This is what Mary did:
she found what was necessary
resting at His feet, not too busy
to listen, and Martha did not
understand why Mary wasn't
doing the things she should
have been doing, may not even
have understood when Jesus
explained, and I, Mary and
Martha both, still struggle to
rest, be still, stop moving as if
motion is necessary to hold
everything together when, in fact,
resting is what holds it all together,
freedom from distraction, focus,
listening and hearing, being ready
to listen and hear, the truest busy-ness
of those on Kingdom business?
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Saturday, November 21, 2015
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
She Must and Shall Go Free, Part 3
I went to see Derek Webb perform a 10th Anniversary concert for his first solo album. Here are some notes. (Part 3)
After the request and new song time, it's back to SMASGF.
7 Awake My Soul
I always think of this one as "No One Is Good Enough." Webb is starting to have increasing trouble with short high notes (his voice must be really getting tired/strained), but I'm amazed by how complex a sound two guitars can produce.
8 Saint and Sinner
People start getting clappy, which surprises me. A lot. Not sure why they picked this song to try, but God bless 'em, they tried. Anyway, we're all complex moral beings, and just because we're saved doesn't mean our relationships with others only involve our sanctified parts. We have to accept the saint and the sinner in each other.
This song always gets me a little choked up. He sings it with such sad, understanding warmth about the ways we enslave ourselves.
10 Crooked Deep Down
It's one of the most chipper songs about total depravity you will ever encounter. Webb says it's one of the oldest songs, one he played with Caedmon's Call but never recorded. He says it was "a song I wrote about Mother Teresa, Billy Graham, Manson, and Me." He also confides that he's glad he didn't try to record it before he meet Meeks, who brings an excellent, almost hillbilly sensibility to the song. Pretty much all of the lyrics are funny and thought-provoking.
The final song is one that's painful for me to listen to. When I was really feeling pushed away from my white, upper middle class, suburban church and its lack of concern for the things God says he cares for in His word, when I was really feeling like I didn't want to be around his people--because most of the ones at my church service were all broken and desperately refusing to do anything but desperately hide their brokenness behind fake smiles and casual relationships--this song gently but very firmly reminded me that I am not able to have a relationship with him without them. We are all the church, all his bride in all our broken, jagged-edged body. If we love God, we must love the people He loves, and He loves His bride so much we really can't even comprehend it. This truth didn't make it any easier to attend services on Sunday, but it made it harder for me to just give up completely. God knows how bad church people are, really, and He still tells us to love them the way he loves us, despite how bad we individually are. I cry whenever I hear this song because it is so lovely and thoughtful and true, and it is a struggle for me that hasn't gone away.
It's later than I expected. As much as I would like to take him up on his offer to talk after the concert, to ask the questions about the things I'm not sure I understand, I instead get up stiffly and walk off into the cold night, carefully not slipping on the patchy ice, thinking about too many things, and humming quietly.
After the request and new song time, it's back to SMASGF.
7 Awake My Soul
I always think of this one as "No One Is Good Enough." Webb is starting to have increasing trouble with short high notes (his voice must be really getting tired/strained), but I'm amazed by how complex a sound two guitars can produce.
8 Saint and Sinner
People start getting clappy, which surprises me. A lot. Not sure why they picked this song to try, but God bless 'em, they tried. Anyway, we're all complex moral beings, and just because we're saved doesn't mean our relationships with others only involve our sanctified parts. We have to accept the saint and the sinner in each other.
"I'm not a half a man./ A saint and a sinner/ is what I am."9 Beloved
This song always gets me a little choked up. He sings it with such sad, understanding warmth about the ways we enslave ourselves.
"And now you would rather be/ a slave again than free from the law."
"And don't you ever let anyone tell you/ that there's anything that you need/ but Me."
10 Crooked Deep Down
It's one of the most chipper songs about total depravity you will ever encounter. Webb says it's one of the oldest songs, one he played with Caedmon's Call but never recorded. He says it was "a song I wrote about Mother Teresa, Billy Graham, Manson, and Me." He also confides that he's glad he didn't try to record it before he meet Meeks, who brings an excellent, almost hillbilly sensibility to the song. Pretty much all of the lyrics are funny and thought-provoking.
"My life looks good, I do confess./ You can ask anyone./ Just don't ask my real good friends/ 'cause they will lie to you./ Or, worse, they'll tell the truth."11 The Church
"Good Lord, I am crooked deep down;/ everyone is crooked deep down."
The final song is one that's painful for me to listen to. When I was really feeling pushed away from my white, upper middle class, suburban church and its lack of concern for the things God says he cares for in His word, when I was really feeling like I didn't want to be around his people--because most of the ones at my church service were all broken and desperately refusing to do anything but desperately hide their brokenness behind fake smiles and casual relationships--this song gently but very firmly reminded me that I am not able to have a relationship with him without them. We are all the church, all his bride in all our broken, jagged-edged body. If we love God, we must love the people He loves, and He loves His bride so much we really can't even comprehend it. This truth didn't make it any easier to attend services on Sunday, but it made it harder for me to just give up completely. God knows how bad church people are, really, and He still tells us to love them the way he loves us, despite how bad we individually are. I cry whenever I hear this song because it is so lovely and thoughtful and true, and it is a struggle for me that hasn't gone away.
