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?
Sunday, July 27, 2008
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.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Caught Between Two Worlds
First, I'd like to start by thanking Jon for his comment! Sometimes you wonder if anyone out there even cares about what you have to say, so it's encouraging to get that kind of feedback from someone outside my immediate circle!!!!
On to the post...
One of the great difficuties that you face in a journey like mine is the doubt and uncertainty you feel when you're caught between two worlds. I've been feeling a lot of that lately, and it's uncomfortable and frightening. I don't really feel that I quite fit in anywhere at present. I most certainly don't fit in with the folks who used to comprise my circle (truthfully, I avoid them), but I don't entirely fit in with everyone else either. I'm an anomaly. LOL.
To illustrate the point, on weekends I wait tables in a restaurant. I do this for a couple of reasons. First of all, the extra fun money is very nice. Secondly, I'm all about "living" and experiencing the things in life that appeal to me. It might sound crazy, but waitressing has always been one of those jobs that sounded fun to me. Now I can cross it off my "things to do before I die" list and say that I got the chance to experience it firsthand. Finally, every time I start thinking it's time to bail, I remember just how much I love the people I work with. They're quite a crowd - very rough around the edges and most have seen the harder side of life a few times too many. They love to party like nobody's business, and they're a group I wouldn't have had any common ground with not so long ago. Truthfully, I still don't really have much in common with them, but they are so much fun, they're beautiful people, and I really and sincerely love them. When I do finally leave, I'm going to miss them so much.
I'm getting off track a bit, th0ugh. As I was saying, a few weeks ago I was waiting tables and had a group of nice charismatic Fundies come in for dinner. They were all sweet ladies, and most of them were actually good tippers, which is unusual for religious folks in my waitressing experience. At one time, these ladies would have been a harbor in the storm, so to speak. As I was taking care of them, I couldn't help but overhear them chatting about "the Holy Spirit told me this" or "God's presence was so powerful" or "that was such deep revelation." What was interesting to me about all this, though, was how disconnected I felt from them. It was like I couldn't relate anymore. I understood what they were saying, but it was as though I had more common ground with my "heathen" co-workers than these sweet, sincere ladies. Honestly, it all felt rather awkward.
I remember how I always used to feel connected to other Christians, even if I didn't know them personally. If I saw someone praying or reading their Bible in a restaurant or wearing a Christian t-shirt, it was like I'd found a buddy and the two of us shared a special little secret. I don't feel like that much anymore. In fact, I feel very distrustful of most Christians. I feel like if I tried to share my life and heart with them, they'd reject me or judge me. It's not that my lifestyle is so much different than theirs, but I don't think like they do anymore, and I know their thought processes far to well to entrust myself to them. They'd want to "deliver" me or would secretly look down on me as an immature Christian (maybe... "not sure if she's really a Chrstian at all." LOL) who's been deceived or who "hasn't experienced God deeply enough to be satisifed in Him" like they are.
Now perhaps my experience with these ladies was more a "just that night" kind of thing. The week before they came in I took care of a couple at a table who were reading their Bibles and discussing a study guide over dinner. I asked them about what they were reading and soon we were chatting about our churches. They were really nice people. So perhaps with the other ladies I was just having an "off" night, or perhaps it was because they were charismatic sorts (I feel extremely gunshy when it comes to the charismatics these days.). I'm not sure. I do know, however, that I feel very disconnected from most other Christians of the Fundy stamp. If they turn out to be Democrats or more liberal thinkers, I start to feel safer, but the whole conservative crowd seem to be cousins eight times removed, or something like that.
