Starting Over (Part 1 of Soul-Excavation)

The last year has been one of the best and most painful seasons of my life. Much good was happening, but I was slowly losing my ability to rejoice in the good. Through a series of mostly unrelated events over the last several years, I had allowed myself to become jaded. Cynical. Angry. Critical. It wasn't pretty inside my head. Anger and cynicism are easily directed outward, allowing us to ignore what is happening inside our hearts. I think that's why often, when we see the angriest of people, we can almost certainly know that there is something else much deeper than anger going on inside their hearts. I heard someone say once that often anger is really grief in disguise. I believe that. And I was definitely grieving... But I was not dealing with it. Bless Brian - he has loved me so well through all of this. He clearly meant it when he said "for better or for worse". He has walked with me through my darkness and has let me vent and rage and cry and eat lots of potato chips and chocolate. He has listened with patience when I was totally irrational. He allowed me long stretches of quiet, almost reclusive times. He has kept encouraging me to balance - to keep running (physically, not emotionally), to talk it out, to hang with my girlfriends, to keep sitting in community. He is truly my better half. Again I say, bless him.

Church, even though we were not attached to any specific place for much of the time, did help. The comfort of scriptures read together, the common prayers, coming to the Table each week - the quiet, simple, peaceful routine of it, began to do it's work in my heart. We found a place to call home and I slowly began the process of building new relationships in a new place. God began to use that to chip away at the wall I had spent years  carefully constructing. This last Advent began to create some cracks in that wall - and then Lent blew it apart. For this I am thankful. The Anglican/Episcopal tradition leaves huge spaces for sorrow, for lament, that I somehow missed in the traditions I had been in up until this point. Perhaps they are out there, but I missed it and I needed that space. God began to give me the desire to look inward - to find the root of my discontent, my anger, my grief, and dig it out. So, in little baby steps, I began to dig around in there.

In the midst of this digging around the last several months, I've found myself wanting to write again. I had virtually given it up entirely, even personal, private journaling (which I have done for many years). I felt void of any thoughts that felt edifying enough to share. (This should have been a red flag that my heart and head were in trouble, but it was not.) I am still struggling to get words from head to fingertips to keyboard. I'm certain I will write and rewrite a thousand times, but I'm determined to try to find words again. I'm starting. I don't know how it will look, or how often it will be, but here's a start. God has taught me much about myself over the last several months, and I'm feeling strong enough, brave enough, ...just enough, to begin sharing parts of it, so maybe today, with these words, is as good a place as any to start.

In today's installment of what I've learned in this soul-excavation project:

For this last season of Lent, I gave up Facebook. This was not some super-spiritual decision. It was not a sacred or holy choice. I was angry. The newsfeed readily helped me feel justified in my anger. I was anxious - it was happy to feed this too. I chose to give it up because I snapped. Within the space of a couple of days, I found myself so angry over things said by people I rather enjoyed in real life that I just simply snapped. So I took it off my phone. I continued on Instagram (because this continues to be a happy space for me) and shared those pictures to Facebook. I still responded to private messages and I checked notifications once a week from my computer, but that was it. I spent zero time on the newsfeed. What I found during that 40+ days, was that Facebook was giving me a place to hide. 

Can't sleep? Facebook. 

Bored? Facebook. 

Waiting in a line or a doctor's office? Facebook.
 Need a break? Facebook. 

It kept my mind busy, occupied, distracted. Unfortunately, it was often feeding anger, anxiety and cynicism...making it easier to justify my feelings rather than looking inward to find their source.

During this time, I slowly began to replace that distracted time with other things:

Can't sleep? Pray. Meditate.

Bored? Read a book.

Waiting in line? Engage the people around me. Make eye contact.

Need a break? Read that same book. Call a friend and invite them to lunch.

Something funny/sweet/sad/puzzling happen? Again, call or text a friend and share it with one actual, in-my-life person, rather than my Facebook virtual world.