"'Cause I haven't come for only you,/ but for my people to pursue./ And you cannot care for me with no regard for her./ If you love me, you will love the Church./"
It's later than I expected. As much as I would like to take him up on his offer to talk after the concert, to ask the questions about the things I'm not sure I understand, I instead get up stiffly and walk off into the cold night, carefully not slipping on the patchy ice, thinking about too many things, and humming quietly.
She Must and Shall Go Free, Part 2
I went to see Derek Webb perform a 10th Anniversary concert for his first solo album. Here are some notes. (Part 2)
Kenny Meeks plays 4 songs, and they are all different, but there is something blues-y and wistful and full of longing and soothing at the same time about his work. Real Long Day was about the day his oldest daughter got married. Shining as Stars took its inspiration from Philippians 2. We're Gonna' Rise, "written and recorded in the way of old time street parades," actually got some heads bobbing and some off-beat clapping for a bit, which is really saying a lot from people in this undemonstrative state.
There are refreshments and restroom runs during the intermission, where they advertise gluten-free snacks and jokingly say they will also be serving extra gluten with a side of MSG and wonder if someone will get rich by finding a use for all that excess gluten. I am in a place unfamiliar to me, a place where they ruin perfectly good water by putting cucumbers in it. I do not belong here, or maybe I should say I don't fit in with the hipsters and the cool 30-somethings of the church. That has never really bothered me. I'm not here for them, I'm here for the music and to find out that Derek Webb is thoughtful and hopeful and not cynical. But cucumber-free water shouldn't be too much to ask for, should it?
The second half starts with requested songs. There are several I want to hear (especially "This, Too, Shall Be Made Right"), but I can be quite the coward in group situations these days.
A I want a broken heart
This song is from his second (and apparently worst-selling album).
B I repent
Also from his second album. He agrees to it and then realizes he isn't sure he remembers it. He refers to it as the anti-song to the one he ranted about last year. Not sure what he means because Stockholm Syndrome was more than a year ago, and his most recent album was instrumental.
C Mockingbird
He calls this the thesis statement on his third record, and it is a powerful and slightly tongue-in-cheek song about cliches in the church.
D Everything Will Change
This is from his new album that has yet to be released (I Was Wrong, I'm Sorry, I Love You). He talks a bit about his process as a lead up. In his life, songs only show up for a reason, and he says that folks who have been following him from the beginning have heard every song he's ever written. For this record, the songs that started showing up were about questions he wanted to ask the church and issues he sees in her now, 10 years after his first album about her.
He considers it a sister album, a later follow-up to the first album (the reason we are all here at this concert tonight). He said earlier that he could still stand behind everything on his first album and that he considered this fact important. He now adds, "If I agree completely with everything I said 10 years ago, there's something wrong with me."
And then he says some important things about cynicism. He says that this song will "put to rest the idea that I'm providing proof texts for cynicism." He defines cynicism as believing there's no way this thing is ever going to change, there is no hope, deal with it. "If I really believe in a day when all sad things will become untrue, then there is nothing that my hope is wasted on."
He says, "Cynicism is the opposite of the telling of the story of the kingdom." And this song tells the story of the Kingdom in a way that makes me think a bit about his Jesus autobiography song ("Lover") from earlier in this album.
Kenny Meeks plays 4 songs, and they are all different, but there is something blues-y and wistful and full of longing and soothing at the same time about his work. Real Long Day was about the day his oldest daughter got married. Shining as Stars took its inspiration from Philippians 2. We're Gonna' Rise, "written and recorded in the way of old time street parades," actually got some heads bobbing and some off-beat clapping for a bit, which is really saying a lot from people in this undemonstrative state.
There are refreshments and restroom runs during the intermission, where they advertise gluten-free snacks and jokingly say they will also be serving extra gluten with a side of MSG and wonder if someone will get rich by finding a use for all that excess gluten. I am in a place unfamiliar to me, a place where they ruin perfectly good water by putting cucumbers in it. I do not belong here, or maybe I should say I don't fit in with the hipsters and the cool 30-somethings of the church. That has never really bothered me. I'm not here for them, I'm here for the music and to find out that Derek Webb is thoughtful and hopeful and not cynical. But cucumber-free water shouldn't be too much to ask for, should it?
The second half starts with requested songs. There are several I want to hear (especially "This, Too, Shall Be Made Right"), but I can be quite the coward in group situations these days.
A I want a broken heart
This song is from his second (and apparently worst-selling album).
"faith in the bank and money in my heart"
"the cattle on a thousand hills were not enough to pay my bills"
B I repent
Also from his second album. He agrees to it and then realizes he isn't sure he remembers it. He refers to it as the anti-song to the one he ranted about last year. Not sure what he means because Stockholm Syndrome was more than a year ago, and his most recent album was instrumental.
C Mockingbird
He calls this the thesis statement on his third record, and it is a powerful and slightly tongue-in-cheek song about cliches in the church.
"I'm like a mockingbird:/ I've got no new song to sing./ I'm like an amplifier:/ I just tell you what I've heard./ "
D Everything Will Change
This is from his new album that has yet to be released (I Was Wrong, I'm Sorry, I Love You). He talks a bit about his process as a lead up. In his life, songs only show up for a reason, and he says that folks who have been following him from the beginning have heard every song he's ever written. For this record, the songs that started showing up were about questions he wanted to ask the church and issues he sees in her now, 10 years after his first album about her.
