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.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Perhaps the Fundies AREN'T so Bad!
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.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Looking for Someone to Blame
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.
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
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Chasing Rainbows
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.
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.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
What's in a Name: Christian or Christ Follower?
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.
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.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Burying Our Heads in the Sand
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.
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.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Just When You Thought You Were Guilt Free...
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Living with(out) Guilt
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'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.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
"I Was Afraid You Were One of Them"
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.
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.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Coming into the Light
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?
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?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Toward Forgiveness
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.
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.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Broken People
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.
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.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Profoundly Alone
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.
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.
Monday, August 18, 2008
New Ideas
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.)
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.)
Sunday, July 27, 2008
God Withholding
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?
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?
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Judging Me, Judging You
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Pure Weddings?
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.
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.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Prayer: Step One, Step Two, Step Three, and You Win the Doorprize!
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.
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.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Confessions of a Liberal
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.
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.
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