After finding better ways to fill that down time, I made a few other intentional decisions:

• I started in Genesis and I'm reading deliberately through the Bible again, this time, letting God answer some questions for me that I've been asking for a long time.
• I read a lot of books, both fiction and non-fiction.
• I take lots of long walks and short runs.
• I listen to podcasts.
• I continue to find peace and healing in the liturgy and sacraments.
• I am learning to embrace silence again, to allow my mind to wander, to feel my grief, to feel my joy. To feel.

I learned that I need to connect in real, substantive ways a lot more often than I had been. I'm not saying that sharing those things on Facebook is bad - some of it is good, edifying, connecting. Some of you use it in fabulous ways - it's another tool in your tool belt of healthy living. Though I began that way, that wasn't me anymore. Often, for me, and I know for others, it's a way to hide from real relationship. It filled in times and spaces that I needed to be using to deal with my crap.

I can present only what I want you to see on Facebook. Sitting across from you at lunch? It's going to be harder. Walking through hard things, in real life, with you? Dang near impossible. I value many of my online relationships and I'm thankful for connections I would not be able to have otherwise. But now, real-life, in-my-face, you-can't-hide-from-me, relationships are much more valuable - they are where I want to invest the best parts of my time and my energy. If something beautiful presents itself in my day, I'm much more likely to take a picture of it and send it to a particular person that I know well (or someone that I am building a new relationship with) and think they would appreciate it....connection. If I read an article or a quote that speaks deeply to me, I'll share it via text with a specific person that I believe would value its merit along with me...connection.  - but for the most part, I'm choosing to make what difference I can in the circle of people right around me - my family, my friends, at my office, in my neighborhood, in my church, in my community, with my vote, with my money. I'm trying to learn to use my voice in personal, close proximity ways.

I'm dabbling a bit on Facebook again, but not much. I may choose occasionally to share on Facebook - I will likely still make some of you frustrated with my opinions and the articles I share because I will continue to refuse to be silent on some issues. It's probably still a good idea to tag me if you need me to see something.

What I'd really love most is for you to call/text/message me and let's have lunch if you live close enough.

Our Anglican Journey

This Musing comes from the heart of my husband. The last two years have been quite a faith journey for us in a myriad of different ways. We've had a lot of questions come our way in those two years about what we're doing, church-wise, and a few think perhaps we've gone completely off the deep end. If you're among those wondering what in the world we're doing, Brian has put into words so much better than I would be able to to, a little bit of what that has looked like for us. There is no one I would rather have made this journey with. So... in the words of my dearest friend and husband...

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Two years ago this month I stepped down from my dream job. For nearly 15 years I pastored Cornerstone Community Church ... a church I helped start ... a church I gave my life and passion to. It was a hard decision and yet in some ways it wasn't. I couldn't stand the thought of giving up. I saw it as failure, but I was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted. I allowed myself to get to a place of irreversible burnout with no vision, no passion, no direction. My calling and vocation became a love-hate relationship and I operated in functional depression for much of the final year just trying to make it from Sunday to Sunday.

One of my off-weeks that final summer, Sherrie and I attended an Anglican church just to see what it was like. I always liked to visit other churches, when I had the chance, to see what they were doing, how they worshiped, and how they arranged their chairs (some of you will get that). I wasn't sure what to expect that Sunday with all the pomp and circumstance. Processionals and recessionals. Sitting, standing, kneeling. Singing hymns and reciting creeds. Real wine at communion! It was way different than anything I had ever attended or experienced.

Yet, in spite of my ignorance of their tradition and liturgy it somehow ministered to me. I didn't know what it was at the time but there was this connection ... this draw. I was moved by the reverence for Christ. I was moved by the unity in the prayers and recitations. I was moved by the beauty of the Eucharist. I had no idea at that time what the future would hold, I just knew I found some peace that morning. 

