A few years ago, Chris and I decided it was no longer enough to say and do all the right things without actually touching the hurting world around us. We weren't satisfied to remain in our comfortable suburban life, raising our two biological sons, so we went out. Outside the box, outside the established order, outside what we knew. We looked complicated and messy in the eyes and rolled up our sleeves.
It would be inspirational to say that we love this life. I would challenge you to join me in this messy work because I would show you pictures and tell you amazing stories and I would say, "It's so worth it." But the truth is that stepping out of comfort and into the messy lives of other people, touching their wounds and sitting through their dark nights is hard. And there are days when I wish we hadn't changed anything. Days when I long for suburban comfort and simple answers.
And then I pull out my Bible. Something that has been hitting me hard lately is where I find Jesus in these stories. Jesus is never at the extreme. He isn't supporting sexism or racism or elitism or terrorism. Because those are easy. It's easy to say you don't like people who don't look like you or live in your neighborhood or speak your language. It's much, much harder to take each person as they come, to get to know them all and realize that some poor people are great, and some are kind of obnoxious. Just like some rich people are kind, and some are huge a-holes. Good leaders can be found among men and women. Jesus knows that, because He knows people. Jesus can always be found in the middle, in the tension between two extremes. While politicians debate and opposing sides entrench in their beliefs, Jesus walks among the crowds, healing and teaching.
This is where I am tonight. I am frustrated and tired and not sure what comes next. I am looking back with longing at the life I could have continued in and wishing for easy answers. I don't feel like an inspiration or a paragon. I can't promise that you won't get dirty in this tension. But it's the only place I know to find Jesus.
Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
In My Place
I was making communion bread the other night. It's something I enjoy doing, something I volunteered to do a while back. That's where I like to be. I like baking in my kitchen. I like playing with my kids. I like listening to sermons in my pjs while I fold laundry. That's how I like serving God, serving my church. I want to be the proper church lady who bakes food for Sunday morning and teaches the three year olds about Moses and listens attentively as her pastor preaches. That's what I can offer, that's my place. Or so I thought.
This past year, our church went through a transition and we got a new pastor. I was excited to meet him, to learn more about him, to hear him speak from the pulpit. Imagine my surprise when our first conversation involved him asking if I preach. Um, NO. Not at all. So I invited him over to the house for dinner. So he could see me in my place. So he could eat the food that I cooked, so he could meet the children I chase around all day. But he came with other plans, and that night, he gave me a date, told me to get ready.
Well, okay, maybe, I thought. Maybe I could get up on a Sunday morning and talk about orphans or why it's so important for adults to care about children. I told my pastor that if he ever wants to address those issues, I'd be happy to help. A few weeks later, he called with my first topic: giving. He asked me to talk during the time of offering, something about why we give money at church. Again, I thought, Um NO. I don't even have a paying job, I have no income. What could I possibly say about giving money at church?
Our pastor came over to the house again. It was after I began talking during the offering; he wanted to make a video about our family. And once he'd gotten the footage, he turned to me again with a date and told me to get ready. He wanted me to do a *sermon* (cue fainting and hysterics) on prayer. All I could think is, Why me? What do I have to say? What could I teach?
There are two ways to learn something: school and experience. I love school. I love sitting in a classroom and taking notes and reading books. I love the smell of libraries and the quiet of study halls. I went to school for years, excitedly shopping for new folders and notebooks every August. I went to college and studied political science with an international focus. I briefly minored in French but dropped it to graduate early. I never studied the Bible in a classroom. I was never in a theology class, or even a philosophy class. When I left college, I started working. I took a job as a flight attendant and later at a bank, and I received on the job training, since my degree had little to do with either position. When I became a wife and later a mother, I tried to learn from books. I studied for these new roles, ones I wanted to badly to succeed at. But in both situations, experience proved the better teacher. Our families are ridiculously unique and personal, and we just have to figure it out as we go, what works best for us.
For me, it turns out that life has been a much better teacher about God too. In the last ten years, He has become real to me in a way that I doubt I could have been taught. Apparently God has more He wants me to learn, from a new place in His church. The time has come for me to get up from my seat, and not just receive, but to give, to instruct. I took the advice of my friend, Mandy, to talk about my experiences. I don't know the big, theological words for this stuff. I've never read the Bible in its original languages. And maybe that's better. Because no one can argue that my experiences are wrong the way we disagree over ideas.
So I stood before my church, the people who have loved and supported me and become some of my closest friends, and I talked about the changes in my heart. I talked about who I was before, the events in my life and the reactions I had that put distance between me and God, and how it was hard to pray. And then I talked about what happened to change my thinking, how Jesus became real to me in my early twenties and over time prayer became an easy and integral part of my life. This experience is echoed in a book I'm reading called "The Way of the Heart" by Henri Nouwen. He writes,
"Real prayer comes from the heart...The prayer of the heart is a prayer that does not allow
us to limit our relationship with God to interesting words or pious emotions. By its
very nature, such prayer transforms our whole being into Christ precisely
because it opens the eyes of our soul to the truth of ourselves as well as to the
truth of God. In our heart, we come to see ourselves as sinners embraced by the
mercy of God. It is this vision that makes us cry out, 'Lord Jesus Christ, son
of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.' The prayer of the heart challenges
us to hide absolutely nothing from God and to surrender ourselves unconditionally
to His mercy. Thus the prayer of the heart is the prayer of truth."
