame for not trying hard enough to reach out.

It is always more convenient to blame the weak and hurting, than to take a look at the responsibility that the stronger person or group may hold in a situation. But as Wayne Jacobsen well put it in Naked Church, Jesus tended to measure the success of any ministry by how many of the weak were helped, not by how many of the strong muddied the pond.

My opinion is that the church would do better to spend more time bringing the problem of loneliness to the attention of happy, comfortable people who have lots of fellowship. Lonely people already feel like there's something wrong with them, why rub salt into their wounds? Jesus took on the role of a humble servant so the weak could draw near to him. Can we do the same for one another?

A Redneck Night Before Christmas

2008-12-31T07:37:00.001-08:00

'Twas the night before Christmas And all through the trailer
Not a creature was stirrin' 'Cept a redneck named Taylor.
His first name was Bubba, Joe was his middle,
And a-runnin' down his chin was a trickle of spittle.

His socks, they were hung by the chimney with care,
And therefore there was a foul stench in the air.
That Bubba got scared and rousted the boys.

There was Rufus, 12; Jim Bob was 11;
Dud goin' on 10; Otis was 7.
John, George and Chucky Were 5,4, and 3:
The twins were both girls So they let them be.

They jumped in their overalls, No need for a shirt,
Threw a hat on each head, Then turned with a jerk.
They ran to the gun rack That hung on the wall.
There were 17 shotguns; They grabbed them all.

Bubba said to the young'uns, "Now hesh up ya'll!
The last thing we wanna do Is wake up yer Maw."
Maw was expecting And needed her sleep,
So out they crept out the door Without making a peep.

They all looked around, and then they all spit.
The young'uns asked Bubba, "Paw, what is it?"
Bubba just stared; He could not say a word.
This was just like all of The stories he'd heard.

It was Santy Claus on the roof, Darn tootin'
But the boys didn't know; They was about to start shootin'!
They aimed their shotguns and nearly made a mistake
That would have resulted in venison steak.

Bubba hollered out, "Don't shoot, boys!"
That's Santy Claus And he's brought us some toys.
The dogs were a-barkin' And a-raisin' cain,
And Bubba whistled, and shouted, And called them by name.

"Down, Spot! Shut up Bullet! Quiet, Pete and Roscoe!
Git, Turnip and Tater and Sam and Bosco!"
"Git down from that porch! Git down off that wall!
Quit shakin the trailer, Or you'll make Santy fall!"

The dogs kept a-barkin' And wouldn't shut up,
And they trampled poor Pete Who was only a pup.
Santy opened his bag, And threw out some toys.
Bubba got most, But left a few for the boys.

Since the guns had been dropped He just might not die.
He jumped in his sleigh, Told his reindeer to hurry.
The trailer started to wobble Santa started to worry.

Just as the reindeer Got into the air,
The trailer collapsed, But Bubba didn't care.
He was busy lookin' At all his new toys.

Then a thought hit him, And he said to the boys:
"Go check on yer Maw, Make sure she's all right.
That roof fallin' on her Could-a hurt just a might."

But Maw was OK, And the girls were too.
They fixed up the trailer; It looked good as new.
And as for Bubba, He liked Old St. Nick,
But Santa thought Bubba Was a pure-in-tee hick!

Bubba had a nice Christmas, And the boys did, too.
And the Taylors wish A Merry Christmas to you!
****

(from some clever source on the internet - not my prose!)
Mery Christmas and Happy New Year!

The Rose

2008-12-26T07:19:00.000-08:00

I'm re-reading the "Jake" book (So You Don't Want to Go to Church Anymore) and glad I am because I need to be reminded of many important spiritual truths that the book contains.

Yesterday while reading I was reminded that the middle of the story is not the same as the end. Well, that sure is a good thing in some areas of life, that don't ever seem to sort out over time no matter how hard you try, how long you wait or how much you pray.

The loneliness of life outside the church walls is bearable most times, but I have days when it really gets to me. Outside the church walls mostly just means that the facade of fellowship has been stripped away. But, in stripping away the facade we've also lost the opportunity for the few positive, if rather short term, relationships we could find inside the church walls. Now it just looks wintry.

I really love Aida's blog on winter being a season of rest - important truths there. Yet there are times when I find myself in or near despair. Because I have children I'm taking with me on this important yet often uncertain and at times bleak looking road.

Most of you know we moved around the time we quit "going to church." Now we're still figuring out a new life in more than one area. The three of them have to make do with each other and their parents for companionship and friendship more than I would like. And while that's not a bad thing, I can see it in their sweet faces that they are lonely for a special friend, for more meaningful outside connection in their lives, for the true community that is so hard to find. (Just because you have your family busy with activities, even good ones, does not mean real connection with others will necessarily happen quickly, if at all).

After years of homeschooling, which has its own challenges, we also quit "going to church." To quote Toula in Big Fat Greek Wedding, "because - we weren't weird enough!" When you step outside the 'norm' of education or religion, you can't just coast. None of the work is done for you by an institution to provide for your family's needs.

Some days, it all just really looks bleak. Holidays tend to not help in dealing with the underlying feelings of sadness, of not being connected to others the way we long to.

But perhaps that's why Father keeps slipping me little notes of hope, such as catching the last part of this song on the radio in the car the other day:

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
When you think that love is only
For the lucky, and the strong
Just remember, in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love...
in the spring, becomes... the rose :-)

Tea Time

2008-12-17T17:36:00.000-08:00

Tea was discovered in China around 5,000 years ago. For many centuries after its discovery by Emperor Shen-Nung, tea was used for medicinal and spiritual purposes. When tea first arrived in Europe in the 1600’s, only the very wealthy could afford it as it cost over $100 a pound!

Fortunately the price did drop over time and the tea custom caught on, making its way through France, Holland and finally England. In the 1800’s, Queen Victoria relished the ‘tea parties’ that had become all the rage. Ladies began to don formal tea gowns, long and flowing and lacy. They fanned themselves with beautiful fans in the afternoon heat as they rode by carriage to meet with friends in a beautiful garden, perhaps entertained by orchestra music as they sipped their tea and nibbled on scones, tiny sandwiches or other delicacies.