After leaving Cornerstone we set out to do what we hadn't done in nearly 20 years ... look for a church. It was tough. We didn't feel like we could go anywhere in town, but we didn't really want to go out of town, and we didn't feel like we could just quit ... even though quitting would have been the easy answer. At first we returned to our roots and attended a few Baptist churches, but the connection ... the draw wasn't there. We tried church online, but I knew all too well the importance of personal relationship and community. I had preached it for years.

Finally one Sunday we went back to that Anglican church and there was that connection ... that draw. That particular church wasn't the right fit for us, but the liturgy and sacrament was working its way into our spirits. We began to attend an Episcopal church pretty regularly. (Episcopal churches started as the American version of Anglican churches). I devoured books on Anglicanism. I asked questions. I observed. I learned. I worshiped. And it brought me peace ... peace that had eluded me for some time.

When I took a new job that had us relocate to the city, we had to start the process all over again. Each Saturday was the question, "Where are we going to church tomorrow?" Each Sunday was a discussion of what we liked and didn't like about the church we visited that morning. It was exhausting. We finally found a small Anglican church in the city that we kept going back to every other week while we scouted others on the off weeks. Then we ended up there occasionally on our "scout" weeks. Finally we just kept going back. 

We were invited to attend an 8-week confirmation class (who we are, what we believe, why we do what we do -- or -- the Anglican version of 101 and 201) during the fall. Just before Christmas we were confirmed into (joined) the Anglican Church. 

Most people have been supportive. Some have wondered what in the world we're doing. And some, frankly, don't care. We've fielded a number of questions over the last year; especially since our confirmation. I assure you that we have not left the faith as Anglicanism is well within the bounds of Orthodox Christian faith and belief. 

If you've ever sung a hymn written by Charles Wesley, then you've sung a song written by an Anglican. If you've ever read a book by C.S. Lewis, then you've read a book written by an Anglican. If your pastor has ever quoted John Stott or N.T. Wright, then they've quoted an Anglican.

So why did we become Anglicans? This isn't exhaustive, but it covers the key reasons:

• The centrality of Christ in worship
• The corporate reading of Scripture
• The importance of communion
• The unity of 85 million believers
• The regular confession of the creeds
• The sign and symbol of the liturgy and sacraments
• The bridge to the ancient church

All of these things together form the connection ... the draw. The mystery of the liturgy and sacraments continue to bring peace. We like that as a church we recite creeds together, read Scripture together, pray together, confess sin together, and take communion together ... every week.

I never dreamed that I would prefer quiet, worshipful hymns over loud, modern worship music. Or the beauty and reverence of communion over a well-crafted sermon. But here I am.

We're still pretty new at this particular faith tradition, but the peace, the contentment, and the connection tell me we're home.

 

If you would like to know more about the Anglican tradition I recommend the following books:

The Anglican Way by Thomas McKenzie

Beyond Smells and Bells by Mark Galli

Evangelicals on the Canterbury Trail by Robert Webber

If you'd like to know more about our journey, just ask.

Peace of the Lord be with you!

One Word 2018: Persevere

Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,  I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:13-14

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,  fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Hebrews 12:1-2

The last few years have been filled with a crazy mix of best-ever events and worst-ever pain. I have a feeling if we took one of those tests that measures your stress level based on major life events, we'd be off the charts. In no particular chronological order or order of significance: Clinical depression in our family; resigning from the Church we had attended, and Brian had pastored, for 14+ years; new jobs; menopause (and that ain't playin' - it's craze-inducing!); move to a new city; kids graduated; kids married; new baby (grand) born; fostering (and all the joy and pain that brings - also much more significant and personal than I can address here); major trips; profound disillusionment with things and people long held in high respect; a long spiritual journey/evolution that's led to radically new (yet ancient) ways of expressing our faith; illness; extended family grief. Deep sorrow, ecstatic joy. It's been a ride, and I can see enough of the future to know for certain that this ride ain't over yet.

