Come As You Are

Come as you are – no perfect people allowed.

This is at the heart of who we are as a “church” (recognizing that we are a small part of a greater whole). Sometimes those who don’t follow Christ respond with skepticism, and rightfully so; I cannot love perfectly but I believe that God can and it is up to me to respond to His leading.

One of the ironies I have found is that when we state this as a value a few Christians have responded with fearfulness.

“What do you believe? Do you teach the Bible?” they ask. What I read between the lines is that there are certain types of people who they cannot imagine God loving or accepting for who they are.

Contrary to that mindset, Henri Nouwen explains:

Living in the intimacy of God’s house, we gradually come to know the mysterious truth that the God who loves us with a perfect love includes all people in that love without diminishing in any way the unique quality of God’s love for each individual person.

This is probably one of the hardest things for us to understand. In our competitive world we are so used to thinking in terms of “more” and “less” that we cannot easily see how God can love all human beings with the same unlimited love while at the same time loving each one of them in a totally unique way. Somehow we feel that our election involves another’s rejection, that our uniqueness involves another’s commonness. Somehow, we think we can only fully enjoy our being loved by God if others are loved less than we are…

When we enter into the household of God, we come to realize that the fragmentation of humanity and its agony grow from the false supposition that all human beings have to fight for their right to be appreciated and loved. In the house of God’s love we come to see with new eyes and hear with new ears and thus recognize that all people, whatever their race, religion, sex, wealth, intelligence, or background, belong to that same house. God’s house has no dividing walls or closed doors. “I am the door,” Jesus says. “Anyone who enters through me will be safe” (John 10:9). The more we fully enter into the house of love, the more clearly we see that we are there together with all humanity and that in and through Christ we are brothers and sisters, members of one family. (Lifesigns by: Henri Nouwen)

We are broken and hurting and cannot truly restore order for ourselves or for the wrecked world that we live in. Coming home to life in God is to come home to the place of perfect love and perfect order that He lives and moves and has His being in. To say, “come as you are” is to acknowledge one’s own humble position within the bounds of God’s perfect love. Fred Rogers said, “You know, I think everybody longs to be loved and longs to know that he or she is loveable. And, consequently, the greatest thing that we can do is to help somebody know that they’re loved and capable of loving.”

We prove that we do not know God when we respond with fear or rivalry towards others rather than responding with this spirit of loving inclusion that Nouwen and Rogers speak of.

Hope Pinned

Writing of any kind is a monologue. Fiction, nonfiction - it's all just some person's thoughts and opinions packaged in so many different ways.
I've been reading Anne Lamott recently. She has her own set of opinions and I am fascinated by them. This is mainly because they are not my own and I am glad for relief from my inner dialog. At one point she writes about hope and her words resonated with me:
The reason I never give up hope is that everything is basically hopeless. Hopelessness underscores everything - the deep sadness and fear at the center of life, the holes in the heart of our families, the animal confusion within us. When you do give up hope, a lot can happen. When it's not pinned wriggling onto a shiny image or expectation, it may float forth and open like those fluted Japanese blossoms, flimsy and spastic, bright and warm. This almost always seems to happen in community: with family, related by blood, or chosen:at church, for me; at peace marches. (from Plan B Further Thoughts on Faith)

I mainly like the bit about expectation. I don't necessarily agree with her statement that everything is basically hopeless although I do think that it is without God. i am curious to read her latest book because, honestly, I thought she was positively neurotic in Plan B. I just have to see if she is trusting more and fearing less.

Getting into the Mix and Out of the Bubble

It struck me how much I have changed over the past year since we left the O.C. to "plant a church". I don't write about "church planting" much in my blog, I realized. I don't like the term "church planting" or the words "starting a church". As we always say, we are the church so how can we plant or start something that we are? So far the best I can come up with to describe our work is that we are creating favorable conditions for the spiritual growth of all who enter into our community. That's too long though so I'll have to keep working on it.

Within our group of leaders we have been discussing the "Christian Bubble" lately. To me the "Christian bubble" is defined as a self-protective, self-serving subculture. We are definitely functioning outside of the bubble. We actively strive to discard all things "bubbly" - such as Christian-ese; using the word "Christian" as an adjective for things (you know, Christian music, Christian nation, Christian bookstores, Christian company etc.). I don't even like to call myself a "Christian". The truth is many people associate such a negative connotation with the term Christian.