The Victorian era was a kinder and gentler time, one I have longed to visit in a ‘time warp.’ I wonder what it would be like to live back then. I look at teacups in antique shops and think about a time that groups of friends actually DRANK out of them, rather than having them just adorn a curio cabinet.

We watched "Karate Kid Part II" the other day and I was reminded of the wonderful Japanese custom of the tea ceremony. This is a great movie for many reasons, but I would watch it just to see the touching romantic tea ceremonies served by the movie’s heroines to the men they love.

I’ve casually priced tea cups in antique stores. Real ‘antique’ cups start at around $27 and go up from there. I’ve seen a single cup priced as high as $80. But, I’ve also seen modern day imitations of old cups for very low prices. I picked up a nice one for $2 at a flea market and gave it to a friend. Another one I found at a hobby and decorative store on clearance for $3.50. I collect inexpensive antiques because of the nostalgic, warm feeling they give me - whether or not they’re ‘real’ is of little importance.

A really neat website I found with all kinds of history, customs and cute suggestions is here.

Closer to Fine

2008-12-07T20:11:00.000-08:00

I hadn’t thought of this song in years, but for some reason it just popped into my head after hearing of some struggles that a brother is going through. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with Indigo Girls, they broke ground in the American folk- rock scene in the 80’s and their most popular song to date, Closer to Fine, was released in 1989.

One important thing I’ve learned over the years is how non- or not specifically Christian teachings, books, art and music can hold significant if incomplete truths. (and how some "Christian" teachings can really screw you up!) I see many ideas in the song that speak remarkably about my journey outside the box.

We’ve knocked ourselves out trying to find the answers to finding it and fixing it, whatever ‘it’ is. We have a kazillion different denominations out there, each with their own set of ‘answers’ on ‘doing God right.’ And many of us had the experiences of constantly trying to fix what was wrong, repair what was broken, and nail down and break that family curse 6 generations back through the right ‘healing’ seminar. Many of us could re-wallpaper our houses six times over with all the ‘Christian’ 7 Easy Steps, Doctrine Explained to Dummies, Fill in the Blank to Fullness in Christ workbooks, and 12 weeks to healing books on our shelves. I love how Darin puts it in his "Meaning of Life" blog. We’re like a bunch of 4 year olds gritting our teeth trying to grow a beard like Daddy.

As the song reflects, the human race is usually looking for answers in a bottle or other people, in children, in doctors (pastors?), psychiatrists, higher education, and last but not least religion! Somehow I don’t think the 'workout' referred to in the song is physical!

We have thousands of answers from hundreds of denominations, many claiming to be "the only right way." So then goes the struggle for answers in some definitive. Baptist? Mormon? Catholic? Jehovah's Witness? Anglican or post-modern? This doctrine or that doctrine? It appears that some Christians find an answer they are comfortable, happy (and sometimes quite smug about) in organized religion.

For some of us though, trying to follow the crooked line of religious answers becomes torment. The more we look and the harder we try - the further we become from the answer. Maybe the answer is just to BE - to live life always knowing that because Jesus made a way, Father is our friend- and we might be closer to fine. (If only all Christians truly understood the gospel better…) Maybe it’s time for all of us to just let our hair down and take a ride on the Polar Express.

The only thing I regret they left out of this song was to stop looking for the definitive in religion, rather than in simple, abiding relationship with the Trinity. As we learn to just be in relationship with the living God, we are getting closer to fine every step of the way.

Besides the really thought provoking lyrics, I'm impressed at how these gals can walk, sing, dance AND play a guitar all at the same time. As one who usually can't brush her teeth and walk through a room at the same time without tripping over something, it looks pretty cool. Lyrics are posted below the video.

Im trying to tell you something about my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
And the best thing youve ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously
Its only life after all
Yeah

Well darkness has a hunger thats insatiable
And lightness has a call thats hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it
Im crawling on your shores

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains
Theres more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
And the less I seek my source for some definitive
(the less I seek my source)
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

And I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a b-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind
Got my paper and I was free

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains
Theres more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
(the less I seek my source)
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.
To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend
And I woke up with a headache like my head against a board
Twice as cloudy as Id been the night before
And I went in seeking clarity.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains
Yeah we go to the doctor, we go to the mountains
We look to the children, we drink from the fountains
Yeah we go to the bible, we go through the workout
We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout
Theres more than one answer to these questions
Pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
(the less I seek my source)
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

Division

2008-11-14T06:13:00.000-08:00

Division is the word that keeps coming to mind when I look around me these days. It is every which way I turn. I've had several sad division encounters lately, but will choose one to share now.

A few days ago, a neighbor’s car pulled into my drive. I was excited because a) we seldom have visitors, b) this was a neighbor I had been trying to meet for months and c) phase one of our new porch had just been completed. So I eagerly ran out to the front yard in my bare feet, something I wouldn’t have done if I’d been thinking. Red ants abound here in east Texas.

I greeted him and his wife, who I hadn’t met before. I had only met him once briefly and hoped we’d get to visit again. He said he had only stopped by to ask me a couple of questions, which I answered. Then, I invited them to come up and sit on my new porch. "Could you come up to the porch and sit?" I asked. "I’m standing in an ant pile getting eaten alive!" I hoped they’d stay for a glass of tea and a chat. But, he declined quickly and said he didn’t want to bother me. He was gone rather abruptly.

Sometimes in a conversation you get a very strong feeling of how the person feels or what they may be thinking, even if they don’t say a word to that effect. I had a very strong impression that he was thinking, "I’m black. You’re white. There is a wall between us and so I’m not going to bother you."

I came back inside, started washing dishes, and found myself in tears before I knew it. I stopped what I was doing and just sat at the table and buried my head in my arms and cried. I was crying because I was disappointed, crying because I was excited that someone might sit on my porch and it hadn’t happened. I was crying in frustration at seeing that tiresome old dividing wall of racism between us. But other times in my life, none of this would have upset me so much or brought me to tears. I think the division he sees between people for a whole host of reasons, must be making Father cry extra hard right now for me to have that reaction.

