Becoming Gomer

A Tentative Trust

2010-07-02T10:51:00.000-07:00

If I had to characterize the past few months I would have to say they've been defined by the gradual renewal of a tentative trust. That trust is a fragile thing, I'll admit. I don't know how well it would hold up in the face of a big blow, but at least there is a trust there and steps are being taken forward.

Time and distance from the painful events that sparked this journey have helped to ease the anger and pain, and they've given me the opportunity to see how God's hand was in it all and how His purpose was guiding and driving even the most painful things that seemed like they would capsize me. I've been rather amazed to see how He's taken "that which was meant for evil" (or rather that which looked like disaster) and turn it into the catalyst for a much greater blessing or provision. And as I've seen Him do so, my broken trust is slowly beginning to reach out it's fearful hand toward Him and hope that I can find refuge.

Along with that trust is coming a desire to get to know Him again. It's hard, though. There's a fragility inside me that shrinks away from my traditional background. Those truths seem so very harsh, and I fear getting too close to them because they might shatter me. I even tried going back to church but found I wasn't quite ready. In truth, I started to panic and left the building before the service even started. Who ever thought I would be afraid to go to church? LOL. Oddly enough, I'm not afraid of God. I'm just terrified of His people and their institutions. And while many of my beliefs have changed or been "tweaked", so much of that foundation has remained rock solid. I question the things that don't resonate with me, I wrestle with the teachings that seem harsh to my heart, but the fundamental core has remained unshaken. I still believe in God. I still believe in Jesus, and I believe in His teachings, even though I may wrestle with the teachings of His followers. I have no doubt whatsoever in Jesus as my Savior. I know I'm a sinner, and I know it is His sacrifice, His love, that will save me from myself and make me into the woman He created me to be. My "theology" is, for the most part, pretty much the same. Being open to hear others hasn't turned me into a melting pot for any and every belief that appeals to me. That's rather reassuring. I feel as though He has held onto me. And I'm starting to feel Him calling me back, though back to what I'm not sure. So perhaps "Hosea" will come after "Gomer" after all, and it will be very interesting to see what their relationship looks like in the end. Certainly nothing like what it was, but perhaps more real, more true, more interconnected and more intimate. Perhaps more fulfilling. Perhaps what it always should have been. Perhaps.

I revisited "The Shack" a few weeks ago and felt that He said something to me. In the main character's first interaction with God, Sarayu (the Holy Spirit character) brushes his tears into a little bottle, telling him that everyone collects things they value, and she values tears. I've always loved that imagery from the Old Testament, God keeping our tears in a bottle. And I felt in my heart that he said to me, "Your pain matters to me." Even now, that simple sentence makes my eyes tear up. My pain, however small and however large, matters to Him. My brokenness, carried so deeply for so many years, matters to Him. And He understands why I left. He understands why I couldn't go on in that way anymore, desperately trying to salvage my sinking boat by tossing out buckets of water.

So here we are. Moving forward. It's probably pretty laughable if you could see it in a spiritual sense - my tentative, fearful steps and His gentle coaxing. What is there to be afraid of? And yet I'm afraid. But the trust has been reestablished, even if only a little. And little by little, I'm taking baby steps back toward my God.

Trying to Find "Happy"

2009-11-20T11:58:00.001-08:00

I’ve been wrestling lately with the idea of happiness, since happiness seems to be rather elusive for me. There are those who say I’m negative, and to a degree they are right, though it’s rather rude and hurtful of them to state so with such bluntness and so little feeling. I think it’s pretty commonly accepted that some of us are naturally predisposed to see the depressing while others are naturally predisposed toward the hopeful. How much of that is genetic or environmental conditioning I don’t know. Regardless of the source, I’m naturally predisposed toward the depressing. I’m not sure if that predisposition can be changed so that one’s permanent setting is always on the bright side (How pleasant!), but I do believe that even if the internal settings can’t be changed – and perhaps they can – with hard work you can force yourself to make it a habit to look on the bright side and focus on it, whether the habit comes naturally or not.

Um… hardest thing ever!

There are a myriad of factors that pop into my head, though, when I start to explore the idea of happiness. Is it possible to be happy, for instance, when the deepest longings of your heart go unsatisfied year after year – starvation of the soul rather than the body? How do you find happy when the life you live is nothing like the life you long for and you can no longer feel any real sense of hope that you will ever find what you long for? When my best friend and her husband struggled with infertility for years and lived with a pain that eventually began to overshadow everything else, how were they supposed to find happy? You can find peace or acceptance, but can you find happy? I’m not sure. The reason I ask is because I feel as though I’m drowning in sadness right now. Again. Story of my fucking life.

Taken in account, I have much to be thankful for in my life, and because of the work I do I’m reminded on a daily basis how fortunate I am and how happy I should be when compared to the trials of others: people struggling with diseases, poverty, abuse, great loss. Compared to many, if not most, in the world, my little longings are meaningless. But saying that hurts because it trivializes a pain that is all too real, and my reality is that the starvation of the soul can ravage one as deeply as the starvation of the body. It can change a person and make them unkind in ways they hate. It can twist you into something ugly so that you feel resentment toward those who “have it easy” or “get everything they want” and especially those who get what you want, even if the way they get it isn’t how you would want to.

That’s how the ugly is coming out of me right now. I can’t find it in myself to be happy for people who get what I want. Not everyone, of course, but there are a handful of people in my life that I’d just as soon shut the door on and never speak to again. The thought of them induces eye rolling and a strong desire to yell, “Fuck you! Leave me the fuck alone!” Ugly, I know. Try knowing that is inside you. You can start to hate yourself for it. The crazy thing is that at least two of the people I feel this way about are people I haven’t seen in a couple of years and with whom I have minimal contact. Neither has committed any serious wrong toward me, but I am angry at them for nothing more than the fact that they got what I want, they get to be happy and I don’t.

Seriously, maybe I should go find myself a cabin in the woods somewhere so that my venom won’t hurt anyone. Jealousy is a horrible thing to carry. I hate that I feel that way. I think it makes me a horrible person, though my best friend, who bears the dubious honor of hearing my most honest confessions, assures me that I’m merely human. But how awful to feel things that you detest feeling and not be able to stop feeling them.

I know that those feelings are the natural result of deep pain. Even kind intent seems like a threat to a wounded animal when it’s cornered, and this wound has been bleeding out for years.

The thing is this: I want to be happy, and I wonder if it’s possible. If I could change my circumstances, I would. I can’t though. I’ve tried. There are some things that are simply beyond your control. I can leave myself open to opportunity and can even seek out opportunity, but I can’t force opportunity to find me. If I could, I would. So what do I do? I don’t want that to doom me to a life of despair and longing. Shoot me now because it’s just not worth continuing if that’s all there is ahead.

One solution is to focus my attention on other things. I’ve done it often enough in the past, but it never fixes the problem, and even as I invest myself elsewhere, I’m aware of the ONE BIG THING that’s still starving inside like a giant elephant in the room that no one wants to acknowledge, its mouth duck-taped shut to ensure it doesn’t bother anyone with its demands. You can refocus, but the elephant is always there.

You can fake it, but who wants to do that.

You can “choose” happiness, as some people say, but that’s never made all that much sense to me. I guess that means choosing to be thankful and choosing to focus on all the things that are good in your life. I’m working on it. I really am. I’m trying to remember every day that, despite the pain, my life overall is moving in a progressively better direction than it was even six months ago, that not every dream is beyond my reach, even though those that mean the most seem to be. But I’ll be honest, that seems like more of a stop-gap measure or a survival technique. It gets you through, but it’s not happiness. And what I want is not more survival or distractions or a few more stop-gaps. I want the war to be over, the pain to be finished and that elusive little bluebird of happiness to build a big, fat nest on my shoulder and never fly again.

Waking up Late

2009-10-27T13:44:00.001-07:00

I’ve been reading a fun little mystery novel lately that’s been enjoyable, but no more. And then today during my lunch, I ran across a conversation between the “detective” priest and a nun that really resonated with me. Their conversation deals with how each of them came to dedicate their lives to the church as young adults. The nun, in particular, shares her personal journey as a young, devoted nun who eventually left the cloister to live in Seville, still keeping her vows and living her faith and not renouncing her order, but not living the typical nun’s life. As I read her story, something she said really resonated with me because it summed up so perfectly a core element of my personal spiritual journey to where I am now.

She says, “What can a nun do when she realizes, at age forty, that she’s still the same little girl dominated by her father? A child who, out of intense desire not to displease him, not to commit any sin, has committed the even greater sin of not really living her own life. Is it wise, or is it stupid and irresponsible, at eighteen, to renounce worldly love, and with it trust, surrender, sex? What is a woman to do when these feelings come too late?”

In her case, the father was her biological father, but in mine it was God as my Father. Now, of course, I don’t feel He ever “dominated” me, but the rest of what she says is spot on. Out of my intense desire not to displease Him, not to commit any sin, I committed the greater sin of not living my own life, of not daring to make a mistake and need His grace, of not spreading my wings and taking flight into the wonderful mystery of my truest dreams and passions. For so many years I tried so hard to be so good, and I never felt truly satisfied that my standards of “good” (which I also thought were His standards) had been met. Like her, I devoted myself while I was too young to really understand that I was renouncing my life. Not that I think renouncing one’s life for Jesus is a bad thing or a waste. But I think that, in my case at least, the life I renounced was more what I thought He wanted, not what He was actually looking for. And then as time went on and my devotion didn’t produce the wholeness I sought and my deeper passions started to surface, and my idea of what a meaningful life would look like began to really take shape, the reality of what I had found began to truly pale.

Let me put this in more concrete terms in the hope that it will make more sense. When I first dedicated my life, I knew in my heart that God had a special purpose for my life. I knew that I was “called” and created for something special. That part I still believe was from Him, and I don’t doubt that it’s still true. But back then, I was afraid of making a mistake or doing something wrong or exploring all that was around me, so I automatically assumed that the purpose I sensed was a call to full-time ministry, which in my mind, for a number of years, meant marrying a pastor, missionary or evangelist and serving faithfully by his side. As time went on, my understanding of ministry and the possible role I might have in it began to change. I was less focused on what my theoretical husband was called to do, though it wasn’t off my radar, and more aware of what my role might look like. However, I still saw us as working in a “full-time ministry” type of capacity. Wrapped up in all of this, of course, was my rigid sense of right and wrong, black and white. I lived a really good life and was constantly striving to live a better one. I didn’t do all the things good Christians weren’t supposed to do: swear, drink, have sex, smoke, do drugs, watch TV, fraternize with unbelievers, wear revealing clothes, indulge too much in thoughts about worldly pursuits, etc. I studied my Bible and read only Christian books and listened to nothing but praise and worship music. Even most regular Christian music was too frivolous. Only praise and worship would do. I had a calling and a destiny, and the only way to get there was too live an absolutely pure life, completely unsoiled by the filth of the world. How I expected to understand the needs of those I thought I was supposed to minister to, I don’t know. I certainly had no concept of the issues they were dealing with, but I just knew that the only way to be used of God was to be as unworldly as possible.

As I got into my late twenties, I started feeling a longing for adventure. I discovered a deep love of hiking, and as I continued to hike, I found a desire to be adventurous and explore my world. I also found that I really felt a drive to get to know “unbelievers” on a really deep, personal level. I wanted to be a part of their lives, helping them, strengthening them, being a true friend. And while all these new things were springing up in me, I was struggling with my own dissatisfaction and disillusionment, which I’ve shared about in the past. All that seeking and striving and longing and reaching had yielded a tiny fraction of the relationship I had longed to find with God. I was bone dry, empty, and losing hope. I realized I had spent most of my twenties waiting for God to jumpstart my life – the life I was convinced He wanted for me – and I was about to bump into thirty with nothing to show for any of it.

That’s when I started making mistakes and realizing that it was okay. I started feeling the undeniable internal demand to start living before it was too late. And I’m still trying to do that. I haven’t forsaken my God, though a lot of traditional folks would think so. I haven’t forgotten Him, and I haven’t stopped talking to Him. I still don’t want to displease Him, but I’m no longer so dominated by that desire that I don’t live my life. Some people would say that sounds like rebellion, and to them I’m sure it does, but honestly it’s more about being a child, free to grow and learn and make mistakes. Free to make choices and fall down and get up. Free to rethink the choices of youth and scrap the old assumptions that would have bound me in a destiny I’m not meant for. In so many ways I’m back at square one, but this time I get to start the game with the benefit of more knowledge. I still know there’s a meaning and purpose for my life. I still sense, even as I sit hemmed in by the three walls of my cubicle and sort through emails and go to meetings that I’m not meant for this. I’m meant for something more. My life wasn’t initiated with these barriers in mind. But this time, I will listen, and I will explore, and I will try new things, and hopefully I will do all of this without the burden of my old convictions that I know where I’m headed and what I’m supposed to do. And I may take some wrong paths. I may find that this avenue or that seemed right but turned out to be something that wasn’t the perfect fit. But at least I will try those roads before ruling them out, and I will live this life, not wrap it up in a neat little box where it will scream to be let out until I have quietly suffocated it.

Anyhow, didn’t mean to get into it all that much. I really just wanted to share the quote because it really resonated with me. LOL. But I’m long-winded so… Here’s to LIFE!

Embracing the Journey or Ignoring the Truth?

2009-10-26T14:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve been giving some thought to a conversation I had with a couple good friends Saturday morning over breakfast. We touched on some issues that have real complexity for all true Christ followers. And when it comes to engaging these issues, Christ followers are all over the map.

One of the things I love about their church (I also consider it my church, though I haven’t been there in a long while. Really need to go back.) is the way it embraces people wherever they are in their journey of/toward faith. Perhaps in no way is this more evident than in the fact that the church has several homosexual couples who attend regularly. Most of the Fundy folks I know would be horrified at the thought that a church would allow homosexuals into the fellowship, which makes me wonder how much they really understand the heart and mission of Jesus. (Just my two cents, but shouldn't the church be seeking these people and bringing them in?) But I’m not here to throw stones. Frankly, I think it’s a beautiful and wonderful thing that these individuals, so long alienated by the universal church, have finally found a “hospital” that will treat them, along with all the other “patients” who have more spiritually acceptable “ailments.” What’s more amazing, though, is that this is a church with a pastor who doesn’t water down his message. When approached by one of these couples, he spoke kindly and honestly, telling them that the Bible calls homosexuality sinful, but that it also talks about a lot of other sins, so as far as he is concerned, they are welcome to join all the other sinners in the church to be ministered to. How beautiful!

I was surprised to hear, though, that a small minority of the people in the church object to the presence of these homosexuals. It’s not that they don’t want them to attend, or so I understand. It’s that these gay couples are still actively practicing homosexuality and, therefore, as these people see it, they shouldn’t be embraced as though they are living a holy life.

The situation raises some challenging questions, and both sides have valid points, making it tricky for me to strike a clearly defined balance. At what cost to truth do we embrace an individual’s spiritual journey? And at what cost to an individual’s spiritual journey do we demand compliance with black and white law? When you attempt to take both sides into account, it makes it really hard to come up with an honest answer.

On the one hand you have the Fundies, and if you’re going to take the Bible seriously you have to give their point of view the credit it deserves. Homosexuality isn’t something the Bible minces words about. It’s not a gray area. I can’t say that I fully understand that, because trying to understand why God doesn’t like the homosexual lifestyle is something I struggle with. But if you’re going to do business with the Bible, it’s there in black and white. On the other hand, you have the more liberal view: we’re all sinners of one kind or another, and not one of us lives a perfectly pure life, no matter how hard we may try. There are countless other sins of omission or commission: fornication, theft, dishonesty, gossip, gluttony, hatred, unforgiveness, a judgmental heart, selfishness. I could go on, but I’ve probably already hit on at least one sin that each my readers struggles with and/or fails at miserably. God makes it clear that sin is sin, no matter what kind of sin happens to be your personal favorite. As far as He’s concerned they’re all on the same level. So the more liberal argument goes that since we’re all sinners and we all live in sin in one way or another, why would we single out one group of sinners as worse or less deserving or less welcome at God’s table of vagabonds than the rest? We can’t and shouldn’t. And I absolutely agree with that.

In one respect, I think the issue comes down to one of the struggle, or lack thereof, to change. My guess is that the dissenters would not object to these homosexuals being embraced by the church if they were choosing to remain celibate. (I also wonder if they would be so concerned about someone living in ongoing sin if that person were, say, cheating on his taxes or perpetuating an ugly feud with his neighbor instead of being a homosexual. But that's another matter.) Not knowing who these individuals are and not having spoken with them, I can't say that is certainly the case, but that would be my guess. And again, there's something valid in that. The Bible does have something to say about allowing people to remain in fellowship who are choosing to continue living in willful sin. To put it gently, it doesn't endorse it. But I have to be honest and say that something deep inside me recoils fiercely at the thought of any Christ follower approaching these souls that are so dear to God and telling them not to come back. I'm sorry; I just can't see Jesus doing that. And for those of you out there who so love justice, I'll just point you to the literal example of Jesus and Judas. Jesus knew what Judas was up to the entire time he served in His ministry. Judas didn't start sinning when he betrayed Jesus. He'd been up to a whole lot of other nasty business all along, and it was no secret to Jesus. But He didn't kick him out. Just something to consider...

Here's where the concept of journey comes into play again. Truthfully, we all take a spiritual journey with God. I can't tell you how many times I've heard about God bringing something to someone's attention they weren't aware of or wrestling with their heart for many months or years over a particular issue they didn't want to change in. Does the fact that the He has to cultivate change in the heart over the long-term make someone any less His child? Hell no!

I wish I could find some kind of firm ground here. I know that proponents of both sides would say that firm ground should be clear and evident to me, but honestly it isn't. There is validity on both sides. I don't think that people can go around for years at a time doing whatever the hell they want or choosing to live in blatant sin and it should be okay, and I don't think the church should "endorse" behaviors that are spoken about in black and white in the Bible. But I also don't think they should be kicked out or treated like garbage or judged by other recovering sinners. I know the Fundies would probably condemn me to hell for saying it, but even in my most conservative days, some part of me really had a difficult time with Paul's teachings on how to deal with sinners in the fellowship. It's one of those things that God and I need to come to an understanding about because it sincerely bothers my heart.

So I'm torn. I wish I could side clearly with one group or another, or that I could come to a place where the ideal solution could be found that would take both sides into account, but that hasn't presented itself. Perhaps in time it will come, or perhaps the answer is simply that no answer is right in every situation. Perhaps each church and minister and Christ follower must seek God's heart and wisdom for each situation, remember that love must be central and judgment must be tempered by mercy.

Two Kinds of Blindness

2009-10-22T10:49:00.000-07:00

Surprise! I'm back! You thought I wasn't ever going to write on this thing again, didn't you? Wait... where is everyone? LOL. I admit I have shamefully neglected this blog for a very long stretch of months, but... what can I say. Life is life. I'm just happy I was able to log back on. Almost didn't remember my password!

Having said that, I have some thoughts to share today, and they tie in to much of what I've said in previous postings. I can't promise I'll become a regular poster again, but I'm sensing another shift beginning to take place, which may mean my little fingers will be typing thoughts. I know this new shift is gonna take me toward God, but I don't yet know exactly what that's going to look like. I keep toying with the idea of going back to church. Still not quite ready yet, but I've had the opportunity in recent months to re-engage with some former friends of Fundy days who have gone through a similar transformation. I can't tell you how encouraging it is to be able to add names and faces to "the circle of trust" - people I can speak with honestly without fear of getting a sermon or an unwelcome dose of their "traditional" thoughts. I'll be able to listen to traditional thoughts again someday, but there's still some journeying to do before that. For now, it's a comfort to find fellow refugees to confide in and be transparent with.

ANYWAY... Blah, blah, blah. A thought occurred to me recently that I've rolled around in my head, intending to write on it but never actually doing so. Then it came up in a conversation I had last night with one of those fellow refugees, and I decided it was time to unpack it here. I've come to realize that there are two kinds of spiritual blindness in the world. One comes from living in the darkness. That's the obvious kind. The other kind is less obvious. It's the blindness that comes from living too close to the light. (Yes, my Fundy friends, there I go again! Haha. Apparently six months of blog inactivity haven't cured me of my horrid and heretical thoughts!) Seriously, though, give it some thought. What happens when you stare into the sun for too long? You go blind. What happens when someone turns on a light, even a faint light, in a completely dark room. Everyone squints, temporarily blinded by the brightness. The truth is, there can be just as much blindness in perfect, pure, bright light as there is in the blackest darkness.

It reminds me of something that happened in my favorite Narnia book, Voyage of the Dawn Treader. As the adventurers near the end of their journey and the eastern end of the world, the light around them becomes brighter on a daily basis, so much brighter, in fact, that the book says they have to drink the water they are sailing in, a type of liquid light, so that the light from the sun won't blind them. I've always found that to be an intriguing story element: as they journey nearer to the eastern edge of the world - the country of Aslan, who fills the role of the Christ-figure - they are in great danger of becoming blinded by the ever-increasing light. It's especially interesting because Aslan is most often written as the wild yet just yet deeply loving son of the Great King beyond the sea. You don't see a lot of him in the "bright and glorious holiness" manifestation. And that in itself is interesting, as though Lewis understood that we can't deal too much with that side of God while still entrenched in our human flesh. But I'm getting off point here: blinded by light. Ahem.

It's a fascinating concept to me, and it's one that is highly consistent with Biblical narrative. Paul was blinded by the glory of God. Moses had to be protected from the brightness of Him, unable to see but a small part of Him, and even that was almost too much. The Bible even says that God lives in "unapproachable light." Hmm. This light is generally attributed to be the physical manifestation of God's holiness, purity and glory - the part of His nature that is most foreign, and honestly most frightening, to most of us humans. If you must know, God's holiness is a facet of His nature I'd just as soon pretend isn't there. Not denying it exists. Not pretending I won't have to address it. Not saying I can truly know Him without coming to terms with that. I'm just not ready to deal with that part of Him yet, and I've told Him so. Honestly, I don't believe you can safely deal with His holiness, spiritually or emotionally, until you have a deep and personal understanding of His love and grace. Either it will scare the shit out of you or it will blind you to the point that you become a legalistic, self-righteous bastard. Probably shouldn't use those words when talking about the holiness of God, I know, but you get the point. And honestly, though the Bible certainly doesn't put it in the words I've used, I find it interesting that it acknowledges that the closer you get to the light of God's holiness, the more likely you are to be blinded by it.

There's a lot of this blindness in the church today. (You knew I was going to go there, didn't you.) It's an unintentional blindness, and ironically, it is often those who have the most light and who are, therefore, most blind, that are most blind to their own blindness. Haha. Are you confused yet? It certianly adds a whole new dimension to Jesus' teaching on the blind leading the blind, doesn't it? Those who are blinded by light trying to lead those who are blinded by darkness, and they both end up in a pit. I'm just sayin'.

My parents used to use a couple of phrases when I was growing up that resonate with this concept, though these phrases express it in different ways: "He can't see the forest for the trees" and "He's so spiritually minded, he's no earthly good." In many ways, these phrases described my sincere spirituality of more innocent days. Oddly enough, taking a few steps away from the blinding whiteness of the light has helped me to see far more clearly, even if it has cost me. Like many who are blinded by the light, I had no context with which I could even attempt to understand the issues, temptations and perspectives of people outside the church, and even, for that matter, liberal minds within the church. I had no mercy, compassion, or respect for the journey, even my own. I was missing the humble, cracked hands of a sweat-stained carpenter because I was so busy trying to pierce the brilliant veil of the Untouchable.