And in this way my experience has taught me and my studying merely reinforces (and much more eloquently so) what I know to be true.
 |
| Ready to leap |
Friday, January 16, 2015
On Holiness
I recently shared how much I love to read the Bible. Since September, I've been part of a women's Bible study group at a local church and together we have read through the book of Exodus, which tells the thrilling story of Moses, Pharaoh, and God, and how God's people were set free from slavery. The Bible study continues this month as we jump into Leviticus, which is the not-so-thrilling list of rules and guidelines for the newly formed nation of Israel. Bo-ring! I have read through this before and struggled to get from page to page, sentence to sentence. Most of it no longer applies to modern readers, as we don't present animal sacrifices or live in a desert climate and have access to, you know, modern medicine. And yet, this time, Leviticus seemed to come alive for me. Instead of reading through a bunch of stuff I don't have to do, I saw each description as a picture of God. God is not diseased, and so his people need to be purified from their disease to live with him. God is incapable of sin, and so his people need to be purified from their sins to live with him. God is honest and fair, and so his people need to be honest and fair so they can live with him and each other.
I think the Old Testament, and especially Leviticus, gets a back rap (I have personally complained about both). But when I got to chapter 19, I had to stop and reflect. The chapter is a list of rules and commands that don't necessarily seem to go together. The chapter is titled "Holiness in Personal Conduct". It includes:
Take my friend Liga, for instance. She is much prettier than me. She has a bigger house. She has beautiful, special kids (and more than me). Most days, I feel like she's a better mom than me. She takes her kids on outdoor adventures and makes art with them on snow days. She is more generous than me. When we first met, I didn't think we would become friends. I looked at how she was just so much MORE than me. I felt self-conscious and inferior. I needed to find some flaws to level the differences between us. Instead, what Liga offered me was a grace to transcend our differences. We became friends not because I was able to lower her to my level, but because she sees worth in the way that I do things. And so I have found myself in this new kind of friendship where I tell her she is an amazing mom and then she tells me that I'm an amazing mom. It doesn't matter what our houses or cars or clothes look like. There's an equality that doesn't insist on all things being equal, but delights in the differences. It's a blessed relief from the "mom-petition" (like competition, but when moms do it to each other).
It's a Levitical relationship when we stop trying to match up and accept each other for who we are. For instance, there wasn't much that a blind person could offer to society at large, certainly not in comparison to someone whose vision was intact. But we are told not to hurt them anyway. A daughter wouldn't be worth as much as a son thousands of years ago, but parents were told to offer them the same protection anyway. Foreigners have never had rights or power ever in human history, but we are to treat them with dignity anyway. Jesus even taught about this in Luke 14:12-14 when he said, "When you put on a luncheon or a banquet, don't invite your friends, brothers, relatives, and rich neighbors. For they will invite you back, and that will be your only reward. Instead, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Then, at the resurrection of the righteous, God will reward you for inviting those who cannot repay you."
I think we should take Jesus literally. Not only will God be pleased by opening our homes and sharing our meals with those who don't "rank" as our equals, but we can be pleasantly surprised to find new friends where we hadn't thought to look. Because when we stop measuring a person's worth by what they can offer us, or by their sameness to ourselves, we can look at people with eyes wide open and realize that we are all equals as human beings and children of God.
I think the Old Testament, and especially Leviticus, gets a back rap (I have personally complained about both). But when I got to chapter 19, I had to stop and reflect. The chapter is a list of rules and commands that don't necessarily seem to go together. The chapter is titled "Holiness in Personal Conduct". It includes:
- "Each of you must show great respect to your mother and father, and you must always observe my Sabbath days of rest." verse 3
- "Do not steal. Do not deceive or cheat one another." verse 11
- "Do not defraud or rob your neighbor." verse 13
- "Do not insult the deaf or cause the blind to stumble. You must fear your God." verse 14
- "Do not twist justice in legal matters by favoring the poor OR being partial to the rich and powerful. Always judge people fairly." verse 15
- "Do not spread slanderous gossip among your people. Do not stand idly by when your neighbor's life is threatened." verse 17
- "Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against a fellow Israelite, but love your neighbor as yourself." verse 18
- "Do not defile your daughter by making her a prostitute." verse 29
- "Stand up in the presence of the elderly, and show respect for the aged." verse 32
- "Do not take advantage of foreigners who live among you in your land. Treat them like native-born Israelites, and love them as you love yourself. Remember that you were once foreigners living in the land of Egypt." verses 33-34
- "Do not use dishonest standards when measuring length, weight, or volume." verse 35
I know what you're thinking...this sounds like every Christian I know, right? We do such a good job keeping these commandments. Oh wait, no, no we don't. But like I said, Leviticus doesn't say as much about me and where I fall short, as it points to who God is. What I learn about God by reading through this chapter is his commitment to equality. Don't treat people differently because they are old, or poor, or rich, or blind. Don't cheat each other. Be honest. Love each other the way you love yourself. And I also learn that God knew what we would actually do.