This election has been like an earthquake. No one was indifferent or unaffected. One black lady I know said this election is the craziest thing she ever saw. Her black friends told her if she didn’t vote for Obama she isn’t black. Her white friends said if she did vote for Obama, she isn’t Christian. If I were her I might have wanted to leave the country for about a month, two weeks before and after the election, to maintain my sanity. I’ve certainly been rattled by all the doomsaying, the anger, the hysteria, the name-calling, the racism issues, the hand-wringing… the division. I have had to remind myself that God isn’t surprised nor unprepared for the days to come.

A hundred years ago, a black man couldn’t be invited to the White House without a scandal. Now we will have a black man and his family living in the White House. People say we’ve come a long way, and in some ways we have. But, I still wonder if the man and his wife down the road will ever come sit on my porch and feel comfortable.

Well, one day in heaven if not here on earth, I hope to have a beautiful porch with a variety of friends sitting on it. We will all hold hands…black and white and brown and all shades in between laced together, noticing no difference except how uniquely beautiful each one is.

"There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28

A Few Thoughts on the Election

2008-11-08T18:49:00.000-08:00

There has been a lot of ruckus the last several days across the nation. Some of it good, some of it not so good. Many people are happy that Obama is our new president-elect. Others are not.

I’m not here to trumpet my political views in this blog (Can I hear a 'thank ya, Jesus!' LOL) I will say that no one seemed indifferent to this election. People were excited, nervous, happy, angry, uncertain, full of anticipation. I sifted through all kinds of emails, yahoo groups, and news articles about all of the involved candidates. Yes, I deleted at least a dozen of those "Obama is the anti-christ" urban legends. I saw all the Saturday Night Live skits (Amy Poehler was hilarious as Hillary Clinton and John McCain pretty doggone funny as himself). It wasn’t until the last few days before and since the election, though, that one very important issue came to the center of my focus.

Racism. It’s that icky word and that unpleasant subject that people don’t like to talk about. As mentioned above, I read all kinds of stuff about the election, but only in the last few days did I see a lot about how very much this election meant to the African American population. About how many were so full of anticipation that they wouldn’t let themselves get their hopes up too high. They spoke of how they had been disappointed in the past. Some of their leaders in the past century were killed. Other noteworthy African American icons were marginalized and mistreated for years. Would their canditate actually win, showing how much things have changed? John McCain remembered an incident over 100 years old during his concession speech. In 1901 , President Theodore Roosevelt invited educator Booker T. Washington to dine at the White House. When news of this dinner spread, outrage ensued. Reading a couple of quotes from old newpaper articles about this dinner, I am shocked at what passed for acceptable journalism back then. Even by today’s "National Enquirer" standards.

No matter what one’s preferred candidate or party, I think all of us who are on the journey to love have to be happy that such ugly racism has been trumped this time, by the election of the first black President of the United States. A few decades ago, saying a dirty word in reference to blacks was done as casually as lighting up a cigarette in the doctor’s office. Now both of these actions cause gasps and immediate chastisement. As the old Virginia Slims ad used to say, we’ve come a long way, baby!

But we’re not there yet. Racism no longer has the same stronghold on our culture that it once did, but it is sadly still alive and well.

If we never meet again this side of heaven

2008-10-26T18:12:00.000-07:00

I remember my best friend in 7th grade, a girl named Shelley with curly black hair pulled in pigtails wearing overalls. Although I haven’t seen her in at least 5 years and very little for years before that, I still find myself thinking of her rather often. We were best friends all the way through high school, despite being separated in different schools for much of that time. We hit rough spots, traveled different paths and grew apart for a few years. Our friendship was renewed for a few blessed years after I became a mother. Then, she disappeared into the abyss of missing friends. I email her now and again, and sometimes get a response. She sounds stressed, distant, buried in her work.

I imagine the fellowship we had in school being restored. Maybe Father won’t mind if we pass notes containing hilarious cartoons such as got me kicked out of study hall for laughing so hard. Maybe we can have face to face conversations about Jesus, like we had online for awhile when I became a new Christian. I picture the closeness, the rapport and caring for one another - just like things used to be, only even better.

I think of former friends who turned against me, or dropped me because we had religious differences. And some who unexplainably just grew cool and distant. It still pains me to remember how and why some of these friendships ended. I remember what I once loved about them and picture that actually restored… only better.

I think of my internet friends, who literally live coast to coast with me smack dab in the middle in Texas. I picture seeing them 3-D, up close and personal. Hearing their voices without the static of a phone line and the feel of wrapping my arms around them in a hug. I wonder what their day to day lives are really like. There is only so much one can really share online.

I remember my sweet grandmother, who died 12 years ago. And the children I’ve never met, the ones that were never born because I was listening to the world instead of my heart. And the godly teachers who have ministered to me that I may never meet this side of heaven. And some of my favorite heroes of love, such as Mother Theresa… Florence Nightingale… Billy Graham… Steve Irwin. And of course, the best of all… Jesus… face to face.

I find this song a great comfort and inspiration. Although there are many versions of the song recorded, I’m going to include the one by the Man in Black who wrote the song:

Front Porches

2008-10-17T12:13:00.001-07:00

One of the things I love most about old homes, is that most of them have front porches. The style of homes is a reflection of the times we live in. New homes with no front porch are being built left and right in suburban areas. They usually house people who work all day, then rush the kids to soccer and ballet lessons, then zip into their garage at night and aren’t seen again until they leave to take the kids to school the next morning on their way to work.

Front porches with swings, gliders and rocking chairs remind me of the time when they were built. A time when people had time to just sit and visit. I’ve only heard the stories from older folks. They would sit on the porch in the evenings after dinner. If they were lucky it might be screened in. Otherwise they would patiently shoo away flies, enjoying the warm breeze on a summer evening. After a little while, a neighbor or two, or four or six, was sure to come by. They would all settle in for a visit as the lady of the house brought out iced sweet tea or lemonade. If they stayed a while, maybe some homemade cookies or cobbler would follow.

