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.
Friday, November 7, 2008
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.
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