He considers it a sister album, a later follow-up to the first album (the reason we are all here at this concert tonight). He said earlier that he could still stand behind everything on his first album and that he considered this fact important. He now adds, "If I agree completely with everything I said 10 years ago, there's something wrong with me."
And then he says some important things about cynicism. He says that this song will "put to rest the idea that I'm providing proof texts for cynicism." He defines cynicism as believing there's no way this thing is ever going to change, there is no hope, deal with it. "If I really believe in a day when all sad things will become untrue, then there is nothing that my hope is wasted on."
He says, "Cynicism is the opposite of the telling of the story of the kingdom." And this song tells the story of the Kingdom in a way that makes me think a bit about his Jesus autobiography song ("Lover") from earlier in this album.
She Must and Shall Go Free, Part 1
I went to see Derek Webb perform a 10th Anniversary concert for his first solo album. Here are some notes. (Part 1)
The concert is in a tiny church repurposed as a concert venue with a stained glass taking up half the back wall, 3 shaded chandeliers, and 5 windows along the north wall with an interesting fish scale shimmery iridescence to them; great for diffusing the candle light from tables around the edges. Two fans spin up high in the ridge line of the vaulted ceiling. There are these huge, dark wooden sliding/folding doors block off the fellowship hall and make me curious. Sara Groves and her husband own this venue, and they introduce Webb.
What he thinks people are coming to the show for: "He can talk about politics and vent about the church, and maybe he'll swear!" He calls the songs on the album "songs without certainty."
The stage is small even though it pretty much takes up the entire short wall. Even so, Webb seems small standing up there. He's a tiny man, compact and fine-boned with his shaved head gleaming. Kenny Meeks is with him, a tall, sort of rawboned and rangy looking fellow who plays bass now and did the same on the record (along with producing it and providing the background vocals back in the day). This guy is kind of a legend in Christian music. I feel like I may have seen him at Alive '88 or something years ago.
They are making things up a little. This is the first stop on the limited tour, and they've never actually practiced together. You might not know this if they didn't tell everyone. You wouldn't likely care whether you noticed or not.
1 Nobody Loves Me
"I'm really glad I have a record from 10 years ago that I can still sing all of today."
"I don't disagree with a word of it."
2 She Must and Shall Go Free
He says this is an orphaned hymn, one where no melody was ever written for the words, so they just used one of the 4 basic tunes. He decided to give it a tune.
3 Take to the World
It's based on an Episcopal benediction and is the third song on the album . . . He points out he might arrange the album a little differently with his current knowledge.
"When Kenny Meeks makes a mistake, it's called a new revelation."
4 Nothing (Without You)
The pews are going to make my hip limping sore tomorrow.
"Kenny plays one note better than I play 10."
5 Beloved
"The word 'Christian,' when applied to anything except a person, is a marketing term, a term used to lead consumers to the thing they want to consume. It can't mean what they want it to mean."
"This song originally had about 12 verses" because he was trying to do a song about the life of Jesus. He edited it down to 5 verses, in the end, and I want to hear the other 7, too. "How do you edit the life of Jesus?" he asks rhetorically.
6 Wedding Dress
The first single he wrote for this first record (but at the time, he thought it was a Caedmon's Call song).
"Once you write it, there's no going back."
"It is still an offensive song for me to sing. "
"It's based on some of the most offensive parts of the Bible, which are there to offend us."
"Ezekiel and Hosea are designed to make people uncomfortable."
"I knew there would be some blushing."
"If I got up to read Ezekiel 16, I could clear the room."
"The comfort I got was that the most offensive parts were from the Bible."
"This was the song that got the album banned."
"They have every right to censor what they sell.. . . I'm comforted by the thought that the last thing to go would be the Bibles, so the offensive content is there in every store."
He talks about how some people write to him as if he is angry and bitter and cynical. And I'm surprised by how very much I need for him to not be bitter or cynical. And he's not. Maybe it's just his stage persona, but I really needed it anyway. He says that cynicism is what happens when you give up hope. And he hasn't given up. He still has hope. He still believes we can be better than we are, and he still believes God loves us even when we aren't.
The concert is in a tiny church repurposed as a concert venue with a stained glass taking up half the back wall, 3 shaded chandeliers, and 5 windows along the north wall with an interesting fish scale shimmery iridescence to them; great for diffusing the candle light from tables around the edges. Two fans spin up high in the ridge line of the vaulted ceiling. There are these huge, dark wooden sliding/folding doors block off the fellowship hall and make me curious. Sara Groves and her husband own this venue, and they introduce Webb.
What he thinks people are coming to the show for: "He can talk about politics and vent about the church, and maybe he'll swear!" He calls the songs on the album "songs without certainty."
The stage is small even though it pretty much takes up the entire short wall. Even so, Webb seems small standing up there. He's a tiny man, compact and fine-boned with his shaved head gleaming. Kenny Meeks is with him, a tall, sort of rawboned and rangy looking fellow who plays bass now and did the same on the record (along with producing it and providing the background vocals back in the day). This guy is kind of a legend in Christian music. I feel like I may have seen him at Alive '88 or something years ago.