And I'm afraid that, at times in this journey, I have not fared well. I've gone through seasons of deep cynicism. I've raged. I've mourned. I've been tempted to give up, throw in the towel, wave the white flag, whatever. God has been near through all of it. I have not wavered in my confidence of His presence, but I've definitely gone through seasons when I wondered why He didn't intervene, why I couldn't hear Him, why His Church looked so radically different from what I thought it should... but I have not doubted Him. I have, however, doubted almost everything and everyone else. I have gone through seasons of trying to control circumstances and people, of not protecting my heart or keeping safe boundaries, of shutting people out, of giving up on Church.

I'm ready to turn the page.

I've spent the last few days reflecting on what God has shown me this past year and where I need to allow Him to take me this next year. In recent years, instead of writing New Year's Resolutions, I've chosen one word that kind of encompasses where I feel like God is taking me. The first time, it was Extravagant - and God is still growing me in that area, teaching me to love Extravagantly. Another year, it was Joy - and God is still teaching me to find joy, whether I am in times of great rejoicing, or in deep mourning -- in both, I can still have Joy. As I began to reflect this year, the word that kept rising to the top was Persevere.

As I said, I'm ready to turn the page. I have no idea what tomorrow holds. I can see enough dimly to know we're not finished with the sorrow. I can see enough dimly to know that I will still be tempted to be cynical, to not trust, to battle with disillusionment and anger. But I don't want to tread water, always feeling like I'm one breath away from drowning in all of that anymore. I want to swim. I want to run. 

There are a few things I do know. I know that God is good. I know that my core beliefs have not changed. I know that God has called us live justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly with our God. I know that I'm to love. I know that I'm to exhibit the fruits of the Spirit, with all people. I know that I'm to live in a way that brings God's Kingdom to bear here, and now.

All of those things take perseverance in the face of the world we live in today... So, I want to persevere. I want to learn to take the next step into the shadows, into the unknown. There is still much that I do not know. But, I can do what I KNOW, even while surrounded by the unknown. I do not have to allow the unknown to take me down. 

This year, I want to allow to God to begin to rebuild perseverance in me. Practically, that will look like beginning to carve out more time for reading, study, meditation and prayer - more time to be quiet and hear what He wants to say. More time to worship. It will look like getting back to the physical, mental and emotional practices that keep me healthy. It will look like finding where God would have me living into the margins and taking His light into the Dark - to stop being afraid of reaching out again...to stop nursing my wounds and start living healed and whole.

There is much Joy to be found. There is much to rejoice in. There is so much good to do. I want to be about it.

Persevere.

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Do you have a 2018 One Word? What is it?

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I remain confident of this:

I will see the goodness of the Lord

in the land of the living.

Wait for the Lord;

be strong and take heart

and wait for the Lord.

Psalm 27: 13-14

God With Us

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with these words burning in my brain. When it became clear that sleep was no longer going to be a thing, I got up and wrote them down. We've all been here, this misery of our own making. Maybe it'll speak to one of you.

Emmanuel - God With Us

He is with you,
There.
In that misery of your own making.

He will not yell over the noise.
He will not interrupt.
He will likely not intervene.
As you create yet more misery.
But He is there.

Listen closely.
His words will be quiet.

He will speak Love,
When all around there is hate.
He will speak Hope,
When all around there is condemnation.
He will speak Peace into chaos.
He will speak Truth into lies.
He will speak Healing into addiction.
He will speak Forgiveness,
Even as He is mocked.

You may not hear Him there.
He will not shout,
He will not force,
He will not beg,
He will not manipulate,
For He is Love.

But He has made a way out for you.

In the whisper of the wind through trees,
In the lapping of the water against shore,
In the crackle of a fire,
In the dark of sleepless nights,
In the brightness of a sunrise,
In the midst of wordless prayers,
At the Table - Bread and Wine, Body and Blood.

When you stop,
When you sit in silence,
When you are still,
There. You can hear Him.

Stop.
Turn.
Listen.
Be silent.
Hear.

God With Us - Emmanuel

Rushing to the End

Lent.