I’ve read a couple of books written on how to form ‘networks’ and join clubs as a way of making friends and forming community. They teach you the strategy of finding the right friends and finding your place, as aggressive and well-planned as job-hunting. For us introverts, even the prospect can be exhausting.

A lady I once knew told me that her parents were among the least sociable and talkative people in the neighborhood, but they always had friends and they always had company. All they did really, was sit out on the front porch evenings and some neighbors were sure to come by and see how they were doing. A pitcher of fresh tea could go a long way in building bonds back then. Now you apparently have to have a well-honed strategy and a PLAN.

I feel like I was born about a hundred years too late. We have plans to build a porch onto our house. Long term plans include adding a larger flower garden to the front yard that can be viewed from the porch. Will others come and sit there? Will they be glad they came over, if they do? Sometimes, hoping for this is like planning to go into the buggy-whip business. As if I’ll offer the best buggy-whip anyone ever saw… that’s about a hundred years too late for anyone to have a use for.

But I’m planning on these things anyway, because they are on my heart. An important truth that organized Christianity usually doesn’t tell us is, follow and trust your heart. Because you have been given a new heart. Perhaps Father will bless others through my ‘outdated’ way of doing things in ways I haven’t imagined yet.

Hospitality

2008-09-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

I’m glad that my ‘fellowship’ blog struck a note with some folks, including emails from a couple of people I hadn’t heard from in a while. Thank you for your feedback. It encourages me to know if what I’ve said is good food for thought; if it helps to connect even two people, I’m blessed. As our Lord has said, if there are two or more of you gathered in My name, there am I among you. In this crazy age where many of us have to rely on the computer for authentic conversation and fellowship, I believe He must be spending a lot of time holding our hands via cyberspace.

I want to say a few things now about another topic on my heart that I believe goes hand and hand with fellowship - hospitality. Like driving a team of horses, this has largely become a lost art as a result of changing times and culture. We’ve all heard the New Testament teachings about hospitality, such as Romans 12:13 telling us to share with others and practice hospitality. I’ve always gotten the impression that ‘practice’ is a very serious word in Biblical terms - it’s a lifestyle stemming from the heart. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see this as a way of life anywhere in my day-to-day.

Reading through the book of Acts, we see these people regularly gathered in each other’s homes, eating, drinking, praying, and enjoying one another’s company. They even shared their possessions and had everything in common, giving to each as had need! Having grown up in the modern western "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" culture, I can only imagine. I’ve actually had people get mad at me for offering to pay for their meal or for bringing them a gift on their birthday. In our society, many seem to have been brainwashed into thinking EVERYTHING is on a consumer basis - you only get what you pay for. No sharing allowed!

I’ve had some other frustrating experiences trying to ‘practice hospitality.’ Would you like to hear about the time we ate hot dogs and hamburgers for a week because of no-shows? Or the time our charcoal burned down to dust as we waited on our hour-late guests, who finally called to cancel? (We stuck a dozen raw burger patties in the fridge and went to Taco Bell). I’ve had my kids in tears because of careless last-minute play date cancellations and no-shows.

Some other times though, I’ve felt like I’ve really blessed someone in my home. I remember one friend from years ago who never wanted to leave. She’d kick back on my couch and say, "oh, it’s so relaxing here! I don’t want to leave!" And I didn’t want her to leave any more than she wanted to leave. Other guests have stayed to talk until the mosquitoes nearly ate us alive out in the back yard (the only place on our property that is large enough to accommodate playing children and conversing adults). The only times I really got into a lengthy and meaningful conversation with some of these people was when they came to my home to visit. If they don’t seem to want to leave, I feel like they’ve been blessed by their visit.

Good hospitality can produce such warm feelings of excitement, happiness and contentment. For instance, I still remember going to the home of my mother’s best friend each Christmas as a child. Her house was very modest, but beautifully and warmly decorated. Cinnamon-infused cider and sugar cookie smells wafted through the air as we were warmly greeted. As a shy child, her warm smile and hug meant the world to me. Then, I’d sip hot cider and eat the most delicious chili con queso and home-baked cheddar wafers as I poked around looking at her cheery living room Christmas decorations and answered her friendly inquiries as to what I’d been up to. She had the art of making me feel like the most special, cute, funny, clever person in the world. I’m sure she had a gift for making each guest who came into their home burst with good feelings about themselves.

Since becoming an adult, I’ve found such hospitality pretty hard to come by. My husband and I began a bi-annual tradition of going away together for a weekend to a bed and breakfast when our boys were old enough to stay with grandparents for a couple of days. There are two in particular that have blessed us. Good bed and breakfast owners feel like Grandmas and Grandpas. I revert from being a decades-old adult to a little kid going to Grandma’s for the weekend. Homemade cookies, warm hugs, a comfy room with a big quilt and bubble bath, a delicious breakfast, someone with a sweet smile fussing over me, and warm and caring conversation with our hosts fills the weekend. More than once as we’ve returned home, I’ve made this remark to my husband: "Wouldn’t it be nice if God someday brings us to a place in our lives when such edifying times with caring people aren’t something we usually have to pay for?"

Now, our hosts are lovely people and staying with them is worth every penny and then some. But, I daresay that there are others like us out there, who flock to the bed and breakfasts to grasp a little piece of a dream, of a time and place that is unhurried and rest for the soul. A setting where hospitality is a way of life.

The town we love to go to is a popular tourist spot. We walk the streets, admiring the beautiful antebellum homes, some large and some small. All have beautiful lawns, gorgeous flower gardens, gazebos, little ponds, tea gardens… and my favorite of all, front porches. I have the most intense feelings of nostalgia sometimes while walking there, feelings that I was just born about a hundred years too late.