They are making things up a little. This is the first stop on the limited tour, and they've never actually practiced together. You might not know this if they didn't tell everyone. You wouldn't likely care whether you noticed or not.
1 Nobody Loves Me
"I'm really glad I have a record from 10 years ago that I can still sing all of today."
"I don't disagree with a word of it."
"The truth is never sexy/ So it's not an easy sell.""Lord knows I've got something to say about every one of these, but I'm going to try not to," he says. And I think, "Are you kidding?! That's what we're here for. If we just wanted to hear the album, we could do that any time. Talk a lot!" But his voice is a little rough, and he needs a lot of water, so I'll understand if he has to talk less as the night goes on.
"So I'll do whatever it takes/to squeeze us into this wedding gown./ I'll say words that rattle your nerves/ words like sin and faith alone, now/"
2 She Must and Shall Go Free
He says this is an orphaned hymn, one where no melody was ever written for the words, so they just used one of the 4 basic tunes. He decided to give it a tune.
3 Take to the World
It's based on an Episcopal benediction and is the third song on the album . . . He points out he might arrange the album a little differently with his current knowledge.
"Take to the world this rare, relentless grace.""If you know Caedmon's Call from the radio, you never heard any of my songs."
"Know you must become what you want to save/ 'Cause that's still the way that He takes to the world."
"When Kenny Meeks makes a mistake, it's called a new revelation."
4 Nothing (Without You)
The pews are going to make my hip limping sore tomorrow.
"Kenny plays one note better than I play 10."
5 Beloved
"The word 'Christian,' when applied to anything except a person, is a marketing term, a term used to lead consumers to the thing they want to consume. It can't mean what they want it to mean."
"This song originally had about 12 verses" because he was trying to do a song about the life of Jesus. He edited it down to 5 verses, in the end, and I want to hear the other 7, too. "How do you edit the life of Jesus?" he asks rhetorically.
6 Wedding Dress
The first single he wrote for this first record (but at the time, he thought it was a Caedmon's Call song).
"Once you write it, there's no going back."
"It is still an offensive song for me to sing. "
"It's based on some of the most offensive parts of the Bible, which are there to offend us."
"Ezekiel and Hosea are designed to make people uncomfortable."
"I knew there would be some blushing."
"If I got up to read Ezekiel 16, I could clear the room."
"The comfort I got was that the most offensive parts were from the Bible."
"This was the song that got the album banned."
"They have every right to censor what they sell.. . . I'm comforted by the thought that the last thing to go would be the Bibles, so the offensive content is there in every store."
He talks about how some people write to him as if he is angry and bitter and cynical. And I'm surprised by how very much I need for him to not be bitter or cynical. And he's not. Maybe it's just his stage persona, but I really needed it anyway. He says that cynicism is what happens when you give up hope. And he hasn't given up. He still has hope. He still believes we can be better than we are, and he still believes God loves us even when we aren't.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Losing your life to gain what
When she started to follow Jesus seriously, she gave up the thing she was best at and loved most: writing about music. Recently, as we were studying Luke 9, she wondered if that counted as laying down her life to save it. At the time, she thought it was. She couldn't see any way that her writing about secular music could lead anyone to Jesus, so she left it behind. (Oh, hyper-evangelicalism, you make me so sad.) As far as I can tell, she didn't really replace it with anything. So now she is not doing what she loves and not necessarily leading anyone to Jesus that she can see, and she is miserable (for this and many additional reasons).
It seems like she is more miserable because a couple of people in the group ARE writers and see that as part of who they are in Christ. And it kindles this longing inside her that she isn't sure she shouldn't smother.
I had to resist the urge to respond right away, though several things came to mind.
I shut my mouth firmly and resisted the urge to say anything or even follow up because she was Not Making Eye Contact in that skittish way she has of offhandedly revealing truths about her life that she is deathly afraid will get her judged in some way. Normally, I would not have the presence of mind to notice the body language and think thoughts and stop myself from saying them. Perhaps this gluten-free thing my doctor is having me do is a good idea. Or maybe the Holy Spirit hit the brakes for me?
I really need to ask a lot of follow-up questions to get a better understanding of the situation before I start throwing out statements that she could take as judgments. (She can twist almost any statement into something she perceives as a judgment. : ) If I understand the situation better, maybe I can ease things slowly into a direction where she can think things through and make a different decision now.
Things I want to know
Any other questions you can think of that I can try to slowly and slyly trot out there so as not to scare this fragile honesty away?
It seems like she is more miserable because a couple of people in the group ARE writers and see that as part of who they are in Christ. And it kindles this longing inside her that she isn't sure she shouldn't smother.
I had to resist the urge to respond right away, though several things came to mind.
- The Bible doesn't necessarily indicate that we need to leave behind anything that isn't directly related to leading souls to the kingdom or whatever evangelical, Christianese phrase you prefer.
- Jesus didn't tell soldiers or tax collectors to stop what they did, drop everything, and go become full-time preachers.
- The Bible does say we should work heartily as unto the Lord, not for men or praise.
- The Bible doesn't really indicate that vocation and avocation must be the same and anything that is not avocation must be abandoned.
- God loves beauty and beautiful things, and good art is beautiful.
- God sees beauty in broken things/people other people think are worthless and dirty.
- It's okay to work hard at a craft and create beautiful things; we serve a creator God.