Now I realize that it sounds like I have no use for the holy. I know it must seem as though I'm endorsing a hedonistic embrace of the darkness, but that's not what I'm saying. Blindness in darkness is, quite possibly, even more to be dreaded than blindness in light. I'm simply saying that we, like the travelers in Lewis's Narnia, need to partake of something capable of mitigating those blinding effects, and that something is an ever deepening experience of God's love and grace. We need to recognize that so long as we move toward nothing but the light, we also move further away from those the light wants to shine on. And wasn't that the whole point of Jesus leaving His glory behind anyway - to join us in the darkness and shine that faint light that would draw us to ever greater light in the end? And that, perhaps, is my point in all this. So long as we are blinded by the light, so long as our lives are consumed in its unmitigated brightness, so long as we look on the world around us without the personal experience of love, compassion, grace and even failure, we will be useless - so heavenly minded we are no earthly good. But when tempered by these things, the light of God gets inside us, and instead of blinding us, it becomes illumination, both for us and those around us.

And by the way, this "blindness by light" I'm talking about can manifest itself in so many ways: legalism, isolationism, self-righteousness, lack of mercy, dogmatic views, disunity, a lack of teachability, and the list goes on. It's kind of scary how quickly you can lose true vision and perspective. And once again, it sounds like I don't like the light. Nothing could be further from the truth. Light is absolutely necessary. Without it, we are purposeless, lost, stuck, directionless. Without light, our destiny is too terrible to imagine. But we must understand, as we walk deeper into that light, that "the light shines in the darkness."

Clipped Wings

2009-04-02T14:27:00.000-07:00

A friend recently bought me a copy of the New York Times bestseller, "The Shack," by William Young. I'll just start this off by saying if you haven't read it, do yourself a favor and get your hands on a copy. It's some of the worst editing I've ever seen, but the story and the message and the way it speaks to the reader are so powerful that you quickly forget this. I'm not a big crier at any time, but I can't sit down to read this without my eyes getting teary and finding myself touched in some really deep places, which is why I'm writing today.

I don't want to give too much away, but in the story Mack (the main character) is invited to spend a weekend with God - face to face - in order to deal with some really painful wounds and losses he's been through that have impacted his ability to have relationship with God. From the moment Mack "meets" God, I found myself on constant tear alert. The warmth, exuberance, openness and acceptance with which he is greeted are utterly disarming, and I found myself envious, longing and wondering why God doesn't do this sort of thing for us in the real world. What a difference it would make in our lives, you know? But even as I felt these things, I also felt happy because I know that the picture this author has given about how God feels toward us is as close to truth as we can get.

As God and Mack start really digging into Mack's issues, God explains that we were created to be loved, and when we live as though we are unloved we become like birds whose wings have been clipped so they are unable to fly. That hit me so powerfully, and I began to wonder what my life would look like if I could come to the place where I could live as one who is loved by God. How might something so powerful change my relationships, my lifestyle, my career, my passions, my goals?

I think I'm halfway there with this, but I'm not finished with the journey, and if God and I can sort this out, I think it will be the answer to a lot of the raw pain and honest self-revelations I've written about in this blog. In all the years I waited on God to make me feel whole, I was really waiting to feel loved. And in saying that I want to make something very clear. I don't need someone to convince me that God loves me. I don't need someone to tell me God loves me. I don't even need to come to a place where I believe that God loves me. I'm already there. I already know it. I'm convinced to a point that is even, perhaps, beyond faith. I don't just believe it; I know it. There's a difference there. I had several encounters with God during my Fundy years that were incredibly powerful in that way, times when a love so big and rich and powerful wrapped itself around me without warning and I couldn't help but feel loved, like that love was so rich and powerful and absolute that it didn't just surround me; it permeated my very cells and the trillions of atoms that come together to form this body. I know how exaggerated that sounds, but it's absolutely true. I remember those moments, and the ones that were most powerful and had the most profound impact on me were not moments I had to search for, work for, or fight for. They were moments I stumbled into, like the time I drove around a corner on my way to church and was so overcome without warning that I nearly had to pull over, overwhelmed at the wave of love that hit me. Sounds crazy, I know, but it happened.

Here's where the problem came in... it didn't happen enough. That's why I never got to that place of feeling really complete or really whole or really loved. I needed something more frequent than every few months or once or twice a year. Maybe that sounds like a lot to expect or ask from God, but I don't think it is. I can't imagine having a husband or boyfriend who thought it was enough to say, "I love you," once or twice a year. That relationship would get unhealthy really quickly. I don't want to be with someone whose mentality is, "I told you I loved you last week. You shouldn't need to hear it every day to know it's true." But whether I should or not, I do. I don't want to merely live with the knowledge that my significant other loves me; I want to live with the reality, the experience. I want to be with someone who reminds me of his enthusiasm toward me every day, whether that be through his words, his touch, his affectionate nicknames, his expressed desire to spend time with me. I want him to reach out and touch the chord of my emotions with the intention of making me feel loved, treasured, and desired. And if I need and want this in a relationship that is merely human, how much more would I desire it from God? How much more deeply would I long for the One whose love I need the most to tell me every day in ways I can feel just how much I mean to Him? Just as I wouldn't want my husband to make love to me once a week - or worse, once a year - and expect me to be satisfied the rest of the time with knowing I was loved but not feeling loved, I don't want to go through life simply knowing that God loves me and waiting 18 months until the next time He chooses to reach back and surround me.

Perhaps that sounds unreasonable, and truthfully I'm not saying I need or expect a mind-blowing spiritual experience every day of my life. But some "routine maintenance" would be nice. I wouldn't need to have an uber-romantic encounter with my husband or boyfriend every day, but a touch or a hug in passing combined with the occasional use of an affectionate nickname or a request for a little focused conversation and an "I love you" would go a long way toward making me feel loved in the in-between times.

So back to the book... what would my life be like if that were happening with God, if He reached out every day to touch my emotions in some way small or large that said, "I love you. I treasure you. I'm so glad I created you. You are mine." I can't even begin to imagine. Having such an excess of love in your life would undoubtedly make you a more loving, patient, giving person with others. You wouldn't ever feel insecure. You'd never feel the need to prove yourself. You wouldn't have to prove to everyone else in the lifeboat that you were worthy of love, approval and praise, as Donald Miller writes about. You wouldn't worry about stuff because you would live in absolute security that it's all under control and will ultimately work out for the best. You'd be at peace, full of joy, unafraid. You would be free to fly because you wouldn't have clipped wings.

I don't know anyone who lives that way, though. Or at least not all the time. And I wish God would help me understand this because the more I think about it, living in the daily light of God's love sounds an awful lot like heaven to me.

Playing "Twenty Questions" with God

2009-03-24T12:08:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in my last posting that I’ve really begun to talk some things over with God, and I want to explore a little more of what that has entailed. I think all of my questions are meaningful, but perhaps the most emotionally charged has been “Why? Why did you hold me at arms length for so many years? Why did you stand back and deny me the wholeness I begged for? Why didn’t you fill the aching longing I brought you?”

I’ve shared in previous posts that I have felt little traditional guilt over having shared myself physically with two different men over the course of two relationships. But where traditional guilt has been lacking, I have instead felt a deep grief over this. It’s not an emotion I live with day in and day out, but it certainly does surface from time to time, and when it does, it does so with a vengeance. (Honestly, I’m beginning to believe that this grief I have felt is far closer to true conviction and the way God deals with our hearts than the Fundy version of guilt we’re all so fond of.)

I found myself sitting at the kitchen table just last week having this “Why?” conversation with God and finding that my eyes were filling with tears as that grief welled up again. I found myself saying, “I don’t blame you for my choices, but we both have to admit that I would probably never have made those choices if you had responded to me a little more often all those years.”

It’s an interesting paradox I find myself in. As I said, there is that deep grief, but it is so very strange to experience that grief without an accompanying sense of guilt, and honestly, for a former Fundy that’s more than a bit disturbing. It also leads me to one of the many questions I’ve been asking lately. Why was this wrong? (Joanna, if you still check in and read this blog, please don’t freak out. LOL.) But honestly, that’s a question I’ve really wrestled with. Why was it wrong or sinful for me to give myself to someone? Now, of course, I can give you good theological answers, and those answers make sense. For starters, however elementary the answer may be, it’s wrong because God says it’s wrong. It’s a very simplistic answer, and I think that a searching mind will ultimately be dissatisfied with something of that nature. I can accept it on one level because I believe God has more than arbitrary reasons for the things He commands. I also get the idea that the Bible teaches that when a man and woman share sexual intimacy it goes far beyond a mere physical encounter. The Bible would teach that it actually creates a spiritual union, and though it may not feel like it in the moment of passion, you can see or sense that union as time goes on. There is a strange connection you feel with a person that can’t be explained by other means, and perhaps part of God’s commandment is an attempt to protect us from the terrible pain we feel when the relationship ends and we must try to sever this bond.

But despite all of this, I am looking for an answer because on an emotional level it doesn’t make sense to me. I wrestle with the thought that God says I’m not to give myself to a guy, especially when I may be committed to him, care about him deeply, and sincerely desire to express that care in a physical way. And yet I’m not supposed to do that until the two of us have publicly said words of commitment and signed a paper that says we will file joint tax returns till death. (I’m not in any way devaluing marriage, by the way. I greatly value marriage and the statement that it makes and all that it is and stands for.)

All of this is so challenging. The theological side of me gets it, but the emotional side doesn’t. It’s very frustrating, and so it’s one of the questions I’ve really been bringing to Him lately. And here’s another that will stir the pot. What’s wrong with being gay?

Yeah, I know. I really crossed the line there. But before you lose yourself in outrage, take a second and listen to me. I don’t need you to give me the theological reasons. I understand them very well. What I’m wrestling with is what I feel in my heart now that I actually know some gay people and have seen how beautiful and loving they are. I get the whole idea that what they are doing is a perversion of God’s system and setup. I get the idea that it just seems wrong from a physiological perspective, that it doesn’t seem to fit in with the natural order. I don’t need anyone to preach me that sermon, so please, if you feel so inspired, I'd rather you didn't. You aren't going to say anything I don't already know. But I struggle with the knowledge that some people truly do have these feelings from a young age, that not every gay man was sexually abused by another man, that most people would probably not “choose” to be gay because why on earth would anyone want to put up with the shit that most gay people deal with?

So I’m asking God… explain this to my heart. My head gets it. My heart doesn’t. I need my heart to understand. It’s not that I’m challenging God and demanding that He answer to me. I just honestly don’t get it, and I need to and want to.

Going Home

2009-03-17T12:55:00.000-07:00

This will be short, but I've been wanting to say it for a couple of months now because I'm beginning to sense a shift in my journey. It's as though, somehow, I'm being directed home. That doesn't mean I'll be going anywhere near my old church. Not gonna happen. When I get myself back in church it will be at All Saints. (If you haven't checked out their website or listened to one of the messages online, please do so. I can promise you it will touch your life.) I'm not quite ready to take that step yet, but there are moments when I almost feel as though I'm being "shepherded" in that direction. And we all know who's responsible for that. LOL.

However, I'm finding that God and I are talking more often, and I'm really beginning to engage Him about stuff. Rather than just thinking about the questions I have, I'm talking to Him about them.

Back in November, I started to sense the shift underway, and it really began kicking in after the first of the year. I was just driving in my car one night when that Daughtry song started playing on the radio, and I swear to you that song was to written for me.

I'm staring out into the night,

Trying to hide the pain.

I'm going to the place where love

And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.

And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

Well I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old,

So I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,

The closer I get to you.

I've not always been the best man or friend for you.

But your love remains true.

And I don't know why.

You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old,

So I'm going home.

If You Want To Know What's Really Inside, Don't Read the Label

2009-01-27T18:38:00.000-08:00

Ha! Hard to believe I've neglected this blog for two months, but between the holidays and going through a breakup, I just haven't had any mojo for writing, let alone much time. Besides, I don't really think anyone reads this thing, so I don't suppose it matters whether I write or not.

Anyhow, I've been thinking a lot lately about the huge chasm that exists between Christ followers and non-Christ followers, and I have this theory that I think has some merit. I think the problem comes in because of our tendency to use mental labels on people. Whether we like it or not, we humans have this bent toward categorizing everyone and everything, and this really stirs up the pot when it comes to living in relevant relationship with people who don't share our fundamental beliefs.

Not so many years ago, I remember being almost fearful of "non-believers." My reasoning: I can't relate to them. What a joke that turned out to be! The truth was that I couldn't relate to them because of the mental label (category) I'd created for them in my head, not because we had nothing in common. It's only been in the past two years that I've learned to throw away my labels and start taking people one on one. And what a difference! I've developed meaningful relationships with people I wouldn't have ever been able to relate to before. One's a homeless climbing bum who barely scrapes by and spends a lot of nights sleeping on his friends' couches. I don't see a label when I think of him. I see him, his face, his name. I see an intelligent, capable and courageous man who dares to sacrifice in order to live the kind of life I wish I could enjoy, free of the clinging arms of corporate America. Another friend is an atheist. We don't agree on anything, but we're real with each other, and she's one of the first people I hunt down when I need a sympathetic ear and some solid advice. One of my friends is a lesbian, and it never ceases to amaze me when I find myself catching up with her and being solicited for relationship advice. Me of all people giving relationship advice to a lesbian! But she isn't a lesbian to me. She's just herself, my friend. She's not a label. She's a person.

I have other friends that labels could once have kept me from: a convicted criminal, an alcoholic party girl, a crack addict. And I love them all dearly. To me they are faces, names, personalities, shared memories. They are the souls who fill my life, the ones who hug me and care for me and offer me the hand of unconditional friendship.

This use of mental labels in the church separates Christ followers from non-Christ followers much the same way that labels have always separated people. I won't use the horrible label that was so often applied to African Americans in days not too far removed. But there have been other labels throughout time. Slaves, serfs, peasants. People have made labels based on race, class, intelligence level, type of career, religion, sex, size, and the list goes on and on. And with those labels they have included a list of assumptions and beliefs that give definition and meaning to the label. Whether those assumptions are true of all those who are labeled ceases to matter. The label defines them and dictates how they should be treated.

I think it's time we did away with labels. I think it's time we stopped looking at people and defining them as wicked or depraved. They're just people. They're just names and faces, broken dreams and broken lives. They're just hearts and souls looking for the same love and comfort and home that we're looking for. They're just looking for it in different places and ways.

Sleeping with the Enemy

2008-11-25T16:08:00.000-08:00

I've been reading a book lately with a character whose storyline has really been turning my mental wheels. She's fairly complex, and I really resonate with her.

As a young woman, her home country is attacked by an evil tyrant. When he wins the war against her people, he savagely destroys its cities, even obliterating the memory of its name and history from the minds of all but those born in it. Women and children are brutally killed in his thirst for vengeance until few survivors are left, most of whom are refugees who try to make a life for themselves in neighboring kingdoms. In a short amount of time, this character loses her father in battle and then her mother to mental illness. One of the few survivors, she vows to avenge her kingdom by entering the tyrant's harem, gaining his trust, and then killing him. But something unexpected happens. As a member of his harem, she becomes addicted to the pampered life he provides her and the pleasures of his bed. Before she knows it, twelve years have passed during which she's become one of his most favored courtesans, and during which some part of her has learned to love the evil creature who destroyed her homeland, ravaged the innocent families that once lived there, and destroyed the memories of all that it once was. She hates him, but she loves him. She knows what he is and despises him, but she can't break herself free from her sexual need for him. She even goes so far as to save the life of the man she once vowed to destroy.

Like I said, the complexity of the character really has me thinking. I think she's far truer to most of us than we want to admit. She knows who her enemy is. She's seen the havoc he's wreaked among her people. She's tasted the bitterness of his cruelty in the loss of her own family. But she can't keep herself from loving the pleasure he brings her. It's like the overweight woman and her sweets. She hates what they're doing to her health. She hates what they do to her appearance. She's seen the havoc they've wreaked in her self-esteem. She knows very personally the tears she's cried over what they've done to her. She hates them. Yet she loves them. She craves the pleasure they bring her. She wants to stop eating them, but she can't. She's sleeping with the enemy.

I hate the fact that we humans are like this. I hate the fact that I'm like this. I hate the fact that I can know what my enemy (the devil) has done to destroy the people God loves and still be unable to stop myself from biting into his poisoned fruit. I hate the fact that I can look at it and know it's poisonous and still find my hand reaching for it and my mouth aching to take a bite. I hate the fact that, like the character in this novel, I know my destiny is to restore what that enemy has destroyed in my life and the lives of all God's children, but instead of doing what I was meant to do, I'm enjoying the comforts of his harem and the poisoned pleasures he offers. I hate that I too am sleeping with the enemy.

Perhaps the Fundies AREN'T so Bad!

2008-11-25T11:30:00.001-08:00

Just found these online. Please forgive me. I know this is DREADFULLY inappropriate, but I was looking at a list of gifts no one really wants to get. The rest were completely appropriate. I swear. But come on... how can you not laugh at this when this whole blog is about... Fundies! LOL.

Kind of puts a new spin on things, yes?

Cheers! And Happy Thanksgiving!

And may Jesus forgive me for posting this pic on my blog.

Looking for Someone to Blame

2008-11-07T13:28:00.000-08:00

Trish and I have talked several times recently about a phenomenon we're both experiencing, her moreso than me. Despite the good times we both had in our Fundy years, we both walked away with a lot of soul wounds. And we now find that we're looking for someone to blame. As Trish said a few weeks ago, "I wish there were one person I could look at and say, 'This is your fault. You're hurting a lot of innocent people. Stop it.'" But there isn't anyone. That's the sad thing about Fundy-ism. You can't point at any one source and say, "You're to blame." Certainly you can find someone to blame for specific incidents, but there are wounds that are more general - and interestingly enough, these tend to be the deepest wounds - that can't be credited to anyone. They're just there as a result of having been a part of that movement for so long. And the lessons they engrave on your heart and mind follow you for years, crippling you in some ways and making you question and doubt and fear what you know to be true.

I talked about this with my boyfriend for awhile last night, and he had some things to say that I agreed with. He said that, in essence, the only person you have to blame is yourself. Ouch. But I wonder if he's right. I've said more than once on this blog that I bear more responsibility for the wounds on my soul than anyone I encountered in Fundy days. It was as though Fundy-ism taught me how to wound myself and then set me loose to see how much damage I could do. But that just makes me want to find the person responsible for pounding these things into my brain. Sure, I could blame my leaders and teachers, but what good would that do? There was no malicious intent on their part. In fact, they too are wounded, victims of the same weapons wielded by invisible hands.

Trish and I talked just yesterday about how there are times you feel as though you've been a victim, but no perpetrator existed. It's quite unsettling, really. You desperately want someone outside yourself to hate or to do war with or to hold accountable, but you can't find anyone. And even looking at yourself and blaming yourself for the ways you created your own state of fucked-up-ness, you still want to find the person who trained you to do such a thing and demand restitution. But there's no one, and it's a most frustrating thing.

Welcome to Weirdville

2008-11-07T08:51:00.000-08:00

Last night I had the chance to catch up with an old friend, and I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it. She's been reading my blog, so that came up more than once in our conversation, and she asked if I would write about our conversation in the blog. I told her I wouldn't. LOL. And I won't. At least not much. Haha. I didn't lie on purpose. :) However, I will say a big hello to Joanna and tell her it's great to be able to share with her and find a place of grace. :)

Without getting into too much of the personal stuff, I want to touch on something that came up briefly because it's been on my mind several times lately. As we talked, the subject of charismatics and their fondness for dreams and the prophetic came up. OY.

As a former charismatic, I've seen just about everything (and was told about some pretty crazy stuff I didn't ever see). And I want to be careful in dealing with this subject matter because I'm very mindful of the fact that God sometimes chooses to work in very mysterious ways or speak to us outside the realm of the comfortable. Also, despite some of what I have to say, I do believe that God speaks through the prophetic and through dreams, and I do believe that He does stuff sometimes that looks pretty crazy to us humans. The Bible's full of examples, and there's no reason, in my mind at least, to think that all of that was meant just for the folks who lived in Bible times. But that having been said, I saw and heard a lot of things in my charismatic days that didn't sit right with me then, so it's not surprising that in my near-heathen state (not really) now I would find a lot to eye with a more-than-healthy dose of skepticism.

Even when I was "walking the straight and narrow" with the rest of the Fundies, I remember thinking that a lot of the crazy stuff I witnessed was more about someone getting carried away and overly emotional than about God doing something that looked quite nutty for some ambiguous reason of His own. That's one of the ugly facts in the charismatic church. I know a lot of really wonderful, sincere people who saw or felt things primarily because they worked themselves up so much they were able to convince themselves they saw something or God was throwing them around the room. And I'm not saying that all that stuff is fake or the fruit of too much emotion mixed with too much expectation. Some of it really does happen. But I tend to think now (as I privately thought then) that most of it was the result of someone wanting to connect with God so badly that they fell off the deep end.

There's another side to some of this stuff - particularly the prophetic - that's truly ugly and not simply pitiful. Far too often, the prophetic is used to manipulate. As a rule, I don't think this is done with sinister intentions. I think it happens because people begin to believe that their opinions and convictions are spoken to them by God, and as a result they try to force those things on others. They may sincerely believe that a person needs to see or do or experience something, and the next thing you know they're having prophecies and dreams about that person and passing them on as a "thus saith the Lord unto you." And if that person doesn't see it or agree or embrace it quickly, the "prophet" declares him or her to be stubborn or deceived or rebellious against God's clearly revealed will. It's pretty scary stuff, and it has done a lot of damage to well-meaning people. I don't want to share some of the really personal examples in my life out of a desire to protect those involved, but I can give you an example of this that still rankles, even after seven or eight years have passed.

Quite awhile back, a "prophetic" friend (acquaintance - Haha. Get it, Joanna? LOL) told me that God wanted me to go to a conference that was being hosted by a prominent charismatic minister, who shall remain nameless. I didn't really have the money and didn't really feel led that way in my heart, but I trusted my "prophetic" friend and plunked down my credit card for a plane ticket, hotel room and conference registration. (I'm still paying these off, by the way.) I hate to say it, but I have never seen so much "flesh" (as the Fundies call it) running rampant amongst a group of "Godly" people as I did that week. It was ugly. But that's beside the point. As the week went on, it appeared that the conference speaker's overpriced books, CDs and T-shirts weren't selling so well because she suddenly received a prophetic word that God was commanding every attendee to purchase one of each of these items and He would pour out His anointing on them. Yes, you read that right. And even at that time, I saw right through that prophetic word like I could see through Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. "Um... sorry Ms. Prophet, but I think you had a bad connection with heaven when you heard that." But you know what, the women I had traveled to the conference with all felt that God spoke through this woman and that we would be rebellious if we didn't obey the "revealed will of God." So despite knowing I was giving in to someone's self-benefitting, pocket-lining prophecy, I ponied up more money I didn't have because I didn't want to look ungodly and unspiritual to my friends. What a foolish waste. I'm ashamed of my cowardice now.