On the other hand, I don't feel entirely connected to non-Christ followers either. I like the fact that I can be real with them and feel safe. I like the fact that they don't look at me as though I have two heads when I use profanity or throw back a shot of whiskey. The thing is, I don't really think like them either, and for the most part, I don't really get involved in the stuff they're involved in. Yes, I have a drink from time to time, but most of the time I'll opt for a Diet Pepsi over a beer or cocktail. I'm not a partier, and I'm still completely out of the loop on the most popular television shows. I go on a fair number of dates and make an effort to get out there and meet nice guys, but I don't fool around with those guys or bring them home with me. I'm not a raging Democrat (something that really makes me stand out in Seattle!!!), but neither am I a staunch Republican anymore. Instead, I'm trying to vote based on how a candidate's positions line up with my convictions - something most Fundies don't do. They're all Republicans, for the most part. Again, I'm an anomaly.
It's hard to feel that you're caught between two worlds, knowing that you don't fully fit in with either. As I said, this feeling is uncomfortable. I can deal with uncomfortable, but sometimes I get unsettled and afraid. I'm striking out into unfamiliar territory, and I'm frightened at the audacity of it, the possibility of making huge errors in both lifestyle and conviction. What if I end up way over in left field? What if I give up convictions I shouldn't? What if I turn God into some collage of characteristics that I find pleasing and acceptable? I don't want that for myself.
I've noticed that many people who leave the Fundy church walk away from more than the church. They walk away from the truth. I love my roommate dearly, but she's taken that path. She used to be a good Fundy girl like me. Now she defines herself as "spiritual but not religious." It's a popular label these days, and it can be a good thing or a not so good thing. For her it means that she picks and chooses what she wants to believe based on what appeals to her. She mixes in a little of this religion and a little of that religion and doesn't really believe that the Bible is the final authority on truth. I'm not like that. I'm not saying I'm better. I'm just saying I'm not like that. Maybe it's because I wrestled through that whole crisis of belief right after high school, but for me absolute truth is an essential. I don't believe I can pick and choose to come up with a spirituality that "fits" me. I don't believe that all paths lead to God. I don't believe that a person can embrace whatever form of spirituality appeals to him and still be a-okay with God. I know that kind of thinking offends people, and that's okay. It's understandable that it would be hard for people to accept such a restrictive perspective. I'm okay with the fact that it's something people have to wrestle with and find hard to accept, and I try to give them the grace and patience they need to do so, just as I need grace and patience for the things I wrestle with.
I wish this road were actually a road, not a path where few feet have trod. I wish I could feel confident that I'm going to get everything right. In fact, it's one of the few things I miss about being a Fundy - the feeling that I had my ducks in a row. Now I'm lucky if I can find my ducks, let alone get the damn things lined up correctly. But if nothing else, I can truly say that for the first time in my life I'm living by faith. There's no false sense of security coming from the fact that I think and act right 99 percent of the time (amazing how you can do almost everything right as a Fundy and still feel like God's problem child who's more a disappointment to Him than a pleasure. Will explore that more later.). There's no sense that God will accept me because I've got flawless theology or perfectly Biblical convictions. No, for the first time in my life I live by faith that Jesus is my only hope of getting to heaven. For the first time I have to trust deep down that He won't let me go too far, that He will come find me when I get lost, that He will come after me when I become Gomer and run away from home. For the first time in my life there's no corner of my heart that feels secure because I'm "on fire for God." Instead, I'm living by faith that the fire He says He has for me will be enough to keep me with Him, because the truth is I'm a faithless, weak, and pitiful excuse for a follower... just like the twelve guys He picked to be His disciples. I'm not going to "make it" or be useful to Him because I've got both feet firmly planted in the Fundy church. I'm going to make it because He's going to take pity on this wretched soul that is doomed to want all the wrong things. He's going to make something lovely and useful and precious of my life in spite of the fact that I'm a hopeless screw-up when left to my own devices.
It makes me think of something my pastor said awhile back. It was profound and beautiful, and it echoes in my soul. It's contrary to everything I was taught in the charismatic Fundy church I attended for years, but its truth rings in me like the siren call of hope. He said God is moved by our weakness. I was always taught that God was only moved by our faith, but faith, as it was taught, was not faith in weakness; it was faith in strength. Maybe in their essence faith and weakness are inseparable. They certainly are in my life, and it comforts me to think that as I've finally come to be aware of my weakness, He is moved by that.