- What exactly did stopping writing about what you love do to help you gain abundant life?
I shut my mouth firmly and resisted the urge to say anything or even follow up because she was Not Making Eye Contact in that skittish way she has of offhandedly revealing truths about her life that she is deathly afraid will get her judged in some way. Normally, I would not have the presence of mind to notice the body language and think thoughts and stop myself from saying them. Perhaps this gluten-free thing my doctor is having me do is a good idea. Or maybe the Holy Spirit hit the brakes for me?
I really need to ask a lot of follow-up questions to get a better understanding of the situation before I start throwing out statements that she could take as judgments. (She can twist almost any statement into something she perceives as a judgment. : ) If I understand the situation better, maybe I can ease things slowly into a direction where she can think things through and make a different decision now.
Things I want to know
- What did she write?
- Who was her audience?
- When did she make this decision?
- Why, exactly did she give it up (there had to be multiple reasons beyond the simple one she tossed out there)?
- Does she feel the same way about these reasons now?
- Can she see a way she might be able to use her writing for a purpose she feels is more redemptive?
Any other questions you can think of that I can try to slowly and slyly trot out there so as not to scare this fragile honesty away?
I don't know how to love her and other situations that make for tragic musicals
There's this person in this church group I am nominally in charge of. If I say she sometimes seems to be made of glass, I don't mean that she is beautiful and delicate. I mean that it's like she got scraped raw by life and then rolled in broken glass, which stuck to the blood, and when she lets the cloak she covers herself with fall, no one can figure out how to comfort her in a way that will not damage both. There was a really bad meeting which ended with a lot of us trying to hold back tears because how on God's green earth do you show someone that wounded and broken and jagged that she is loved and liked and wanted? I knew things were bad when I found myself humming Nancy's song from Oliver. It's a good thing I only really know that first line, or I likely would have had the blasted song stuck in my head whole for weeks.
I got out the only available version of the Five Love Languages from my library (The 5 Love Languages for Children), but it wasn't really much help because it's aimed at parents and is about dealing with children. This person holds down a job she hates because it provides benefits, a paycheck, and a cushion to allow her beloved to do the less lucrative and somewhat seasonal work he loves. She is an adult.
When it was just occasional grumblings and the beginnings of a tendency to tell the same painful stories on endless repeat and hijack the conversation, I was able to redirect things, sometimes with subtlety and panache and sometimes with inartistic but effective bluntness. But when she said that she dreaded coming every week because it made her even more miserable and she only came because she knew her husband wouldn't want to come without her even though he adores the group, we were all at a loss. Most of us kind of enjoy the group and the time we spend together. We like her and her husband. We have no idea what to say to that kind of explosion of broken glass. We mostly just duck and cover to avoid the shrapnel.
We want to hug her and tell her we love her except she hates and loathes begin hugged and doesn't believe anyone saying they love her (with the possible exception of her husband, though I'm not sure). She gets even more savage when she thinks people are saying things to make her feel better, whether they are true or not. Sometimes I'm not sure she know how to feel not-miserable. I don't know if she ever did.
When I say I am the "leader," I mean I'm the secretary. I report back to the church, pass out the feedback surveys (when I remember), attend meetings for small group leaders, and pass info on to the small group from the church. Our church still isn't very good at this discipleship thing, and the role of small group leader is a voluntary one that carries no authority or spiritual responsibility.
I think probably this lady needs some really good spiritual counseling, but I think it would take a miracle for her to find someone who could be effective working with her the way she is now, trapped in negative thinking and stress and incapable of letting herself be loved. She and her husband have a close relationship with the counseling pastor and the social pastor at our church (a married couple), which is actually not a good thing because I'm pretty sure she couldn't bear being honest with those people in case it made them think less of her.
The psychologist in our group says we're in a tough spot, because we aren't treating her (and can't because that's not our relationship), so all we can do is redirect when she starts to hijack, ignore the negative outbursts as we have been--so she doesn't get attention for them--and encourage her on the super-rare occasions when she says positive things (even though that makes her prickly). Maybe next time she explodes, we'll have to be direct and tell her that it really hurts us when she says things like that, but we love her anyway. We may also have to ask what we can do to make her dread the meetings less or find out what it is about them that she dreads. I'm not sure she knows how to explain it, and I'm not convinced that scrutiny wouldn't drive her away. It's all so very fraught.
Any suggestions?
I got out the only available version of the Five Love Languages from my library (The 5 Love Languages for Children), but it wasn't really much help because it's aimed at parents and is about dealing with children. This person holds down a job she hates because it provides benefits, a paycheck, and a cushion to allow her beloved to do the less lucrative and somewhat seasonal work he loves. She is an adult.
When it was just occasional grumblings and the beginnings of a tendency to tell the same painful stories on endless repeat and hijack the conversation, I was able to redirect things, sometimes with subtlety and panache and sometimes with inartistic but effective bluntness. But when she said that she dreaded coming every week because it made her even more miserable and she only came because she knew her husband wouldn't want to come without her even though he adores the group, we were all at a loss. Most of us kind of enjoy the group and the time we spend together. We like her and her husband. We have no idea what to say to that kind of explosion of broken glass. We mostly just duck and cover to avoid the shrapnel.