How's this for another example? I had a dream several years ago that I shared with the same prophetic friend who sent me to the conference. (Not slamming this person, by the way. She just figures in these stories of mine rather often.) After discussing the dream and what it might mean, she interpreted it to say that I was supposed to join the women's ministry at our church as the right hand assistant to the new leader. Though I felt no enthsiasm for this project or call toward that ministry, I went forward with it... and spent the next year feeling miserable and resenting the fact that my Monday evenings were tied up with a leadership position in a ministry I had no real heart for. In fact, the "assistant" position I was supposed to occupy was shifted fairly early on into the hands of another woman who had both the heart and the gifting for it. She was clearly "called" to be there; I was clearly not. And had I listened to my own heart and not allowed myself to be talked into doing something I didn't want to because my prophetic friend was convinced that God was trying to say that to me in my dream... well, I would have been a happier person all around.

I'm not blaming my prophetic friend, mind you. She wasn't malicious in the things she said to me. She sincerely believed she was hearing from God and passing on His will to me. But she was wrong. And like so many in the charismatic circles, she at times used her "ability to hear from God" as a means to manipulate me - "for your own good" - into doing things that were more her idea for me than God's.

This is the kind of stuff that most non-Christ Followers never see, thank God. They see enough charismatic weirdness on TBN and movies like "Saved" to drive them away from God and not toward Him. Let's just be real. Some of the things Christ Followers do in the name of the Holy Spirit are pretty damn strange and scary, and even with the perspective of a former insider, I'm mainly inclined to say, "Pass." I know the Bible talks about us being fools for Christ, but I don't think that means Christ is asking us to make Him look like a fool with our oddball behavior. And if you must hear my honest opinion (since it's MY blog, I get to control what I write, which means you "must" hear my honest opinion. LOL), the people who acted the strangest were generally the most emotionally unstable people in the church. Or the most fleshly. Not always, mind you, but as a general rule. And yet because they were "sensitive to the Holy Spirit" they were more Godly than the rest of us.

Yeah, I don't buy into that so much anymore. Thanks anyway. I'm saying all of this to make a point... which I've failed to get to yet. LOL. My point is that, while I believe that God does some of the things that happen in these meetings, my heart tells me that His real interest lies outside the doors where people need a hug more than a dusting of gold flakes on their sleeves, and a listening ear more than a wild dance around the room. My heart tells me that when the church puts out its "Welcome to Weirdville" sign it frightens away the majority of rational thinking people who already have doubts about the validity of the Christian faith. And finally, my experience (as well as the experiences of more than one dear friend) tell me that sometimes this "Holy Spirit inspired" behavior leaves deep wounds on the souls of those who become the unintentional victims of its ugly side.

Chasing Rainbows

2008-11-05T20:40:00.000-08:00

It seems like we spend our whole lives chasing rainbows, beautiful illusions that seduce us with their shimmering promise, only to disappear when we run toward them. I’d say it was just me, but I see it all throughout the world around me. We’re all looking for something that’s just over the next hill, just around the next bend, just out of reach.

If we could just find the perfect boyfriend or girlfriend…

If we could just get the perfect job…

If we could just afford that bigger house, longer vacation, fancier car…

If we could simply be free to do whatever it is we desperately want to do…

If we could have a baby, finish writing that masterpiece, lose that weight…

It’s always something. And it happens to all of us.

When I watch myself chasing rainbows, I can’t help but agree with the medieval philosophers who identified this phenomenon as man’s search to find his rest, peace and fulfillment in God. It’s not that having dreams and goals is bad. In fact, it’s healthy. The problem is something else: the desperate search for satisfaction that we’re sure we’ll find if we could just get “there,” wherever “there” is.

I’ve been chasing a rainbow lately. It’s a lovely rainbow, one of the loveliest I’ve ever chased. But I’m beginning to wonder if it, too, will turn out to be nothing more than a disappointing illusion that will leave me hungry for something of substance. In fact, I feel fairly certain that the illusion is already worn too thin for me to chase it much longer, and I'm sinking down to that sad, angry place where hope is a rare commodity.

I’m tired of being dissatisfied. I’m tired of striving. I’m tired of chasing rainbows.

The kicker is this: I know the answer is God. I know it. It’s not just wishful thinking or faith. I know it. The problem is how to find God.

As I’ve shared before, much of my experience in the Fundy church was a form of chasing rainbows – always pursuing a pretty ideal, always hiding from my reality, always striving for peace (what a contradiction in terms!), always reaching for love.

What do you do when you know the destination but you don’t know how to get there? What do you do when you can’t read the map through unbiased eyes? How do you stop chasing rainbows long enough to lie down in the grass and realize that rainbows are meant to be seen, not captured?

Perhaps that’s what I’ve been missing lately, and perhaps that is why soul is starting to feel so weary. Perhaps I’ve been running and reaching too hard, and I just need to lie back in the grass and watch the clouds float by, enjoying the beauty of the rainbow, accepting that it’s an illusion, realizing that perhaps it isn’t meant to be owned; it is merely intended to enhance the view.

What's in a Name: Christian or Christ Follower?

2008-10-23T16:48:00.000-07:00

I was doing a bit of thinking today about how much difference a name can really make. Calling oneself a Christ Follower versus a Christian actually makes a great deal of difference.

I guess this all got started because I was musing on how much compassion I've started to feel toward those the church brands as hypocrites. Not so long ago I had no mercy for them, seeing them as shameful spots on the face of God's pure and precious bride. And from some angles I suppose that's true. But now I've come to a place where I understand on a personal level what it means to yield to temptations that are considered a "big deal" in the church. I guess in some ways I myself am now one of those dreadful hypocrites.

So as I was thinking on this dubious matter, my mind started swerving toward the idea that being a hypocrite is much harder when you think of yourself as Christ Follower, not as a Christian. Being a Christian sounds far more clinical, like being a member of a club or social group. But being a Christ Follower is all about action. Unlike being a Christian - where you can still say you're a member of the club even when you aren't being a great representative - saying you're a Christ Follower is much harder when you aren't actively following Christ or are practicing behaviors that aren't in alignment with His heart and teachings. How can you say you're a Christ Follower when you know you aren't really following Christ, you know? There's something about it that pokes you sharply in the heart and says, "That's not true."

There have been times lately when I've been tempted to curtail my tendency to call myself a Christ Follower and stick with the safe, innocuous title of Christian. I don't think I'm a very good Christ Follower, sadly. I can't help but think of all my wrestlings and struggles and the things in my life that don't line up with His heart and teachings. But even as I think these things, I consider that, in essence, a Christ Follower is a person who is growing and being changed by Christ, and that sometimes that growing and changing and learning and stretching don't look like we think they should, that sometimes it means allowing Him to incorporate the darkness in some seasons of our life with the light in order to bring about a greater concentration of His heart in us. Even so, I really don't feel like much of a Christ Follower these days. There isn't much in my life to reflect the active, pursuing nature that the title implies. And that's a rather disheartening thought.

Burying Our Heads in the Sand

2008-10-16T16:25:00.000-07:00

We had an interesting discussion in my carpool yesterday, which has expanded from it's original two members to a whopping five. Yay us for helping save the earth!!! :) There should be some kind of reward for five adults (three men and two "curvy" women) who cram themselves into a Honda Civic for an hour every day. LOL. Yes, that's right. Three adults sardine themselves into the backseat of a Honda Civic. It's sick. However, the last time I drove up to the mountains for a hike, the trees actually applauded me. No, I wasn't on anything at the time. LOL.

ANYWAY... I'm way off the point. One of the guys in carpool happens to be dating a Christian girl, despite the fact that he himself is not a Christian. He was telling us about how the two of them went down to Oregon to visit some married Christian friends of hers last weekend. While they were there, the couple couldn't stop talking about all the small groups they are a part of and how they have some church-related activity they attend nearly every night of the week. Much to my carpool buddy's dismay, his girlfriend was enthralled by this and couldn't stop talking about how much she wanted that kind of environment for her life. He can't think of anything much closer to living in hell itself. LOL. Now to be fair to her, she's just recently moved to the area to be closer to him and attend grad school and she has absolutely NO friends here, so I can see how hearing about so much "good Christian fellowship" would get her all excited. At one time, church-related stuff every night of the week was my life, and most of the time I really loved it. I have different opinions now, though. (Why isn't anyone surprised? LOL.)

Looking at folks like my carpool buddy's girlfriend and her friends, I can't help but wonder if they and those like them are unwittingly and, with the best of intentions, burying their heads in the sand. I remember being a Master's Commission student/leader and spending every day at the church. As horrible as that sounds to most people, I had a lot of fun and formed some really meaningful bonds. Like I said, I really loved that life for a long time. But without knowing it, I was burrowing deeper and deeper into a safe little bubble - a cocoon that insulated me from reality and the real people who lived there. Even now, I'm still scrambling to catch up. And at that time in my life I was actually afraid to form relationships with non-Christians because I didn't know how to talk to them or relate to them. In fact, I remember standing in front of a group of lovely Mexican people on one of our road trips and having nothing to say beyond, "Hi, my name is Amy." I just stared and them, and they just stared right back at me, wondering if I had anything to say or if I was just retarded.

It's difficult to strike a balance on this issue. On the one hand, Christian fellowship is something we desperately need. Without it, we'll become stunted. In fact, some of our most profound growth comes through our relationships with other Christ followers. As we talk and discuss (sometimes debate), as we support each other through our trials and rejoice with one another in our triumphs, we begin to truly model the church Jesus started. But when we bury ourselves in the church, we cease to perform the mission Jesus gave us, and if we stay that way long enough, we begin to lose the ability to do that mission because we lose touch with the hearts and souls He loves.

Though it might not sound like it, I commend zeal. I commend hunger. I commend passion to be in church and with other Christ followers, but I fear I no longer have much patience for the kind of zeal, hunger and passion that cut Christ followers off from the real world and turn them inward, in effect turning their backs toward those who most need the Jesus they love.

Just When You Thought You Were Guilt Free...

2008-10-12T10:50:00.000-07:00

I guess I spoke too soon with that last post, because "guilt," if that's what you want to call it, reminded me of its presence this morning just when I was least expecting it. It all started so innocently... I was just reading some book reviews and checking out some titles I'm considering for a good read when I ran across one called Sexless in the City. The long and short of it is that it's a chronicle of one Christian woman's struggle to live a celibate life as she searches for Mr. Right. That story isn't so unique. What is unique about this woman is that she actually seems to be relevant and living in the real world while she's doing this. She goes to bars (horror of horrors!), and she actually meets men there and goes on dates with them. She knows her pop culture, and seems to be in touch with what's happening in our society. Speaking from experience, being celibate in that kind of world "ain't" easy. Relevant Christianity is one of the most challenging roads you'll ever take.

Anyhow, I read a bit of her blog and checked out some write-ups on her book. She's doesn't seem to be preachy (which I love). In fact, the little bits that I read didn't even specifically deal with chastity. But reading the thoughts and experiences of a woman who sounds very relevant and very un-Fundy who has somehow managed to navigate waters where my boat tends to sink made me feel a deep sorrow and sense of loss.

I've felt this way several times since I first started exploring my sexuality. (LOL. Sounds like I'm not sure which team I'm playing for.) It's not the brow-beating, shame-on-me-I'm-a-miserable-worm kind of guilt that filled my days as a Fundy. It's more a deep grieving. Most of the time I don't feel it because it's buried so deep in me, but today reminded me very clearly that it's still there, like hot, glowing embers from a fire that burned out long ago. I feel a grief (and perhaps that's not even the right word for it) over having lost my virginity. There may be a bit of shame mixed in there, but it's not the kind of shame I used to live with. It's less about declaring myself worthless and more about feeling as though I've behaved in a way that doesn't do justice to my worth. It's just mainly grief. And it's not just about losing my virginity; it's about being sexually active again. It's about feeling as though I've failed in something that was really important, even though it doesn't seem like all that big a deal to me the vast majority of the time. And perhaps that's part of the reason I'm so hesitant to really bury myself in church and Christian lit again - I'm afraid that grief will become overwhelming.

Of course, there's another side to this coin. I don't know if I ever would have started to see and learn the things I've begun to over the past year and a half if I hadn't chosen to be sexually active outside marriage. It's not that sex itself made such a difference; it's that so many of my old ways of thinking underwent a re-examination afterward. I think that somehow I needed to make that mistake in order to become who I'm meant to become. I know that sounds silly and is probably completely wrong, but at the moment it's what I'm thinking.

Several of the people in my life think this guilt/grief is just a remnant of those Fundy days, but I don't believe that to be the case. The truth is that I didn't just embrace those beliefs because they were popular in my set or taught by my family or church. I internalized them. I embraced them for my own sake; I embraced them because I believed they came from God. So unlike a lot of people who leave Fundy-ism, I can't just take them off like an old coat. And I don't really want to discard them. Ughh. It's so complicated. (Right about now I can think of at least two people who would say it's not at all complicated, but to me it is. LOL.) The thing I don't have any intention of doing is leaving God behind. In fact, what I'm really after is a real, authentic, lifelong relationship with Him. Right now things are strained, but this isn't just a rebellious phase I'm going through, contrary to what my old Fundy friends would say. And I don't want to toss away and root out everything I believe just because it happens to sound "Fundy."

Anyway, I'm getting into deeper waters here than I really want to in this posting. My main point is that there's something buried deep inside me that goes deeper than guilt or shame, and no matter how far I think I may have gone in getting out from under that constant sense of "falling short," there will always be this deep sorrow over the fact that I have.

Living with(out) Guilt

2008-10-08T08:26:00.000-07:00

There's a terribly helpless and lost feeling a person gets when they cease to feel guilt after having lived with it for a lifetime. Granted, guilt is never pleasant, but it becomes familiar and expected, so when it goes away, it's more than a bit frightening.

I'm not sure whether I was responsible for my endlessly guilty conscience or if my Fundy background was. Probably a good mix of both. But I'm beginning to wonder if the guilt mentality that pervades the Fundy church isn't doing them more of a disservice than they realize. There's a good reason for me to say this.

I believe we're given a conscience for a reason. It's God's first way of directing us toward right and away from wrong. What constitutes right or wrong isn't an issue I want to explore right now. Suffice it to say that, with the exception of a very few, the vast majority of humans are born with an internal sense that certain behaviors are right or wrong, and this sense does not merely stem from societal rules and influences. There's something in us apart from the societal expectations we're taught, and that something feels shame when we do something cruel or selfish or unkind or dishonest. Even if society never finds out about it, we still are aware that we have fallen short of some standard that lies within us. This is what we call the conscience.

It's because man violates this conscience so frequently that, I believe, God had to provide us with a more tangible set of rules and guidelines for how we are expected to conduct ourselves in this life. Without wishing to step on the toes of those who don't agree, I embrace the Christian belief that this is contained in the Bible.

But here's the deal. As a Christian (or a Christ follower), I've seen how the guidelines given in the Bible are turned into a rod that is used to beat people into submission. I've seen it done to others, I've allowed others to do it to me, and worst of all, I've done it to myself. And it is in doing this that Christians do Jesus a true disservice.

If you take the time to study the Bible, particularly the New Testament, you gradually come to realize that one of the primary cornerstones of Christianity is the eradication of guilt and the removal of the guilt mentality. And don't go any further with that than what I'm actually saying, all you Fundy nuts who are determined to misunderstand me. LOL. :) I'm not saying that we won't continue to feel conviction over genuine wrongdoing, but once we've taken that to God and asked for forgiveness, the guilty feelings are supposed to go away and we shouldn't feel them again until God initiates conviction for something else we do wrong. In fact, in my experience, conviction from God is less about me being a worm and more about me being inspired and driven toward transformation and change. Big difference. Trust me. Guilt leaves you feeling hopeless and worthless; conviction leaves you feeling as though true change can happen and you can be free.

Anyway, back to my point... I don't believe Jesus ever intended people to walk around feeling guilty all the time and constantly conducting "sin hunts" in their souls ("witch hunts," as my old leader used to call them). That's not to say He doesn't want us to be vigilant. The Bible makes it clear that we should be so that we aren't led astray or deceived. And believe me, sin will deceive you. Been there. Done that. Have the t-shirt. But we're not supposed to be staring ourselves down with a microscope trying to find sin in everything we do. I used to do this, and I watched several good friends do this, and if anything, it crippled us as Christ followers.

Fast forward a couple years, a lot of mistakes, and a whole lot of living and learning. As I was coming out of the Fundy church, I began to see how crippling my constant sense of guilt was. Now, I'm seeing yet another way this old guilt mentality has done me damage: I've ceased to feel guilt over things I know I should feel guilt about.

I can't tell you how terrifying that is for me. It's like I abused the guilt "medication" for so many years that I built up a tolerance to it and became immune. It doesn't work anymore. (Don't worry; I still have a conscience.) But seriously, there are a couple of things in my life that I know I should feel some sort of guilt about, but I don't. I suppose I do on some level, but it's more something I can avoid than something that stalks me and haunts me and plagues me. So instead of having this terrible sense of shame over these actions and behaviors to make me so miserable I change my ways, I'm left with this detached belief that what I'm doing isn't right, but it sure doesn't feel wrong. And that isn't doing anything toward bringing about a difference in my choices and actions.

It is in this that I have a hard time trusting God. In black and white, I have no excuse to offer for myself. Whether it feels wrong or not, the Bible says it is. And unlike a lot of folks these days, I can't just cut away the parts of the Bible I don't like or don't agree with or don't want to pay attention to. For me, embracing the Bible is an all-or-nothing proposition. I guess that's partially because I can't convince myself that truth is subjective and that I can shape it and form it according to whatever ideas happen to appeal to me at any given moment. I just believe that kind of mentality ignores the nature of truth itself. So here I am, and I have no excuse to offer God that will hold water. And if I could just feel some kind of guilt about this, even a fraction of the horrible guilt I used to live with, I could stop. But I don't. I just can't see the "wrongness" outside a clinical environment. In my real world where the colors and lights and feelings are, where life is happening, the clinical "truth" just doesn't make much sense.

Can I trust God to bring me out of this? Can I trust that He's got a better system for producing the kind of behavior He says He approves of than merely beating us to a bloody pulp with our indiscretions? Is it possible that He has to cut away that guilty mindset forever in order to produce the kind of conviction that will result in true transformation?

I don't know. I don't want to take advantage of His grace and goodness. I don't want to harden my heart toward Him. And so I'm afraid out here in the big, wide world where the rules are different and my guilt gauge is broken. I'm afraid I'll go too far. I'm afraid He'll never bring me home. I afraid to live without guilt, especially when I know I should feel it.

"I Was Afraid You Were One of Them"

2008-09-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the cheesy title, but my new sweetie and I watched an Invasion of the Body Snatchers-type movie the other night where someone said that line, and as it kind of pertains to the subject matter of this post, I couldn't resist. :)

Last night, this same sweetie and I were talking, and he told me that if it weren't for some of the "shynesses" that I have about certain subject matters (primarily sex), he would never know that I was once an uber-conservative Christian. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and I'm not sure how I feel about his words, whether they bother me or not. On the one hand I think it's great. I'm glad he doesn't see in me the narrow-minded perspectives and judgmental thinking that characterize most conservatives. But it also bothers me because Christ followers are supposed to be different. Jesus was loved by the sinners of the world, but it wasn't because He looked so much like them that He blended right in. It makes me ask myself if I "blend in" too much. It also raises some much more universal questions, though, about what it looks like to be a Christ follower in our world today. What are the marks of a Christ follower?

The more I think on the subject, the more I feel that our beliefs about what marks will characterize a Christ follower are in need of change. Both the church and the secular world have embraced a fairly similar list: no smoking, drinking or swearing; no pre- or extra-marital sex; general honesty (i.e. no stealing, lying or cheating); attending church regularly. Both sides could add a few more items to the list to define it more fully according to their individual ideas, but I think this is a fairly good core of characteristics that most of us expect from "religious" people or "Christians." If you take a closer look at the list, however, I think you might agree with me that it's a pretty worthless list to use when determining whether someone is a Christ follower or not. Most of the stuff that appears on this list of defining characteristics can be managed with little or no help from God. In fact, these characteristics have been hallmarks of numerous individuals throughout history who have been no more Christ-like than the devil himself. Case in point: the Pharisees. You couldn't find a more moral, upstanding bunch, but Jesus called them white washed tombs full of corruption.

So if the characteristics we generally use to define Christ followers aren't really giving us an accurate representation of what being like Jesus is all about, what does it look like? I think it comes back to the heart. The marks of a Christ follower have less to do with adhering to a strict moral code (Wait! Don't freak out on me yet!) and more to do with where our hearts are in relation to God and our fellow man. If I were to redefine what a Christ follower should look like, I'd start with the oft-listed and seldom-considered "fruit of the Spirit": love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Then I'd build from there. In addition to being loving and kind, a Christ follower should be compassionate, merciful, devoted to bringing justice to the oppressed and healing to the broken and wounded. A Christ follower should be a lover of the truth who doesn't fear to look new ideas in the face and sift them to find any kernels of truth they might contain. A Christ follower should be marked by practical humanitarianism, by selflessness, by generosity, by respect for appointed authorities, by the forgiveness they offer to those who wrong them. And yes, a Christ follower should strive to adhere to the moral code set forth in the Bible.

Notice the things on my list. They aren't things we humans can do without help from someone bigger and stronger. They are internal characteristics that show themselves in outward behaviors, not outward behaviors (like the ones in the list that currently defines Christ followers) that may or may not be a reflection of what is really going on in the heart.

So do I bear the marks of a true Christ follower? I don't know. I think I am beginning to bear some of them, though in their infant stages. I think some of them are still being formed in me, while others I am still wrestling with in myself. And perhaps I should go back and ask my sweetie if he sees any of those characteristics in me that actually count. I hope he does. I already know that in so many ways I'm not a good representative of the first list. I know that when it comes to certain issues I'm a terrible representative of Jesus, and this troubles me deeply and makes me ashamed to claim Him - not because I'm ashamed of Him but because I'm ashamed of myself and don't wish to make a mockery of Him. But I hope that in spite of my many flaws, some part of Him continues to live and grow inside me in ways that other people can see.

If you can see the marks of a Christ follower in me, I guess I can live without all the marks of a conservative Fundamentalist Christian. If you can look at me and see Jesus, I've become all that really matters to me, and that's enough.

Coming into the Light

2008-09-11T15:55:00.000-07:00

So often the tone of these posts is somewhat dark and negative. I suppose that's to be expected when you're dealing with subject matter like mine, so it's nice to be able to offer you all a "brighter skies" kind of post today.

I had the chance recently to look back over some magazine articles I wrote a couple of years ago. One in particular really drew me in because, in the first half at least, it was one of the most honest and transparent pieces I had ever written. Which is probably why it wasn't published! :) The second half of the piece was full of my "wishful thinking" bullshit, but the first part was very raw and real. Reading it was great because it reminded me of how far I've come and how much this difficult journey has given me.

The real guts of the piece had to do with how I felt invisible and uncelebrated, how I felt like I was in hiding deep inside where nobody - not even God - could see me. Well, okay... God could see, but I didn't really want to deal with that.

