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."
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Redneck Jokes for the Week
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.
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.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Bear the Dog
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.
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.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Time for a few redneck jokes
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!
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!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Maybe there is a loving God
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.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Who am I Created to Be?
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.
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!
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
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
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