We want to hug her and tell her we love her except she hates and loathes begin hugged and doesn't believe anyone saying they love her (with the possible exception of her husband, though I'm not sure). She gets even more savage when she thinks people are saying things to make her feel better, whether they are true or not. Sometimes I'm not sure she know how to feel not-miserable. I don't know if she ever did.
When I say I am the "leader," I mean I'm the secretary. I report back to the church, pass out the feedback surveys (when I remember), attend meetings for small group leaders, and pass info on to the small group from the church. Our church still isn't very good at this discipleship thing, and the role of small group leader is a voluntary one that carries no authority or spiritual responsibility.
I think probably this lady needs some really good spiritual counseling, but I think it would take a miracle for her to find someone who could be effective working with her the way she is now, trapped in negative thinking and stress and incapable of letting herself be loved. She and her husband have a close relationship with the counseling pastor and the social pastor at our church (a married couple), which is actually not a good thing because I'm pretty sure she couldn't bear being honest with those people in case it made them think less of her.
The psychologist in our group says we're in a tough spot, because we aren't treating her (and can't because that's not our relationship), so all we can do is redirect when she starts to hijack, ignore the negative outbursts as we have been--so she doesn't get attention for them--and encourage her on the super-rare occasions when she says positive things (even though that makes her prickly). Maybe next time she explodes, we'll have to be direct and tell her that it really hurts us when she says things like that, but we love her anyway. We may also have to ask what we can do to make her dread the meetings less or find out what it is about them that she dreads. I'm not sure she knows how to explain it, and I'm not convinced that scrutiny wouldn't drive her away. It's all so very fraught.
Any suggestions?
Bully for you
Once upon a time when I worked for TSA, there weren't really any supervisors. We were all new, and we all took turns, so they could figure out who to promote later. Whenever I was in charge of the assignments, I ended up working at the busiest counter, the one no one wanted to work at, and I always assigned Mr. Bully to work there, too. Mr. Bully was a big man, a veteran built like a tank. He was gruff and mean and had a chip on his shoulder, and his method of "winning" an argument was to shout the other party down.
I didn't really like Mr. Bully. And I hated that in order to keep his grumbling to a minimum, I always had to work the busy airline, too. But I just couldn't let the injustice of him never having to work the busy counter pass, so I put up with it. When he asked me why I picked on him, I told him I wasn't picking on him; I was just trying to be fair and make sure that everyone rotated the duty we didn't like, so certain people didn't always end up getting stuck with it. He still grumbled.
It was just another brick in my "I never want to be a manager/in charge" wall. I do not deal well with difficult people. They require finesse and communication skills and concentration and careful handling. These are things I lack even more since I started to deal with chronic pain and insomnia.
And now I have a difficult person in a group I'm in charge of, and I'm afraid it's going to be Mr. Bully all over again. I'm the one who almost always has to step in and interrupt the story I've heard several times (she doesn't want help fixing the problem; she just wants to complain about it) or steer things back to the topic we're there to discuss. She acts very defensively a lot of the time and makes passive aggressive comments about feeling like I'm judging her. (I'm actually not.) I'm sort of anticipating a "Why are you picking on me?"
Only this time, I don't really have an answer, at least not one that is calm and logical and polite and firm and non-threatening. I just don't have the bandwidth.
If she asks, I will probably tell her the truth, "I'm not picking on you. I'm just trying to redirect things, so your troubles (and they are real and significant) don't take over this group of people who hate confrontation and won't stop you. I'm technically the leader, and this is my job." I cringe about this confrontation and the growing passive-aggressive grumblings. I am concerned about how these perceived clashes might hurt the group. I do not have the bandwidth for this. I don't want to be the "leader."
Then again, it's not like this has to end in tears. Mr. Bully turned out to be a lot more bluster than bite. I found that out when he surprised me by being the only one who stepped in to help when I was being sexually harassed by a female co-worker. Not the casual friends I got along with, not the nice older ladies, but the bully I thought hated and resented me. There's a lesson in there, I think. I'm just not sure what it is . . .
Any suggestions?
I didn't really like Mr. Bully. And I hated that in order to keep his grumbling to a minimum, I always had to work the busy airline, too. But I just couldn't let the injustice of him never having to work the busy counter pass, so I put up with it. When he asked me why I picked on him, I told him I wasn't picking on him; I was just trying to be fair and make sure that everyone rotated the duty we didn't like, so certain people didn't always end up getting stuck with it. He still grumbled.
It was just another brick in my "I never want to be a manager/in charge" wall. I do not deal well with difficult people. They require finesse and communication skills and concentration and careful handling. These are things I lack even more since I started to deal with chronic pain and insomnia.
And now I have a difficult person in a group I'm in charge of, and I'm afraid it's going to be Mr. Bully all over again. I'm the one who almost always has to step in and interrupt the story I've heard several times (she doesn't want help fixing the problem; she just wants to complain about it) or steer things back to the topic we're there to discuss. She acts very defensively a lot of the time and makes passive aggressive comments about feeling like I'm judging her. (I'm actually not.) I'm sort of anticipating a "Why are you picking on me?"
Only this time, I don't really have an answer, at least not one that is calm and logical and polite and firm and non-threatening. I just don't have the bandwidth.
