Quote of the Day

Thank you Sojourners Daily Verse and Voice for this insight today:

“The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we as Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined.”

- Søren Kierkegaard,
Danish philosopher, theologian, and ethicist (1813-1855)

Navel Gazing

Lately I’ve been struggling to put into words the things that have been gnawing at the back of my mind, and bothering me. I find myself wrestling with pride, with arrogance, with self-entitlement and all of the attitudes that come with them.
There are things I feel strongly called to do, beliefs to which I hold dear, and insights I believe are unique and engaging. My struggle, however, is that when given voice, I feel utterly inadequate and ignored. I’m tempted to label my gifts and the desire to use them as pride. I’m tempted to hide my beliefs because of their perceived “threat” to the body of Christ. And I’m tempted to believe that my insights fall on dead ears, heard only by the few who choose to listen, and thus, am tempted to stop sharing.

But worst than any of this… I’m tempted to make this about me.

As I read back over that introduction, I cringe. Because really… it isn’t about me at all. Oh how I need to learn that lesson… to step back, to stand back, and to allow God to work in me, no matter how much I think he should work in this way, or he should do this, I need to get out of the way. Too often, I catch myself navel gazing and wishing I could be asked to do this, or wishing I’d get the respect I feel I deserve… when in reality? I deserve nothing. I am nothing.

“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” Phillipians 3:7-8

Food for Thought

Every time we sit at a table … to enjoy the fruits and grain and vegetables from our good earth, remember that they come from the work of men and women and children who have been exploited for generations.

- Cesar Chavez, Mexican-American Farm Worker and civil rights activist

Milestones

Today marks one of the happiest days of my short lived life thus far. 5 years ago today, I stood before a gathering of people I very much love, who’d cared for me over the years, supported my personal and spiritual growth. I’d just walked the aisle with my father, who from my infancy, had been not only an amazing father, but a wonderful pastor. My mother sat just behind me, beaming, comfortable where she was, where she’d always been, backing me up, supporting me, and cheering me on. Beside my father, stood Forrest.

Words alone cannot describe the fullness of that moment, the emotions, the smells, the sights, the sounds, all of it reaching a feverish pitch as the walking stopped, and we stood there at the front of the church. My heart was racing, and my mind a blur as our family friend, Jim, asked who gave this woman to be wed to this man. I heard my father say, “Her mother and I” and suddenly, I was being led, as though on a cloud, and my hand was joined with Forrest’s.

That moment will be burned forever into my mind. The rest of the ceremony was a blur, the majority of my thoughts turning to the man whose hand I held and the life we’d have together. I’d close my eyes and try to picture the life we’d have together. I knew it would be a happy one, full of ups and downs, but happy.

I could not imagine then that 5 years later, we’d be where we are now. That we’d be waking up some mornings with two toddlers asleep in our arms, and a third, sleepily waking in the womb, announcing its presence through various kicks and jabs. That I’d look over to the man I’d been married to 5 years later, still sleeping, and close my eyes, and wonder where the last 5 years had gone… and smile. My heart full of joy and happiness, I look back to that moment on the alter, trying as I might to imagine our life 5 years out, and to be here now… and to see how amazing my life with him is, I could not have imagined it any better.

Forrest, you have enriched my life so much more than you even know. I am so thankful that 5 years ago today, we made the commitment to one another… that we said yes to the challenges of marriage and a life together. God has blessed me… blessed us! and for that I am thankful! I only hope the next 5 years hold as much wonder, joy, expectation, and fullness of life as the last 5 have. I love you so much more than words will ever express.

Happy Anniversary!!

On Waiting

I’ve been doing a lot of thought lately on the subject of patience and waiting. I’m an impulsive person by nature and work hard against the pull to do things now, to have things now, to want change NOW. This can come out in my frustrations with finances at home, with wanting material blessings, with dreaming up new ideas and wanting them implemented overnight.

I recently came across a wonderful book by Kester Brewin titled Signs of Emergence.  The book discusses a broad subject of thigns, but focuses mainly on the transformation of the modern church. “Awesome!” I thought as I read it, “Someone has finally come out with a system to implement and change our dying churches!”  I found the book, on the other hand, to be quite the opposite. There were plenty of wonderful ideas, plenty of things that stirred up the fires of imagination in my soul, but the overreaching theme of the book was patience… of waiting.

Brewin states, “Only if I am still. Only if I have stopped what I was doing to listen and hold my breath and enter some spiritual apnea and wait.  The perception of the new step will come only to those brave enough to stop dancing to the old.” This doesn’t only apply to one or two people, but to the church as a whole.  And that process of stopping, of listening, it takes time.  Perhaps I’ve been to hasty in my judgements about the church, perhaps I’ve expected too much of it too soon.  Or, perhaps, that I myself have only heard a portion of all that God has to tell us, and that indeed, I don’t have it all figured out just yet (which, I’m very, very much aware that I don’t).  So perhaps I’m the one who needs to stop.

To listen.

To hold my breath.

To wait.