So much of the language and lifestyle within the Christian bubble is exclusive in nature rather than being inclusive. We have been learning that words like unbeliever, nonchristian, and "the lost" are terms that keep others at arms length. Would you like to be referred to as "the lost"? Everyone is on a spiritual journey. Unless a person is an atheist, he or she does believe in something, spiritually speaking. Coming to faith in Christ and growing in that relationship could become part of his, or her, journey. We are not trying to "get people into church" we are trying to connect people with Christ by meeting them where they are on their journey and walking with them. If we, as a team, can draw others into caring community where Christ can be found, that is church at it best.

Church isn't buildings or services, or programs - it is people working together as a body in order to grow in faith; to worship the living God; and in order to advance the gospel. People shouldn't have to "go to church" in order to experience community within the body. The body - that is, you and I - should be going to them. Buildings, services, or programs are merely avenues by which some might come to faith or grow in faith. Ultimately, you and I are the incarnation of Christ for one another and it is our responsibility to reach out as the hands, feet, heart, eyes, ears of Jesus. In a practical sense this means inviting people into our lives - having them over for dinner, going to coffee, going out for a drink, hanging out at the playground with our kids or dogs, going for a walk, a hike, a bike ride, going surfing, visiting them at their work. It all goes back to an active demonstration of love; making sure that people feel heard and valued and cared for in the place they are at on the journey; it means that we can't make people into "projects" or conversely, we can't just use people for their time, talents or resources.

If we become too attached to life inside the bubble then we tend to become defensive of it and of all of our pet ideas and programs and opportunities there instead of focusing on whether or not those things serve the needs of those around us. We also become overprotective of our comfortable spot and our carefully cultivated image within the subculture. Mainly what I'm trying to say is that we can forget that there are so many out there who are not part of anything that goes on within that tiny world and there does not seem to be a way to get inside of the snow globe like bubble - especially if so few ever come out of the bubble. So few can even relate to the "Christian subculture" to begin with.

If we really are about permeating the culture around us, we can see that living in our own subculture isn't an option; I can't permeate something unless I am mixed in with it - like yeast in bread dough.

Art As Still Life

So it's been awhile what with the illness factor and traveling to Austin, TX this past week. We had a killer time at Gateway Church and now have a ton of info to digest and regurgitate into reality. (Nice image, I know.)

Guernica

We all know that Art is not truth. Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth, at least the truth that is given to us to understand.

- Pablo Picasso

I wish I had some profound thoughts to share but I don't know how profound they really are. Plus I started writing a book so that might could interfere with my blogger action. I hope to be one of the next great classic novelists of the century. Hey - what with the drivel of this current century I might stand a chance that I didn't stand in the past couple centuries what with Hemingway, Austen, Steinbeck, Fitzgerald, Pearl S. Buck, L'Engle, Potok, Twain, London, Dostoevsky, Dickens, Tolkien, etc. This century since '00 turned over? Well, it's good for me that so many people would rather blog than do the mind-numbing work of writing classic literature. It's also good that people would rather make money. Did you know that Pearl Buck won a Nobel Prize for literature for her work? She also had eight children but still made the time to write. What's my lame excuse now? Two children? hmmm... Don't we all love our excuses for our undisciplined lives -- as if circumstances are really to blame and not our selves! "It is one thing to praise discipline, and another to submit to it." - Miguel de Cervantes

Artists invest years into their work. An artist (musician) relayed that in a recent conversation.
I said, yeah people don't realize the hours that go into it.
He said, No, not hours. YEARS. Years spent in some room where no one sees you practicing Dorian Scales [and pieces of music]...

That word, YEARS really struck me. It also struck me that so many of us want to be heard and to be famous without investing those years into our work. The truth is our work is childish scrawling until we reach a point where we have gained mastery over our medium. There is no way to gain mastery where there is no disciplined work. This is a truth that I've danced around for years, fearing failure; not seeing that most of the work up until the point of mastery will be "failure" but it must be done in order to gain mastery. In that sense it is not failure at all. It is the practice work of a growing artist. Making that investment is another thing altogether. It's easy for me to invest an hour to blog but not so easy to invest two hours to write something that I will end up hating and wrestling with during those two hours and then feeling like I wasted the time because my insecurities were not being catered to. There is a lonely side to discipline that one has to be OK with. The disciplined space is largely devoid of the instant gratification that we have deceived ourselves into believing is a real way to succeed in life. Instant gratification is best left to drive-through windows and instant messaging, not to our life's work or to Art.