I’m going to end here for now, but there will be more to come soon. Please stay tuned…

Blessings to all,
Amy

Overcoming Fear

2008-08-27T07:27:00.000-07:00

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love." 1 John 4:18

It is interesting that this verse contrasts fear and love, instead of fear and comfort, or fear and safety, or even fear and rest. Thinking about it, I can see that most of my fears have been rooted in loss of love, or perceived loss of love.

Darin Hufford’s recent blog on treating fear as something we have a choice on caught my attention. I believe that we women really need to hear the perspective of a man, because they tend to think more logically. A common experience I’ve had as a female is getting so caught up in my emotions that I can’t think straight anymore.

Darin’s blog was timely because there is an important decision we’ve been looking at making that could greatly affect our future. I was raised in a household that was hugely fearful. It was as though we had to consult the God of Fear first for every decision we made. If fear said it had a 1 percent chance of turning out awful, we would probably decide not to do whatever it was.

I’ve been controlled by fear all too often. As a result I’ve actually ended up enduring a lot of awful things that I might have avoided if I hadn’t been afraid! I’ve also missed out on some really good things.

You’d think I’d have the pattern nailed down in my logical mind by now, and be able to catch myself and stop it by now. But I’m proud of myself that at least now I’m trying to look at things more closely before making a knee-jerk fear decision, especially on big things.

I decided to discuss my situation with Darin and tell him of my concerns. I wanted to know if it was fear (unreasonable) or just concern (wisdom). He acknowledged the importance of my concerns and advised me to plan for the possibility that they would happen. But - here’s the clincher - he said, "But letting these things stop you (from following your dream) is being controlled by them. You’re stronger than that."

His words helped me clear up my wimbling back and forth. I can make myself dizzy with "On one hand, I want this, but on the other hand, it might be impractical, scary, dangerous, uncertain, a failure, a disaster, whatever." Yeah, I’ve been a poster child for that double-minded man verse in James and I look forward to Father maturing me out of doing that.

But I can see that thinking of myself as stronger than one who lets fear be in control is a picture of myself that I have not carried. Now I know what our course is. I can see that this will be another leg of our faith journey. And I hope it does a great work to really remove fear from my heart.

I also want to add that an important reason why that I struggle with fear is the lack of having somebody believe in me during my youth. As parents, no matter what age our children, may we all get across to them that we BELIEVE in them!! That’s an important foundational ingredient to any person. It’s kind of hard to find as an adult too. (You know you’ve found a real friend when they truly believe in you, even during the hard times!)

I decided to change my screen name here to Lionwoman...because lions are known as animals of great courage and dignity. As our Heavenly Father sees us.

Blessings to all,
Amy

Fellowship

2008-08-08T05:50:00.001-07:00

I’ve often compared human fellowship to food. To me, time spent with a true friend or even an intriguing acquaintance is like a good, satisfying, nutritious meal. Think of a nice barbecued chicken breast, baked potato with all the fixings, a big salad and a big glass of cool water to wash it all down. Then, you get a nice warm chocolate dessert of some sort with ice cream. Now, that’s living. You get things that are good and nourishing for you in this meal, plus some things that just make you feel good. You’re totally satisfied, not hungering for anything more. This, to me, is what true fellowship is like.

Unfortunately, I’ve found this type of "good meal" fellowship to be relatively rare in our society of fierce independence, over-achievement, and focus on material gain. Our culture is an absurd reversal of many third world countries I’ve read about. Over there, many people live on a very simple diet. Many children are sustained on only rice because that’s all they have. Others may be lucky and also have millet or corn. Women feed their children on $2 a week. Yet when you see photos of these people in these places, there are always groups of people TOGETHER. They sit together, they lean against each other. Children are photographed sitting in a circle laughing or playing together. Women sit in a circle grinding grain or weaving while they talk. Men work the fields in groups. They live in overcrowded dilapidated houses and huts together. When illness strikes they care for each other until there are no healthy left to care for the sick. Sometimes, they lie down and die together.

Here in the U.S., most of us are overfed and many are overweight. We are more obsessed with healthy diets and weight monitoring than any other country, yet we are dying of eating-related disorders at an alarming rate. We have far more food to gorge ourselves on than is good for us and many of us have the love handles to prove it. Yet, as a culture we’re the poster children for emaciated, starving people in the spiritual and emotional realm.

I’ve spent a lot of time with my ear to the ground over the last few years and realized that though most people are hard-pressed to see or admit it, the average person is lucky if they have even one or two real friends. We know lots of people and call many of them friends, but in reality they’re just people we’re busy with.

I’ve always thought of these "busy-buddies" as cheese and crackers. Now, there’s nothing wrong with cheese and crackers, but if that’s all you ever eat, you aren’t truly being nourished. You can eat them until you don’t want anymore, and perhaps feel a little sick from all you’ve eaten. But you’re not satisfied. You want something more. You feel lethargic because you’re stuffed with something that hasn’t given you true nourishment. You didn’t really enjoy them all that much while you were eating them, but you were hungry and that’s all there was, so you ate and now you’re glutted but not fulfilled.

A snack is a snack. Light and shallow acquaintances are like snacks. Some are the yucky pre-packaged, God-only-knows-what’s-in-them orange crackers with quasi-peanut butter. These are not only not nourishing but downright bad for you. I’ve had some acquaintances and even ‘friends’ like this.

Other cheese and crackers may be good quality stuff. These are nice people you may know in the neighborhood, in the church, or in the book club. You chat pleasantly with them when you see them. Sometimes, you pursue a deeper relationship with them only to find out they don’t have time for real friends because of all the hustle-n-bustle in their lives. Nice people or no, activity and accomplishment will always take precedence over real relationship for them. You hoped it would turn out to be a real meal, but they remain cheese and crackers.

Sometimes I’ve come to a point in life where I wonder, "is it better to just go hungry than have another cheese and cracker snack?" At times I’ve glutted myself on "cheese and crackers" (including the stale vending-machine variety) until now when I’ve come to the point where I feel I’d rather starve than ever touch them again.