I did not grow up in this tradition. As old as high school, my only experience with it was that my Catholic friend couldn't order meat on his pizza during Lent, and even then, I had no idea why. For many years after, it just wasn't anything I thought about or even heard about in the faith tradition we were a part of.

A few years ago, I decided to participate in the part of Lent that encourages you to "give up" something for the 40 days prior to Easter - to use that time that you would usually be doing that thing to contribute to something good, or to use cravings for the thing you gave up as a prompt to consider Jesus and all that He gave up for us, or to use the money saved in the giving up to contribute to a worthwhile cause - you get the jist. I found this beneficial - it did cause me to be more thoughtful in the time leading up to Easter, and I continued for several years this way. Two years ago, I went to an Ash Wednesday service for the first time, and followed the Liturgical Calendar a little closer as we moved through the season and found this even more contemplative. As many of you know by now, last year Brian and I began to visit different churches. We landed for the longest period in an Episcopal church and have, in that experience, followed the Church calendar very closely. 

Today was Palm Sunday. I've known forever what Palm Sunday was, but I don't remember ever really observing anything particularly different on that day. I knew it was the day that Jesus had ridden into Jerusalem on a donkey, as the crowds laid palm branches on the road and sang His praises - only hours before the whole crowd would turn and scream for His crucifixion. I knew this - but I rarely paused to consider. I have never taken the time to walk through this week. Slowly. Deliberately. In the tradition I grew up in, my memory was business as usual, until Easter Sunday, when we would dress in our Sunday finest, gather together, often hear a sermon detailing the horrific details of Christ's crucifixion, move quickly to the Resurrection and all that means to us -- and celebrate!

Observing Lent, walking up to Easter slowly, deliberately, has been something I needed. I've been reading a book throughout this season that has daily reflections. It has moved slowly through the scriptures surrounding Jesus last days on earth. I've found myself wanting to rush to the end, wondering why we have to linger here so long. But the lingering has been good. Necessary.

This morning, the service I attended laid palm branches down the center aisle at the beginning of the service, we sang hallelujah, we welcomed Jesus with Psalms read aloud together - we experienced His triumphant entry. Then, during the gospel reading, we went through the story in a narrative form - still all scripture, but read almost as a play. The congregation read the parts of the crowd. So here's what I heard today: My voice - singing hosanna. My voice reciting Psalms welcoming the long awaited Messiah. My voice, shouting to free Barabbas. My voice shouting for His crucifixion. It was sobering, to say the least. 

It sent me to thinking about the various characters on site that day....

• Peter: He would set himself up as judge and jury both at their last shared meal and in the garden, only to hide in the shadows and then flatly deny Him just hours later.
• Judas: His trusted friend - then His betrayer.
• Disciples: They ran, they hid, a few slunk back to watch from a distance. Only John returned to stand at his feet.
• The Crowd: They followed when He was popular. They sang His praises. But when it got scary, when it got hard, they scattered...a few watching silently from a distance, many changing their shouts from "Hosanna" to "Crucify" because it felt safer, perhaps.
• The Religious and the Romans: They simply wanted status quo. Any threat to that had to be destroyed. 

And Jesus?

• He encouraged Peter - He rebuked him, but he also told Him he was praying for Him, even as He knew what was coming for them both.
• He called Judas Friend, even as Judas delivered the kiss of betrayal.
• He washed the feet of His disciples, knowing that they would turn tail and run in a matter of hours.
• He accepted the praises of a fickle crowd. He knew they were weak and would soon turn on Him, yet He still accepted them where they were that day. And after they turned on Him, He prayed for them. He forgave them, even as they shouted their threats and curses.
• Even as he hung dying, he took the time to commission John with a job to do. He cared for his mother and John, even in the midst of astounding personal agony.

And here was my biggest thought this morning... Who am I?

 

In this cast of characters, who am I?

I have been all of these. I have set myself up as judge and jury of others, only to fail miserably in my own personal journey. I have turned my back on my greatest Love. I have hidden when I was afraid. I have praised when it was easy and remained silent when it was hard. I have wanted the status quo - I have fought change at all cost.