I remember having a mental picture some years ago of coming to stand before God, as the Fundies say. And I remember feeling in this picture as though God wanted to look at me, in me, through me, but I was terrified to let Him. I knew that He already knew and saw the dark places, the broken places, the deep neediness of my soul that I was horribly ashamed of, and on some level I was okay with the fact that He knew. What frightened me was not His knowing; it was the idea that I would have to experience the "knowing." I'm not sure if that makes sense, but there's a difference between knowing someone has read your diary and sitting down to read your diary to someone. I didn't want to experience His searching and knowing of me. Of course, I knew that He wouldn't hate or reject me because of what He saw, but I feared even His compassion and pity; I feared the shame I would feel to have Him see the broken, dirty person I knew I was. Strangely enough, I knew the thing I dreaded was also the thing I most needed. I just didn't know how to open myself up to it. So I remained a shriveled wretch, crouching on the floor before Him, shrinking away from the freedom of being known.

Oddly enough, as a good Fundy girl, I didn't have much real shit to hide from God. Up until the last year or so, my roster of "really bad sins" was empty. In retrospect, I think I was less ashamed of things I had done and more ashamed of myself - who I was. I guess what amazes me now is how that need to hide seems to have vanished as I've become a "real" sinner with some genuine shit on my roster. Somehow, some way, it's brought me to a place where I no longer feel ashamed of myself - what I've done, yes (well, sometimes) - but not who I am. I feel like I can come into the light and not pretend or hide or wish I were better and more worthy. Now I'm just me, and being just me with all my faults and foibles is enough.

I can't explain how what I've been through has changed this for me. You'd think it would have the opposite effect. I'm not sure, but as I'm talking about this I remember a night last fall when I was in some of the darkest moments I'd ever known. It would have been sometime in November, and I remember sitting on my bed and seeing this picture in my mind of me walking up to Jesus. I wanted to talk to Him, but I simply had no words. There was no way I could begin to express the depth of my pain and fear and loneliness. I was literally shattered, and I couldn't even come up with one word to communicate all that to Him, to ask for His help and forgiveness, to ask for His love. In that moment - and it wasn't something I imagined; it was real - He reached out and put His hands on each side of my face, cradling my cheeks between them, and He simply looked into my eyes. Neither one of us said anything because the emotions of the moment were too profound to be cheapened by words, but I remember Him looking into my eyes, and I remember the tears that slowly started to roll down both our cheeks. We didn't sob or wail; we just quietly cried. And His eyes told me that He loved me and accepted me and felt compassion for the pain I had made for myself.

At the time it seemed like a nice experience, and I didn't see it for the profundity of what it might have been. It didn't stand out as one of the great spiritual experiences of my life, and I've had a few I will never forget. It was just a simple moment that was over and done in a flash, but it was real. I wonder now if that moment was what He had wanted to share with me all along. If perhaps the searching I had always dreaded didn't have to be what I thought it would be and if perhaps He simply wanted me to let Him look in my eyes long enough to see that He knew, He understood, He loved.

Anyway, that was all pretty personal, but I was thinking on it today and realizing how freeing it is when you feel like you can come into the light and stop hiding what you are. And looking back on that unpublished article, I can say that I still feel some of the things I wrote about, but somehow it isn't so strong. So I guess I'm getting somewhere, huh?

Toward Forgiveness

2008-09-02T08:27:00.001-07:00

A while back I wrote a post regarding the struggle I was having to forgive some of the folks who have deeply wounded me in the past year. While the situation doesn't dominate my thoughts, it is a matter on ongoing prayer for me, mainly because even once a person has made the choice to forgive, the feelings of forgiveness do not always follow and the desire to "have the last word" or witness some type of "poetic justice" is a hard one to shake. I don't want to be that kind of person. I need forgiveness from God too much to go around withholding it from others, and I'm not keen on the idea of carting around those ugly, bitter feelings indefinitely. Despite my decision to let go of the past and forgive, though, I haven't figured out how to root those ugly feelings out.

Last night I made some progress toward my goal, however, and it came in the most unexpected of ways, proving that our Bible school jokes about God speaking through asses (e.g. Balaam's donkey) were more truth than fiction. I went to see Hamlet 2 with some friends of mine, and I must warn you that if you are sensitive to religious humor that is somewhat sacreligious, this isn't the film for you. It was funny as all hell, but it wasn't all that respectful. It inspired some pretty thought provoking things for me though. In the play that is performed in the film, Hamlet must come to a place where he forgives his father, inspired of course by a modernized "sexy Jesus." (Told you it wasn't respectful!) Something Jesus says to Hamlet really hit me between the eyes. He remarked that He understood how Hamlet felt about his father because Jesus' Father had forsaken Him too. The play ends with Hamlet forgiving his father and Jesus saying to His Father, "Father, I forgive you."

It's a pretty provoking thought when you consider it. Did Jesus have to forgive His Father for forsaking Him when He was on the cross? I'm not really sure. My well concealed conservative side would say no, and that side of me is probably right, but it's an intriguing idea. What must Jesus have felt when, as a perfectly innocent man, His Father abandoned Him at the darkest moment of His life? Did He understand? Despite that understanding, did He feel betrayed?

Thinking on these things opened up my old wounds. I don't want to dig into details, but in my situation the people I viewed as my mentors, friends and "spiritual parents" chose to handle a choice I made in a certain way. I've said more than once that it wasn't the decisions they made that caused the deep wounds; it was the feeling that I was abandoned in a time of need - in essence, betrayed. I trusted these people implicitly and absolutely, and I had always believed that if I made a big mistake they would be there for me. Of course, they would say that they were, but the truth is they were only willing to be there for me as long as I did things their way. They had mapped out the course they wanted me to take, and when I wasn't able or willing to deal with the issue that way, they cast me off like a piece of worthless shit. When I admitted that I was broken and couldn't emotionally handle the sermonizing, I was simply ignored.

It is that feeling of betrayal and abandonment that has been at the root of my struggle to experience the feelings of forgiveness, however committed I am to my choice to let it go. But what the "sexy Jesus" said really brought some things into perspective. I had never considered what He might have felt after being abandoned by His Father. Perhaps, like me, He could rationally look at the situation and say, "I understand and I'm not angry about the decision. He did what He had to do." But despite rational thought, perhaps there was some emotional, irrational corner of His heart that said, "Why? Why did you abandon me? Why did you walk away when I needed you? Why weren't you willing to fight for me?" He probably didn't. Jesus' understanding is so far beyond my limited understanding that I'm sure He didn't need to "forgive" His Father for forsaking Him, but just knowing that He had been forsaken by His Father opened something deep up in me and started to release some things.

Just like Jesus, I was forsaken by my "spiritual" father and mother. He was forsaken because of the sins of others; I was forsaken for my own sins. But He understands that. He knows what it feels like, and just knowing that He gets that makes me feel a bit less bitter and veangeful. It's not a cure all yet. There's still some sour spots in my heart, but I'm moving closer to forgiveness.

Broken People

2008-08-24T13:21:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a conversation with my manager at the restaurant. She's still very young - only 21, which seems centuries ago to me - and she's having relationship issues with her girlfriend. (Yes, she's a lesbian.) At one time I wouldn't have been able to see past her sexual preference, and though I still don't believe that God approves of homosexuality (though He desperately loves the homosexual), I don't look at her and see someone who's gay. I just see her - this wonderful, amazing person who has far more to bring to the world than she knows.

Anyway, those matters are beside the point, and though I want to explore them, I'll do so at another time. What I'm really driving at is the fact that this girl is in a relationship with someone several years younger who's really not ready for the kind of committed relationship that my manager is ready for. So despite the fact that they love each other, their relationship is falling apart at the seams as they both tug at each other - one desiring independence and convenient intimacy, and the other desiring something deeper and more fulfilling. It's been hard over the past few months to watch this girl I really love go through the near weekly drama that consumes their relationship, so when she asked for my advice last night, I gave her my honest opinion. No, I didn't tell her she should stop being a lesbian and "get right with God." While I believe that's what she truly needs, the soil of her heart isn't ready to hear that yet, and my advice without discretion would only serve to close her off to me should the time ever come that her heart is ready to hear the whole truth. The honest opinion I gave her was the opinion my best friend has given me regarding my relationships with men. And just like me, she's not entirely ready to act on it, even if she knows it's good advice. I told her I think she needs to walk away from this relationship and get involved with someone who's ready for the kind of relationship she really wants to be in. I think she has a lot to give, and getting involved with a more mature person who's ready for a relationship with less drama and more giving would do wonders for her.

I understand how easy it is to give that advice and how terribly hard - even impossible - it is to follow, even when you see the wisdom of it. And no doubt I feel for S (my manager) the same kind of compassionate concern my best friend must feel for me. I know she's not ready to let this relationship go, and so I know that her heart will continue to be battered as she holds out for changes that aren't going to happen.

It's hard to watch somone you love make choices that aren't in their best interest. You understand why they're driven to make those choices, but it hurts to know that those choices will only cause more pain in the long term. It's especially hard when that person has the kind of personality that S does. She reminds me so very much of my ex-lover sometimes. On the outside she's a hard ass who seems like she just blows stuff off, but the truth is she's this terribly vulnerable heart inside, a teddy bear who internalizes everything. In fact, despite her tough exterior, I think she gets wounded more deeply by things than the average person. And just as I'd love to do with him, sometimes I just ache to wrap my arms around that place inside her that is so bruised and hurting and heal it for her. I want to protect her and help her before she starts building walls and getting all hard like he has.

There are lots of people I know who make me feel this way, and it makes me wonder if that's a part of what God wants to do with my life. I want to fix the broken people. I never used to care beyond the superficial, but I remember asking God a long time ago to help me see people through His eyes and love them with His love. I guess I was expecting a lightning bolt from heaven to strike me with superhuman love and compassion, but that's not how it happened. I just know that somehow over the last ten years, my heart has become soft toward others so gradually and imperceptably to me that I don't know when I became a bawl-baby over them, but somehow I have. I look at people and I see beyond the surface. I look at M, another of my co-workers from the restaurant whom I just adore, and can't help but wonder what's going to happen to him when he wakes up someday and searches for meaning in his life beyond partying, one-night stands and getting stoned. I wonder why he is so driven to immerse himself in the crazy life he lives - what is it he's running away from? - and who among all his partying buddies will really be there for him when he's desperate and in need.

I can't explain it, but I just wish I knew where to start and how to make a true difference. I don't know why I get hit harder with some people more than others, but I do. It's just like I can see certain people hobbling around emotionally - some of them have already given up and they're just going through the motions like the walking dead, others are still striving and struggling and fighting to make something work out - and I want to get in there and fix them. I want to sit down with them inside their souls and cry big tears for all the pain in there and cover it all with warm, healing oil. I want to make it stop hurting and stop longing and stop warring so they can come out in the sun like innocent children and laugh and start fresh without those wounds that cripple them.

I remember being with my ex-lover and seeing some of those dark, wounded places in him. I felt so inadequate to even begin to heal them. The pain and the past were just too big, and it was a horrible feeling to know that I could wrap my arms around his body while knowing that he didn't know how to let me wrap my arms around his soul.

The truth is, though, I don't know how much any of us can heal one another. The creation can only do so much for itself before it has to turn to the Creator and say, "Please help. We're having a serious malfunction here, and we can't fix it." I don't believe He likes to see us hurting, but I think He's wise enough to understand that it's usually our pain that goads us until we have to look to Him for some kind of relief.

I suppose that the pain and loneliness I was talking about dealing with in my last post have been God's tools to make my heart soft toward others. I know what it feels like to hurt deeply, and so now it hurts me to see others feel that pain. I asked God to teach me compassion, so He gave the gift (albeit a somewhat dubious gift) of pain. Or so my Fundy upbringing would say. But as I've said before, not all Fundy ideas are completely out in left field. And though I know somewhere deep inside that He is the healing for all that pain, I'm still waiting for Him to come through and fill in those deep, lonely places that haunt me. Without His healing, I can only look on the pain of others with compassion; I have nothing else to give them. I'm just one more patient in this huge hospital of terribly broken people, wishing desperately that I had something more effective than snake oil to offer to my fellow patients.

Profoundly Alone

2008-08-21T09:14:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's the lousy weather we've been having the past few days, but today I'm just having a hell of a time pulling myself out of the doldrums, and the disappointment with life in general that's been plagueing me is feeling a bit overwhelming. So despite that fact that this blog is supposed to be primarily about spiritual issues, I'm just gonna vent and get it all out.

I guess a lot of what I have to say comes back to spiritual stuff anyway, though on a much more personal note. One of the few things I miss from my Fundy days was the sense of direction I had. I was moving toward a clear destiny. I had no idea how the hell I was going to get there, but I knew where I was going. In retrospect, I don't think that destiny was a very good fit for me or all that closely related to God's real purpose for putting me here. In fact, I think this terribly difficult (at times) journey I'm taking now has far more to do with what He wants for me than even I can see right now. The problem is I can't see that far. All I see is a 30-year-old woman who's still single, working in an unsatisfying job, and having a hard time moving in any direction other than Nowhereville. I have all these dreams, but I feel like I'm stuck in neutral and can't move into realizing them.

For starters, I have so many adventurous things I want to do, but I'm not getting anywhere. Part of that has to do with the physical issues I've been fighting for nearly six months now. I sit on a ball all day at work to keep my hips from hurting, but that just makes my back sore. When I get out of bed in the morning or stand up after a lengthy period of sitting, I hobble around like an escapee from a geriatric ward. It's ridiculous. I'm thirty! I'm not supposed to wobble my way across the room like someone who's pushing ninety! Exercising hurts, so I don't get out to enjoy the beautiful world that soothes my soul and makes me feel closer to God. (Dammit! Stop crying, Amy!) It seems like nothing I do provides a permanent solution, and though my doctor assures me this will pass with physical therapy, there's this horrible fear inside me that I'm never going to feel normal and stop hurting again, and all those lovely dreams I have of snowboarding and climbing and exploring my world under the power of my own two legs will never materialize. And I hate how out of shape I've become. Last summer I was in the best shape of my life. Now, I get a bit winded from climbing a couple flights of stairs. I used to pass people while hiking uphill. This summer I've been able to get out once, and I had to drop to the back because I was in so much pain I couldn't keep up. I've gained a few pounds, and I hate it! What if all the dreams and desires I have to be extreme in the outdoors die inside me unrealized?

I'm also frustrated with my dead-end career. That's not to say I'm not thankful. Going through several months of unemployment last fall impacted me deeply, and when I start to complain to myself about how boring technical editing is, I remember that horrible fear that felt like a hand around my throat. I lived with that fear day after day when I couldn't find work. I may not love (or even really like) this job, but it pays better than anything I've ever had, and I work with some really great people who have become good friends. But what if I get stuck here? It's a legitimate fear. I have no formal education to propel me into an enjoyable career with an actual future. What I'm capable of means nothing next to my lack of education and limited experience. Of course, I've looked at going back to school, but who wants to start at the bottom when they're pushing 31? I don't relish 5-8 years of schooling (part-time school, full-time work) just to get a Bachelors. I've got to make a living and support myself. Do I want to spend the entirety of my thirties in school only to hit 40 with hefty debt from student loans and a body that's getting past it's prime, thereby limiting my ability to take up those outdoor loves? And if I went to school, what would I study? It's all a bit overwhelming.

To top it all off, I can't help feeling, most of the time, as though I am profoundly alone. (Oh boy! Here go the waterworks again! Aren't you glad you came to my pity party?) Part of this has to do with being single. Okay, a lot of it has to do with being single. It's not that I don't value my singleness. Actually, I do. In fact, I'm not in any rush just now to dash to the altar with anyone, but I would really like to be in a committed relationship with a man who actually WANTS to be with me and invest himself in a relationship with me. I'd like to have someone to cuddle with on the couch and talk to when I've had a bad day. I want someone to lay beside me in bed and keep me warm on cold nights and let me nestle my head into his shoulder. And you know, I'm really tired of all the people who don't get this because they have that already. I'm sick to death of people who get married at 19 or 20 or even 25 who don't have the foggiest of clues what it means to be lonely. (Yes, I know that sometimes the loneliest people are married.) I don't understand why the God of the universe would uniquely fit someone for a loving relationship and then not provide it. I'm tired of going months snuggling up to my pillow at night to help compensate for the empty side of the bed, and then finding someone who fits the bill (or seems to) only to have him turn into a certified asshole. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of compensating. I'm tired of finding myself wandering to the personal ads on Craigslist and staring at the ones who just want a cuddle on a lonely night and finding myself contemplating if it would be worth the risk that he might not be a lonely guy but a serial killer or a sex offender. (Don't worry. I've never called and I won't!) But seriously. Why do I have to be alone?

Now of course, some judgmental Fundy will say, "All of this is happening because you're not where you should be with God." You know what? Fuck you. I don't think God's afflicting my hips because I love hiking too much. Why would He keep me away from the places where my soul takes a deep breath and opens up to hear Him most clearly? I don't think He's pissed at me and leaving me without direction in life because I'm searching for authentic Christian spirituality instead of swallowing every traditional idea that's been shoved at me. In fact, I think He's happy that I finally started seeking something more substantial. And I suppose that, however Fundy-ish it might sound, even my loneliness has a purpose. But I'm sick to death of it, and I have these moments of desperation where I'm literally ready to look a bad decision in the face and make it anyway, despite knowing it's one of the worst things I could do, just to get a moment or two of relief from feeling so very alone. I guess I should be thankful for the friends who keep me from outright stupidity, and honestly I am, but there are moments when you just wish someone would let you jump off the bridge and get it over (No, I'm not talking suicide. I'm talking about acts of desperation.).

I'm sure all this sounds kinda scary to some people, and I don't feel like this 24/7, thank God. But I'm really at that "something's gotta give" place, and I'm all done with being alone.

New Ideas

2008-08-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

It's been far too long since I posted, partly because some of the issues I'm wrestling with are just to personal to put out there, partly because I just haven't been in the mood, and partly because I haven't had the time or desire to make it happen. However, here I am again.

I've been doing a lot of thinking/wrestling over the issue I raised in my last post relating to that sense of God withholding Himself. I've hashed the matter through, and though I haven't really settled on an answer that fully satisfies me yet, I feel like I may be getting situated in a direction that could prove enlightening with a bit of forward momentum.

There is a thought that is slowly wending its way through my brain like a flashlight searching through a dark, abandoned building. I've been feeling angry at God for all of this, recognizing that it's not really His fault, but still feeling like He withheld what I needed to the point that it put me in a position where I was more vulnerable to weakness than I should have been. Granted, my choices are my own, but perhaps if He had done things differently, I wouldn't have made those choices. So I've been kinda pissed. Pissed that I was (and still am) weak and vulnerable. Pissed that He could have done something about it and didn't. Pissed that I trusted Him and walked away empty-handed. Somewhere in there I know it's not His fault, that He was the wise one and the love I needed was always there, but I haven't sorted it through yet. So this new idea is beginning to infiltrate. It's hard for me to articulate because I'm still in that place where my fingers are just brushing the edges of something unfamiliar. The best I can say at the moment is that perhaps it wasn't God who left me out in the cold. Perhaps it's not His fault, not because, as I've been angry about, He failed to do what I thought He said He would. Perhaps what I was taught about Him was wrong. Perhaps I was trained up in perspectives that weren't quite on target.

No, my Fundy friends, don't freak out on me. I'm not going anywhere weird. I'm just saying that perhaps my understanding of God as the Lover or the Father was influenced incorrectly by the people who taught me these things. It isn't that He isn't the Lover or the Father or the Fulfiller, but perhaps what I was taught to expect from Him in those roles led me away from who and what He really is in them.

I realize that may not make much sense and that this posting is rather scattered, but my thoughts on the subject are still very fragmented and hesitant. It's hard to retrain the mind and explore new ideas when you've grown so accustomed to the old ones that you could walk through them blindfolded. However, as I start figuring my way around in here and find out if this new way of thinking might actually be truth, I'll keep you posted. (Haha. Posted. Get it? LOL. Oh, never mind.)

God Withholding

2008-07-27T10:55:00.000-07:00

I should warn you in advance that this post hits a really raw nerve with me, so I can't be sure what I'm gonna end up saying.

I got home from work last night and decided to watch some Creed videos on You Tube. I'd heard "Higher" on the radio while I was driving to work, and as I hadn't listened to it in a long time, I wanted to hear it again. But as I watched it and some of the other videos by Creed, I found myself wrestling with some really deep, raw, vulnerable stuff in me. I got this sense of God withholding Himself, which is something I don't understand. I remember hearing a few years ago that the lead singer of Creed is the son of a pastor, but he doesn't embrace Christianity personally. I don't know if any or all of that is true. I do know that his lyrics sure seem to support it. In fact, his lyrics resonate with me because they sound like the cry of a man who wants authentic relationship with God and, like me, believes that the Bible holds the truth, but for some reason God withholds Himself from the seeker. Listen to some of the stuff he says and you'll see what I mean.

When dreaming I'm guided to another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake

So let's go there
Let's make our escape
Come on, let's go there
Let's ask can we stay.

Can you take me higher?
To a place where blind men see
Can you take me higher?
To a place with golden streets

And then there's his song "One Last Breath."

Please come now I think I’m falling
I’m holding on to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I’m trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I’m down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain’t so far down

I’m looking down now that it’s over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere, Somewhere in His grace
I cried out heaven save me, But I’m down to one last breath

Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there’s something left for me
So please come stay with me
‘Cause I still believe there’s something left for you and me
For you and me, for you and me

I cried as I watched these videos last night because he has such a longing in his eyes, and I can't help but wonder why God doesn't answer him. I want to know why God doesn't fight for him. Why would He let someone who knows the truth is there and reaches for it not find Him? That's something that doesn't make sense to me. Why does God pursue people who don't give a fuck for Him and ignore those who are longing and reaching and desperate to find Him? Not just truth or church or blessings, but HIM. Don't get me wrong, I love the fact that God pursues people who don't want Him; in fact, I have a list of people I dearly love that I beg Him to pursue. But this guy's words and the look on his face really hit that raw nerve in me because I feel like I'm right there with him. I feel like I went after God and searched for Him and begged Him to meet me. I didn't hold myself back and I threw myself out there. I was ready to give Him anything and everything, just to live in His love and know Him. And I feel like He didn't really respond. I feel like I reached out with desperate arms to embrace a vanished lover. Why?

To be honest, it pisses me off. I remember years ago - I would have been in high school at the time - right after I really committed my life to Christ. I had just started reading my Bible, and why I opted for Jeremiah I don't know, but I found this verse in Jeremiah 29 that said, "You will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart." That verse was like a thunderclap. It was one of those times when you know that God is speaking right to you. And I've never forgotten that, and I spent years wholeheartedly seeking Him. Sometimes I found Him, but most of the time I felt like He was just beyond my reach. I would push harder ("pressing in" we called it), but He still stayed just far enough for me to sense Him but not close enough to touch. I can't tell you how many times I cried out and walked away still longing. I don't know why I kept reaching so long and didn't give up sooner. Now, though, I feel like I've worn myself out and there's just nothing left in me to reach with. So seeing someone else who seems to have gone through this kind of thing and hearing him sing about how he's reaching and not finding terrifies me. What happens when you have nothing left to reach with and you still haven't gotten what you sought? How can I trust that, having become Gomer, He will really come after me? After all, He withheld Himself when I was wholeheartedly seeking, so what hope do I have when my spirit is just too tired to reach anymore?

I suppose there's always the possibility that where I am now is where He's always wanted me to be, that He couldn't answer my longing then because I would have forever stayed in the narrow minded place I lived and never learned to love the real people in the real world. Maybe I had to learn that I could never long deeply enough or reach far enough or strive unceasingly enough, and the only way to find Him was to let Him find me. I don't know. All I know is that I don't have any "reach" left, and I'm really hoping that He'll show up before too awful long. I miss Him. I don't miss the Fundy church or my nutty ideas, but I miss Him. And that's weird too. How can you miss what you rarely found?