Authenticity is the other side of classic art in any form. An artist who is inauthentic produces work that is contrived, commercial, titillating, or pedantic. If a person only wants to be financially successful then they will use their talents to produce work that sells whether it rings true or not. That's OK until they try to label it as art. Art has layers and depth. Look at Picasso's Guitar Player. The truth of Picasso's own melancholy is right there brushed onto that canvas. (During that time period Picasso lost a friend to suicide.)

The artist who has truth to tell has to do the work of living it out in real life. A true artist must be accountable to his work. The artist must be able to speak for what he has produced. I have not been able to do that until the past six months. That's when the dichotomy between outer shell and inner nucleus grew too great to bear. The loneliness of carrying ugly self-truths and the burden of deception were creating a commercialized being. I just didn't have the energy to maintain that persona and to continue worrying about whether or not I was going to be "found out" for who I really was and to be found wanting. Not that I hide monstrous truths that are much different from anyone else's. In the end not being known and not giving others the chance to accept me wasn't worth it. Toward that end the adage, "to thine own self be true" makes sense. If we were true we wouldn't waste the time we do on idle pursuits and chatter; we would be purposeful beings. We would live and speak truth and be accountable to it.

That would be some Art worth looking at.

Ode to Bob Dylan

Switching gears here –
This summer I watched a documentary on PBS about Bob Dylan. PBS is the only channel that we get so I watched it because I wanted to watch something. Since Dylan was on the scene before my time I never knew much about him. After watching the documentary I was surprised and intrigued, not to mention amused. Bob is a brilliant lyricist; he is very astute and articulate. He had remarkable insight into the culture of his time. His response to interviewers was hilarious. He asked one guy if he had ever listened to any of his music - probably because the interviewer’s questions were so dumb. Here’s a link for more on the film, which was directed by Scorsese:

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/dylan/

In response to Dylan’s music I wrote a poem in similar style (or maybe I kid myself). It’s not cryptic like many of Dylan’s songs are but it does rail against an epidemic of our times: passive-aggressiveness.

Ode to Bob Dylan

What do you want form me?
Why don’t you speak
your mind?
Go ahead and tell me.
What are you hiding
behind?
Use your words –
if you’ve got them.
Tell me what’s on your mind.

What is it that you
need?
Why don’t you be
direct?
I can’t read your mind
and I’m not going to try.
If you aren’t getting
what you want
then you’d better
stick out your neck.

Stop your stupid
pride.
Stop your foolish
fear.
Find your voice
and speak so
I can hear.

Spell it out
if you have to.
Write it down
if you must.
Stop speaking in code
and mumbling
in distrust.

Find your voice.
Speak your mind.
Be prophetic
if you’re called.
Be a leader.
Be a saint.
Find your resolve.

Why tell someone else
what you need to say to me?
Have a little faith.
Own your words.
Stop being so cowardly;
why tell them?
Tell me.

What is it that
you want from me?
What need can I
fulfill?
Tell me what is is
and I’ll tell you
if I will.

Go Ahead and Ask!

It may have sounded like I’ve gone off my nut in that last post; people have been burned at the stake for less. Some may peg me as a heretic, others as a doubting Thomas. My faith is not so fragile as all that. In fact, it is my faith that allows me to ask those questions. I am not afraid to ask those questions; I must continue to go further and further beyond my self into the vast ocean that is God - rowing my tiny dinghy. I am compelled to do so. What lies out there in the deep? Mythological creatures? Giant octopi? Beautiful tropical islands with white sandy beaches? Sunken Treasure?

Sometimes Christians freak out when you start asking those questions. Picture this: you’re in a “small group” with ten Christians. You ask why God created man in the first place and you reject the one-dimensional answers out of hand. If you watch the faces you may see on one, fear; on another, withdrawal; on a third, defensiveness. Looking at the others you might see annoyance, a combative stance, pity, furtive interest, pride, and maybe even contempt. Does anyone display love and openness? Hopefully! Ideally! You know what? I’ve been in many of those people’s shoes, unfortunately. I used to think I had all the answers. The older I get the more I realize that I don’t know many of the answers at all. In the book of James, he admonishes believers to hurry up and listen [to quit rushing to get our own point across] and to be quick to shut our pie holes - and to stall on playing the anger card. (My paraphrase of James 1:19) If only! Dunno about you but I could use some duct tape at times. Dunno but what some others could use some duct tape too.