Yet.

Yet, He loves. He prays. He encourages. He suffers.

We know the end. We want to rush to "He lives!"

But let's not. This week, sit with Him in the suffering. Think about who you are in the cast of characters. Think about what He suffered for Love.

We so want to rush to the happy ending. There's plenty of time for that next Sunday. 

But this week, let's not rush.

Let's slow down.

Sit in it with Him.

Who are you?

Who is He?

No Man's Land

I used to have a vision that by the time you reached this point in life, you pretty much had your crap together - you knew where you stood on most everything, your plans were set, your opinions had matured into wise, unmovable truths, your kids grown and your responsibilities few.

I remember being a teenager. I remember the anxiety, the angst, the turmoil, the insecurity...sometimes I feel like I'm there again. Except back then, we had the blessed, ignorant bliss of truly believing we knew EVERYTHING - just no one would listen to us... Now, I KNOW that I don't know - yet people expect me to know. 

I find myself feeling less "pulled together" rather than more. I've no doubt that the hurricane of changes at this stage of life brings this on for many of us. We are beginning to deal with aging, both in ourselves and our parents, our kids are growing up, leaving, scaring us to death with adult decisions. Add new jobs, moves, new church, difficult relational issues. In varying degrees, it's life for us all. As I've maneuvered through this maze, I've begun to ask questions...Questions that I think I've asked, on the inside, for as long as I can remember, but never felt free to voice them. In the midst of that questioning, I find myself in a weird place - my conservative friends think I've lost my mind and gone liberal. My liberal friends think I'm still freakishly conservative.

No Man's Land.

That's where I feel like I am - belonging no where, yet feeling deep connections with people all along this continuum. It doesn't feel like there's much space for those that don't have a particular nitch. Everything is a battle these days...and as I watch the battle lines being drawn and the weapons positioned, I feel like I'm never standing in a good place. Where do you stand when the guns are blazing from every direction? From my vantage point, I can see validity in much of what is said from both sides, but so few listen to someone with a different opinion, a different point of view. Matt Walsh or Bill Maher, Tomi Lahren or Michael Moore become weapons, hoping to change minds with their excessive rhetoric. But it doesn't work. It never works. Sometimes it feels like we've blazed right on past trying to change opinions - we just want to fight now - not change, not grow, not connect. FIGHT. 

I haven't always stood here. I've been fully on one of these sides, guns drawn, ready to fight if necessary. I had the answers and I was ready to woo you to my way of thinking with my vast knowledge -- armed with prearranged arguments, scripture and the Constitution - and if that didn't work, I could, as one of my children likes to say, "bring you down with my vicious rhetoric". And honestly, it was more comfortable for me there. I knew where I belonged. I had my tribe, I knew the rules and I followed them unwaveringly (I don't think that's a real word, but I'm using it anyway). I did not feel "other". While I am no longer comfortable with a lot of my well-worn, time-tested answers, I am also not comfortable on the other side of the battle field. They seem to have all the answers too - they are just the opposite answers. It often feels there is no place for those that don't know where they stand on everything. There seems no place for people that can see valid points being made from opposing views.

I recently watched a video making it's way around the internet of Marco Rubio giving an impassioned speech about the importance of not attacking one another in our differences. And it was awesome. I wanted to stand up and cheer. But I didn't. That sense of agreement was quickly followed by a deep sadness, because here's the deal - he can say that right now because he's on the "winning" team, so of course the other side should play nice, of course they should just move on... 

But I remember. 

I remember how many of those people now saying to play nice and just move on treated, and what they said, about President Obama, Hillary Clinton, President Clinton, Nancy Pelosi and a myriad of others when they were on the "losing" team. --(In fairness, I have no idea how Mr. Rubio spoke when on the "losing" team - perhaps he was amazing and his words recently were spoken from an honest heart - but I KNOW many on his "team" were not playing nice when they found themselves on the losing team). The criticisms are often deserved, but never the disrespect, the lies, the mocking. There is a difference in respecting someone and treating them with respect. When someone has not earned our respect (and perhaps, especially then), as followers of Christ, we are still to treat them, and speak of them, with respect. 