Perhaps if I just stop dancing to the old step just long enough, I may catch the sound, catch the vision of the new, and that patiently, I might encourage those around me to pause a moment and listen. And together, our little band of ragamuffin rebels can stand dead still in the middle of the ballroom, while thousands continue to waltz around us, and one day… one of us might just break out in disco. But until then? I’m willing to stand still.

Frustrations

Lately, I’ve been very frustrated with labels. I cringe when I hear the word “Christian” even though it’s a label I bear. Perhaps it’s what the label has come to represent, or what the label is assumed to evidence. I find, more often than not, the label to be lacking. So often, I encounter people who bear the label, whose only identity is that “Jesus died for my sins… I believe he did… thus, I’m a Christian”.

I find that to be incredibly simplistic and naive. Correct me if I’m wrong (and I very well could be), but doesn’t Christ’s death and resurrection mean more than just our sins are washed away? Isn’t there a transformation that takes place once we are forgiven? What happens after that initial “belief”? Don’t get me wrong, I am certain that part of being a Christian is belief if Christ’s death and resurrection. My beef is that, often, that is where people stop. They fail to acknowledge the transformation that must take place in our own lives. That this belief we hold, that if Christ did come and die for our sins, that this belief MUST change who we fundamentally are.

And too often, I run into fellow brothers and sisters in Christ who are no different today than they were the day they professed faith in Christ. Granted, I’m perfectly aware of the verse that urges us to remove the plank from our own eye before addressing the speck in our brothers. But my frustration begins when I begin that journey of transformation… of questioning who I am in light of the Resurrection, of questioning who God is, and what becoming a follower of Christ means. Too often, I’m perceived to be “liberal” or a “doubter”, or worse than those labels, I’m ignored entirely.

I long to be a part of a community of fellow seekers, doubters, skeptics, questioners, etc. who are searching for the meaning behind this label, and what it truly means to be a follower of The Way. Otherwise, my questions fall on deaf ears of those unwilling to search themselves deeper, unwilling to see the depths of the mystery of God, and paralyzed by the belief that further change is unnecessary.
Lord, help me understand. Help me remove this plank from my eye, help me to see the depths of your glory and mystery, and to be satisfied in the tension of not having all of my answers.

Restlessness

Last night was a night of sleeplessness and restlessness. I haven’t blogged much on here about this pregnancy (we’re due Sept. 1) but it’s been a challenge. I am beyond grateful for the blessing of new life growing inside me, and yet… and yet…
There are moments when I cannot get comfortable, when the pain is too much, and I lie in bed, awake, listening to the quietness of a house asleep, and I wonder if this is all too much for my weak flesh to bear. I lie there, awake, with swirling anxiety and guilt, knowing the church answers to my problems… but those words feel so empty in the face of the reality of my fears. Deep inside, I feel as Jacob, wrestling with the spirit of God, screaming out “I will not let you go until you bless me”.
It’s these nights full of restlessness that I understand the complexities of those Bible stories. I begin to see myself in them… the imperfection of those “heroes” of our Sunday School hours. And once I realize that I’m not alone in this, and that none of us are alone in this, that we have a book full of stories of imperfect people, much like us, who wrestled God into the wee hours of the morning. People who refused to let go of God, even during the hardest moments. And I’m encouraged to hang on… to just hold on, even when I don’t know why I still hold on.

Quote

“Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible,
but man’s inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary.”  – Reinhold Niebuhr

Daily verse

“Walk with me and work with me– watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace…” matthew 11:29

Left for Dead

“Perhaps instead of church planting, we should practice resurrection with dying churches… to bring new life to dying congregations.  To go to the forgotten places of our city, those neighborhoods long ago abandoned by our peers out of fear and indifference, ignored, overloked, and left to die.  To breathe new life and practice the resurrection of our Lord at home, down the street, next door, and to remember those left for dead.”

I wrote this today, admittedly during the last part of the pastors sermon (sorry, dad!).  My mind had been wandering the entire service, unable to attach itself to anything, to be still.  I sat there, thinking of conversation after conversation I’d had during the preceding week, and the one just that morning with two wonderful friends and fellow dreamers regarding church planting.  All these conversations alluded to the traditional trappings of newness, of starting over, the same tried and true ideas of a church plant, though nothing was said directly, perhaps I was the only one thinking along those same old lines.  I’ve long wrestled with the idea of church planting, seeing and hearing of so many churches dying off, closing their doors, and churches laden with conflict, unable to move forward.  The idea of church planting seemed, to me at least, as a knee jerk response, to break out of the old, conflicted ways, and try again.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

But something obviously has gone horribly awry in our church plants, in our churches.  Instead of doing the long, arduous task of rebuilding what is already there, of doing the long, hard work of resurrecting our current congregations, we’ve abandoned them, and left them for dead, or at least silently prayed that they would die.  What if, perhaps, instead of beginning anew, we seek out those struggling congregations, and infuse new life into them.  And not by affiliation… but simply by the willingness of a few to leave, and cleave.  To marry into those new “old” congregations, to commit to  nursing them back to health, without requiring anything of them, beyond a willingness to open their arms and welcome these new ones into their church.  Requiring affiliation or placing demands would only be seen as a takeover, and would only deepen the problem. But what if… what if we just… joined in?