In any case, I don’t suggest that we should ask these questions lightly, and with no purpose.

But I wonder if some Christians think that they will become less Christian if they are around a person who asks such questions. If our faith is as precarious as all that now would be a good time to find out! If a few questions can overturn our relationship with God... well, it must have been teetering on the edge to begin with.

I ask these questions because I must know more of God and less of religiosity. My faith is woven of sturdy stuff - not of flimsy thread and loose weave that will begin unraveling as soon as an edge is cut or a perforation is made. “I’ve based my life on order and reason in the universe… and a power of love behind that order and reason. I’ve had many a narrow shave in my day, but I don’t believe in the power of chaos.” (Mr. Theo in The Young Unicorns, by Madeleine L’Engle) I ask these questions because God said to ask. “…Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Luke 11:9) If we want to know we have to ask.

"I can't get no satisfaction..."

Get a cup o' coffee cause this post is deep and wide - or maybe it is only that way to little ole me...

There is a question that has been lurking in the depths: Why did God create man? I do believe that He created us but I just want to know why? Why didn’t He end it at the Flood or the tower of Babel? Why has He kept creating life so that we can toil on and on in this world and in these bodies - both of which are so messed up? I get that things are messed up due to free will and our choice to sin, thereby causing separation between God and us. And I understand that our sin causes harm to others as well, which is why the world is so broken and full of acts that are horrific.

Unamuno says, “Those who believe they believe in God, but without passion in the heart, without anguish of mind, without uncertainty, without doubt and even at times without despair, believe only in the idea of God, and not in God himself.” I have certainly had my share of anguished thoughts about God lately.

So often my thinking seems more dark than light. I want to get away from my self. I want to move out and leave this person behind whose thoughts can be so dark or who sometimes says regretful words that are unkind or hurtful. I realize that this is partly my depression talking and partly my own proclivity toward sin talking. I also recognize, though, that I truly have come to the very end of my self – I have reached my finite end. My finite thinking can go no further. I’ve reached the sheer cliffs and there is no bridge to cross the ravine. “Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” (I Cor. 13:12) It’s as if I have been wandering around and around clutching my one little puzzle piece crying, “I don’t see anything in this picture I’m holding – it doesn’t make any sense! It’s not beautiful, it’s ugly. Not only that, it’s totally unframeable because the edges are not straight. Why would Someone give me this terrible piece of art and say that there is purpose in it?”

I begin to see that faith without hope can only lead to despair. Hope can be described as a groaning, a yearning, an aching for something that we desire. Likewise, love without faith and hope is worthless. My puzzle piece is worthless without the context of these ideals. I will not be satisfied with some cheap imitation of faith, hope or love, either.

Having reached my finite end, I am convinced that I know next to nothing about God. I will spend my whole life fiercely groaning and straining to understand just one word in the Bible: LOVE. I do not exaggerate on that point. I know beyond my knowing that I can never hope to understand LOVE while still on this earth. In my suffering, I need the work of hope in order to look beyond life here on earth instead to look towards the continuation and completion of life with God in another dimension.

When the band, The Rolling Stones, wrote the words, “I can’t get no satisfaction…” they penned a truth that was beyond their knowing. While they may have been referring to sexual satisfaction, it is only one of the facets in the human experience that we may or may not attain satisfaction in.

Gerald May writes about satisfaction:
“In our society, we have come to believe that discomfort always means something is wrong. We are conditioned to believe that feelings of distress, pain, deprivation, yearning and longing mean something is wrong with the way we are living our lives.
Conversely, we are convinced that a rightly lived life must give us serenity, completion and fulfillment. Comfort means “right” and distress means “wrong.” The influence of such convictions is stifling to the human spirit. Individually and collectively, we must somehow recover the truth. The truth is, we were never meant to be completely satisfied.”

If we were satisfied and fulfilled in this life would we even continue seeking God?