Anyhow, this is just one of those things I don't get about God. I don't get why He seems to ignore the seeking - or some of the seeking, at any right. Why doesn't He reach back to that Creed guy? Why didn't He reach back to me? And will He?

Of course, some well meaning person will offer a reassurance that He will, and they're probably right. But why wait until "someday"? Why not now? Why not then? Why wait until a person's ability to trust has been shattered?

Judging Me, Judging You

2008-07-26T08:33:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking quite a bit over the last few days about the human tendency to judge others. At first, I was giving all the credit for this ugly trait to the Fundies, but the more I thought on it, the more I realized this isn't a Fundy thing or an Evangelical thing; it's a human thing. It's something we all do. Christians judge non-Christians, and vice versa. Libs and Conservatives judge one another. Active people look with a less than understanding eye on inactive people, especially if the inactive sorts are overweight. The skinny judge the fat. The married judge the single. The environmentally conscious judge people who couldn't care less if the glaciers melt and the planet becomes unliveable. (Oops! Did I just reveal my environmentally friendly position there? LOL.) It's rich against poor, minority against majority, employed against unemployed, the fashion conscious against the fashion disasters. It seems no matter where you turn, you'll find someone to judge and someone who's judging you. In a society that screams for tolerance and understanding, we're all failing miserably, even if we believe in these high ideals.

Naturally, I've had the experience of being judged. I carry around enough extra pounds to be labeled curvy, so naturally I get to be victim to the stigma that follows all people with a few to take off: lazy and inactive. As one might expect, most athletic folks look at me and see a couch potato who's addicted to sitcoms and Cheetos. That image couldn't be further from my reality. Because they're judging, they don't see the fact that I'm an avid hiker and lover of outdoor sports who can't remember the last time she ate chips of any kind and wouldn't even bother with owning a TV if she lived alone. I can't change the fact that my curves refuse to comply with my fitness level, but I sure as hell hate to be judged because of it. There are few things that infuriate me more than taking a hike with a skinny, inactive friend and running into a judgmental fellow hiker. Inevitably, once we reach the top of the climb, that other hiker will come to me and say, "Hey, you made it. Good work. That was a hard climb." All I want to say is, "Kiss my ass, buddy. Perhaps you failed to notice that I passed you three times on the way up. The only reason you beat me to the top is because Slowbones over here kept having to stop for a rest. And for the record, this is an easy hike. If you want a hard climb, I can show you one." Such a response, however, would be neither gracious nor polite, and despite the fact that I hate the assumption that promotes that hiker's comment, I have to appreciate the kind intentions behind it. So I hold my peace... or strike up a conversation in which I casually mention some of the really tough backcountry hikes I've taken recently and how this is my partner's first hike and I'm introducing her to life on the trail. I consider this "educational." After all, misconceptions never change if they're never challenged or corrected.

I could give a number of examples of the assumptions and judgments I've witnessed, but as the focus of this blog is spirituality, we'll address those. And I'll start with me. (Surprise, surprise! LOL.) For many years, I was one of those conservatives who was guilty of judging liberals (keep in mind that I'm not speaking politically here). I deemed anyone with less conservative ideas than me (and believe me, I was REALLY conservative) a liberal. And in being a liberal, this person was clearly wrong. As an example, for several years I held to the idea that courtship - a highly structured way of forming romantic relationships - was "God's way" and therefore the only way Christians should pursue romance. For a time, I was actually insufferable about this issue. When my best friend took the time to raise a few objections to the courtship approach to relationships and chose to wrestle with the matter rather than embracing the idea wholesale, I privately deemed her as a little less spiritual than me. In fact, I thought I was more spiritual than pretty much everyone in my church, as most of them couldn't see the wisdom of courtship, the clearly revealed will of God for the single people in our gathering. At every opportunity, I preached it to the reluctant singles amongst us, extolling courtship's virtues and showing them that God wanted them to mature into this new thing. And with every rejection, my sense of my own spirituality and martyrdom grew.

The truth is, I was like this on a lot of issues. The stricter the discipline and the more restrictive the rules, the more spiritual the practice in question seemed to me. I wouldn't have called myself an ascetic, but in retrospect that's precisely what I was. I know I'm painting a picture of myself as a real ass - and at times I'm sure I was - but my heart really was in the right place. I wanted to do right and be good from the inside out. I just went about it the wrong way. And though it might sound like I've completely switched sides and have no use for disciplines or practices like courtship, that's not the case. I may not agree with everything they say, but I'm also not going to deny that they make some valid points that are worth considering. So I'm not challenging them directly; I'm challenging the attitudes they subtlely promote: "This way is better and more spiritual. Those who are committed to doing things God's way will perceive this and embrace it; those who are still 'in love with the world' won't. And since I've perceived it, it's a clear sign of my devotion and spirituality. Since you haven't..." And so is born this judgmental attitude amongst Fundies and Evangelicals. The conviction is "my way is God's way and therefore the only right way. Your way differs from mine; therefore, it's wrong. That makes me more spiritual than you." And so we come to a place where the Cons (haha! okay, conservatives) have so many disciplines to keep them in line that they no longer need grace, and the Libs have such a dependence on grace that they no longer acknowledge the value of disciplines.

It's easy to see how the Cons judge the Libs, but the truth is, the Libs judge the Cons too. Now that I have more liberal perspectives, I find that I'm as likely to judge the Cons as I once was to judge the Libs, as evidenced by some of the things I say in this blog. It's very easy for me to focus on all the things the Cons are doing wrong and feel that I have a better understanding of the true heart of God. This attitude is just as wrong as my old judgment in the opposite direction.

I don't know if it can be accomplished because we're fighting against a tendency that's deeply embedded in human nature (or perhaps I should say it can only be accomplished through a mighty work of God), but somehow the Libs and Cons have to stop judging one another. Somehow we have to recognize that each side has a kernel or two of truth that the opposition could benefit from. Somehow we must come to understand that when you boil us down to the heart of the matter, the real desire in all of us is to know and please God, and to do His work. If we could just begin at that very small patch of common ground, we might come to the place where Libs and Cons no longer reject one another's perspectives out of hand without really listening and acknowledging their validity. I'll be among the first to admit that I don't have any patience for Con perspectives these days. I don't want to hear them. I feel like these people and their ideas have wounded me long enough. But I have to get past that and recognize that I'm not being fair. Yes, they're doing some things that I consider absolutely wrong and absolutely opposed to the heart of Jesus, but I was once a true Con myself, and I have to remember the names and faces of the people who once filled my life and remember that these Cons (haha. Sorry, but calling them "cons" is kinda amusing!) really want the same Jesus I long for. I have to acknowledge that some of the things they have to say are right, just as some of the things we Libs have to say are right. And we're both wrong on some points.

We may never agree, but if we would stop judging one another long enough to learn a little from each other, perhaps we might all grow a little more toward our real objective, and perhaps we might accomplish more of the work God has for us in bringing light and hope and love to the dark places around us. We all have to stop assuming that our position is the right one and therefore we're entitled to judge all others as wrong. Until we do, we'll never be able to find that common ground: Jesus.

Pure Weddings?

2008-07-22T10:05:00.000-07:00

I'd like to start by saying thanks to Dan for his insightful comment on my posting about prayer. He really hit the nail on the head, and I have no doubt I'll explore his remarks more at a later date.

On to the post...

Just when you think you've heard it all, someone hits you with something you can hardly be expected to believe. I heard something last night that I have to admit angered and shocked me, and I thought it was worth exploring, as it illustrates many of the points I make on this blog. Without divulging too much detail, some old friends of mine who moved to the Bible belt last year recently returned to Seattle for a visit. I didn't see them, though a mutual friend did, and from the sound of things, the Bible belt has wrapped itself around their unsuspecting waists and slipped up to their necks where it has begun to squeeze their minds into small perspectives I would consider unpleasant.

While they visited with our mutual friend, one of them commented, "Our girls know we won't be paying for a wedding that's not pure." I almost exploded. Now, it's not that I'm against pure weddings. I'm all for them. It's just that the small-mindedness of that statement infuriates me, particularly in light of the fact that neither of the parents in question was even remotely "pure" when they married.

Sexual purity is a big deal in the church, and I can understand why. I stayed sexually pure for a very long time (I was nearly thirty), but as I've shared once before, I was weak and made a decision to give myself to a man I was dating. I share that to say that I know very intimately the emotional and spiritual issues that spring from sexual activity outside marriage. I also know how very easy it is to go from absolute innocence to the loss of that innocence literally in the course of one night. Contrary to what most Fundies think, it's VERY easy to do, even when you have every intention of sticking to your convictions. And let me tell you, my convictions meant a great deal to me. So in light of what I know from personal experience and in light of the exposure and pressures young people face within their culture (greater now than perhaps at any time in history) and in light of the battles they must fight purely on the level of natural human desire even without these two other factors, it's not surprising that the vast majority of Christian young people don't make it to their marriages "pure." I commend (and sometimes even envy) those who do, but I'd be the last person to judge or condemn those who don't. And I don't think any less of them for being weak. I made it through the trials of youth and was well into adulthood before it happened to me, but I'm not sure that counts for anything.

I realize that these parents have taken this stand with good intentions. I understand they want to give their daughters every possible motivation to wait. I'm all for encouraging that in young people, but I think this method is grossly in error for several reasons.

Let's start with one of the more obvious: how does one define "pure"? Does it mean that both the bride and groom are virgins? What if the bride is a virgin but the groom isn't? Is it still a pure wedding if the couple has engaged in oral sex? What if they've just fooled around a little (making out and touching)? What if they've managed to avoid these pitfalls but one (or both) of them masturbates? Are they still pure? Or what if they're both virgins and they've kept their hands off each other, but one (or both) of them has fooled around a little in a former relationship? Is it a pure wedding if the guy has looked at porn once or twice in his life? Is it pure if the bride indulges in sexual fantasies or reads sexually explicit novels?

Do you see my point? What makes a wedding pure? Now a Fundy would say that neither the bride nor the groom should engage in any of these behaviors in order for the wedding to be pure, but let's get real. We live in the real world. People have real temptations to wrestle with, and those people make mistakes. They have moments of weakness. They do things they later regret. I'm not saying those errors should be glossed over or excused, but they happen and that's what the grace of God is for. If we apply the strictest possible Fundy definition for a pure wedding, every bride who marries would hear her daddy telling her she's gonna have to foot the bill. Even if she's managed to overcome every temptation and is absolutely, inhumanly pure, I have serious doubts that her love munchkin has arrived at the altar as unscathed. Sorry, folks, we're dealing with reality here. I repeat, that's what the grace of God is for!

Here's another issue that such a stand raises: once a person has given up purity, whether through the loss of virginity or through a lesser trespass of boundaries, is there any hope that purity can be restored? Depending on who you ask in the Fundy church, the answer is yes. In fact, Lisa Bevere, a highly respected author and speaker among the Fundies, shares her story in one of her books of how God restored her spiritual virginity. One of the great reassurances the church gives to young men and women who have gotten sexually involved is that God can forgive and restore them spiritually and emotionally to the place that it is just as though they never became sexually impure. So if a young person makes a mistake and then makes it right with God, does that person then get to have a "pure" wedding or is that one of those "unrestorable" things? I, for one, don't think so. I'm not sure how my old friends would feel, but I'd hate to be a girl living in a home where no room is left for mistakes, where a mistake God forgives and forgets might still prevent me from having a "pure" wedding.

A third issue that presents itself is the impact such a stand can make in a girl's relationship with her parents, particularly if this is an issue she's struggling with. Frankly, she's more likely to hide and fight her battles alone than to risk being honest with her parents and face judgment or a hefty wedding ticket. And should she commit the "unthinkable" and actually have sex with a guy, her parents have put her in a position where she can't feel safe in coming to them. As I said before, I believe parents should do what they can to motivate their young people to choose sexual purity, but I don't believe they should do so by promising that a punishment of that nature awaits the weak. A young man or woman who's been raised to value sexual purity feels enough personal shame and sorrow when innocence is lost; heaping more shame and judgment on that person is one of the most unkind, destructive responses a parent or leader can make, as I know all too well from personal experience.

There are some who would argue that when parents don't take a strong stand with their children they encourage or endorse them to practice behaviors that are contrary to the values they want to instill. To some degree I agree, and there is a fine line that a parent must walk when guiding a child into the kind of lifestyle that pleases God. However, having been raised in a very sheltered, traditional environment, I saw more than one close friend dipping into behaviors their parents would have been horrified to learn of. I have to wonder if the strong stand taken by those parents did more to teach their children how to justify wrong behavior and deceive in order to conceal it than to empower their children to overcome temptations by offering a haven to discuss temptations and failures with the knowledge that disclosures of that kind would be greeted with compassion and mercy. Perhaps some of the misconduct I witnessed in my teenage years could have been nipped in the bud and halted before it became serious if my friends could have been open with their parents without fear of embarrassment, disgrace and punishment.

I'm no expert on these matters, and I don't claim to be one. I do, however, see that such systems don't work and have to wrestle with the questions about what alternatives would work. And having known a harsh hand myself, I understand that, to a vulnerable person, a harsh hand may be the worst possible response.

Prayer: Step One, Step Two, Step Three, and You Win the Doorprize!

2008-07-19T08:35:00.000-07:00

In Searching for God Knows What Donald Miller made a really great point about how Christians have a tendency to turn spiritual matters into formulas. (LOL. That sentence totally sounds like the opening line of one of those Q & A sections they put in the back of books for study or group discussion.)

I was thinking about it this morning while I was trying to go back to sleep. (LOL. Didn't I come up with a post last week the same way? Must work on this during my waking hours!) I guess my body is really accustomed to getting up and going to work, because I keep waking up ridiculously early, even when I have an extra hour or two to sleep in and don't set my alarm. Anyhow, I woke up, and in my half-sleep state, I found my mind wandering in unexpected directions. And don't tell me that you don't think strange things when you're only half awake! I was thinking about how nice it was to have weekends to sleep in, and how fortunate I am that I don't live in any of the not-too-distant eras in which people kept slaves or servants and never gave them a day off. Sometimes I don't like my job, but I can never complain that I don't get time off on weekends. Whatever I do during the week, those two days are mine to spend as I will.

Call me silly, but these reflections produced a sense of thankfulness in me, and I started talking to God and telling Him how much I appreciated these things: that I have a good job, that I was born when I was born, that I have free time to spend as I will, that I don't have to get up every morning of my life to wait hand-and-foot on people who don't appreciate me. And as I was talking to Him about these things, several other things came to mind that I am thankful for (without realizing it, most of the time), so I thanked Him for those. Then the conversation turned in other directions - a confession of weakness and then a request and then something else - and finally I fell asleep. It was nice to have those minutes with Him. It wasn't an earthshattering sense of Him being close (I've had that a number of times, and it's amazing!); it was more like that feeling of "comfortable" you get when you're hanging with an old friend with whom you are completely free to be yourself and you don't have to put up any kind of front.

Anyway, this experience got me thinking about prayer and all the things I was taught about prayer in my Bible school days, which naturally got me thinking about Donald Miller's distaste for the Christian use of religious formulas. I was always taught that the Lord's Prayer (found in the gospels) was to be used like a model (a.k.a. formula) for how God wanted us to pray. I think this is because Jesus tells the disciples as He's teaching it, "This then is how you should pray..." But leave it to us to fuck it up and miss the point entirely. Rather than looking at the simplicity of the prayer (no big fancy words to impress God, no silly repetitions, no endless droning), we say, "Aha! He gave us a formula. Let us look closer at this prayer to discern the pattern He wants us to use. And if we use it, God will hear us better and answer us more quickly. And if we tack on "in the name of Jesus" at the end, He'll be even happier!" (LOL. To understand that last comment, you must read my earlier post "Pagan Practices.")

I remember being taught this formula and wondering if God had really been hearing my prayers all those years I hadn't used it. I remember making sure I started every prayer off with praise and thanksgiving, even if I had to come up with an insincere "thank you" that I didn't really feel at the moment, and all because I had been convinced that God would like my prayers better if I told Him how great He was before I launched in. (To tell you the truth, that kind of thinking makes God sound rather like an egomaniac looking for His next stroking, which He's not!)

This morning's prayer happened to start with thanksgiving, but it wasn't because I was keeping in step with the formula. That happened to be the predominant emotion I wanted to share with God at the time. At other times there are no feelings of thanksgiving, so I don't offer insincere "You're so great!" remarks because I think I have to. I come and I open up my heart and talk to Him about whatever I'm feeling. I ditch the trappings and traditions in order to treat Him like the father He says He is to me. And let me tell you something, my earthly father wouldn't appreciate it at all if I came to him with formulas, so why would the God who says He is my Father in heaven? If anything, I think formulas interfere with and hinder relationship, and being a Christ follower is nothing if not about relationship.

Confessions of a Liberal

2008-07-13T08:21:00.000-07:00

I figured that the Fundies have taken their fair share of potshots, and it's now time to give the Liberals their 15 seconds of fame. LOL. What's funny to me about this is that I've never considered myself a Lib, and despite what most Fundies would say about me, I still don't. I think of myself as a conservative with liberal leanings. But I guess labels aren't that important.

I was doing some thinking while lying in bed this morning and trying to go back to sleep. Over the last year I've come to really love and value the liberal Christ followers in the world. It wasn't all that long ago that I joined my Fundy brothers and sisters in eyeing them askance and privately wondering if they were really even saved. They've since become my refuge.

I think this is because Libs are so much more open and forgiving when it comes to weakness and failings, because they are patient and understanding about the fact that spirituality is a journey, and because they recognize that being a Christ follower is as much about befriending the sinner as it is about becoming ever more pure and holy.

But for all the things I think the Libs have right, there's a weakness in us that troubles me: we tend to see sin as something that isn't that big a deal. In some ways this is good, because it enables us to do all the wonderful things I just mentioned, but on the other hand this is not good, because while God forgives our failings, He really does hate sin. Most Fundies will harp on this point until you want to beat them until they are black and blue. They emphasize God's holiness as the reason for this hatred of sin. They're partially right, but I'm coming to wonder if God's hatred for sin is motivated primarily because of what it does to His creations, not because He simply arbitrarily hates it. Or put another way, it's not sin because it's inherently evil and insidious (in most cases); it's sin and God hates it because it separates us from Him and causes harm or pain to come into our lives.

I don't know how accurate that is, or even how clear I've managed to make it, but I do know that once you begin exploring the idea, you realize it's very different from the Fundy concept of sin. The Fundy concept says that sin is evil and God hates it; therefore, when we sin it separates us from God. But what if the evilness of sin isn't arbitrary? What if it's only evil because it hurts us and makes it hard for us to connect with God? I'm not saying this is the case; I'm just saying "what if." You might think of it like a drug. The drug isn't arbitrarily bad in and of itself. What makes it bad is the harm it does.

I realize there are some holes in that perspective, which is why I haven't embraced it, but I think it's worth exploring nonetheless. However, I've strayed from my original point, which is that Libs have a tendency not to take sin as seriously as they should. I've been having some discussions in recent weeks and months with some liberal friends regarding some of the things the Bible specifically points to as sin. We aren't discussing matters that are gray areas or issues that deal with "Christian liberties"; we're talking about behaviors that are unequivocally labeled as sinful. Despite this, we each have to admit that to us some of these behaviors don't seem sinful. We know this is what the Bible says, and we may even have some understanding of why God declares that behavior sinful, but to our hearts and minds it doesn't seem sinful.

It was this that I was thinking on this morning, and I couldn't help but think of the scripture verse that forms one of the major themes in the book of Judges. It says that in those days every man did what was right in his own eyes. And if you ever read the book of Judges, you'll discover that there was some pretty heinous shit going on. People were completely disregarding God's commands, and the result was chaos and pain. I think this is something that we Libs need to be mindful of. We may not like or agree with everything God says; we may not understand everything God says, but when we choose to do what's right in our own eyes when that contradicts what God says is right, we're bound to make a mess of things.

Caught Between Two Worlds

2008-07-03T12:47:00.001-07:00

First, I'd like to start by thanking Jon for his comment! Sometimes you wonder if anyone out there even cares about what you have to say, so it's encouraging to get that kind of feedback from someone outside my immediate circle!!!!

On to the post...

One of the great difficuties that you face in a journey like mine is the doubt and uncertainty you feel when you're caught between two worlds. I've been feeling a lot of that lately, and it's uncomfortable and frightening. I don't really feel that I quite fit in anywhere at present. I most certainly don't fit in with the folks who used to comprise my circle (truthfully, I avoid them), but I don't entirely fit in with everyone else either. I'm an anomaly. LOL.

To illustrate the point, on weekends I wait tables in a restaurant. I do this for a couple of reasons. First of all, the extra fun money is very nice. Secondly, I'm all about "living" and experiencing the things in life that appeal to me. It might sound crazy, but waitressing has always been one of those jobs that sounded fun to me. Now I can cross it off my "things to do before I die" list and say that I got the chance to experience it firsthand. Finally, every time I start thinking it's time to bail, I remember just how much I love the people I work with. They're quite a crowd - very rough around the edges and most have seen the harder side of life a few times too many. They love to party like nobody's business, and they're a group I wouldn't have had any common ground with not so long ago. Truthfully, I still don't really have much in common with them, but they are so much fun, they're beautiful people, and I really and sincerely love them. When I do finally leave, I'm going to miss them so much.

I'm getting off track a bit, th0ugh. As I was saying, a few weeks ago I was waiting tables and had a group of nice charismatic Fundies come in for dinner. They were all sweet ladies, and most of them were actually good tippers, which is unusual for religious folks in my waitressing experience. At one time, these ladies would have been a harbor in the storm, so to speak. As I was taking care of them, I couldn't help but overhear them chatting about "the Holy Spirit told me this" or "God's presence was so powerful" or "that was such deep revelation." What was interesting to me about all this, though, was how disconnected I felt from them. It was like I couldn't relate anymore. I understood what they were saying, but it was as though I had more common ground with my "heathen" co-workers than these sweet, sincere ladies. Honestly, it all felt rather awkward.

I remember how I always used to feel connected to other Christians, even if I didn't know them personally. If I saw someone praying or reading their Bible in a restaurant or wearing a Christian t-shirt, it was like I'd found a buddy and the two of us shared a special little secret. I don't feel like that much anymore. In fact, I feel very distrustful of most Christians. I feel like if I tried to share my life and heart with them, they'd reject me or judge me. It's not that my lifestyle is so much different than theirs, but I don't think like they do anymore, and I know their thought processes far to well to entrust myself to them. They'd want to "deliver" me or would secretly look down on me as an immature Christian (maybe... "not sure if she's really a Chrstian at all." LOL) who's been deceived or who "hasn't experienced God deeply enough to be satisifed in Him" like they are.

Now perhaps my experience with these ladies was more a "just that night" kind of thing. The week before they came in I took care of a couple at a table who were reading their Bibles and discussing a study guide over dinner. I asked them about what they were reading and soon we were chatting about our churches. They were really nice people. So perhaps with the other ladies I was just having an "off" night, or perhaps it was because they were charismatic sorts (I feel extremely gunshy when it comes to the charismatics these days.). I'm not sure. I do know, however, that I feel very disconnected from most other Christians of the Fundy stamp. If they turn out to be Democrats or more liberal thinkers, I start to feel safer, but the whole conservative crowd seem to be cousins eight times removed, or something like that.