Perhaps Father has a design behind this dilemna? I’ve read the verses in the Bible. "Come and eat, and be satisfied." And thought, what IS he talking about? I go to church and I’m not satisfied. I participate in programs, activities and "home groups" and I’m not satisfied. We’ve been promised by institutional church that these things bring life, yet they don’t. Why does IC harp so much on fellowship? Could it be that they have accepted human fellowship as a substitute for true fellowship with God?

I’m going through a time where I’m struggling with whether I’ll starve if I really go hungry. I realize I’ve lived as though I’ll starve if I don’t eat these vending-machine cheese and crackers. I hope Father is getting me much closer to the point that I really am courageous enough to go hungry for however long I must. Maybe we have to be REALLY hungry, to have a cavernous hole in our stomach to be able to hold Him and all He wants to give us.

A Redneck Joke with a Lesson

2008-07-12T11:35:00.000-07:00

There’s another favorite redneck joke of mine that goes as follows:

Cyril wasn’t known for being the brightest boy in town. Darryl decided to try to help his little brother one day to become smarter so he gave him a handful of small brown things.

"These are smart pills, runt. Now, eat ‘em up." Cyril ate ‘em up. "Now I’m gonna give you some more tomorrow, and keep givin’ you some every day. You gotta take ‘em a while ‘fore you start feelin’ smarter."

Darryl gave his little brother Cyril some more of the smart pills every day, doubling the dosage each time. Cyril would chew his way through patiently each time, but as time went on, he started to dislike the bad taste in his mouth after he’d eaten them. He told his brother about the bad taste, but Darryl always said, "That’s in your head, boy. These are smart pills. Now keep eatin’ ‘em, and one day you’ll git smart!"

So Cyril kept doing his darndest to eat every single pill he was given. His chewing became slower and slower as his facial expression revealed more and more how distasteful he found the pills. His stomach churned after he ate them and he wondered why he wasn’t getting any smarter, just feeling frustrated at how dumb he still felt and queasy besides. Finally one day when Darryl tried to give Cyril his daily dose, Cyril declared, "Maaaan, these here smart pills taste like goat turds! I ain’t eatin’ no more of these thangs!"

Darryl heartily thumped his brother on the back as he declared gleefully, "NOW you’re gettin’ smarter, little brother, NOW you’re gettin’ smarter!"

***

Funny and crass though this old joke is, there are some ironic parallels I see in this to my experience in institutional church. I also ‘ate’ whatever I was given. I was told if I came often enough and ‘ate’ enough of what they served up, I’d sooner or later turn into a model Christian.

While my experience wasn’t as much of a total scam as poor Cyril’s, I will say that I feel like I ate enough ‘turds’ at institutional church that it was making me sick both spiritually and emotionally. When I shared these feelings with other members or leaders, they told me it must be because of doubt, unbelief, unconfessed sin, etc. and I needed to have a ‘deliverance’ of some sort. I should read this book or do that Bible study, come to church more often, and find an accountability partner. If I kept eating their food, sooner or later it was bound to do the job they promised it would.

Finally we walked out. It wasn’t working. I had realized, "This is not doing what they said it would do. I feel worse instead of better. I just can’t do it anymore." I don’t think Father would ever laugh at me, but perhaps he was a bit like Darryl in saying, "Now you’re getting somewhere, my daughter, now you’re getting somewhere."

Redneck Jokes for the Week

2008-07-10T06:56:00.001-07:00

On the lighter side of things, here are a few that made me guffaw:

You might be a redneck if:

-Down where you come from reruns of Hee Haw are called documentaries.

-You've been on TV more than 5 times describing the sound of a tornado.

-You think the OJ trial was a taste test between Sunkist and Minute Maid.

-You were acquitted for murdering your first wife after she threw out your Elvis 8-tracks.

-You had to remove a toothpick for your wedding pictures.

Bear the Dog

2008-07-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

Bear is our black laborador retriever. She died on Thursday, June 26. But I still find myself referring to her in the present tense many times, because I am trying to learn to see things from an eternal perspective. Time is irrelevant to many things in the spiritual realm.

We first learned of Bear through an on-line ad that said an elderly couple in poor health needed a new home for their 10 month old black lab. We had finally settled into our country home, winter was past, and it was time to realize a long-awaited dream: to get a family dog.

Knowing that cuddly little puppies are quickly snapped up by eager new owners, we decided to start with an older dog that might not so easily find a home, but not an adult dog who might not take a liking to our rambunctious 3 year old. So I know Bear had our name on her, written by our Father. When we arrived at the listed address, Bear was sleeping on the porch of a tiny, run down house surrounded by a yard so small it could hardly be called a yard. When we got out of the car, she woke up and ran to the fence, wagging her tail and barking hello. We all fell in love on the spot.

Bear weighed about 65 pounds when we got her and continued gaining a pound a week for most of the time she was here on earth with us. As big as she was, she never lost those big round puppy eyes. You could say Bear is very boisterous. She knocked my three year old daughter flat on the ground every time she went out the door for the first couple of weeks. By the end of the third week my daughter was lying across Bear’s back, singing to her or sharing a cookie with her. Bear quickly bonded to all of us and learned good dog behavior in a short time, though her eagerness didn’t always permit her to exercise what she knows.

A couple of weeks later we unexpectedly found ourselves the proud family of two other puppies (that story another time). Bear happily took charge as the young ‘mother’ of the two younger pups and the dominant dog among the three. Strider and Ranger took their cues from Bear. Soon, the three of them could be seen splashing in the creek, then rolling in the dirt, then jumping on the nearest available human with the cleanest clothes on. The mail carrier learned to slow down as she approached our box, knowing that Bear would run to greet her. She also learned to roll up her truck window when she stopped to deliver our mail, since Bear was more than eager to hop through it and help her with the rest of the afternoon’s mail.

Bear chewed through several pairs of shoes, a couple of lawn chairs, a set of practice golf balls, a couple of shirts, and a copy of "He Loves Me" by Wayne Jacobsen, among other things. She eagerly ate apples, carrots, celery and cucumbers. She loved it when I picked her a handful of blackberries and fed them to her. I’d never heard of a dog with such vegetarian tastes, but Bear seemed eager to share in everything we did, including what we ate.