For me to put my hope in God is for me to set aside my earthly notions of security and comfort and to instead set my sight upon the unlimited expanse of possibility that lies within the person of God. Where I have found comfort in my finite ideals in the past, I find no comfort in them now. I used to describe those things as the “pat answers” that people love to give in order to seem like they have a handle on who God is. Why do we live on a surface level with God? Why are we so afraid to trust Him? For me, it goes back to my original question as to what His motives were in creating us, knowing how crummy life in this world would be; knowing how many pitfalls there are and how many atrocities we will inflict upon each another in large ways and in small ways. I don’t have an easy answer. Even if I say “LOVE” it is still an answer that doesn’t make sense to me because I don’t have a handle on it. The finite realm of human thought and reasoning has turned to cacophony in my head. I am not satisfied with those answers. Going back to Unamuno, he says, “There is no true love save in suffering, and in this world we have to choose either love, which is suffering, or happiness. Man is the more man - that is, the more divine - the greater his capacity for suffering, or rather, for anguish.” To me, this is the awfulness, the dark side of the mystery of God.

Aeschylus writes, “In our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”

I cannot even begin to explain the meaning of that; nevertheless it speaks to me and I comprehend it deep down, the way I comprehend God to be wild and untamable like C.S. Lewis’ lion, Aslan.

The “awful grace” of God is beyond me to behold. I’ve heard so often that God hates sin and that He won’t come near to sin. And yet, and yet, isn’t grace a part of God, a part of His character? And doesn’t He reach down to mankind and touch us in the midst of our sin - the filth and scum and degradation of our human choices - with that “awful grace”? I cannot explain how God does this for us. I don’t know what the mechanics of His actions are while He is offering this part of Himself to us.

It does not seem as though fulfillment or satisfaction are realistic goals to grasp for in this life, in light of these ideas. How can I ever claim to comprehend this LOVE of God? And how can my heart ever be satisfied or fulfilled until I meet God face to face?

Rhetorical Question

There’s been quite a bit going on around here lately but not enough time/energy to blog.
My kids and I all have nasty colds so I haven’t had the energy to write much other than one lone email that was probably waaaaay too long and the subject matter too neurotic to blog about. Why are some things in life like that?

Married to the Mob

Loving other members of the “church body” can be a thorny practice filled with complexities. Most of us struggle with this idea of loving other Christians, especially those who are different from ourselves. I’ve certainly had some battles in this area and continue to seek God’s wisdom and answers. Within the last few months an analogy has come to me that has given me a clearer picture as to what it means to be part of the “body of Christ”.

Another term for the body of Christ that is used in 2 Cor.11 is the “bride of Christ”. Being part of the body of Christ is like being a partner in a marriage. When we take our vows to live as followers of Christ we are also taking a vow to love other followers of Christ (unwittingly or otherwise). The apostle Paul said, “I myself in my mind am a slave to God's law,” in Romans 7:25 The implication of the term slave is that we have no choice but to follow Christ’s commands. One of Jesus’ main commands is to “love one another,” or to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

In a marriage there are a great many choices, are there not?

A person can choose to speak solely to their spouse concerning his or her faults rather than complaining about their spouse’s faults to others. A person can choose to forgive their spouse even when their spouse has betrayed them in some way instead of withholding grace. A person can choose to resolve differences quickly rather than holding a grudge. A person can accept their spouse where they are at instead of comparing their spouse to others. A person can make a concerted effort to learn how to deal with conflict in a healthy manner instead of griping or nagging at their spouse. A person can choose to cherish, honor and love their spouse and to find ways to be an encouragement and an ally no matter what. The quality of the relationship is largely dependant upon these choices.

Being part of the body of believers requires that we make those exact same choices as we interact with one another. For the record, no, we do not have to be best friends with everyone but we do have to be loving. Just the same as in a marriage, there are boundaries. Where there is conflict we must work to resolve it. If someone is unrepentantly abusive or consistently unfaithful to Christ, we must separate ourselves from him or her. If someone wants to leave and will not listen to reason, we must let them go. These are the very few exceptions to the rule, however. For all the other times one or the other of us behaves in an unloving manner, we have no excuse. We can’t kick them out of the house for petty reasons. We do have to keep our “vows” to love one another even when things are hard.
I, (Bride/Groom), take you (Groom/Bride), to be my (wife/husband), to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward for all of eternity.

To be able to love like that, for me, requires Christ. I cannot love like that on my own.
I realize that this may sound a little crazy – radical or simplistic – but love really does conquer all. Love never fails. Love NEVER fails. Guess what? Selfishness fails. Hate fails. Indifference fails. Self-protectiveness fails. Impatience and unkindness fail. Unrighteous anger fails. The quest for knowledge and desire to conquer the unknown fails. Self-righteousness, contempt and pride fail. Have any of us ever heard of these things bringing about miraculous good?