If there is one thing that all people have in common, it's this tendency to constantly rank ourselves according to the people we know. Like, they have a bigger house than me, her kids are better behaved than mine, but that person doesn't dress as nicely as I do. We tend to bow to those we perceive to be "better" or "higher" than us, and to look down on those "lesser" or "below" us. We derive our worth from our ranking. I know striving to be better than everyone else characterized most of my teen years, and carried over a little into my twenties.
Take my friend Liga, for instance. She is much prettier than me. She has a bigger house. She has beautiful, special kids (and more than me). Most days, I feel like she's a better mom than me. She takes her kids on outdoor adventures and makes art with them on snow days. She is more generous than me. When we first met, I didn't think we would become friends. I looked at how she was just so much MORE than me. I felt self-conscious and inferior. I needed to find some flaws to level the differences between us. Instead, what Liga offered me was a grace to transcend our differences. We became friends not because I was able to lower her to my level, but because she sees worth in the way that I do things. And so I have found myself in this new kind of friendship where I tell her she is an amazing mom and then she tells me that I'm an amazing mom. It doesn't matter what our houses or cars or clothes look like. There's an equality that doesn't insist on all things being equal, but delights in the differences. It's a blessed relief from the "mom-petition" (like competition, but when moms do it to each other).
It's a Levitical relationship when we stop trying to match up and accept each other for who we are. For instance, there wasn't much that a blind person could offer to society at large, certainly not in comparison to someone whose vision was intact. But we are told not to hurt them anyway. A daughter wouldn't be worth as much as a son thousands of years ago, but parents were told to offer them the same protection anyway. Foreigners have never had rights or power ever in human history, but we are to treat them with dignity anyway. Jesus even taught about this in Luke 14:12-14 when he said, "When you put on a luncheon or a banquet, don't invite your friends, brothers, relatives, and rich neighbors. For they will invite you back, and that will be your only reward. Instead, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind. Then, at the resurrection of the righteous, God will reward you for inviting those who cannot repay you."
I think we should take Jesus literally. Not only will God be pleased by opening our homes and sharing our meals with those who don't "rank" as our equals, but we can be pleasantly surprised to find new friends where we hadn't thought to look. Because when we stop measuring a person's worth by what they can offer us, or by their sameness to ourselves, we can look at people with eyes wide open and realize that we are all equals as human beings and children of God.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
On Studying the Bible
I AM A BIBLE NERD. I love reading the Bible. I send emails to my friends with lots of exclamation points telling them what I'm studying and what I'm learning. I am in love with Moses and Joshua and John the Baptist. (And Esther! And Ruth! And Micah!) I love to talk about the Bible with people, I love to hear other folks' perspectives.
But I have two big problems with people who study the Bible (and I'm just as guilty as the next guy of both).
ONE: People who study for the sake of studying. I'm looking at you theologians (both amateur and professional). People who get so deep into the study that they never apply it. To quote Paul, "My brothers, this should not be." The Bible is God's WORD...He spoke it and there was a reason. Not so we would memorize it and quiz each other, not so we would fill libraries with books about what this book was trying to say, not so we could sit in classrooms and argue Calvinist or Weslyan. NO. God spoke so we would DO. James 1:22 (Oh, did I mention how much I love James? So much that I named my first born after him!) says, "But don't just listen to God's word. You must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves." (emphasis mine) Francis Chan has a great illustration about telling his daughter to clean her room. And what if she went to her room for hours and came back out and said, "Okay, I heard you. I talked about it with my friends and I translated it into Hebrew, and I really GET IT." What does any decent parent say in response? "Great...but did you actually clean your room?" The Bible is worthless if it becomes just another book on a shelf, a discussion among great thinkers, and nothing changes. Make no mistake...I love to read and discuss the Bible. But it can't stop there. It HAS to move me. It has to get me off the couch, off the computer, and in the world doing some real Jesus work.
Jen Hatmaker writes, "The careful study of the Word has a goal, which is not the careful study of the Word. The objective is to discover Jesus and allow Him to change our trajectory. Meaning, a genuine study of the Word results in believers who feed poor people and open up their guest rooms; they're adopting and sharing, mentoring and intervening. Show me a Bible teacher off mission, and I'll show you someone with no concept of the gospel he is studying." (from 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess) So let's get real: Are you reading the Bible? If your answer is no, then come talk to me and I will light a fire under you so that changes. But if your answer is yes, then I have a follow up question. What are you doing about it? How are you imitating Jesus? Who are you caring for? How well are you loving the people in your circle, your spouse, your kids, your parents, your neighbors? Are you making a difference in the life of an orphan or a widow? ("Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you." James 1:27 again emphasis mine) If your religion is merely reading and studying the Bible, then God Himself will say you missed the point.
TWO: People who study the Bible so they can smack other people in the face with it. I mean folks who quote the Bible at their unbelieving friends/relatives/neighbors/co-workers/televised audience. People who use God's Word to shame the rest of the world. NO. What we learn when we study the Bible is meant for US. 1 John 5:13 says, "I have written this to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know you have eternal life." The Bible isn't meant for Buddhists or atheists or Muslims or agnostics, the Bible is for Christians. People who claim the name of Jesus over their lives and renounce sin and want to be transformed. If you haven't accepted Jesus as your savior, then you can keep on doing whatever it is that you're doing. It's not my job to be the Jesus police and write a ticket to every sinner (believer OR non believer) I meet. My job is to examine my own heart and my own life and see where I need more Jesus and less Rachel.