On the other hand, I don't feel entirely connected to non-Christ followers either. I like the fact that I can be real with them and feel safe. I like the fact that they don't look at me as though I have two heads when I use profanity or throw back a shot of whiskey. The thing is, I don't really think like them either, and for the most part, I don't really get involved in the stuff they're involved in. Yes, I have a drink from time to time, but most of the time I'll opt for a Diet Pepsi over a beer or cocktail. I'm not a partier, and I'm still completely out of the loop on the most popular television shows. I go on a fair number of dates and make an effort to get out there and meet nice guys, but I don't fool around with those guys or bring them home with me. I'm not a raging Democrat (something that really makes me stand out in Seattle!!!), but neither am I a staunch Republican anymore. Instead, I'm trying to vote based on how a candidate's positions line up with my convictions - something most Fundies don't do. They're all Republicans, for the most part. Again, I'm an anomaly.

It's hard to feel that you're caught between two worlds, knowing that you don't fully fit in with either. As I said, this feeling is uncomfortable. I can deal with uncomfortable, but sometimes I get unsettled and afraid. I'm striking out into unfamiliar territory, and I'm frightened at the audacity of it, the possibility of making huge errors in both lifestyle and conviction. What if I end up way over in left field? What if I give up convictions I shouldn't? What if I turn God into some collage of characteristics that I find pleasing and acceptable? I don't want that for myself.

I've noticed that many people who leave the Fundy church walk away from more than the church. They walk away from the truth. I love my roommate dearly, but she's taken that path. She used to be a good Fundy girl like me. Now she defines herself as "spiritual but not religious." It's a popular label these days, and it can be a good thing or a not so good thing. For her it means that she picks and chooses what she wants to believe based on what appeals to her. She mixes in a little of this religion and a little of that religion and doesn't really believe that the Bible is the final authority on truth. I'm not like that. I'm not saying I'm better. I'm just saying I'm not like that. Maybe it's because I wrestled through that whole crisis of belief right after high school, but for me absolute truth is an essential. I don't believe I can pick and choose to come up with a spirituality that "fits" me. I don't believe that all paths lead to God. I don't believe that a person can embrace whatever form of spirituality appeals to him and still be a-okay with God. I know that kind of thinking offends people, and that's okay. It's understandable that it would be hard for people to accept such a restrictive perspective. I'm okay with the fact that it's something people have to wrestle with and find hard to accept, and I try to give them the grace and patience they need to do so, just as I need grace and patience for the things I wrestle with.

I wish this road were actually a road, not a path where few feet have trod. I wish I could feel confident that I'm going to get everything right. In fact, it's one of the few things I miss about being a Fundy - the feeling that I had my ducks in a row. Now I'm lucky if I can find my ducks, let alone get the damn things lined up correctly. But if nothing else, I can truly say that for the first time in my life I'm living by faith. There's no false sense of security coming from the fact that I think and act right 99 percent of the time (amazing how you can do almost everything right as a Fundy and still feel like God's problem child who's more a disappointment to Him than a pleasure. Will explore that more later.). There's no sense that God will accept me because I've got flawless theology or perfectly Biblical convictions. No, for the first time in my life I live by faith that Jesus is my only hope of getting to heaven. For the first time I have to trust deep down that He won't let me go too far, that He will come find me when I get lost, that He will come after me when I become Gomer and run away from home. For the first time in my life there's no corner of my heart that feels secure because I'm "on fire for God." Instead, I'm living by faith that the fire He says He has for me will be enough to keep me with Him, because the truth is I'm a faithless, weak, and pitiful excuse for a follower... just like the twelve guys He picked to be His disciples. I'm not going to "make it" or be useful to Him because I've got both feet firmly planted in the Fundy church. I'm going to make it because He's going to take pity on this wretched soul that is doomed to want all the wrong things. He's going to make something lovely and useful and precious of my life in spite of the fact that I'm a hopeless screw-up when left to my own devices.

It makes me think of something my pastor said awhile back. It was profound and beautiful, and it echoes in my soul. It's contrary to everything I was taught in the charismatic Fundy church I attended for years, but its truth rings in me like the siren call of hope. He said God is moved by our weakness. I was always taught that God was only moved by our faith, but faith, as it was taught, was not faith in weakness; it was faith in strength. Maybe in their essence faith and weakness are inseparable. They certainly are in my life, and it comforts me to think that as I've finally come to be aware of my weakness, He is moved by that.

Turkey Dinner with a Side Order of Jesus

2008-06-30T17:23:00.000-07:00

Recently, a guy I once dated popped back into my life unexpectedly. Hard as it will be to believe for some of the folks who once knew me, he was even more extreme a Fundy than I once was, and I hate to say it, but he's become more of an ass than he used to be. (This is perhaps unfair and untrue. I may feel this way because I've become so much more liberal and his conservatism stands out more. By the way, being conservative is fine. This guy is an ass for other reasons, not because he's conservative. There are plenty of wonderful conservatives out there who are most decidedly NOT asses.)

Anyhow, my last posting brought this subject to mind, as did the comments of my Fundy "friend" last week regarding the Emerging Church movement. It's too bad I can't introduce the two of them (my commentator and my ex). They'd hit it off famously. :) The guy I used to date mentioned the Emerging Church and wanted to know if my current church was affiliated with it. I told him I'd never heard the term and that my church was most certainly not a part of it. He then filled me in briefly on what it is these people stand for. Honestly, I still have a pretty vague notion of it all, but one of the things he criticized in the movement is actually something I think they may have right. He spoke of their "humanistic" approach to humanitarian work - namely, the fact that they feed the homeless but don't preach to them over the meal. Call me worldly, but I actually think they might be onto something there.

I talked in my last post about the problem with having an agenda behind forming friendships with non-Christ followers. I should perhaps clarify that in saying that I don't think it's wrong to form relationships with the desire to eventually share Jesus; I just think that loving relationship (being Jesus in the relationship rather than simply preaching Jesus in the relationship) should be our goal. I think this also applies to our humanitarian pursuits. I mean, doesn't it seem a little sketchy to you to use helping a needy person as some sort of manipulative tool to force your religious convictions on them? It kind of reminds me of the time my parents had to sit through a two-hour spiel on timeshares in order to go home with a CD player. All they really wanted and needed was the CD player, but they had to listen to the sales pitch in order to get it. No one likes being in that position, so why is it we force people to listen to our religious sales pitch in order to get a much needed meal and clothes?

I know it sounds like I'm saying that we should just give out the cookies and not share Jesus, but that's not what I'm saying it all. I'm all for sharing Jesus, but I don't think we should force Him on people because they're too needy to do without our help. They're smart enough to see through that kind of bullshit, and frankly I think most of them resent it. It doesn't do our cause any good if people hate us for our message before we ever preach it. We often say that people don't care how much you know until they know how much you care. This is true. But how much do you think these people sense our care when that care is conditional on them choking down a healthy side order of Jesus with the turkey dinner we've served them, especially when they only ordered the turkey? They might be poor, but that doesn't mean they're too dumb to see our agenda. How about we just let them know we're Christ followers and leave it at that for awhile? How about we just love them and love them and help them and listen to them and love them some more? And maybe, just maybe, when we've given them our unconditional love long enough, they'll come to us for Jesus as well as turkey, toys and blankets.

Conversations with an Atheist

2008-06-24T21:34:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned my friend and carpool buddy more than once on this blog, and I get the feeling that she's going to pop up fairly often. :) This is because, from time to time, our conversations move beyond the shallow and dip into the personal or profound.

This week we had a discussion about differences in belief - namely, how I can believe in God with as much conviction as she disbelieves. And though our conversation was interesting, I won't detail it here. There are too many personal things shared in these discussions for me to feel comfortable putting them in such a public place. However, I think the driving force behind our conversation was something that should be looked at.

I've often thought that the church as a whole, and Fundyism in particular, lacks the ability to really connect with those who don't agree with it. I think this is partially because religion and spirituality are such personal issues that it's harder to move beyond the differences between us to find our common ground than it is for two people who happen to root for two different teams. But I also think it has to do with the awareness of those differences that the church grinds into people. Add to this the emphasis on soul-winning, and you create a group of people who can't help but see everyone outside their immediate circle of belief through a religious filter. You're either saved or unsaved, easy to relate to or living in a completely different world. There's no room for a middle ground.

On the one hand these views have some truth to them, but I think we need to view our relationships with non-Christ followers differently. I think that seeing our differences in a way that alienates us can't be a good thing, particularly if this creates an "us vs. them" mentality or makes us think we are better. Instead, I think we need to recognize and emphasize our similarities. We are all people walking through this world. We all have grief, pain, joy, trials and fears. We all have weaknesses. We all have the fatal disease of sin (I love how Donald Miller explores this concept in Blue Like Jazz. He describes the sin nature as the fact that we are all flawed and that something in us is broken, making it easier for us to do bad when we know we should do good.). This is true for every man, woman and child who has ever walked this planet. The only difference between the Christian and non-Christian is that the Christian has accepted the antidote for that fatal disease. It's not a perfect cure in this lifetime - meaning that as long as a person lives on this earth, he or she will still have to fight that disease - but it does guarantee that for those who take the antidote, the disease won't be fatal and that before all is said and done, he or she will have a better chance of not giving in to the temptations of that disease. When we can begin to see ourselves as one in that we are all carriers of this same disease, we can begin to find our common ground again.

That being said, I want to focus back in on my conversation with my friend. What I feel was so revoluationary about our conversation was not the fact that it took place. It was the undertone of that conversation. We're certainly not the first atheist and Christ follower to ever discuss our different religious views, but we're in the minority in that our conversation was one in which we sought to come to a place of understanding, not a place of agreement. I think this is crucial. Neither one of us was coming to the conversation with an agenda. I wasn't there to convince her that I'm right and she's wrong, or that she should abandon her beliefs (which she has embraced for legitimate reasons) in favor of mine. I was there to hear her opinion, listen to her perspectives, see through her eyes. I can only presume she was attempting to do the same with me. In short, we were laying the foundations of friendship. We were seeking to know one another better. And because we weren't behaving like two used car salesmen trying to pawn off our beliefs on an unsuspecting sucker, we succeeded. I know her better now. I understand her stance more fully. That doesn't mean I agree with it, but coming to a place of agreement wasn't the objective. The objective was relationship.

I've noticed that the Fundy church only endorses close friendships with unbelievers for the purpose of "winning the lost to Christ." As long as your goal is conversion, it's okay to form bonds with sinners. Otherwise, stay away. They'll only corrupt you. But I think this is wrong. I don't think we should go into the world with a hidden agenda. In fact, I think this well-meaning agenda is poorly hidden, and its existence is one of the reasons we fail so miserably. That's not to say that we shouldn't seek to share Jesus with others. In fact, more and more every year I gain a heart and burden for people who don't know Jesus. I can't help but hope and pray that my friendship with my atheist carpool buddy will plant truth in her that will lead her to Jesus, but my only agenda is loving relationship. In other words, whether she ever embraces Jesus or not, I will love her and offer her my friendship. I'm reaching out to her unconditionally, just as Jesus reaches out to me. After all, how much would you want to be friends with someone if you sensed his real agenda wasn't friendship but an effort to convince you to buy into his Amway upline, or whatever the hell they say? Thanks, but no thanks. When you sense someone is coming into a relationship with an agenda, you can't help but feel that they don't really give a damn about you as a person; they just want you to buy into whatever it is they're selling. Again, no thanks.

Honestly, I think relationship without agenda is more loving, more Christ-like, and more likely to yield honest-to-goodness fruit than the alternative. So that's why I'm trying to come to a place of understanding with my friend. That's why I'm not fighting to convince her that I'm right. That's why I'm not desperate to get her to agree with me. And the payoff? Because I'm willing to listen to her, she's willing to listen to me. Because she gets to share her religious perspectives, I also get the chance to share mine. In other words, I'm sowing seeds. I'm sharing truth, but I'm doing it in a way that gives it a chance to take root and grow. I'm not watering it down, but neither am I throwing it at her like bricks through a window.

I can't help but think that I'm on the right track here, even if I'm still groping my way through the dark. A day or two after our conversation she came to me and shared a very personal concern she and her husband are dealing with. She hasn't chosen to share it with anyone else, and I can't tell you how honored I was that she would entrust it to me. And as we talked last week, she said something that touched me so deeply. She told me that she doesn't feel she has to censor herself with me. She can be real with me and not put up a front or be fake. The only other person in her life she feels that kind of freedom with is her husband. To be honest, that blows me away. To be given such a thing from another human being is truly a gift, and it tells me that somehow, in all my faulty attempts and in this blind searching to find a balance between authentic faith, friendship, and sharing Jesus, I've managed to be Jesus to this woman. I've managed to offer her the same safety He offers me - a place to go where I don't have to censor myself or pretend I'm something that I'm not. It doesn't mean He agrees with me on everything, but He offers me that safety and that unconditional love.

I know there's a balance to this. I know that I have to be prepared for the possibility that I may speak the truth and offend. That's the nature of truth, I'm afraid. I freely admit that I haven't got this all right or all figured out, and I may never get to that place. But I also think the current approach used by the Fundies doesn't work, and maybe I'm onto something. Maybe this is a worthwhile alternative to consider.

A Rebuttal of Hatred

2008-06-23T16:31:00.000-07:00

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. You are no more a "Christ Follower" then I am a vegetarian (says while eating a live cow). I am sorry some apostate emergent teaching has lead you to believe you are a Christ follower...

The above comment was made in response to my posting called "Hatemongers & Whoremongers." There are some things I'd like to say in reply. I don't know if this hateful person will ever take the time to review my response to his/her cowardly attack (I say cowardly because this person chose to say some very unkind things without having the courage to put their name to their remarks.), but regardless of whether or not they ever visit my blog again, I feel it's important for me to express my feelings about what they had to say. I have copied their comment in its entirety, with the exception of the website link they chose to include. As this is a site I don't want to encourage others to visit, I've chosen to exclude it.

For starters, this is precisely the kind of response I'm talking about that has alienated the secular world from the church. The words of Jesus are hard enough to wrestle with for some folks, but attitudes like the one above do nothing but make those words harder to accept and reveal nothing of the wooing, loving heart of God. I'm not trying to imply that God is some type of soft grandfather who winks at our sinfulness, but He is a God who describes Himself as patient, slow to anger, quick to forgive, abundant in mercy, a friend of sinners, intimately aware of our frailty in our human state. The message above was none of these things. It was harsh, judgmental and unkind. And let me tell you, there was not one drop of the love of Jesus in it. This person who believes me to be deceived in my belief that I'm accepted by God as a Christ follower has offered no helping hand or insight to show me the way to what they deem to be truth, unless the website that was included was supposed to serve as some form of assistance. Instead, they have chosen to rudely throw their opinion at me while leaving me in the pit of ungodliness they believe I live in. They have not talked to me, they do not know me or my story, and I can only presume that they did not bother to take the time to read any of the other thoughts I have made myself vulnerable in sharing. This person does not know that I base my salvation not on some "apostate emergent teaching," but on the sacrifice Jesus Christ made on my behalf. I am not a Christ follower because it's trendy or because it appeals to me. I'm not a Christ follower because it sounds like a good thing to do. I'm a Christ follower because He drew me and called me and reached out for me from a very young age, because despite my imperfections and struggles He is merciful to me, because I have placed my trust entirely in His ability to save me and make me what He wants me to be, and most decidedly not because I have it all right and do a great job of keeping all the rules.

Let's just suppose, however incorrect that supposition may be, that this person is right and I am not a true Christ follower. As this person considers himself a true Christ follower, it is his duty and responsibility to share the truth with me. By the example of the apostle Paul, this person should lovingly instruct me if my path is incorrect, not throw a missile of judgment and dash away to his next victim. Clearly he is insincere in his assertion that he is "sorry" I have been lead to believe I am a Christ follower by some false teaching or another. If he is truly sorry, he would attempt to help me understand what it means to be a true Christ follower, not simply attack without giving any legitimate, concrete reason for his assumptions regarding my spiritual state.

And for the record, I had never even heard of the "Emerging Church" until about two months ago, and I still have only the vaguest idea of what it is these folks are teaching. Amazing, is it not then, that they have been deceiving me about my being a Christ follower ever since October of 1993 when I made a personal commitment to Jesus. Who could have thought their influence could be so far reaching that they could mislead even those who have never heard of them and are unfamiliar with what they're all about? So next time, friend, get your facts straight before you start making ignorant assumptions and throwing them out there with so little grace.

Finally, I would remind this person that, according to the words of his or her own mouth, he/she was eating a live cow at the time their comments were made. Be careful. You are in violation of the decrees issued at the council of Jerusalem. In case you aren't familiar, the account can be found in the book of Acts. The apostles determined that all Christ followers were to abstain from eating/drinking blood. Next time, cook your meat before beginning lunch, or you too may end up deceived and living in gross violation of clearly stated laws. As you are so evidently a lover of the law, this would be a grievous misfortune for you. :)

I don't know whether my reader found my post offensive because I sometimes use profanity, or because I went to a parade where naked people were riding bikes, or because I was in a crowd with sinners of all kinds, or because I dared to challenge the hatemongering signs waved by his Fundy cohorts. I do know that Jesus would have taken a far different approach to correcting any error I might be in. I'm not saying Jesus didn't preach hard truths, but even when He had to confront the rich young ruler the Bible says "He looked at him and loved him." When you can look at me and love me, when you can sincerely desire to help me see "truth" (if I am deceived in my perspectives), when your heart aches for me to know the love and joy and freedom of Jesus that I doubt you know yourself with your self-righteous trappings, then you will have the right to speak to me and confront me. Truth, without love, is a weapon, and it will wound without healing.

Hatemongers & Whoremongers

2008-06-21T14:09:00.000-07:00

Today I went to a Seattle street fair celebrating Solstice in the Fremont neighborhood where I live. It was delightful! The festival is most famous, perhaps, for its two parades. The first, "unofficial" parade draws at least as many (if not more!) people as the second, "official" parade. This is because, for a few hours on Solstice, the Seattle police choose to ignore modesty laws as they join the rest of us in enjoying the unofficial parade of nudists who travel the parade path on bikes or rollerblades. Most decorate their bodies with paint to preserve some sense of modesty, but a few brave souls dare to bare it all without embellishment. These folks, as well as those who bike standing up to put on a good show by giving more explicit views than those being offered by their comfortably seated counterparts, garner cheers as they roll up and down the street for a large crowd of appreciative gawkers. It's completely inappropriate, but it sure is fun!

My friends and I sat through both parades (there were plenty of mostly naked people in the official parade too!) before wandering up the street to the vendors where we could purchase everything from dresses and jewelry to herbal massage oils and sweet treats. We were surrounded by hippies and homosexuals, athletic sorts and those who really needed to lay off the cream puffs. It was all very "Seattle" and I was reminded again just why I love living in this crazy, totally inappropriate city so very much.

After doing a little shopping, I decided to walk home and began politely pushing my way toward the end of the street. After managing to escape the crush of people and starting to head up the middle of the road, I was horrified to see two giant signs waving over the heads of the crowd. One read, "God is watching you. Shame on you. Repent." The other quoted scripture verses about how the sexually immoral will not inherit the kingdom of God, and warning people that God had given them over to their unholy lusts. I wanted desperately to march over to the foolish men waving their banners of hate and give them a piece of my mind, but I knew I'd be wasting my breath.

In stark contrast were the donation stands not ten feet from the Fundy outpost. Manned by the depraved "whoremongers" of Seattle, they had been established as spots for people to donate money to help homeless families, and they were raking in the cash. Thanks to their efforts, a lot of less fortunate families are going to get some desperately needed assistance.

I can't help but think that this kind of thing is an explicit example of what's wrong with the Fundy church, and it's one of the main reasons I can no longer stand to be affiliated with them. It's not that what they were saying isn't true; it's the fact that they weren't speaking it in love. It's the fact that they were wielding truth as a weapon that hurts without healing. It's the fact that they were driving people away and giving them good reason to slam the doors of their hearts to a message that needs to be heard.

I understand that truth is a tough thing, and I understand that sometimes it has to be spoken, even if it is disliked or rejected. As I said in my last post, Jesus was an irritant at times (though He was mostly confrontational with religious types, not sinners). But I also know what it feels like to be judged. I know how it feels to have someone tell you that what you're doing is sinful. That kind of message is hard enough to hear when it's spoken in love; when it's spewed like venom, how the hell is it supposed to do any good whatsoever?

Perhaps the saddest thing about today was that there was a lot of love on those city streets, but none of it (in the public sense, at least) was coming from the Christians. Some readers may remember the "Free Hugs" campaign that was all over the headlines a few years ago. A man stood on a city street with a sign that said "Free Hugs." To anyone who wanted one, he offered a hug, a monent of human connection and compassion. And he got others to do the same. It was a really beautiful thing until the cops shut it down. I guess a group of Seattleites didn't get the message that the movement was over. A large group of them marched in the official parade wearing red satin capes with furry hearts emblazoned on the back. They didn't keep to formation because they were too busy walking amongst the crowds offering hugs and wishing people a happy solstice. I received a hug today from a man I didn't know. It was a beautiful thing. Had I walked up to one of those sign-wavers, a hug would probably have been the last thing on earth he'd have been willing to offer me. And if I had a need and wanted someone to talk to, I would have gone to the pagan who'd given me a kind moment of connection before I would have approached the street preacher. And I'm a Christ follower! How do you think all the sinners felt?

Now to be fair to the Fundies, most of them aren't so extreme as these two guys. However, the kinder Fundies don't speak up enough or get air time, so in effect, they let self-righteous bastards like the chaps I saw today speak for them. I know that Fundies do a lot of good things for people. I know they take in donations and start shelters and offer a helping hand, but by letting these guys speak for them, they lose a lot of the street credit they could get with the world for the loving, Christ-like actions they do.

I'm not going to pretend that I everything I saw today was something God would approve of, though considering that Adam and Eve were nudists for a long time and it didn't seem to bother Him, I think that taking a naked bike ride isn't something He really worries about. (Right about now a Fundy will argue that nudity of that sort will stir up lust, but let's just get real. Most of the folks who were showing off their goods today didn't get airbrushed before heading out. They had wrinkles, dimples, sags, pooches, and flubber. They were just real people. And the gawkers weren't lusting. They were laughing.) Honestly, I think if Jesus had been at the Fremont Fair today, He would have walked down the street with the folks wearing the red capes, giving people heartfelt hugs and letting them know they were loved, valued and worth His time and attention. He would have been manning one of those donation booths to help raise money for someone in need. And He sure as hell wouldn't have been waving a sign over the heads of His people with hateful words that would only drive them farther away.

Pagan Practices

2008-06-20T09:49:00.000-07:00

I touched on a thought in one of my earlier posts that I want to explore in greater depth. One of the things I've noticed about Fundy-ism and my upbringing in it is the way in which some of its practices mirror pagan behaviors very closely. Now I realize before I even start this discussion that I'm stepping on toes, but I would encourage any readers who find themselves offended or concerned to hear me out before making a judgment on what I have to say. You might find that you agree with me. :)

I would also like to preface my remarks by saying that I don't believe Chrisitianity is merely a form of paganism that's managed to survive and become widespread in its acceptance. I do believe it to contain the truth we so desperately need. Humans as a species, however, tend to implement certain elements into their spirituality, pagan or Christian, so it's only natural that we would see some of these things creep up where they shouldn't.