On to the post...
One of the great difficuties that you face in a journey like mine is the doubt and uncertainty you feel when you're caught between two worlds. I've been feeling a lot of that lately, and it's uncomfortable and frightening. I don't really feel that I quite fit in anywhere at present. I most certainly don't fit in with the folks who used to comprise my circle (truthfully, I avoid them), but I don't entirely fit in with everyone else either. I'm an anomaly. LOL.
To illustrate the point, on weekends I wait tables in a restaurant. I do this for a couple of reasons. First of all, the extra fun money is very nice. Secondly, I'm all about "living" and experiencing the things in life that appeal to me. It might sound crazy, but waitressing has always been one of those jobs that sounded fun to me. Now I can cross it off my "things to do before I die" list and say that I got the chance to experience it firsthand. Finally, every time I start thinking it's time to bail, I remember just how much I love the people I work with. They're quite a crowd - very rough around the edges and most have seen the harder side of life a few times too many. They love to party like nobody's business, and they're a group I wouldn't have had any common ground with not so long ago. Truthfully, I still don't really have much in common with them, but they are so much fun, they're beautiful people, and I really and sincerely love them. When I do finally leave, I'm going to miss them so much.
I'm getting off track a bit, th0ugh. As I was saying, a few weeks ago I was waiting tables and had a group of nice charismatic Fundies come in for dinner. They were all sweet ladies, and most of them were actually good tippers, which is unusual for religious folks in my waitressing experience. At one time, these ladies would have been a harbor in the storm, so to speak. As I was taking care of them, I couldn't help but overhear them chatting about "the Holy Spirit told me this" or "God's presence was so powerful" or "that was such deep revelation." What was interesting to me about all this, though, was how disconnected I felt from them. It was like I couldn't relate anymore. I understood what they were saying, but it was as though I had more common ground with my "heathen" co-workers than these sweet, sincere ladies. Honestly, it all felt rather awkward.
I remember how I always used to feel connected to other Christians, even if I didn't know them personally. If I saw someone praying or reading their Bible in a restaurant or wearing a Christian t-shirt, it was like I'd found a buddy and the two of us shared a special little secret. I don't feel like that much anymore. In fact, I feel very distrustful of most Christians. I feel like if I tried to share my life and heart with them, they'd reject me or judge me. It's not that my lifestyle is so much different than theirs, but I don't think like they do anymore, and I know their thought processes far to well to entrust myself to them. They'd want to "deliver" me or would secretly look down on me as an immature Christian (maybe... "not sure if she's really a Chrstian at all." LOL) who's been deceived or who "hasn't experienced God deeply enough to be satisifed in Him" like they are.
Now perhaps my experience with these ladies was more a "just that night" kind of thing. The week before they came in I took care of a couple at a table who were reading their Bibles and discussing a study guide over dinner. I asked them about what they were reading and soon we were chatting about our churches. They were really nice people. So perhaps with the other ladies I was just having an "off" night, or perhaps it was because they were charismatic sorts (I feel extremely gunshy when it comes to the charismatics these days.). I'm not sure. I do know, however, that I feel very disconnected from most other Christians of the Fundy stamp. If they turn out to be Democrats or more liberal thinkers, I start to feel safer, but the whole conservative crowd seem to be cousins eight times removed, or something like that.
On the other hand, I don't feel entirely connected to non-Christ followers either. I like the fact that I can be real with them and feel safe. I like the fact that they don't look at me as though I have two heads when I use profanity or throw back a shot of whiskey. The thing is, I don't really think like them either, and for the most part, I don't really get involved in the stuff they're involved in. Yes, I have a drink from time to time, but most of the time I'll opt for a Diet Pepsi over a beer or cocktail. I'm not a partier, and I'm still completely out of the loop on the most popular television shows. I go on a fair number of dates and make an effort to get out there and meet nice guys, but I don't fool around with those guys or bring them home with me. I'm not a raging Democrat (something that really makes me stand out in Seattle!!!), but neither am I a staunch Republican anymore. Instead, I'm trying to vote based on how a candidate's positions line up with my convictions - something most Fundies don't do. They're all Republicans, for the most part. Again, I'm an anomaly.