The Bible is not a weapon. The Bible is a collection of stories and songs and poems and lists and rules and correspondence. The Bible is meant to teach whoever has ears to listen. Jesus spoke against this misuse of the Bible in Matthew 7:3-6, "And why worry about a speck in your friend's eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, 'Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,' when you can't see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First, get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend's eye. Don't waste what is holy on people who are unholy." Yeah, that's right. The Son of God called us hypocrites. Let me tell you, I've been studying the Bible since I could read, and I still can't see past the log in my own eye. So guess how much time I spend picking dust and specks out of other people's eyes? Big fat zero. (Unless you count the kids, but I'm their mom, so it's kind of my job to pick crap out of their eyes. And lick my finger to wipe stuff of their faces.)
I know it can seem confusing, since Jesus also told us to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit later in Matthew. But He didn't mean to force religion on people who don't want it. Absolutely you should share your faith. Absolutely you should preach the gospel. And when necessary, use words. (Google tells me Francis of Assisi said that.) It's the same solution to the first problem: our lives are our gospel. Our actions are our message. James 2:18 says, "Now someone may argue, 'Some people have faith; others have good deeds.' But I say, 'How can you show me your faith if you don't have good deeds?' I will show you my faith by my good deeds." (emphasis mine) Sermons are great in church on Sunday morning; the rest of the week your life should do the preaching, not your mouth. So again, I'll ask: How are you imitating Jesus? Are you healing the sick? Are you feeding five thousand people with a few loaves of bread and some fish? Are you walking on water? Are you sticking it to the religious leaders who follow the letter of law but have no love in their hearts? If your religion is shoving the Bible down another person's throat, then God Himself will say you missed the point.
But I have two big problems with people who study the Bible (and I'm just as guilty as the next guy of both).
ONE: People who study for the sake of studying. I'm looking at you theologians (both amateur and professional). People who get so deep into the study that they never apply it. To quote Paul, "My brothers, this should not be." The Bible is God's WORD...He spoke it and there was a reason. Not so we would memorize it and quiz each other, not so we would fill libraries with books about what this book was trying to say, not so we could sit in classrooms and argue Calvinist or Weslyan. NO. God spoke so we would DO. James 1:22 (Oh, did I mention how much I love James? So much that I named my first born after him!) says, "But don't just listen to God's word. You must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves." (emphasis mine) Francis Chan has a great illustration about telling his daughter to clean her room. And what if she went to her room for hours and came back out and said, "Okay, I heard you. I talked about it with my friends and I translated it into Hebrew, and I really GET IT." What does any decent parent say in response? "Great...but did you actually clean your room?" The Bible is worthless if it becomes just another book on a shelf, a discussion among great thinkers, and nothing changes. Make no mistake...I love to read and discuss the Bible. But it can't stop there. It HAS to move me. It has to get me off the couch, off the computer, and in the world doing some real Jesus work.
Jen Hatmaker writes, "The careful study of the Word has a goal, which is not the careful study of the Word. The objective is to discover Jesus and allow Him to change our trajectory. Meaning, a genuine study of the Word results in believers who feed poor people and open up their guest rooms; they're adopting and sharing, mentoring and intervening. Show me a Bible teacher off mission, and I'll show you someone with no concept of the gospel he is studying." (from 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess) So let's get real: Are you reading the Bible? If your answer is no, then come talk to me and I will light a fire under you so that changes. But if your answer is yes, then I have a follow up question. What are you doing about it? How are you imitating Jesus? Who are you caring for? How well are you loving the people in your circle, your spouse, your kids, your parents, your neighbors? Are you making a difference in the life of an orphan or a widow? ("Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you." James 1:27 again emphasis mine) If your religion is merely reading and studying the Bible, then God Himself will say you missed the point.
TWO: People who study the Bible so they can smack other people in the face with it. I mean folks who quote the Bible at their unbelieving friends/relatives/neighbors/co-workers/televised audience. People who use God's Word to shame the rest of the world. NO. What we learn when we study the Bible is meant for US. 1 John 5:13 says, "I have written this to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know you have eternal life." The Bible isn't meant for Buddhists or atheists or Muslims or agnostics, the Bible is for Christians. People who claim the name of Jesus over their lives and renounce sin and want to be transformed. If you haven't accepted Jesus as your savior, then you can keep on doing whatever it is that you're doing. It's not my job to be the Jesus police and write a ticket to every sinner (believer OR non believer) I meet. My job is to examine my own heart and my own life and see where I need more Jesus and less Rachel.
The Bible is not a weapon. The Bible is a collection of stories and songs and poems and lists and rules and correspondence. The Bible is meant to teach whoever has ears to listen. Jesus spoke against this misuse of the Bible in Matthew 7:3-6, "And why worry about a speck in your friend's eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, 'Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,' when you can't see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First, get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend's eye. Don't waste what is holy on people who are unholy." Yeah, that's right. The Son of God called us hypocrites. Let me tell you, I've been studying the Bible since I could read, and I still can't see past the log in my own eye. So guess how much time I spend picking dust and specks out of other people's eyes? Big fat zero. (Unless you count the kids, but I'm their mom, so it's kind of my job to pick crap out of their eyes. And lick my finger to wipe stuff of their faces.)