The one practice that comes to mind most forcefully at present is that of using a ritual of some kind to achieve a desired end. This takes on many forms. Sometimes it involves making sacrifices to appease an angry god. Sometimes it's performing a sacred rite or practicing a certain behavior to get a blessing or a gift from the god. Sometimes it's giving an offering to make sure the god stays happy. In the end, though, it all boils down to the same thing: without this ritual, the seeker can't get what it is he or she desires, and the only source for satisfying that desire is the god.

I think that for humans this repeated element in spirituality comes from some strange need in us to earn what we want. Maybe it's what Christ followers call a "works" mentality; maybe it's a remnant left over from the Fall of Man (theologian language!!) that makes us unable to trust the divine. Maybe it's the apparent capriciousness of a world in which freak accidents can occur and young men die before reaching the fullness of age and potential. Whatever it is that spawns this in us, however, it is nearly universal when one looks at religious practice. In this, Fundies are right in with the rest.

Theologically, Fundies are right on target. In fact, one of the things that makes Chrisitianity stand out from other religions is that, in what it teaches at least, it does away with this use of ritual (works) to obtain something from the divine. In practice... well, Christ followers have the fatal flaw of being human, and therefore they muck (or one could say fuck. Haha) it up. I've seen numerous examples of how this plays out.

The church I stopped attending a little over a year ago was rife with examples of ritual. One (and this one is extremely common in the Christian church) seems silly to mention, but it's a prime illustrator of my point. Like most Christians I've known, we all ended our prayers with "in the name of Jesus." Now, before the last Fundy reader I have abandons me forever, I'm not challenging the teaching of Jesus on praying in His name. On the contrary, I'm pointing out how ritual may have stripped it of its true meaning and power. Every prayer, whether giving thanks over food, a request for a blessing, or something else ended with "in the name of Jesus." We were taught that the name of Jesus was powerful, and in this we were taught correctly. Where the mistake came in was in practice. Rather than perceiving that praying in Jesus' name is about coming to God as a representative of Jesus and making a request according to His heart and character, the name of Jesus became a sort of talisman or "magical phrase" - rather like the incantations used by those who practice witchcraft - that was supposed to get God to answer and guarantee that the request would be satisfied. We were taught that the name of Jesus obligated God to answer prayer, and that a request might not be granted if it wasn't made "in the name of Jesus." Talk about paganistic nonsense! Since when does a father interact with his child in such a way? What lover would tell his bride that she must be certain to include a magical phrase if she wants him to grant her what she desires of him? Sounds more like the stuff of fairy tales than truth. I can't tell you how many times I heard people (and did the same myself) toss an "in the name of Jesus" on the end of a prayer without any real thought about what it was supposed to mean. It was a habit, a ritual, a phrase to make sure one included before the final "amen." Without it, the prayer didn't really count.

That's a rather mild example, but that kind of thinking can really do damage when it begins to be applied in other contexts, and once it's entrenched, even those who see it for what it is can still fall victim to it. As an example, my dearest friend has been struggling with infertility. I hesitate to mention this on my blog because it is such a private matter and I want to respect her and this painful journey she and her husband are taking. Like me, she was raised a Fundy, so she has the full set of nutso ideas that have been ingrained in her as well. One of the things we've talked about is the fact that she is, at times, tempted to think that if she just learns what it is God has for her to learn, or if she just does something specific that He wants her to do, or if she just has the right person pray for her and lay hands on her womb she'll miraculously conceive. These thoughts are further complicated by other Fundy thinking that leans toward pagan ideas at times - thoughts such as this: God's punishing me for sins I committed a few years ago; or God's withholding this blessing because I don't have enough faith.

What a horrible burden to carry! Now I don't know the reasons why she and her husband haven't conceived, but I don't believe those reasons have anything to do with something God's waiting on them to fix. I don't think their faith is too weak or they are unworthy because of mistakes God no longer remembers. I know there are reasons, but I am firmly convinced that those reasons are good, not retributionary. And I also know that when He does see fit to give them a baby, it will be in the context of relationship, not because they managed to complete everything on His "Pre-Conception Checklist for Prospective Parents." And I have to think that it grieves the heart of God to be so misunderstood and misrepresented that people would actually think that's how He operates with His kids.

These aren't the only nutso, pagan-like teachings the church puts out there. And the sad thing is that most of these things are based on scriptures that have been grossly misinterpreted or misunderstood (e.g. "in the name of Jesus"). There are actually preachers out there who teach people that if they ask God for the same thing twice He won't answer their prayer because it indicates they didn't have faith the first time they asked. Instead, these people are taught to make a request once and then thank God from that time forward for giving them what they've requested ("in the name of Jesus," no doubt. Haha.). When they're struggling with doubt, these preachers say the worst thing they can do is "confess" it. So instead of encouraging them to cultivate real, honest, authentic relationship with God in which a struggling soul can come before its Creator and find strength in weakness, they are to fake it till they feel it. They just keep thanking God for the blessing as though He can't see the doubt that's living deep within them, as though He doesn't long for them to come into the place where they can interact with Him honestly and find the help and answers they truly need. (This "speaking in faith" thing even extends so far as to convince people that if they verbalize their fears, those fears will become reality! Talk about making people afraid. You'd better not accidentally tell someone your health concerns or fears about your marriage. If you do, you might as well flush your hopes and dreams for those things right down the toilet. And I suppose my friend should conceal her agony about trying to conceive and just keep spouting her belief that she's already pregnant "in the Spirit." Never mind that by cutting her off from sharing the pain of her journey with God and those who love her most she is being cut off from comfort and hope that she depends on to get through this season.) I mean really, I'm not sure I would want to be connected with a god who has a built-in faith-o-meter that will tell him if my faith is an ounce or two below the required amount for the prayers I've prayed, and therefore my requests get a big, fat rejection slip. I'm not sure I want to entrust myself to a Being to whom I can't bare all the deepest secrets, needs, fears and longings of my soul and still find acceptance and compassion.

I can't be the only person out there who hears shit like what these guys and gals are saying and thinks that sounds an awful lot like pagan religions. Instead of speaking an incantation over a rock or river, we "speak in faith," sometimes lying to ourselves and our God about what we're really thinking and feeling, just so we can obtain the desired blessing, never mind that we've abandoned authentic relationship in favor of a vending machine system that doesn't produce the Skittles 75 percent of the time. Instead of slaughtering our first-born or stacking produce on an altar as a sacrifice, we toss our obligatory 10 percent in the offering plate, believing that our pitiful gift will guarantee us a win in the heavenly lotto, and missing the point entirely behind giving back to God - the development of a grateful and generous heart. Instead of doing a rain dance to convince the god to meet our needs, we repeat scripture verses that apply to our situation until they become meaningless words that we no longer mean or understand.

Pardon my French, but that's fucked up, and it sure as hell isn't what God wants for us. That's not to say that certain rituals and traditions can't be beautiful, powerful things. It doesn't mean that some of those rituals can't help us connect to God. But when rituals replace or hinder the experience of genuine relationship, when they become meaningless tools that are used to manipulate God into ponying up the blessing, that's the time they need to be exposed for what they are. When we begin turning to rituals and displines to do the work we should entrust to God, it's time we tossed those rituals altogether.

I can't tell you how many times I heard someone who was struggling with something or waiting for an answer to prayer share that battle with another Fundy. You know what the response was? A ritual. "Maybe you should take Communion... Are you speaking in faith?... Quote this Bible verse six times every morning... You just need to stay at the altar until you sense that God has answered you... You just need to keep thanking Him... Have you fasted? I did a 40-day Daniel fast and God just revealed so much to me and totally stepped into my situation."

It's not that I think fasting or Communion or prayer or scripture memory have no value. I think they're very valuable. But when we use them as a replacement for rain dances and incantations and vegetables on an altar and traveling to Calcutta on our knees to prove our devotion, well, I think we can safely say we're mis-applying them and we have a serious problem.

Fighting to Forgive

2008-06-19T16:04:00.000-07:00

I used to think of myself as a very forgiving person, but I think that was partially because I had never really been deeply hurt by someone I trusted. That's not to say I hadn't been hurt, but I had never had the kind of wound that cut so deeply that it made it difficult for me to let go and move on. I don't think of myself as a very forgiving person anymore.

This has been on my mind this week because a very close friend recently dealt me a blow that I'm having difficulty processing or understanding, and this is making it very difficult to let go and forgive. For reasons my heart can't really understand, one of my best friends - someone who had always told me I'd be her maid of honor - chose to get married last weekend without inviting me to the ceremony. In fact, I wouldn't have even known of her engagement had her mother not called me to talk over her concerns about the relationship. If we'd had a fight or a falling out, or even if I'd expressed my concerns about her choice of boyfriends, I could understand her decision, but none of those things happened. Instead, she just disappeared and stopped answering my calls. I know from others that she's not angry with me, and without sharing too much of her personal situation, I know I can fairly say that I haven't given her any reason to do this. But she's chosen to do it, all the same, and because I feel like the innocent party in the situation, I'm having a very difficult time forgiving. In fact, I"m downright pissed off. She knows I'm upset, but she hasn't chosen to call me, and truthfully, that's probably a good thing. I fear if she calls too soon, I'll say things that will hurt her and do more harm than good.

Forgiveness is one of those things that's central for the Christ follower, which is why this is something I'm trying to explore. For us, everything hinges on forgiveness because Jesus says you can't be forgiven if you don't forgive, and I think that's only fair. So someone like me who desperately needs all the forgiveness and grace God has to give on a daily basis can't afford to hang on to the hurt. Sounds great on paper, but in real life it's far more complicated.

I wish I could say I had this figured out, but this is the second really deep wound I've taken from a close friend in the past year, and I haven't done so well at forgiving the first, let alone dealing with this second incident. I've found that most things are easy for me to forgive, but when someone I love and trust makes me feel betrayed, abandoned and disowned... well, those things strike at really vulnerable spots. I think, in a way, that's why I'm angry at Fundamentalism, and even, at times, at Fundamentalists.

When you invest yourself in someone or something without reserve, you put yourself at great risk for pain. When you love, it's a gamble. That's not to say it isn't worth it when it pays off, but when it doesn't... let's just say it's easy to understand why some people close themselves off.

The first deep wound I mentioned came from a friend in whom I had wholly invested myself. She was a girlfriend, a leader, a mentor, and a spiritual parent, and because I loved her so much, I invested my hopes, my dreams, my support, and my love in her. The details of what happened between us aren't important here, and I'm no longer angry at her for the decisions she made. In fact, the only thing I can say about the situation is "Thank God I got out when I did." But what did make me angry, what stabbed so painfully and still gets to me when I let myself think on it, is the feeling of betrayal and abandonment, the sense that after I gave so much of my heart and strength for something that mattered to her, she could leave me behind. No parent would disown a son or daughter for making a mistake, but it would seem that a "spiritual parent" can and will. And it is this issue that lies at the crux of my distaste for Fundamentalism.

On the whole, Fundies aren't very good at understanding grace the way I'm coming to understand it. Now, granted, there are some who get it more than others, but even they have their limits. Within Fundy-ism there are lots of sins you can commit, but most of them can be forgiven and forgotten. Some sins - I like to call them "the big 5" - can't. Or perhaps I should say they can, but the Fundies don't give you any room to do battle with them. Their solution is to repent, cut off and move on. Let's do a comparison to illustrate. Homosexuality - actually any sexual sin - is one of those "big 5" sins for Fundies. (Believe it or not, I've even known some who thought it to be the dreaded "unforgiveable sin." Pure bullshit!) Gluttony is a sin, but it's one that most Fundies "wink" at. In the Fundy church, the glutton can struggle for years with overeating and sloth. The glutton can repent and re-fall every day. The glutton can diet and do well for a season and then backslide and give up for a season and still be forgiveable and live without the added guilt and shame of being a "sinner." Most Fundies won't even think twice about the glutton's sinful behavior. In fact, they don't even view it as sinful. And the glutton can be looked to by the church as a "godly" man or woman.

Switch gears now and look at the homosexual or the person who commits a sexual sin. Now we're in totally different territory. The sexual sinner dare not re-commit his or her sin. The sexual sinner isn't allowed to do well for a season and then backslide or give up for a season. If he does, he never really repented. He's unspiritual. He's in danger of the fires of hell. And you can bet your ass that the Fundy church will heap guilt, condemnation and disapproval on the trespasser's head. If the sexual sinner slips up, he or she has clearly fallen far from God and is most decidedly not a "godly" man or woman. I've known numerous overweight and even morbidly obese pastors who have clearly been living in unbridled sin for a number of years, but they are loved and respected and considered "godly" by their congregations, despite their unfortunate weaknesses. If those same men, or another pastor altogether, happened to commit a sexual sin - even once - they would be run out of town in disgrace - judged, despised and gossipped about

It is this kind of hypocrisy that reallly pisses me off in Fundy-ism, and it is this hypocrisy that I have to fight to forgive. I've been both of those sinners. For years I struggled with gluttony. In all that time, I was acceptable. If I blew it and downed 8 cookies in one sitting, I could just repent and try again the next day. I still got to be godly, and people still looked up to me as a model of heartfelt devotion to God. Then, after years of walking a very straight and careful line, I let down my guard and had sex with a guy I was dating. Whole different story. Suddenly, there were "steps to be taken toward freedom." I had committed one of the "big 5," and the fact that I'd only screwed up once (or twice) didn't matter. (As a side note, another thing that baffles me in the Fundy church is how they automatically assume that the person who screws up once with sexual sin had to fall really far from God to do it. Most of these people have had "godly" sex themselves, so they should know how easy it is to get from kissing to "Oh my God, why are my clothes all the way over there and what did we just do?" Despite this, however, and despite the story of David in the Bible, the belief persists that the sexual sinner has been backsliding for a long time. This David I mention just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Bible doesn't say anything about how his heart wandered from God before he caught an eyeful of his married neighbor taking a bath and had her over for a little tea and adultery later that night. In fact, I'd be willing to bet he was up on that roof working on another psalm of praise to God. Let me tell you folks, the road to sin is really short, and it includes all sins, not a select few that require a serious turning of the back toward God to commit. I'm not sure if it's fear, ignorance, or self-righteous pride that makes Fundies think otherwise, but they might find themselves guilty of judgment toward others a lot less often if they didn't assume that they, in their highly spiritually mature state, could never share in the shameful failings of their brother and sister vagabonds.)

No one insisted that I get accountability or go into counseling in all the years I struggled with gluttony. I committed that sin thousands of times, but people seemed to understand that it was a tough weakness to overcome and I wasn't any less of a Christian because I hadn't mastered it yet. I committed a sexual sin, though, and I was seriously in the dog house. There was no room for the possibility that I might struggle long into the future with my sexual desires. There was no room for me to screw up again, as there'd been when my sin was merely one of eating too big a portion at dinner. I had "disgraced" myself. I had been "defiled." And unlike the glutton, I could be tempted, but woe unto me if I should fall again. Sex just isn't one of those sins you're allowed to struggle with and still be a-okay with God.

Now it might sound like I'm making light of my wrong choices, but I'm not. I'm merely illustrating one of the ways in which Fundy-ism is WAY out of balance. Fundies (or at least most Fundies) say that all sins are equal in God's eyes; they just forget to add the disclaimer that in the eyes of His devoted followers, some sins are far worse than others. The fact is, all sinners should be treated the same. Either the sexual sinner should be given the same grace and understanding as the glutton, or the glutton should be dealt with at the same severity level as the sexual sinner. It's not fair to give one kind of sinner a free pass while shaming another kind of sinner. If the sexual sinner isn't allowed the grace of multiple screw-ups before he or she overcomes, the glutton shouldn't get those second chances either. See what I mean?

Now I understand that there are differences between these two types of sin, but I also know that this kind of hypocrisy deeply wounds people. And I do understand why this hypocrisy exists, but that's subject matter for another post.

Becoming Gomer has many dangers, not the least of which is the anger and hurt a person has to struggle with once they get out from under the thumb of the Fundies. And because I invested myself so fully in Fundy-ism, experiencing its harsher side has felt like the deepest of betrayals. But hey, at least it's an "equal opportunity judgment" kind of religion.

Relevant Faith = Real World Relationships

2008-06-14T14:37:00.000-07:00

One of the issues that frequently occupies my thoughts is the importance of relevant spirituality. By this I mean a spirituality that works in our day, time and culture. One of the hallmarks of truth is that it has always been and always will be truth. It never changes, though our perception or understanding of it might as we comprehend it at deeper levels or from different angles. But truth is timeless, and therefore, it is always relevant, no matter the culture. This means that, for a Christ follower, the truth he or she lives by must also be relevant to the culture in which the Christ follower lives.

When we get into this subject matter, we start getting into really sticky ground. On the one hand, truth must be relevant, but on the other it mustn't change. And I will be the first person to raise my hand and admit that I haven't figured out the balance of this just yet. On the one side you have the Fundies. (I know it sounds like I'm tearing these poor folks to shreds in most of my posts, but I really don't mean to. I just disagree with so much of what they're doing, even though I know they're doing it with the best of intentions.) They are so dedicated to the truth that they no longer have a relevant, relatable spirituality. Sorry, folks, but when you sit through a movie like "Saved" and watch Fundamentalism in action, you can't help but see how far out in left field the Fundies have gotten. Their spirituality doesn't appeal to me, let alone the agnostic, the atheist or the seeker. Most Fundies are so concerned about not compromising their faith that they are completely unrelatable and "not real" to the average Joe. And they have this notion that people will reject them now, but when they have a need they'll be banging down the Fundies' door asking for prayer, guidance and help. Not gonna happen. Newsflash: Most people don't trust Fundies, and they sure as hell don't want their canned bullshit. I've talked to enough people who don't embrace Christian spirituality (thanks for coining this phrase, Donald Miller!) to know that that's how they view most of what Christians say.

I can't tell you how many times I saw this lack of relevance in my ministry years, and it always happened with people who were genuine and sincere in their pursuit of God. I remember a few particular incidents where we were instructed to hit the streets with tracts and "share the love of Jesus with people." Even then, in the innocent fire of devotion, I remember thinking that what we were doing was never going to work, that the days of knocking on doors and passing out tracts were long over and someone forgot to send the memo to the church. I knew we looked ridiculous, and even briefly entertained the thought (which I rapidly dismissed as most sinful) that we were doing nothing but making Jesus look pretty damn ridiculous too. I kept my thoughts to myself and soundly chastised myself for being "ashamed of the gospel." I told myself that every good Christian was zealous to tell people about Jesus and rescue them from the pit of hell to which they were currently headed. I was so ashamed of my traitorous thoughts that I couldn't see how true they were. I couldn't admit the possibility that maybe, just maybe, common sense was actually trying to communicate something to me.

The sad part of all of this is that Christ followers actually do have the truth, the hope, the insight, the help that this world is silently begging for. Even if I haven't fully found Jesus to be MY answer, I still believe that He is and wants to be and will be. And I believe this is true for everyone, no matter their situation. However, we have to find a way that share that answer - to LIVE that answer - that allows it to be relevant.

One of the reasons I believe Christians lack relevancy is the fact that they don't really live in the real world. They work there, and they may even have a few "unbelieving" family, friends or neighbors with whom they connect, but few of them really LIVE in the real world. Up until the last year, I was part and parcel of the whole deal. I couldn't name you one friend that I had who didn't share my faith. Most of the people I knew were the same way. Most Fundies have isolated themselves on an invisible island, and the only people allowed to visit that island are other Fundies. "Unbelieving" family and (the occasional) friends are sources of distress, partially because they don't want these loved ones to end up in hell (a legitimate concern) and partially because the Fundy can't really relate to them.

Most Fundies are happy to keep things this way. It's safer and more comfortable to stay on the island than it is to make one's home on the mainland and deal with the real world close up. The few Christians who dare to live in the real world are considered worldly, lukewarm, halfhearted, uncommitted, and unspiritual. Yes, that's right. The isolated few who actually do with Jesus did, live in among the sinners, are unspiritual in the eyes of most of the church. And I know this because I was once one of the "spiritual" ones, and I looked down on people who listened to secular music (cracks me up because I can't use the word secular anymore. The only people I know who know what that means are, or were, Fundies.), people who went to R-rated movies, girls who didn't wear safety shirts (undershirts that were worn to make sure the back and crack wouldn't show if a gal bent over to pick something up), people who kissed before marriage, people who went to clubs, people who had wine with dinner or kept beer in their fridge. Yeah, I was pretty much a self-satisfied spiritual asshole. And because I abstained from all these "ungodly" behaviors, I was supposedly a more godly person. Bullshit.

All that has changed as I've taken this journey. I no longer have patience with people who are so afraid of dirtying their hands that they won't jump down in the mudpit with the hurting. I no longer consider myself "spiritually mature." Instead, I'm a seeker. And now I live in the real world among real people, and those real people actually trust me with deep and personal things because they know I'm not going to shove some Fundy answer at them. Let me give you an example of this.

I'm beginning to develop a rather strong friendship with my carpool buddy. (I also owe her for coining the term "Fundy"!) She happens to be an atheist who leans far to the Left politically. She knows I'm a Christ follower, so this makes for a lot of interesting conversation. But here's the deal. I'm real with her. I'm honest with her. I don't try to play myself up as being someone who's got it all together or who has the corner on spirituality. I'm honest about my doubts and my struggles. I'm straightforward about the problems I see in the church. And because I don't hand her bullshit, she trusts me and is becoming a real friend. Now a few weeks back we were talking on our way to work one morning. I was updating her on my progress through the "Sex and the City" series. (All Fundy readers just lost all confidence in my spirituality and are dropping to their knees in prayer.) Like most Fundies, I had never seen an episode, but this spring when I moved into my new apartment, my roommate decided that I needed to be "corrupted." Now I will admit that this show is beyond racy, and in former days I wouldn't have sat through the first episode, but times have changed. That, however, is not my point.

My friend and I were discussing the relationship plot of one of the characters in the series, and without having any ulterior spiritual motive to preach a moral, just in the context of the conversation, I told her that I don't really think the definition that show gives of love is actually anything like what real love is. She asked me what I meant, so I told her that their definition of love is actually a very selfish thing. They "love" someone because that person makes them feel good or satisfies them in some way. When that person stops "doing it" for them, they stop loving them. Then I told her that I believe real love is unconditional. It's selfless and sacrificial. I believe that real love causes you to choose to pursue another person's highest good, even at cost to yourself. She didn't say much to that, and the conversation moved on to other things, but she got quiet. I finally asked her if everything was okay, and she said she had been thinking about what I'd said about love. She said that she is a bit of a slob and her husband is always asking her to work on being a bit neater. Then she said, "I was thinking about your definition of love, I think that if I look at this that way, it will make it easier for me to do what he's asking me to do, because if I really love him, I'll be willing to do what's best for him, even if it costs me a little extra effort."

WOW. In that moment, I knew I was right where God wanted me. I was sharing truth. I was laying a foundation to share Jesus someday. I was living a faith that was relevant and real, and I was sharing that faith with someone who would have rejected it had it come in traditional Fundy packaging. And all of those things happened because I was living in the real world, just sharing conversation with a friend. I didn't have an ulterior motive. I wasn't moralizing or trying to convert her. I wasn't perched on a box, shouting truth at the top of my lungs. I wasn't waving a sign tattooed with John 3:16. I was just giving her an insight into who I am and how I see the world. Relevant spirituality.