Cheesy Love Song Rings True

I have some friends in my life who have been “the wind beneath my wings” lately, to quote a cheesy song. These two, SA and CLA have given me courage and love and grace. CLA sat with me the other night even though she was dead-tired and probably would much rather have been sleeping than trying to draw some stuff out of me. She asked me, “What do you love?” I didn’t really answer so she asked me again after listening to ten minutes of my rambling.

“What do you love?” We needed for me to get to the bottom of this. And it wasn’t a question about what do I love in ministry; it was just about what I love, period. What am I called to in life? What am I passionate about? What am I drawn to?

“Writing.”

Writing.

But how does that fit into ministry? What do I do with that? What is my role???? There isn’t a neat little box that writing fits into. I’m not J.R.R. Tolkien. I’m not Madeleine L’Engle. I’m not Ernest Hemmingway. I’m not John Donne or Milton or Shakespeare…. I’m just me. I have said no to God on this one for a long time. He has presented me with “writing” and I have flat-out refused Him:

“I don’t know what to write.”

“I’m not that great of a writer compared to X, Y or Z.”

“I don’t have time to write.”

“No one is going to want to read it anyway.”

You don’t even know how many times that I have whined these exact sentiments. Somebody call the waaaaaam-bulance!!!!

Nonetheless, there it is before me and I need the courage to take hold of it with both hands which means letting go of my pathetic “need” to grasp at some phony role as Pastor’s Wife Barbie which no one – and I mean no one – is interested in anyway. Heck, I’m not even interested in it so how could anyone else be?!

Enough about me, though. I really wanted to share how much it meant to me that CLA would go out to the stable, hitch up the horses and drag this information out of me. Not only that, but she took this information and told me to go set Pastor’s Wife Barbie on fire with matches or to use her for target practice. OK, not really but she loves me and wants me to be me. She knows how desperately unhappy I have been for so long and she cares. She does. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.

Henry David Thoreau, "Walden", 1854

Still percolating

I’m still processing all of this information regarding roles and being part of a church body. I wish I could sit and write about it now but it’s late and I have to be somewhere in the morning.

For those of you who are desperately awaiting the next installment of Bats in the Belfry:

Is she crazy? Will she ever make sense of her life? What has she decided to do about all of this stuff?

Yes, the thoughts are still percolating but some of them are coming together. Where will I be six months from now? Will I be sitting in a café in Paris, writing a Nobel Prize winning piece of literature? Will I be in Africa? Do I need a sabbatical? These are all possibilities. Suffice it to say, I am feeling less trapped. Less trapped=less depressed I won’t stop taking the SAMe supplements yet though. And the occasional quarter of a tablet of valerian. I do feel a sense of regret that I have allowed my self to be in bondage to a bunch of idiotic expectations all these years. Basically my entire grown life and a few of the teen years have been spent in this misery. What a waste. For any readers who are young, ditch the phony expectations. Do it now. Turn off your computer, go someplace quiet, write them all down and then burn them. Or perform some other ritual that will accomplish the same thing. And if anyone comes at you yakking about expectations, unless it is your boss or something like that… don’t be tempted to morph yourself into something that you are not like I have done over and over and over… ad infinitum.

Pastor's Wife Barbie

Understanding my “roles” in life has often been a source of confusion. For some people it appears to be pretty cut and dried: “I know that I am supposed to be a nurse.” Or, “I know that I am supposed to be a teacher.” These people go to college, graduate, and then become nurses or teachers. It may not always be fun but, for the most part, they give the impression of being fulfilled in these roles. Usually I am somewhat envious of the seeming simplicity these friends have in their life's roles.

I’ve had this role as a pastor’s wife for sometime now. I have to admit that this role is akin to trying on bathing suits in a department store after you’ve had two kids. You’re in there under the glaring fluorescent lights, tugging and pulling, adjusting; wincing as you face your derriere in the mirror… however, the flimsy bit of super strength spandex just cannot perform the miracle of making you look like the Halle Berry Catwoman Barbie Doll. And you want to look like Halle Berry Doll. (Unless, of course you are a blond, which I am not - then you want to look like a Barbie Doll.) Worse, in your pea brained head you’ve decided that the world at large wants you to look like a Halle Berry Catwoman Doll. Short of living at 24 hour fitness this is not going to happen.