I know it can seem confusing, since Jesus also told us to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit later in Matthew. But He didn't mean to force religion on people who don't want it. Absolutely you should share your faith. Absolutely you should preach the gospel. And when necessary, use words. (Google tells me Francis of Assisi said that.) It's the same solution to the first problem: our lives are our gospel. Our actions are our message. James 2:18 says, "Now someone may argue, 'Some people have faith; others have good deeds.' But I say, 'How can you show me your faith if you don't have good deeds?' I will show you my faith by my good deeds." (emphasis mine) Sermons are great in church on Sunday morning; the rest of the week your life should do the preaching, not your mouth. So again, I'll ask: How are you imitating Jesus? Are you healing the sick? Are you feeding five thousand people with a few loaves of bread and some fish? Are you walking on water? Are you sticking it to the religious leaders who follow the letter of law but have no love in their hearts? If your religion is shoving the Bible down another person's throat, then God Himself will say you missed the point.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
On Scarcity
This morning I was getting the boys ready, just another Wednesday morning. When I went to change Mikey out of his nighttime diaper, I realized we were out of wipes, and he was poopy. So I went to the kitchen and wet a paper towel and on the way back to deal with the poo, I put on my "perspectacles". Because this was just a minor inconvenience. There were more wipes in the car, but I didn't feel like going that far to get them. But beyond that, there are more wipes at the store just minutes from our house, and there is cash in my wallet and money accessible through my debit card to pay for it. This kind of thing happens when life is busy and three active boys make trips to the store hectic and items are forgotten in their wake. We run short of diapers. Again, no big deal. There is usually a stray in the car or under the dresser, or hey, my parents keep some extras at their house just blocks away. Worst case scenario, my kid keeps a mushy diaper on for an additional 15 minutes. For me, this is the tiniest problem, but for many mothers this is a daily stress. They can't afford the diapers or wipes or they can't get to the store because they don't have reliable transportation. A recent article from the LA Times reports that "The study’s four authors ... found that about a third of poor families were not able to provide their babies with adequate numbers of diapers, resulting in increased parental anxiety, stress and negative effects on their babies’ health, with an increase in diaper rashes and urinary tract infections." You guys, this is happening down the street, in our cities, across the world. I have never struggled to diaper my kids. I have never had to sacrifice to keep their little bums clean. At one point, we were hauling three different sizes of mega-box diapers to the car, but we didn't break a sweat.
My "perspectacles" took a trip down memory lane. There was a morning a few years back when I was once again getting my boys ready. (*all these things seem to happen while my husband is at work; why is that?) I opened the cupboards and realized there was only enough cereal and milk to feed the kids, nothing for me. We desperately needed to go to the store, because THREE ACTIVE KIDS, and a few years ago they were even crazier to corral. Literally the only thing left to eat that didn't require at least 45 minutes of prep was a single hot dog. So that was my breakfast. I topped that dog with some mustard and relish and washed it down with a Dr. Pepper. And then we got our shoes on and went to the store, so lunch wouldn't be such a grim affair. You see, this food shortage was due simply to a lack of time, an inability to get to the store earlier. Once again, we had the money available, we had the car to get there, I merely had to navigate the suburban grocery store with my kids. Slightly bigger inconvenience than the wipes, but only slightly. Today, of course, our fridge is so full that I'm struggling to fit the kids' water bottles in there. I'm literally moving things around to try to create space because WE HAVE SO MUCH FOOD. Once again, this is not the case for families right in my area, in my city, in my world. One of every seven people will go to bed hungry tonight, and more than 14% of Americans don't know when they'll eat next. My family doesn't just have their daily bread, we have our weekly bread.
Even after I popped in my contacts, I couldn't shake my "perspectacles". When it was time to go, I grabbed one of the six Bibles laying around my house to take to a church nearby that offers a women's Bible study during the day. I drove my car safely to the location, walked inside with no trouble, and proceeded to be taught and to speak with others about my religious beliefs. Nobody stopped us. Nobody attacked us. No one had to stand guard by the door, there was no secrecy to what we were doing. We were just as free to do something else this morning as we were to gather and read the Bible together. But the thing is, churches get attacked all the time. (Google church bombing. Oh my goodness, there are too many results. Nigeria, Egypt, the US...) People seeking religion, whether it is my Christian faith or something else, are imprisoned and silenced and maimed.
Today I felt gratitude for many things in my life that I usually take for granted. Today I was reminded that there are places and situations drastically different from the ones I find myself in where people are struggling just to get the basics. Today was in many ways just another day for me, but I wonder what is going on in homes and parks and shelters across my city as I sit on the couch and cuddle my kid who just won't go to sleep and type on my computer that I got for free and listen to the air-conditioner run and the gentle snores of the rest of my family. Today needs to count for something. I don't want to go to sleep and forget what I saw through my "perspectacles". I want to DO something with these feelings, but I'm not sure what it will be.