It's hard to feel that you're caught between two worlds, knowing that you don't fully fit in with either. As I said, this feeling is uncomfortable. I can deal with uncomfortable, but sometimes I get unsettled and afraid. I'm striking out into unfamiliar territory, and I'm frightened at the audacity of it, the possibility of making huge errors in both lifestyle and conviction. What if I end up way over in left field? What if I give up convictions I shouldn't? What if I turn God into some collage of characteristics that I find pleasing and acceptable? I don't want that for myself.
I've noticed that many people who leave the Fundy church walk away from more than the church. They walk away from the truth. I love my roommate dearly, but she's taken that path. She used to be a good Fundy girl like me. Now she defines herself as "spiritual but not religious." It's a popular label these days, and it can be a good thing or a not so good thing. For her it means that she picks and chooses what she wants to believe based on what appeals to her. She mixes in a little of this religion and a little of that religion and doesn't really believe that the Bible is the final authority on truth. I'm not like that. I'm not saying I'm better. I'm just saying I'm not like that. Maybe it's because I wrestled through that whole crisis of belief right after high school, but for me absolute truth is an essential. I don't believe I can pick and choose to come up with a spirituality that "fits" me. I don't believe that all paths lead to God. I don't believe that a person can embrace whatever form of spirituality appeals to him and still be a-okay with God. I know that kind of thinking offends people, and that's okay. It's understandable that it would be hard for people to accept such a restrictive perspective. I'm okay with the fact that it's something people have to wrestle with and find hard to accept, and I try to give them the grace and patience they need to do so, just as I need grace and patience for the things I wrestle with.
I wish this road were actually a road, not a path where few feet have trod. I wish I could feel confident that I'm going to get everything right. In fact, it's one of the few things I miss about being a Fundy - the feeling that I had my ducks in a row. Now I'm lucky if I can find my ducks, let alone get the damn things lined up correctly. But if nothing else, I can truly say that for the first time in my life I'm living by faith. There's no false sense of security coming from the fact that I think and act right 99 percent of the time (amazing how you can do almost everything right as a Fundy and still feel like God's problem child who's more a disappointment to Him than a pleasure. Will explore that more later.). There's no sense that God will accept me because I've got flawless theology or perfectly Biblical convictions. No, for the first time in my life I live by faith that Jesus is my only hope of getting to heaven. For the first time I have to trust deep down that He won't let me go too far, that He will come find me when I get lost, that He will come after me when I become Gomer and run away from home. For the first time in my life there's no corner of my heart that feels secure because I'm "on fire for God." Instead, I'm living by faith that the fire He says He has for me will be enough to keep me with Him, because the truth is I'm a faithless, weak, and pitiful excuse for a follower... just like the twelve guys He picked to be His disciples. I'm not going to "make it" or be useful to Him because I've got both feet firmly planted in the Fundy church. I'm going to make it because He's going to take pity on this wretched soul that is doomed to want all the wrong things. He's going to make something lovely and useful and precious of my life in spite of the fact that I'm a hopeless screw-up when left to my own devices.
It makes me think of something my pastor said awhile back. It was profound and beautiful, and it echoes in my soul. It's contrary to everything I was taught in the charismatic Fundy church I attended for years, but its truth rings in me like the siren call of hope. He said God is moved by our weakness. I was always taught that God was only moved by our faith, but faith, as it was taught, was not faith in weakness; it was faith in strength. Maybe in their essence faith and weakness are inseparable. They certainly are in my life, and it comforts me to think that as I've finally come to be aware of my weakness, He is moved by that.
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