It’s taken some time and research, but I have discovered that there is no Pastor’s Wife Barbie. There is a Nurse Barbie and a Teacher Barbie. There is even a Hawaiian Barbie. There are also quite a few Barbies that ought to be called Hoochie Mama Barbie, but maybe I shouldn’t be so judgmental. This information on the different Barbies leads me to believe that there are not enough little girls out there wanting to be a Pastor’s Wife to warrant making a Barbie doll. I suspect that it would be too difficult to decide what she would look like or how dowdy to make her attire. I imagine the Hoochie Mama Barbie is more marketable.

I know that I never aspired to be a Pastor’s wife as a girl. Ideas such as ballerina, gymnast, teacher - or even cashier - seemed more appealing. I was already living in the parsonage, and from my inside view it did not seem to be such a great job. There were a lot of responsibilities and too many restrictions. Funny thing though, I did think that being a missionary was a cool job. There is a lot more romance in the idea of being speared by savages; nobly eating sago grubs to be polite; or courageously rescuing little girls from becoming temple prostitutes. So exciting! Plus, you get to travel, wear different types of clothing, learn new languages, provide some medical care, teach people to read and write, and get a good tan since you’ll be living in a hut on a beach… I mean, the perks are nearly endless if you are a missionary! Being a Pastor’s wife doesn’t even begin to compare. Booooor-ing! Moreover, there is a Travel Barbie and there are a number of International Barbies which further reinforces that a Missionary Barbie may not be far off.

As for girls who do aspire to be pastor’s wives, either they know for sure that they are meant to be in this role like the nurse/teacher people or they are completely nuts. It’s possible that they may mistakenly think there is glamour and romance in the role. Again, resting my case that some of these chicks are nuts.

So, was I called to this role but didn’t get the message? Did my phone drop the call? Was my phone disconnected at the time? It could be any of these three. Your guess is as good as mine. I never wanted the job but I have it anyway. Am I really a Troll doll who ended up with a Ken Doll? Possible. Also possible is the Dashboard Hula Doll ending up with Ken Doll. I’ve been asked before, “Didn’t you know that Sean was going to be a pastor?” Are you catching the implication of that question?!? A Dashboard Hula Girl should not marry a Ken Doll. That’s what I’m hearing. I should be thwarted in love since I am not a Barbie doll? How come it’s ok to substitute GI Joe for Ken Doll but not Troll girl for Barbie? Huh? I mean, do I love the man or his job? What if he were a Sanitation Engineer? Would I still go for him?

I’m just going to say that I am the Gold Edition Missionary Barbie but I have been on a semi-permanent furlough due to Ken Doll Safari Edition Outfit not being released yet.

p.s. For the record, no I am not ripping on Sean. I’m writing about roles and their confusion not any confusion about who to marry and why. I married the man I loved (still love) regardless of the confusion down the road. Come on, you know I would have been confused whether he was a pastor or not! Few of you know this embarrassing fact but I did try to join the Armed Forces not long after we were married. Maybe all those grubs I ate as an MK (missionary kid) got to my head.

Flood Survivor

I have been struggling with depression this year. The reason I mention it "out loud" is just sheer desperation. There are so many days when I don’t want to get out of bed and once I do get up, I count the hours until I can go back to bed. Many days I wake up feeling almost as tired as when I went to bed. Most days I am filled with a dull ache; melancholy and hopelessness ruin times that should be good. It is difficult to muster any excitement about anything. Truth be told I am tired of mustering and posturing. I don’t want to wear the Mrs. Potato head smile anymore. I want to put on the angry eyes and the sad mouth and be done with it. Instead, I just sit there wishing the world would come to a screeching halt like when God sent the flood and destroyed all life on earth. And I don’t want to be Noah, the flood survivor. Have you read that story recently? Noah and his family sat on that smelly boat for an entire year. It was not just 40 days, it was an entire year. God must have been there on that boat with them because it would have been mind-numbing without Him.