My "perspectacles" took a trip down memory lane. There was a morning a few years back when I was once again getting my boys ready. (*all these things seem to happen while my husband is at work; why is that?) I opened the cupboards and realized there was only enough cereal and milk to feed the kids, nothing for me. We desperately needed to go to the store, because THREE ACTIVE KIDS, and a few years ago they were even crazier to corral. Literally the only thing left to eat that didn't require at least 45 minutes of prep was a single hot dog. So that was my breakfast. I topped that dog with some mustard and relish and washed it down with a Dr. Pepper. And then we got our shoes on and went to the store, so lunch wouldn't be such a grim affair. You see, this food shortage was due simply to a lack of time, an inability to get to the store earlier. Once again, we had the money available, we had the car to get there, I merely had to navigate the suburban grocery store with my kids. Slightly bigger inconvenience than the wipes, but only slightly. Today, of course, our fridge is so full that I'm struggling to fit the kids' water bottles in there. I'm literally moving things around to try to create space because WE HAVE SO MUCH FOOD. Once again, this is not the case for families right in my area, in my city, in my world. One of every seven people will go to bed hungry tonight, and more than 14% of Americans don't know when they'll eat next. My family doesn't just have their daily bread, we have our weekly bread.
Even after I popped in my contacts, I couldn't shake my "perspectacles". When it was time to go, I grabbed one of the six Bibles laying around my house to take to a church nearby that offers a women's Bible study during the day. I drove my car safely to the location, walked inside with no trouble, and proceeded to be taught and to speak with others about my religious beliefs. Nobody stopped us. Nobody attacked us. No one had to stand guard by the door, there was no secrecy to what we were doing. We were just as free to do something else this morning as we were to gather and read the Bible together. But the thing is, churches get attacked all the time. (Google church bombing. Oh my goodness, there are too many results. Nigeria, Egypt, the US...) People seeking religion, whether it is my Christian faith or something else, are imprisoned and silenced and maimed.
Today I felt gratitude for many things in my life that I usually take for granted. Today I was reminded that there are places and situations drastically different from the ones I find myself in where people are struggling just to get the basics. Today was in many ways just another day for me, but I wonder what is going on in homes and parks and shelters across my city as I sit on the couch and cuddle my kid who just won't go to sleep and type on my computer that I got for free and listen to the air-conditioner run and the gentle snores of the rest of my family. Today needs to count for something. I don't want to go to sleep and forget what I saw through my "perspectacles". I want to DO something with these feelings, but I'm not sure what it will be.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Nature: Penguins
I had a thought a few months ago about Nature. I was outside with the kids, marveling at all that is growing around us, the annual changes that occur in our own yard, and I thought about God. I thought about how he created us all, this earth that we are meant to share and preserve and derive our sustenance from. And I thought about how it is like the Cliff's Notes if you are curious about how God thinks and works and what He likes and what He doesn't like.
Remember a few years back when everyone was obsessed with penguins? There was the penguin movie, the one where Morgan Freeman narrated the lives of adorable little Antarctic explorers. There was also the animated penguin movie, where they find their life mates by dancing to the same song. There were the Planet Earth movies, which also featured penguins heavily. There were cartoons and plush penguins and some sort of collector game, like Penguin Pokemon or something (I don't know, I was an adult). I kind of missed the whole craze because it was around this time that I was getting married and pregnant and having my first baby, and there just wasn't any room for new obsessions beyond the people I was desperately in love with in my own house. But a few years later, when my little baby was a little boy interested in aquatic life, I finally got around to viewing a nature documentary (or ten) and I learned about penguins. They are interesting little birds, I'll admit. They live in the coldest part of the world, where there are no people (except the ones holding the cameras? How did they get all that footage?). They are birds, but can't fly. And when they lay their eggs, the ladies take off and the male penguins keep their little ones warm. This is the thing I want to talk about, the aspect of penguin life that stuck with me after the passage of time and the loss of brain cells.
So the females lay the eggs, and then the males sit with them to keep them warm until its time for the babies to be born. All the guys huddle together in a giant circle, with the eggs sitting on their feet, covered by their downy undersides, wind swirling snow around them. Gradually, the penguins shift their formation, so that those on the outside make their way in, and those on the inside move out. They do this dance for a couple months, all so they can share the heat of their bodies equally, all for the babies. This stands out to me, as a human woman, because so much of early infant care (not to mention nine months of pregnancy) is the responsibility of the females. There's not much for the dads to do. Back to the penguins. We tend to think of animals as beneath us, since they probably aren't capable of complex thought and certainly have no verbal expression of language. But those guys huddle together and distribute their warmth evenly...why? Because they are a self-less species? Because they care about the survival of their neighbor's egg just as much as their own? Imagine if the penguins didn't share the heat. Imagine if those at the center said, "Nah, I'm real toasty here in the middle. I'm not scooting to the outside so someone else can have a turn here." The penguins on the outside would die. The eggs would freeze. The ladies would return after a few months of hunting and find...a smaller huddle of penguins than they left? Or would any of them be alive? As the outer penguins stopped contributing their warmth, the next ring would go, and then the next, and then the next. The group needs every member to contribute in order for them all to live, in order for the next generation to break through their shells. These birds live in the harshest environment on earth, and its only because of their communal warmth that they can make it.
Ask yourself if you are in a community. Are you sharing your heat? Are you keeping those around you warm, or are you standing alone? People in social support communities live LONGER than those who are isolated. So find a support group. Get involved. And don't just stand in the middle, hogging the heat. Once you have warmed yourself, start scooting out, letting others in. All it takes is opening your eyes, opening your doors. We need each other, just like the penguins.