If she asks, I will probably tell her the truth, "I'm not picking on you. I'm just trying to redirect things, so your troubles (and they are real and significant) don't take over this group of people who hate confrontation and won't stop you. I'm technically the leader, and this is my job." I cringe about this confrontation and the growing passive-aggressive grumblings. I am concerned about how these perceived clashes might hurt the group. I do not have the bandwidth for this. I don't want to be the "leader."
Then again, it's not like this has to end in tears. Mr. Bully turned out to be a lot more bluster than bite. I found that out when he surprised me by being the only one who stepped in to help when I was being sexually harassed by a female co-worker. Not the casual friends I got along with, not the nice older ladies, but the bully I thought hated and resented me. There's a lesson in there, I think. I'm just not sure what it is . . .
Any suggestions?
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Folks are not living their lives AT YOU
This is a great article to read, whether you have kids or not. I am not a parent, but I fall into this trap sometimes, as well, and it was great to feel convicted when reading this. I mean, it doesn't make me feel happy, but it is important to be reminded to watch out for this tendency. And it does feel weird when I'm in the middle of it and have to take that step back and realize I'm being self-conscious in this particularly sad and dumb way. I guess I prefer to avoid the error instead of have to deal with it when I'm in pretty deep. Most of the time, nobody is judging you but yourself, and nobody is really motivated to better behavior in order to make you feel bad: I guess that's the message I got.
"I felt as if this woman had materialized for the sole reason of making me look bad. I am telling you that I decided right then and there that this mother was feeding her child avocados AT ME. And that also she had matched her child’s clothes that morning AT ME. And also that she had likely disciplined her child effectively for years AT ME. And that as icing on her (likely homemade and gluten-free) cake she was enjoying a lovely, peaceful, well-planned, healthy lunch AT ME. I felt judged. I felt like her approach to parenting was maybe developed solely to shine a big old spotlight on my “not good enough” parenting. She was parenting AT ME, I tell you!Exactly.
For years I lived in world in which people lived AT ME. For example:
"Feeling judged by other people’s decisions is an insanely ego-centric way to live. Like my dad always says, “Glennon, nobody is thinking about you as much as you think they are.” Everybody’s just doing the best she can, mostly.' - Glennon Doyle Melton
- Craig worked out AT ME while I tried to enjoy the couch. So aggressive.
- People discussed natural child birth AT ME because they could sense my previous sixty epidurals.
- People attempted ATTACHMENT PARENTING AT ME. ( I still don’t know what that really is but it certainly doesn’t sound like something behind which I’d rally.)
- People threw Pinterest parties AT ME.
- People trained for triathalons AT ME.
- People refused to eat carbs after 8 pm AT ME.. . ."
Friday, April 5, 2013
Do what you know
“We’re all dying because of chronic disease because of bad behavior. It’s not enough to go see the doctor once a year and have him tell you what to do. It’s not that people don’t know what to do, it’s that they don’t do what they know,” says Lavoie, co-director of the Montreal Behavioural Medicine Centre in Canada.
When I read the above article (part of keeping up on current med-tech trends for work), I found myself struck by the above statement. And how much it made me think of a Bible passage where the writer talks about how the one who believes will keep Christ's commandments, not just talk about them. And that passage in the Bible where the writer talks about how frustrating it is that we don't do the things we want to/should do (but instead do the things we don't want to do because we are trapped in this body of death).
To paraphrase: It's not enough to go to church every Sunday (even a doctrinally solid church) and be told what to do. We know what to do, really. We just don't do it. Do we not really believe it? Are we being lazy? I think that one passage about doing what we don't want to do and who can save us from this body of death ends with one of those long, rolling, buoying passages about how Christ saved us, will save us, is saving us, and all praise to Him. Amen. But we're also told to work out our salvation in fear and trembling. We are told to do what He commanded. We are told our actions should reflect where are hearts are, what we really, truly believe. Sometimes, our actions mostly reflect laziness and sloppy thinking.
Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the health research and study results. Today, They definitely conclude that this behavior Will Kill You. In two years, They will proclaim that this behavior is The Best Ever. It's hard to know what's really healthy sometimes.
But we all know the basics.
We know the basics, but do we do them?
If we really believe they are important, won't our actions and behaviors change to reflect what we really believe? I pray it may be so for me.
When I read the above article (part of keeping up on current med-tech trends for work), I found myself struck by the above statement. And how much it made me think of a Bible passage where the writer talks about how the one who believes will keep Christ's commandments, not just talk about them. And that passage in the Bible where the writer talks about how frustrating it is that we don't do the things we want to/should do (but instead do the things we don't want to do because we are trapped in this body of death).
To paraphrase: It's not enough to go to church every Sunday (even a doctrinally solid church) and be told what to do. We know what to do, really. We just don't do it. Do we not really believe it? Are we being lazy? I think that one passage about doing what we don't want to do and who can save us from this body of death ends with one of those long, rolling, buoying passages about how Christ saved us, will save us, is saving us, and all praise to Him. Amen. But we're also told to work out our salvation in fear and trembling. We are told to do what He commanded. We are told our actions should reflect where are hearts are, what we really, truly believe. Sometimes, our actions mostly reflect laziness and sloppy thinking.
Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the health research and study results. Today, They definitely conclude that this behavior Will Kill You. In two years, They will proclaim that this behavior is The Best Ever. It's hard to know what's really healthy sometimes.
But we all know the basics.