I'll be the first to admit that for every time I get it right, there are ten times I get it wrong, but I'm learning not to fear being wrong the way I once did. Granted, I don't want to get it wrong, but getting it wrong is how we learn, and if nothing else, I've left the safety of the island behind me forever. I've dared to live in the real world and make mistakes because I believe that in doing so I can reach the real world more effectively.

Finally, I do want to say that I don't believe that making spirituality relevant should involve compromising the truth. I'm not going to get into how compromise should be defined because the Fundies won't agree with my view, and I don't have the time or enough understanding to explore the issue yet. Making Christian spirituality relevant doesn't mean that we "de-salt" it. It doesn't mean that we make it so palatable that it loses all its flavor. The hard part of all of this is that Jesus Christ and what He stands for are at odds with much of what our world stands for. That's why we need Him. But it also means He irritates us. He says a lot of things I don't like. They go against my grain and make me uncomfortable. They aren't easy. Relevant faith can't dare lose this because to do so is to lose the very thing that makes it worth investing in.

This is an issue that isn't black and white, and as I said before, I don't have it all sorted out yet. But I think that my encounter with my friend is a good example of relevant faith. What I shared with her was salty. It was an irritant. It challenged her to change her behavior. But in doing all of this, it also somehow managed to avoid offending her. It wasn't preachy. It wasn't judgmental. And I think that's what we need to aim for.

Wrestling with God

2008-06-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

It's kind of amazing to me how two different Christians can interpret a scripture in two completely opposite ways. The one that's been on my mind for the last day or so is in Genesis where the story is told of how Jacob wrestled with God.

Last year I was given an enormous personal decision to make regarding a relocation to an entirely new region. Certain "acquaintances" of mine (their terminology, not mine) felt that "God's will" for me was very clear. I, however, did not find it clear at all. When asked about it, I confessed that I was still wrestling with God over the matter. Oh, the response! "Be careful not to wrestle with God about it too long. Remember what happened to Jacob! He wrestled with God and God had to make him lame because of it." Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better. Now I have this huge decision to make AND I'm being threatened with divine retribution if I don't come up with the right answer before the buzzer goes off!

The pastor of the church I currently attend has a different perspective, one that really resonates with me, especially where I am at this point in my life. I was in conversation about it with my friend Trish and brought up a message he preached on the subject a few months back. When her husband came home and joined our conversation, he brought up the same sermon without knowing we had already discussed it. Thought that was awesome! But it has put the whole concept of wrestling with God in the forefront of my mind today. You see, my pastor believes that wrestling with God is actually a good thing. He talked about how there are things in our lives that we have to wrestle with God over. The fact that we're even wrestling is good, if for no other reason, because it indicates that God is at work in us and we are recognizing that and engaging Him over an issue. Wrestling with God means that relationship is happening, change is occurring. In fact, I was thinking just last night about the fact that Jacob wasn't really changed into the man he was meant to be until he wrestled with God.

So I think wrestling is a good thing. I think it's a necessary thing for any person who desires authentic spirituality and a close, genuine relationship with God - the kind of relationship in which a person can understand God.

I bring all this wrestling stuff up because if I were to characterize where I have been over the past few months, it is there. I run and I wrestle. Yes, it's as unpleasant as it sounds. But I do so because I believe this is the path I need to take.

My current wrestlings (actually much of my wrestling overall) has to do with the Fundy concept of sin and obedience. Before any Fundies freak out on me, I still believe in the Bible as the authority on these matters. I believe in black and white. I don't believe that I can just pick and choose a "custom fit" salvation plan with a designer Jesus to match. But I'm still wrestling because for the first time in my life I'm admitting that I don't like or understand all the "house rules." I don't want to obey all of them. (There are one or two in particular that I'm really wrestling with at present. They make sense to me when I look at them through my "technically correct" Fundy eyes, but in light of the art and beauty I don't think they're such a big deal.) Being in this position would have freaked me out at one time, and to a certain extent it still does, but when I think about Jacob and what it means to wrestle with God, I think that being where I am and doing what I'm doing is a very good thing. As I told Trish and Dan last night, "I need a better reason to do the right thing than the fact that it's the right thing to do." (I congratulated myself on the fact that Trish seemed to find this a very profound thought. LOL.)

Now as a Fundy, I would have fought with that statement of mine tooth and nail. I would have taken it down like the heresy I would have believed it to be. And there is something to be said for doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. That's not what I'm really knocking. What I'm really looking for, though, is a more personal reason to do right, a more mature understanding of why God issues certain "house rules." You might say I'm growing up. See, when you're a kid, you're expected to do as Dad says and not ask questions. Then there are the teenage years when a kid needs a bigger reason to do the right thing. It's not enough that "Dad says so." The rules and guidelines need a bigger context than black and white. And through those teenage years, a child might be said to "wrestle" with his parents, but in the end most emerge on the other side as mature adults who are able to interact with their parents on a whole different plane. They've weighed the rules and tested the boundaries. They've owned the guidelines they will live by, and adopted (or rejected) Dad's rules for personal reasons. And in doing so, they've become capable of a much richer, far more mature interaction with their parents than a child with his blind acceptance of commands. It might be said that, in having wrestled with his father, a son comes to understand his father's heart in the commands he gives, while a child's knowledge of that mysterious place is limited.

And so I wrestle. I find myself battling with God over things He says we should or shouldn't do. Sometimes it's because His ways and purposes don't make sense to me. Sometimes it's because they do, but in spite of that I want my own way. But even in this, I sense that some part of His heart is pleased with me, if for no other reason than that I have finally engaged Him on a deeper level and begun to interact with Him in the profound kind of way that really lets Him do in me the kind of thing He does best.

For so many years I obeyed without questioning. I was just like that little child. Dad said it, I did it. It was unconditonal surrender. Now we wrestle, and because we do, He has the chance to really get down beneath the superficial surrenders of an unknowing child to the place where He can do business with the deeper levels of my heart.

One of the problems that I find myself running into as I do this wrestling, though, is that far too often I don't actually wrestle. I just avoid. It's one of the reasons I haven't been to my church in six weeks. It's not that I don't want to be in church. I love my church. I feel safe there, as though God really has some beautiful and meaningful things to teach me there. I feel like there's a place of healing there for the bruises that Fundy-ism left on my soul. But I also have to contend with truth there. I have to face myself honestly when we sing songs to God and I can't mean all the wonderful things that are coming out of my mouth. I mean some of them, but most of them I just want to mean. I also find myself coming face to face with the fact that there are a few very specific house rules that God has made very black and white that I really don't want to pay attention to. In fact, if given the opportunity, I would be more than likely to ignore them and do just as I please.

I suppose this too is part of the wrestling, but it's a most uncomfortable place for me to be in. Playing the role of the submissive child is one that tends to come more naturally to me, so it's awkward and unsettling to be in the place where I can no longer make myself be that child.

I can think of more than one Fundy who would say I'm in a very dangerous place, and perhaps they are right. But I also can't help but think that this journey is God's very strange answer to all my very sincere prayers of Fundy days, and that when I come to the end of it and am sent on yet another, I will say I am glad to have made it and that wrestling with God has made my interaction with Him rich and deep and all that I really wanted it to be.

Running Away

2008-06-08T08:24:00.000-07:00

My friend Dan posed an interesting question, and again I think it's one that deserves to be explored. He asked why I (or Gomer) would run away from the best thing that's ever happened to me. In some ways that's a question that's impossible to answer. It's going to be something different for every "Gomer." As far as the historical Gomer is concerned, there's no record to tell us what made her decide to leave, so any thoughts I have on the subject would be mere conjecture. However, I can tell you why I ran away, though the reasons are complex.

I guess I should start by saying that, for me, running away isn't about leaving forever. It's about trying to find home. It's about recognizing that this is supposed to be the best thing that's ever happened to me, but the reality has fallen far short. In one sense, Hosea (Jesus) is the best thing that's ever happened to me. The problem is that Jesus (and my relationship with Him) has become so deeply entangled with my Fundy background that I can't entirely separate Him from it to experience Him in a purely undiluted way. So much of my experience of Him and perception of Him is skewed by the areas of Fundy thinking that are funky that I have a really hard time reaching out and connecting with Him without bringing all that other crap with me. It's like someone has embedded a lens on my eyes that has twisted the truthful images I see until they are so distorted I can't see them truthfully. I'm trying to dig out that lens, because until I do I'm never going to be able to see clearly and experience truthfully. Let me try to give you a concrete example.

During most of my last ten or so years in the Fundy church, I had an extremely difficult time admitting that the thing that was supposed to satisfy my soul, the thing that everyone around me said had satisfied their souls, wasn't really cutting it. Most of the time, I viewed that unfulfilled place in my heart as a result of my failures: I didn't seek God in prayer, Bible reading and fasting enough; I didn't want to lay my all on the altar and be completely sold out; I wanted a husband to share my life and wasn't fulfilled in Christ alone (You wouldn't believe how many times I was made to feel guilty for my desire to be married. It was as though I was saying God wasn't enough. Hello, Fundies, there are some needs that God satisfies through others, or did you forget that Adam, while living in perfect relationship with the physically manifested presence of God, still found that he needed a wife?); I just wasn't hungry enough for God to convince Him to fill my life with His presence; I wasn't willing to pay the price; I was too sinful and unholy...

Were all these "I wasn't enough" convictions of mine true? I'm beginning to think they weren't. Fundies are notorious for turning spirituality and the experience of God into a spiritual exercise, and an exercise that's exhausting, at that. Though most of them would never admit it and say the illustration is unfair and wrong, their mentality of having to jump through spiritual hoops to please God is nearly identical to the self-flagellating practices in other religions that include such demands as crawling from one city to another on one's knees and performing all sorts of ritual punishments to deepen one's divorce from the physical world. Most Christians do the same kind of crap, but it takes a different form. (I'll explore these concepts more some other time.)

I was convinced that if I just sought God hard enough and lived holy enough and longed for Him and nothing else, He would fill my life and satisfy the deepest longings of my soul. So I tried and tried and tried for nearly fifteen years. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I devoted myself and fasted and went to church three times a week. I served in church ministries that made me miserable and cut myself off the from the corruption of the "real world" I now live in. And despite all my sincere efforts to be a woman who pleased God and knew Him and was loved and satisfied in Him, I was full of just as much longing as before. Really good person, really empty heart. That's not to say I didn't have my moments. I did. I can remember a number of instances where God really reached out to me and touched me in a profound way, and it's those encounters, in part, that convince me that being a Christ follower is really that path to find truth.

It was about two years ago that I began to admit to myself, every now and then, the realization that Jesus wasn't really doing for me what He'd said He would. I didn't blame Him for this. I still don't. I see it as my inability to receive Him because of my own warped thinking. I began to realize that He had said that those who drank of Him would never thirst again. Didn't work for me. He said that He was the bread of life and that in taking Him in I would never hunger again. Not my reality. I was hungry all the time. My worship of Him and relationship with Him were based almost entirely on longing, not the thanksgiving and joy that come from being fulfilled. It wasn't His promises that weren't true; it was my thinking that kept me from experiencing them the way I was meant to.

So now we're back to the whole "why would you run away" question. The truth is I'm not running away from the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm running away from the Fundy thinking that clouded my perception and hindered my ability to experience God. I'm running away from an extremist lifestyle that cuts me off from real people with real wounds who really need to experience a legitimate Savior and not another religious exercise. Unfortunately, Jesus got all entangled in that, so sometimes, in my effort to cut away the mess, I cut away a little too much truth. Sometimes in my efforts to be real, I cross the line and do things I don't think Jesus would approve of. I've said more than once that in order to fix this mess I'm throwing the baby away with the bathwater, but before it's all said and done I'm going to go out and get that baby. I know that I'm swinging from one extreme toward another at times, and this frightens me a lot. I intend and hope to swing back toward the center to a place of wholeness and balance, but sometimes I'm afraid that if I run away too far and too hard and He doesn't come after me, I won't ever find my way back.

I have a lot of issues with the truth. (I can just hear my old Fundy friends crying "Amen.") There are some things the Bible says that, at this point in my life, I don't like or agree with. I'm not saying they aren't truth; I'm saying I don't like them and therefore have a hard time accepting or swallowing them. I know that at times I'm holding Jesus at arm's length because there are some really tender places in me and I'm not ready to come face to face with truth just yet. All those "religious hoops" have left their mark, and I'm trying to sort the good from the bad, untangle the worthwhile from the worthless.

So I hope that helps to make a bit more sense out of all this. And, Dan, please feel free to ask away. Your questions are great, and they give me food for thought and material to explore. I appreciate them.

Who Is This Gomer Chick?

2008-06-04T21:20:00.000-07:00

My friend Dan thought it would be helpful if I put an explanation out there to explain who this Gomer chick is that I keep talking about, and I think it's a very good idea. So much of what I'm saying comes back to her, so you need to know her story if you're going to understand mine.

Gomer plays a significant role in the small Biblical book of Hosea. In a nutshell, Hosea is a prophet. He's pure and holy and one of those guys who apparently did a really good job of keeping all the rules. Gomer is the opposite. She's a prostitute.

As the story goes, God tells Hosea to marry Gomer. And don't get all "Pretty Woman" doe-eyed and think about how romantic that is. In those days, Gomer was a prime candidate for stoning. She was a disgrace in the community. Someone like Hosea would have kept as far away from her as possible to avoid being "defiled" by her mere presence. So the command in itself was shocking. However, being a good prophet, Hosea does what God tells him to and marries her. They end up having three children, though there's some speculation among theologians that those children might not all have been Hosea's, if you know what I mean. At any rate, after all that Hosea does for her by giving her a nice home, pretty clothes, good food, and the whole nine yards, Gomer decides to leave him and sell herself back into prostitution. God tells Hosea to go buy her back and take her home again, so Hosea does it. And then God tells Hosea that this is exactly what is going between Himself and His people. God has done everything for them, but for some inexplicable reason, they go back to a life of disgrace, need and shame. In spite of this, God doesn't divorce them or destroy them. He goes after them and does all that He can to win their hearts back.

It's an amazing story, really, and I can't tell you how much I relate to this crazy chick who runs away from the best thing that ever happened to her. I'm living it.

Technically True?

2008-06-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

I'm going to do a lot of exploring of thoughts and ideas here, if for no other reason because I need a place to sort through all the thoughts and ideas that crowd my head. And I'm going to challenge a lot of the Fundy foundation I was given practically from infancy. That doesn't mean I don't like the Fundies. Taken on an individual basis, most of them are wonderful, caring, well-meaning people. I know this because I was the poster girl for Fundamentalism. The crazy thing about it is you can't really see it honestly from the inside. You have to step outside it to see it for what it really is, and when you do, the truth of it makes you cringe and wish you could forever cut yourself off from even the slightest association with anything that smacks remotely of "Fundy." (If you ever see the movie "Saved" you'll understand why I cringe to be identified with them. Well meaning people, but OY! I literally had to almost turn the movie off because it was so hard to watch Fundamentalism in action from the outside and see it for what it is.)

In a way, I think that's a tragedy because in a technical sense, the Fundies have a lot of things right. They just don't have it right. Sounds like I'm contradicting myself, but I'm really not. It's like putting a painting in front of a bunch of people and asking them to describe it. If these people are Fundies, they'll tell you which colors were used - Ochre #3, Salmon #13, Magenta #7. They'll tell you about techniques and brush strokes, making sure to add the dimensions and perhaps even a list of the elements that can be viewed in the piece. Technically they're right, but from the perspective of the soul, they've missed the point entirely. They don't really see the painting at all; they haven't perceived the beauty or the art, just the technical details. Translate that to religion and you get people who have very good theology. They'll look at the concept of God and the truths contained in religion and give you a catechism that's flawless, but they're missing the point. Take that to a real world realm where people struggle with deep issues and temptations they can't overcome, and a Fundy will give that person a technically correct response with an appropriate accompanying action (some kind of self-discipline) and expect the problem to be solved like magic. They'll quote you all the (very true) scripture verses related to that sin in particular, as well as sin in general, and warn you to deal with this seriously because God doesn't allow people who indulge the flesh into heaven, but they won't really let you talk and share and explore and take your journey. They want to help you be holy instead of letting God do what He does best in the time and way He sees as appropriate. And most of them will read this description of Fundy-ism and say, "Boy, is that ever true. I know so many churches like that. Thank God I've been delivered to see the truth." And the ones most certain of their ability to see are generally the people most blind to their own inability to see the art because they get lost in the technical details - all true, but all far short of the painting.

Of course, not all Fundies are like this. Saying that would be like saying that all poor people steal or all men are pigs or all women are shallow. You can't make a blanket statement and expect it to be true. What is true, however, is that Fundamentalism, as a movement, is very much like this, and because of this failing, they do a lot of damage to a lot of people - many who are Fundies themselves. And if anyone knows this, it's me.

Now to be fair, I probably have more responsibility for the wounds in my soul than anyone, because like any good Fundy, I tore myself to pieces for every weakness in my life, whether real or imaginary. I was so busy trying to be good - and all from a genuinely good motive - that I never let myself make a mistake big enough to have a real understanding of what it means to need grace. I was so concerned about black and white that I didn't really see how much grace there is in the gray. Now, black and white are very blurred for me. In fact, I'm in a place where some things I know to be clearly stated as "black" don't seem "black" at all. They seem gray, at best. And admittedly, I'm swinging far to the other side of the pendulum in this season of my life. I was so far the other direction for so long that coming into a place of real wholeness and balance is really pushing me beyond a lot of boundaries, particularly mentally, I never thought I'd get close to. But what I'm really trying to do is see the painting. I'm not denying that the technical details are true. Can't argue with those. I'm just trying not to see them, because until I can stop detailing the technical stuff, I'll never see the painting. And the thing I most deeply want, the thing I've always wanted, is to see the glory and the beauty and the art. I want my soul to perceive these things. And in order to do that, I have to blur some of those technicalities. I have to step back from some of those black and whites and get a fresh look at this whole thing.

Part of me hopes that my old Fundy friends and "acquaintances" (sorry, personal joke!) never read this. If they do, they'll be terrified for me and probably go into all night prayer and fasting for God to rip me from the clutches of Satan and bring me safely back to the fold. But God save me, I never want to be the Fundy girl I used to be again. I hope I never go back. The truth was I got tired of living with the hope that unfulfilled longings would somehow be met. I got tired of trusting in promises that weren't becoming reality. It's not that I don't believe in those things, but I think I was trying to reach them in the wrong way. And I'm now beginning to think that I never will know them without becoming Gomer and really knowing what it means to be her.

But back to my other thought... I think my poor Fundy friends are safe from all these "heretical" and "backslider" thoughts of mine. Most of them disappeared from my life pretty damn quickly when I stopped going to their church. Of course, if I should ever darken their doors again - and I don't intend to - they'll welcome me with open arms, ask me what's going on in my life and where I'm going to church, tell me they're concerned for me. And they will sincerely mean it. But none of them will really understand what it's like to walk this road in search of God until they stop trusting in Fundy ways and start looking for Jesus outside them. And doing that, as crazy as it sounds, is actually something that can only happen if you are graced by God.

I don't know one Fundy who would say that my relationship with A and the aftermath of it were gifts of grace, but the truth is they were. I'm not saying God wanted everything to happen that happened, but I am saying that He knew I needed to become Gomer so I could, for the first time, understand in an experiential sense, not merely a technical sense, what it means to be rescued and pursued and wanted by God. I asked Him for real intimacy, authenticity, and the ability to relate to people who don't know Him. And though I'm farther from some of those things than I've ever been, I'm also closer than I've ever been because for the first time in my life I've left home instead of staying and hoping things will change. I've cast the die and placed my bet. I've taken a chance to find out if Hosea will really come through for me like He said He would. Sometimes, the quickest way home is found in running away from home.

Meaningful Moments

2008-06-01T21:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a year ago today since I met A. At this very hour last year, we were looking over karaoke songs in a rundown bar and he was offering to buy me a drink for the second time. I let him. I was so innocent then. And looking back on the aftermath of that night makes me think of the closing lines from a movie I haven't watched in a long time.

"It is always surprising how small a part of life is taken up by meaningful moments. Most often, they're over before they start, even though they cast a light on the future and make the person who originated them unforgettable."

I didn't know the night that I met A he would have such a profound impact on my life. I didn't know I'd be sitting here a year later fighting back tears for longing over a man from whom I haven't been able to move on. I thought he was just a guy in a bar, a summer fling that would end with no one hurt or sad. I was wrong. He was so much more. Meeting him was a meaningful moment. It changed my life. It made me Gomer. You can't get much more meaningful than that.

That night wasn't the start of my journey toward becoming Gomer, but it certainly drove me there more quickly than I had ever imagined and opened a door for me to become Gomer in ways I never could have without it. I don't know if I would change that or not. I think not. It's been painful, and though I mention the relationship that was born that night, that relationship isn't the focus of this blog. In truth, the fact that I became Gomer is. The relationship with A was profoundly instrumental in that. But even without A, I'm still becoming Gomer. And though my old Fundamentalist Christian friends (we'll affectionately call them Fundies, courtesy of my far-Left atheist carpool buddy) would vehemently disagree, I think becoming Gomer was exactly what I needed. It sucks right now because my story isn't to the good part yet. It's still in the part where I wonder if my Hosea (God) will come after me and bring me back to be His beloved in a way I couldn't have been before. I'm still running away and wondering if He cares enough to fight for me. I'm still trying to hope that what I hope for - a God who really loves me when all of my ugly secrets and desires are out in the open and no longer hidden away, when I'm no longer trying desperately to be perfect, when I've stopped fighting to be good - will be real.

I've come to the conclusion that the real reason any of us become Gomer - and maybe the reason Gomer became so notorious a woman in the Biblical narrative - is because we need to know that Hosea loves us enough to bring us home again, buy us back again, fight for us. Because if He doesn't He isn't what we really need. And we need to know this in a real and personal way, not because it says so in the Bible and not because some preacher says so from a pulpit. We need to know it because we've experienced it and it's real in our lives.

I used to be one of the those really, really good Fundy girls. In fact, just one year ago I still fit that mold. I no longer identify myself as a Fundy. I just don't buy the sales pitch anymore. In fact, I'm not sure I like the label Christian either, just because it too puts me in the Fundy group. I like the idea of being a Christ follower, which is what my pastor calls us. Though to be honest, I don't feel like much of a Christ follower these days. I feel more like the girl who used to hang around camp all the time hoping He'd notice her in the background. But there were always better followers and I just couldn't keep up. So now I'm the girl who's hoping that He'll notice I haven't been around camp in a long while and might come looking for me. And not in that "Jesus-came-to-preach-in-my-hometown-and-saw-me-and-told-me-He'd-been-wondering-where-I-disappeared-to" kind of way. I don't want to be a stop on His route, so to speak - "was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in." I'm tired of being that. I feel like I've been that all my life. I guess I'm back to that whole "needing Hosea to come get me" kind of place. I'm hoping I won't be an afterthought. I'm hoping I'll be important enough for Him to drop everything and come find me. Leave the camp and the preaching circuit to come to my out-of-the-way village just to find me. Not because there are a few hundred here He can preach to. Just for me.