Remember a few years back when everyone was obsessed with penguins? There was the penguin movie, the one where Morgan Freeman narrated the lives of adorable little Antarctic explorers. There was also the animated penguin movie, where they find their life mates by dancing to the same song. There were the Planet Earth movies, which also featured penguins heavily. There were cartoons and plush penguins and some sort of collector game, like Penguin Pokemon or something (I don't know, I was an adult). I kind of missed the whole craze because it was around this time that I was getting married and pregnant and having my first baby, and there just wasn't any room for new obsessions beyond the people I was desperately in love with in my own house. But a few years later, when my little baby was a little boy interested in aquatic life, I finally got around to viewing a nature documentary (or ten) and I learned about penguins. They are interesting little birds, I'll admit. They live in the coldest part of the world, where there are no people (except the ones holding the cameras? How did they get all that footage?). They are birds, but can't fly. And when they lay their eggs, the ladies take off and the male penguins keep their little ones warm. This is the thing I want to talk about, the aspect of penguin life that stuck with me after the passage of time and the loss of brain cells.
So the females lay the eggs, and then the males sit with them to keep them warm until its time for the babies to be born. All the guys huddle together in a giant circle, with the eggs sitting on their feet, covered by their downy undersides, wind swirling snow around them. Gradually, the penguins shift their formation, so that those on the outside make their way in, and those on the inside move out. They do this dance for a couple months, all so they can share the heat of their bodies equally, all for the babies. This stands out to me, as a human woman, because so much of early infant care (not to mention nine months of pregnancy) is the responsibility of the females. There's not much for the dads to do. Back to the penguins. We tend to think of animals as beneath us, since they probably aren't capable of complex thought and certainly have no verbal expression of language. But those guys huddle together and distribute their warmth evenly...why? Because they are a self-less species? Because they care about the survival of their neighbor's egg just as much as their own? Imagine if the penguins didn't share the heat. Imagine if those at the center said, "Nah, I'm real toasty here in the middle. I'm not scooting to the outside so someone else can have a turn here." The penguins on the outside would die. The eggs would freeze. The ladies would return after a few months of hunting and find...a smaller huddle of penguins than they left? Or would any of them be alive? As the outer penguins stopped contributing their warmth, the next ring would go, and then the next, and then the next. The group needs every member to contribute in order for them all to live, in order for the next generation to break through their shells. These birds live in the harshest environment on earth, and its only because of their communal warmth that they can make it.
Ask yourself if you are in a community. Are you sharing your heat? Are you keeping those around you warm, or are you standing alone? People in social support communities live LONGER than those who are isolated. So find a support group. Get involved. And don't just stand in the middle, hogging the heat. Once you have warmed yourself, start scooting out, letting others in. All it takes is opening your eyes, opening your doors. We need each other, just like the penguins.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Our Scars
One night, we were at church talking with some friends long after the service was over. Somehow we began talking about surgeries, and my husband pulled up his shirt. Chris was born premature, with a host of issues going on inside him, and very early in his life he was cut open from his neck to his belly button. A scar is there to this day. Chris and I had only been married a year, maybe two? and I was embarrassed. I didn't want people to see his scar, that jagged pale white line that divides his torso into two hemispheres. But Chris feels no shame at his appearance.
I have scars too. The little one on my forehead from when I was a child and running through the house with my sister; our fun ended when I fell and split my head open on a heating grate. On my calf is an indentation; I had a mother and older sister who shaved their legs, so when I was 8, I decided to be a grown up lady too, and ended up removing quite a bit of skin along with the hair. The scar of which I'm most proud is across my abdomen, and it is the result of the two c-sections that brought my oldest boys into the world. It's funny though, how much I feared that scar, how it seemed that any chance at achieving physical perfection was ruined as the scalpel opened me up. (I think the undignified way we bring our children into this world is only a taste of the many indignities a mother must experience while raising them.) My scars tell a story, about who I was, who I wanted to be, and who I became.
Then there are the other scars, the invisible ones. We have a choice, to keep them hidden or to show them off. About three years ago, we began attending a church called LoveCanton, and I noticed there is quite a bit of scar showing. The people who stand up to preach have no fear or shame about their scars; they put them on display. And it's shown me something about who Jesus is. Have you ever seen an image of Jesus with his hands clasped behind his back? Do artists ever render him in a position where his wrists are hidden? Instead, we depict him with arms extended, open for all to come close and bear witness to his scars. I have a question for those of you who preach and teach: how often do you stand at your pulpit and tell people what to do with their sin, the hurt they inflict on other people? And how many times have you preached about what to do with the wounds that other people give us? Do you spend each week telling people to repent but forget to tell them to take off their shame?
Recently, our founding pastor said, "Our scars give us credibility." It made me think. Why is that? Why do our jagged, bumpy parts give us an authority that a perfect, unblemished past can't? I think it's this: our scars show that we've been wounded; they announce to the world that we have experienced. But it's not because we walk around gushing blood that makes us remarkable...it's that we have healed. When I talk to other women about my c-section, their first question is always: "What's the recovery like? How soon can you walk, eat solids, use the stairs, drive a car?" They want to know from someone who has been through it just what to expect after the surgery is over. When your heart is broken, when your body is aching, you don't want to hear from the person who's never been there. You want to see the scars, and know that there is something beyond the pain.