People should not be shouted down for speaking up when they feel rights are being violated, when they feel the Constitution is being violated, when blatant lies are being thrown about as truth. People should not be summarily dismissed as racist, misogynistic bullies because they agree with a particular political party. AND they should, likewise, not be dismissed as baby-killing, selfish, entitled, snowflakes because they align more with another party. Yet, it happens every day. From all sides. 

(Sidebar: Short history lesson - our nation started with, and we hold dear, a bunch of crazy people that snuck on a boat and destroyed the cargo to make a point to the government they felt was oppressing them - we've been being ugly to one another for a looooong time.)  

We behave this same way in the Church too. It is crushing to watch when you see the hearts of people on both sides - people that truly desire to follow hard after Christ, yet they cannot see Christ in the other because they're too busy being right to really look. In the Church, perhaps even more than in politics, there seems to be no space for those in between - those struggling with doubts, in either direction. Saying, "I don't know how I feel about ... anymore" is anathema. It's not safe on either end of the conservative-liberal spectrum. The Church, of all places, should be a safe place to say, "I don't know." I have watched people (people that I KNOW, not world-stage people, but everyday people), finally be brave enough to say out loud, "I'm struggling with ... " or "I don't know if I believe ... " or "Maybe they're right about..." -- and suddenly, everything ever known about that person, their character, their faith, their reputation, no longer matters. They're labeled and pushed aside. This doubt casts suspicion on everything they say and do from that point forward. They are "other". This plays out on a national level as well, when Christian leaders and teachers are blasting each other over differing, non-essential, beliefs - all while the world watches. (The rub here is "non-essential", as that list of "essential" beliefs gets longer by the day, on both sides...much longer than I believe it is for God.)

For the last year, we have wandered a bit aimlessly through many different churches, ranging from those that would be labeled very conservative to those that would be labeled liberal. (I hate the labels.) We've had the advantage of sitting toward the back and just, for the most part, watching. And you know what I've seen in all those places? Jesus. I've seen Jesus. In faces, in words, in songs, in liturgies, in sermons. The last few months, we have mostly settled at a small Episcopal Church in Ada - a place that, quite honestly, I would never have imagined myself worshiping. Yet, we have. We sit, we kneel, we cross ourselves, we bow, we recite liturgies and sing unfamiliar hymns. We take Communion in a way we've never done before. But you know what? We've seen Jesus - every. single. week. Last week was probably our last Sunday there and, surprising even myself, I'm going to miss them. They gave us a place to heal, to question, to be quiet. And they loved us every week. Hugged and fed, smiled and blessed, passed peace, a stale piece of bread and wine. They gave us Jesus.

I really don't know what I want to say here, what point I want to make.

I want to feel like I belong somewhere again. I miss the familiarity of a "tribe".

Maybe I shouldn't though. In the wrestling, I've found others that are wrestling... a kinship of sorts, though not really another "side". Jacob wrestled with God and scripture leaves us with no indication that was a bad thing. Jacob seemed to do a lot of growing up from that point on, actually. Maybe this will ultimately be a good thing. I hope so. 

It's uncomfortable here - I'll tell you that. But it's also a little freeing. I'm gradually becoming a little more able to say, "You know what? I don't know. And, for now, I'm okay with that." I don't think God is freaked out by my wrestlings - or yours. 

I guess I just wish we wouldn't be so freaked out with each other.

Struggling Back to Joy

I have a confession to make: Over the last few months, I've grown cynical. (Those of you that know me well - stop laughing, right now.) I've begun to lose Hope. I struggle for Joy. The events that have unfolded in our country over the last year have hit me hard. I'm not sure why I was asleep to much of it in years past, but I was. Waking up has been difficult. I am, however, fighting my way back to Joy. And here's some practical thoughts I've had in that process...