One of my favorite memories of her is the way she’d hop up in my lap, all 70 plus pounds, as if she were a little lap dog, and throw her head over my shoulder as I hugged and talked to her. She was like a dog version of Baby Huey, a giant baby just wanting endless love and attention.

The morning that she died, she seemed fine all the way up to the time when we found her dead. My last memory of her was having her come barreling up to me as I walked up from the mailbox. She had rolled in something smelly the night before, and she was all wet from the rain, so I pushed her down when she jumped on me. I told her to ‘sit’ and she did. I patted her head, and she trotted off. Half an hour later we found her dead.

Father is slowly but surely growing faith in me. I would have kicked myself for pushing her down a few years ago. I would have been mad at myself for losing the "last chance" to love on her with a big hug. But now, I think that that was one small moment in time. I think Father will redeem all things that hurt us in our hearts. I know that my Father who notices when a single sparrow falls, remembers us with great concern when our pets die.

The vet said she died of an aneurysm, which is unusual but not unheard of in dogs. We brought her body home, and lovingly buried her beneath a tall oak tree at the edge of our woods. We cried as we shoveled dirt over our young dog’s body. But we smiled as we stood by the new grave, remembering how Bear loved to gobble blackberries by the handful as offered to her. We laughed and shook our heads as we remembered how she would knock a person and their chair over wanting to be a "baby lap dog" at 70 something pounds. We cried some more, and laughed some more. We cried because we miss her and we know we won’t see her again for a while. We laughed because we know Father loves her, and we are picturing our Bear playing with other animals romping in the heavenly realms.

I am not here to present a case for animals in heaven or not. Like with many things, people can and will interpret Scripture to say whatever they want it to, according to what is already in their hearts. When I see my heavenly Father face to face, if I’m wrong and animals are not in heaven, I don’t think he’s going to cluck and point the finger at me for believing such a thing. People who dedicate their time to arguing for the doctrine of "no animals in heaven" just irritate me. It’s not love to take a grieving animal lover who has lost a pet, and shove their face in "no animals allowed" doctrine and call it love. As with countless other examples, people who would do this value being "RIGHT" over being LOVING.

The idea of being in heaven with so many people everywhere, especially those who made a career out of being "RIGHT" about everything, just makes me nervous by itself (remember, I’m an introvert). The idea of no animals on top of that, just makes me depressed. It sounds a step better than hell, of course. But, then we are back to the core of Christianity. Is escaping hell what it’s all about? Or, getting in touch with our heart’s deepest cries and having them answered by our Father?

On that note, I am giving myself permission to be me. I am an animal lover who hopes to be surrounded by animals as well as people in heaven. And I hope Bear is the first one of them to knock me down with puppy eagerness as I walk in through the gates.

Time for a few redneck jokes

2008-06-30T06:48:00.000-07:00

I decided it would be good to have a lighter side to my blog too. So, you will find some funny jokes and anecdotes interspersed with the "deep thoughts" posts. I am a lifelong Texan, and if you read my June 26 post you know that I have finally realized a lifelong dream of living in the country. Here in rural Texas, redneck jokes are especially common. I think it’s good for all of us to be able to laugh at ourselves (I think all of us Texans see ourselves in at least a few of them!)I think most of them can be attributed to Jeff Foxworthy, but there are a few I haven't heard from him.
Anyway, here are a few for today:

You might be a redneck if:
- Your wife can climb a tree faster than your cat.
- You pack in Wal Mart shopping bags to move or go on vacation (me!!).
- Your grandmother has "ammo" on her Christmas list.
- You keep flea and tick soap in the shower.
- You've been involved in a custody fight over a hunting dog.
- You have a complete set of salad bowls that say "Cool Whip" on the side.

(slap overall-clad knees and guffaw with laughter!! LOL)
Have a great day everyone!

Maybe there is a loving God

2008-06-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

My distaste of a lot of today's contemporary Christian music has come out from under the rug along with other things in seeking God outside the box. As a result I have chucked a lot of my "Don't worry, be happy" contemporary Jesus music. But there are a few artists who I feel truly have more substance than form, rather than the other way around. Sara Groves is one of them. I thought of this song from her CD "All Right Here" which is a reflection of how I feel at this point in my journey. The sound on the music is a bit distorted on this homemade video someone did, but you might check out that whole CD - she has a gentle yet solid voice, and real substance in her music.

Who am I Created to Be?

2008-06-26T16:09:00.000-07:00

Darin Hufford’s blog is great. You can find it at freebelievers.com. His June 24 blog, "Into the Wild," got me to really wondering about who I am created to be. It’s funny how many things we’re told in the institutional church about who we are in God’s sight that make no more sense while you’re there, than table manners being taught to a bear. Many times, I went through motions and mouthed words that I was told are true, but they didn't make sense even in my head, let alone my heart.

The truth is I never really liked going to church. I hated the feeling of always having to perform hoping it would merit affection, both from God and from others. I felt like I’d been set-up. Why exactly was I supposed to do all these things at "church" that felt unnatural and uncomfortable, which left me feeling depressed and hollow inside? I was told by people there, "This is who you are in Christ, isn’t it great?! Now you are expected to do all these things every Sunday and Wednesday" … that I really mostly felt useless doing! If I was supposed to be someone wonderful in Christ, why did I often leave church feeling at best empty and dissatisfied, often like a failure?

Now, you could say I’m out in the wild, and pondering a question: When you take away all the "shoulds" and "supposed to’s," what exactly is left? If I never again tried to walk the Christian walk using either of these terms again, what would happen? I don’t really know. I think this is what Darin was referring to when he wrote that people come to him with "fear that they don't know enough to survive in the wild…. More than anything, I find that people don't trust their hearts to carry and lead them."

Trying to absorb the idea of trusting my heart to carry and lead me feels like handing my 3 year old my credit card and telling her to live it up. Sadly I’m a product of the institutional church. Presumably we need to be elaborately managed every step of the way or we’ll royally screw up. Getting out of this thinking is going to take a while.