And lucky for us that we worship one who has endured the pain, who bled for each of us. It's the same, whether you have been hurt or done the hurting...you bring it to the cross. We lay down our weighted vests of shame at the scarred feet, we pass our burdened hearts to his wounded hands. Once we have removed the darkness, only our scars remain, to bear witness to our resurrection.
I have scars too. The little one on my forehead from when I was a child and running through the house with my sister; our fun ended when I fell and split my head open on a heating grate. On my calf is an indentation; I had a mother and older sister who shaved their legs, so when I was 8, I decided to be a grown up lady too, and ended up removing quite a bit of skin along with the hair. The scar of which I'm most proud is across my abdomen, and it is the result of the two c-sections that brought my oldest boys into the world. It's funny though, how much I feared that scar, how it seemed that any chance at achieving physical perfection was ruined as the scalpel opened me up. (I think the undignified way we bring our children into this world is only a taste of the many indignities a mother must experience while raising them.) My scars tell a story, about who I was, who I wanted to be, and who I became.
Then there are the other scars, the invisible ones. We have a choice, to keep them hidden or to show them off. About three years ago, we began attending a church called LoveCanton, and I noticed there is quite a bit of scar showing. The people who stand up to preach have no fear or shame about their scars; they put them on display. And it's shown me something about who Jesus is. Have you ever seen an image of Jesus with his hands clasped behind his back? Do artists ever render him in a position where his wrists are hidden? Instead, we depict him with arms extended, open for all to come close and bear witness to his scars. I have a question for those of you who preach and teach: how often do you stand at your pulpit and tell people what to do with their sin, the hurt they inflict on other people? And how many times have you preached about what to do with the wounds that other people give us? Do you spend each week telling people to repent but forget to tell them to take off their shame?
Recently, our founding pastor said, "Our scars give us credibility." It made me think. Why is that? Why do our jagged, bumpy parts give us an authority that a perfect, unblemished past can't? I think it's this: our scars show that we've been wounded; they announce to the world that we have experienced. But it's not because we walk around gushing blood that makes us remarkable...it's that we have healed. When I talk to other women about my c-section, their first question is always: "What's the recovery like? How soon can you walk, eat solids, use the stairs, drive a car?" They want to know from someone who has been through it just what to expect after the surgery is over. When your heart is broken, when your body is aching, you don't want to hear from the person who's never been there. You want to see the scars, and know that there is something beyond the pain.
And lucky for us that we worship one who has endured the pain, who bled for each of us. It's the same, whether you have been hurt or done the hurting...you bring it to the cross. We lay down our weighted vests of shame at the scarred feet, we pass our burdened hearts to his wounded hands. Once we have removed the darkness, only our scars remain, to bear witness to our resurrection.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Lent 1: Ash Wednesday
Let me tell you a little secret...I don't like Lent. Just because I love Jesus doesn't mean I love everything about following Him. I don't like that the Bible can be unclear and vague, and that we spend our time arguing about what it could possibly mean instead of accepting that life has mysteries. I don't like this practice of intentionally depressing ourselves, of fasting for six weeks before Easter. I don't like fasting at all. In the words of my three year old foster daughter, "I want somethin' that I want." But it works, this Lenten season. Because giving up Dr. Pepper or ice cream for six weeks is hard
enough. What if I actually gave up speaking harshly to my loved ones or
gossiping about that lady I don't really like who has the
bra-strap-fat-roll? Jesus says in Matthew 25:40 "When you did it to the
least of these, my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!" And
usually we talk about this verse as we pat ourselves on the back, I fed
the hungry, I took care of the sick, but what if we flip it around?
When I judged that woman with all the different colored kids or turned
my back on a hurting friend, I did it to Jesus too. It has brought me to tears on Good Friday, wondering how we could have done that to Him, how we all collectively could have hung that man on the cross and hammered in his nails daily, hourly. And then I remember on Easter morning why it was necessary, why He came and why He died...to be the blood sacrifice to fulfill the law. So that I wouldn't have to face the consequences of my misdeeds.
And so we begin with Ash Wednesday and the word REPENT. Turn away from the sin that entangles you. Come to the foot of the cross, not as part of the mocking crowd, but "turning to the Lord God, pleading in earnest prayer, with fasting, sackcloth, and ashes." (Daniel 9:3) Confess to one another, because once we bring light into the dark places of our lives and our hearts, the darkness no longer has power over us. And we can all agree that this world needs more light. That whatever can bring peace and truth and love is something to praise, something to follow, something to humble ourselves before. I know what I'm "doing for Lent" this year.
And so we begin with Ash Wednesday and the word REPENT. Turn away from the sin that entangles you. Come to the foot of the cross, not as part of the mocking crowd, but "turning to the Lord God, pleading in earnest prayer, with fasting, sackcloth, and ashes." (Daniel 9:3) Confess to one another, because once we bring light into the dark places of our lives and our hearts, the darkness no longer has power over us. And we can all agree that this world needs more light. That whatever can bring peace and truth and love is something to praise, something to follow, something to humble ourselves before. I know what I'm "doing for Lent" this year.
"Let us pray.
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have
made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and
make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily
lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission
and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives
and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and
ever. Amen."
From the Book of Common Prayer
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