Anyway, in my current life situation there are a lot of needs, events, responsibilities, etc. It is really hard to invest when I often don’t care if life goes on for another five minutes. Depression is truly horrible. It destroys your life. It steals your life. Sometimes, people do take their lives. Those are the ones who cannot take the pain, suffering, and isolation of depression anymore. I have so much compassion for those people. It’s easy to sit by and talk about how selfish they were. “Oh, how could anyone do such a thing?!?” we gasp. It’s not as if anyone ever wants to grow up and be a depressed person who is trapped in a body that betrays them and a mind that simply cannot overcome the depression by willpower alone. Anyone whose depression gets to that level feels very little quality in life. Not only that, but the person begins to feel like he is nothing more than a burden to others because he cannot function at his normal level and he grasps at encouragement with a frightening level of neediness. How is that so different from an elderly person who has to wear incontinence products; is racked with terrible physical pain and who cannot get up out of his, or her, bed even to get to the bathroom? The quality of that person’s life becomes that of agony. Life becomes a state of “survival mode”. I am NOT saying that the person is not valuable – people are valuable no matter what state they are in. They are precious and loved by God. There is no such thing to God as a loser, or a person who is trash, or a person who has outlived their usefulness. But that is fodder for another blog. I’m simply saying that pain management of any kind, in a long-term situation, is very difficult. It drains the person who is in pain and it also drains those who are caregivers.

In our culture we hear so many things like, “time is money” and about how this person, or that person, has skills to offer, or a great resume. We hear these messages over and over and they are about performance and usefulness. When we find ourselves in a place where we cannot function at our normal level and have little to offer as a result… it’s like being locked in a floating coffin for a year. If God is not in there with us, we would rather have perished in the flood because feeling useless and burdensome only adds to the depression. The solitary solution is to hold tight to God and to set the stupidity of our culture aside with all of its vain notions of what success and personal worth are. I’ve said it before and I will say it again: culture is not sacred. I know. I have lived within cultures and between cultures. There is no culture on this earth that matches God’s. God’s culture, His unchanging culture is the only one that is sacred to me.
I cannot live without it. Especially now.

"Foose-ball" and revelation

Ok, so I just watched a promo for a movie called We Are Marshall. I guess it came out in 2006. It's a movie about a college football team in a small town called Marshall. It's based on a true story about how there was a terrible plane crash; most of the players for the team were on board that plane and lost their lives that night. During the interviews of the actors in the movie they all kept saying that the football was just a backdrop for the human drama of the story. The football is really just a backdrop to everything that the people in that town were going through... Then it hit me - it was one of those moments of personal revelation - that is precisely what all of this "church stuff" is. All of the get-togethers, all of the events, all of the programs, camps, retreats, etc. - all those things are just backdrops for the human drama that continually takes place. I think that sometimes we refer to the inner workings of our lives as the "real world" because we instinctively know that the events aren't where it's at. Ultimately, the events can save no one, but the inner landscape... well, that can change the world. If we can connect with people on a deeper level while we are attending these events that is what will count. Sean told us the other night that the broad brushstrokes at the base layer are what matter - the love, friendship, and connections with others. Even if the event itself fails, when we have loved and connected to others that is what matters in the long run.

I have heard some of these ideas over and over but never quite grasped the concept of the backdrop. Sean has understood this concept for a long time and those who know him can attest to his ability to connect on deeper levels and to encourage, to teach and to be a genuinely caring friend. He is not hung up, like so many of us are, on feverishly continuing to paint the set even though the play has already begun. We should put down our brushes and be part of what is going on, either on the stage or in the audience, so to speak.

Many of us have complained about the [institution of] church and how we dislike the highly programmatic nature of so many churches today and how it just begins to feel like there’s always yet another event to attend or to volunteer for. After awhile it seems like all we are there for is to serve the event. Worse yet is when leadership begins to value the success of the event instead of how well people connected with one another, with God, and whether or not unconditional love was being demonstrated. It is truly frustrating if a group of volunteers receives a tongue-lashing because they didn’t get enough of the set painted even though they know that people came away feeling loved and valued despite how the backdrop turned out. It seems to me that we come away from the church feeling dissatisfied because we know that it is not the set that matters at all. We are struggling, we are hurting, we are seeking some answers, and we are longing for acceptance that goes way beyond a smile and a pat on the back and some trite conversation. We could care less about the backdrop.

New Year, New Blog

Happy New Year!!
Yes, it's a new blog! Out with the old, in with the new!
I've been thinking of starting a blog for awhile now but could find no direction. Sean gave me some ideas and this is the result: Bats in the Belfry. Yes, I am saying that I feel like a crazy person at times. I am also saying that I am sure I am crazy to even post some of these deep dark thoughts from the domain of Quasimodo's belfry. Or maybe I relate to Quasimodo (a.k.a. The Hunchback of Notre Dame). Until I seek professional help we may never be sure...