Life is really getting out of control around here. 

We should not be blocking our new Secretary of Education from entering a public school. Whether we agree with her appointment or not (and I, personally, do not), it IS now her appointment, her job - blocking her from doing her job is only hurting us all. But, neither should we just sit back in resignation and not pay attention to HOW she does her job. Let her do it, but be alert. If we see public schools being hurt by her leadership, speak up. If we see special needs kids being pushed aside, speak up. Get involved in your local school, support that overwhelmed parent, love your kids' teachers (their jobs are ridiculously hard), reach out to the kids in the margins, speak loudly and clearly to our legislators that education is a priority for their constituents, let them know that if they do not listen to us and represent us, we will work to see that they are not reelected. In the mean time, find ways to help your local school that doesn't require our legislators finally listening to us. We don't have to wait for the government to save us - we can start without them. These things will do more to bring change than blocking the door to a school and screaming your anger. Do something.

The same for our new president. Most of you know how I feel about him as a person, as a leader. But, as sad as I am about it, he IS our president and should not be blocked at every turn from doing his job. I'm not against the peaceful protests. NOT. I understand them and often agree with much of what they are saying. But the hate, the mocking, the disrespect, distorting the truth, even as we accuse him of lies, ultimately hurts us all. Let him try to do his job. Watch him closely. Do not stop paying attention - I, personally, do not think he can be trusted to be left unchecked. I think he has surrounded himself with mostly yes-men and we need to pay attention. Call him out when it's necessary. If he breaks the law, let's be paying attention. If he stays within the law and simply operates in a political ideology we do not agree with, we will survive and we can exercise our right to vote for someone more in line with our thinking in four years. Our country is strong enough to survive a bad president - we've done it many times before. We are not strong enough to survive the growing hatred in this country. If all we do is hate - if we just continue to become angrier and more abusive in our speech, then we are no different than what we accuse him of. We will destroy our country. Giving back what you feel like you've received only drags everyone down into hell together.

If our posts and conversations mock his looks, his marriage, his kids, his hands, for goodness sake.... what is gained there? It increases the polarization and the hate. When you spend more time reading of what he's done wrong than you do personally living out righteousness, who wins? And I get it -- I've spent more time reading news articles in the last four months than in several years combined - much of the time, trying to discern truth from lies (and it's near impossible)... and here's what I've learned. All that reading did not change him. He's still the president. I still don't like him. My eyes are a little more opened, but I could have read a 1/4 of what I've read and still accomplished that. So... here's what I've decided, at least for now -- I'm going to read a lot less and DO more. I will still read, because I DON'T trust him. I will watch my legislators because I don't believe they always want to represent us as much as they want to play the party game. They will hear my voice, they will know how I plan to vote. I will protest if it feels like the right way to speak into the moment. I will do my best to speak respectfully - not because the one I speak of and to has done anything to earn my respect, but because I am a follower of Christ. As such, I am called to speak to, and of, others as someone made in the image and likeness of God... no matter what. But mostly, I will try to DO.

If I feel he has promoted injustice, I will be about the work of acting justly. We can't, as individuals, change his executive orders, but we can let our system of checks and balances take care of that - and in the mean time, we can love the Muslim in our neighborhood, we can invite the immigrant in our church into our home, we can be the business that won't turn someone away because of how they look or worship or marry or vote. THAT will make a difference. If you feel he has stirred up hate, then counter with love. If you feel he has degraded women, then you lift them up - you teach your sons to be a different kind of man, your daughters to know they are valuable and strong. If you feel he has stirred up bigotry then, cross lines and practice inclusion. If you believe he will strip rights away from those in the minority, then get involved locally - see that YOUR home and YOUR neighborhood and YOUR community won't play that game. 

I need to get back to practicing Hope. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Gentleness. Faithfulness. Self-control. Love.

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.

    And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

    and to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:8