To quote Darin again, "There's a point in every Christian's life when they have to just trust that they are a Christian….It's not a question of what to do! It's a question of who you are. Settling in and trusting what you are is what it's all about."

Quoting from Hebrews 4:12, "For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit…it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." Darin’s "Wild" blog hit me like this verse says the Bible does. And I feel like God is asking, do you want to come with me and find out who you really are, what I made you to be?

Is this really allowed? Is someone going to call the doctrine police and tell them to come get me, drag me to a pew and tie me there until I repent? This whole thing makes me nervous. But in a good way. I feel like Forrest Gump in the movie, when he was given his release papers from serving the U.S. Army. I’m looking over my shoulder to see if I’m being followed as I’m running for the door as fast as I can..

Quoting Darin again, "When a tiger that has been raised in captivity is released, there is one important skill to learn. He has to first learn to do NOTHING, and do it well. For most Christians, this sounds like heresy. It feels totally wrong because all we've ever been told is to produce, produce, produce. The moment we stop producing, we begin to feel guilty and condemned."

I felt like the world had stopped in its orbit when I read this. Could this be what God is trying to tell me? It has been heavy on my heart. Step one: trust your heart, because Jesus lives there. I’ve had my fill of splashing around in the shallow end with my stupid plastic blow-up duckie routine of show up, sing the songs, act like you’re bubbling over with spiritual connection as a result of singing the songs, listen to someone else tell you what God is saying, let someone else tell you where to sign up and help the institution, write out your "tithe" check, get in the car and go home. Repeat next week, and next week, and next week… until one day you’ll die and hopefully make it to heaven, if God thinks you did good enough. Drawing a deep breath, I now plunge in a few feet deeper and start floating on my back, noticing that the water is cooler and more refreshing away from the heat and noise of the shore.

These last few months have been wonderful in many ways, but unsettling. I have things I "prostrated in prayer for," over a period of several years. I have a new daughter. I have a new country home. I have a thriving flower and vegetable garden. I have chickens. I have two cute little dogs that are going to grow into big dogs. My husband is home a lot more. We are spending most of our time together just as a family.

These are such incredible blessings that I think I’m still in shock at having received them. I’ve attributed "happy shock" to part of why I feel I’m having trouble enjoying all I now have. But that’s not all of it. After all God has done for me, I have often felt too guilty to enjoy his blessings. We all know the IC's teachings, that God only gives it to you so you can turn around and give it away. In the institution’s eyes, I’d be labeled a total failure. I don’t go to church. I don’t tithe. I haven’t met many new people yet so have few interactions blessing others outside of cyberspace.

But I’m starting to actually get comfortable in my own skin for the first time since becoming a Christian. I love being alone with my family, animals, plants and God. I’ve been encouraged by my friend Aida, who wrote a blog you can read at forgettingtheformerthings.blogspot.com/2008/06/being-alone.html. I am an introvert by nature and I am asking Father to help me "just be an introvert" as a bear is just a bear.

What does it mean to be an introvert? Well, on the rare occasions when time permits, I can stare at a bird feeder for an hour without moving, watching the birds. I have been known to gaze at a tree for several minutes doing the same thing. I have spent happy hours planting flowers and planning what I’m going to put in the garden next. Earlier today, I sat down with my big puppies, or little dogs, and looked into their eyes for several minutes. I am trying to tame my young rooster, Clyde, and get him to like me. I catch him, scoop him up and stroke his head and chin, clucking as best I can imitate and crooning to him. Sometimes my only reward is getting pooped on. Once in a while, he’ll close his eyes and stretch out his neck.

These are non-people related things that I deeply enjoy doing. Institutional church has taught me that these things are not only a frivolous waste of time but among the wood and straw that will be burned on Judgement Day. At each of the charismatic churches we attended, the message was clear: whoever runs the fastest, produces the most, and keeps the widest smile on their face wins the most prizes. So for months, each time I would indulge in one of my "introvert" activities, it felt like sneaking a double brownie fudge sundae when I was supposed to be on a diet. I would feel happy for a minute, then sad and guilty as I pictured God shaking his head and frowning at how little I had to impress Him before the throne. One of the favorite "Scripture Slaps" of the institutional church seems to be 1 Cor. 3: 12-15.

But again, my friend Aida to the rescue! During a discussion we had about her "Being Alone" blog, she told me, "Amy, religion misses the whole point of that scripture. It’s not the "secular" things we do that will be burned up. It’s the things that are done outside of relationship with God. Actually, it’s only the works that Jesus does through us that will last. If he happens to be picking up seashells at the moment and we join him in doing that, then it’ll be a work that survives. However, if he doesn’t happen to be going door to door passing out tracts, then that work will be burned up."

Could my Father God be blessing me to have the time to take joy in simple things, such as thriving petunias, puppies chewing on my shoes, and trying to gain the affection of a formidable-looking young rooster? Could I actually develop a real relationship with the One who loves me by doing such simple, "frivolous" things?

After having been chased with the IC "production" whip for years, it feels at times like heresy. But I think of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. What did they do? They tended the garden, petted the animals and communed with God. They didn’t worry about what God wanted from them - they just "were." They were living as they’d been created - as human beings. (Somehow, in our culture, we’ve gotten the idea that we’re human "doings," and nowhere is this more prevalent than in the Church.) They were doing what Darin is urging us to do - to get back in touch with ourselves and live in the Wild.

Hello out there!

2008-06-26T15:06:00.000-07:00

Hello out there! This is my second attempt at blogging. The first one was lost after a hectic fall last year. I hope that everyone who reads my blog will enjoy it and be blessed! I'm Amy, happily married mom to three wonderful children, one cat, two dogs, seven chickens, and a partridge in a pear tree. (just kidding!)

One focus of this blog will be my journey as a Christian. Another will be living life as an introverted Christian. Being an introvert is a subject I believe the Lord is really encouraging me to think on (ha ha, something we introverts most love to do!) and share with others about.

Y'all have a blessed day,
Amy