- eat more unprocessed foods, especially whole grains, beans, fruits, and vegetables.
- move more (get up and walk around, challenge your muscles and your cardiovascular system).
- don't stress yourself out over things you can't control.
- do justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God.
- be a good steward.
- love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength.
- love your neighbor as yourself.
We know the basics, but do we do them?
If we really believe they are important, won't our actions and behaviors change to reflect what we really believe? I pray it may be so for me.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
What to do when you find out
Someone in my small group was talking about how he's not sure what to do when he finds out about the brokenness in other people that he's never encountered before. He's a sunny soul, and he's a bit slammed upside the head when he discovers others have had so many clouds and so much bad weather, and the things he says can hurt them without him even knowing it. And that this is considered insensitive and makes other people angry, as if they can realistically expect everyone else to know all about all their triggers and never accidentally press them. What is he supposed to do, never open his mouth because anything he says can and will be used against him by the other people he is trying to interact with? This could paralyze him, but he is a sunny soul, so he just kind of keeps going. Not a bad plan, actually. Sometimes that sun is what attracts the souls covered in freezing rain. And sometimes it's not.
A friend of an old classmate recently posted this piece about what Christians should know about interacting with those who have suffered from "religious abuse". At its heart, it is really a kind (but angry) explanation of how what Christians often say (usually knee-jerk statements usually unfiltered by a fully thinking brain) can be disrespectful and hurtful to those who've been injured by religion in the past. Know these things, don't be that person, respect me and my negative experiences by engaging me with your whole being, not just your Christianese platitudes meant to dismiss me or make it all better: that's what this piece is about.
I'm glad I had the chance to read this article. It brings up a lot of questions. I'm curious about the working definition of psychological religious abuse, in particular, because the line between abuse and growing up in a family that had religious beliefs you didn't agree with and now repudiate is really blurry to me. What is abusive and what is merely insensitivity or well-meaning religious dedication? (These questions interest me because I've been reading so many other articles in the past few years about how parents should stop stressing about ruining their kids and just do their best to love them.)
I guess this article doesn't change the answer I would give this person in my small group or the way I live: know that this is true and others are broken and jagged in ways you don't know, and go on, trying always to understand, to think before speaking, and to speak thoughtfully in love. I prefer avoiding people anyway, so I don't talk to them much, and I tend to just keep my mouth shut around people I don't know (leaving the awkward foot-in-mouth times to happen around those I'm more familiar with), but for those who like to interact with people, your chances of offending them by being ignorant are higher. Be conscious of body language, ask for clarification, ask for forgiveness, learn from each mistake. Just keep going and loving people, even when you inevitably hurt them. And pray for them. (Just don't tell them about it because that's a communication stopper. :) And pray for you, too, that God will help you be sensitive and fully engaged with each person you encounter, that He will give you wisdom.
How do you cope with the fact of other people's hidden triggers? How do you live knowing that your edges can cut other people without you knowing it?
A friend of an old classmate recently posted this piece about what Christians should know about interacting with those who have suffered from "religious abuse". At its heart, it is really a kind (but angry) explanation of how what Christians often say (usually knee-jerk statements usually unfiltered by a fully thinking brain) can be disrespectful and hurtful to those who've been injured by religion in the past. Know these things, don't be that person, respect me and my negative experiences by engaging me with your whole being, not just your Christianese platitudes meant to dismiss me or make it all better: that's what this piece is about.
I'm glad I had the chance to read this article. It brings up a lot of questions. I'm curious about the working definition of psychological religious abuse, in particular, because the line between abuse and growing up in a family that had religious beliefs you didn't agree with and now repudiate is really blurry to me. What is abusive and what is merely insensitivity or well-meaning religious dedication? (These questions interest me because I've been reading so many other articles in the past few years about how parents should stop stressing about ruining their kids and just do their best to love them.)
I guess this article doesn't change the answer I would give this person in my small group or the way I live: know that this is true and others are broken and jagged in ways you don't know, and go on, trying always to understand, to think before speaking, and to speak thoughtfully in love. I prefer avoiding people anyway, so I don't talk to them much, and I tend to just keep my mouth shut around people I don't know (leaving the awkward foot-in-mouth times to happen around those I'm more familiar with), but for those who like to interact with people, your chances of offending them by being ignorant are higher. Be conscious of body language, ask for clarification, ask for forgiveness, learn from each mistake. Just keep going and loving people, even when you inevitably hurt them. And pray for them. (Just don't tell them about it because that's a communication stopper. :) And pray for you, too, that God will help you be sensitive and fully engaged with each person you encounter, that He will give you wisdom.
How do you cope with the fact of other people's hidden triggers? How do you live knowing that your edges can cut other people without you knowing it?
Church as body
church as body
broken
Not a new idea, but I find myself really understanding it in a very personal way lately. Body as one unit made up of many parts, sometimes all doing their own thing.
and so I seek
equilibrium of some kind
strengthening without
damaging pain because
movement without pain
may not be possible.
Perhaps this is why the church seems wearily familiar to me when I see it as conflicting ideas and opinions clashing against each other, accomplishing nothing worthwhile, a noisy gong and clanging cymbals, a sound and fury signifying nothing.
When I started writing this piece, I was thinking it would end more positively, like,
our bodies are broken like this,
and the church is called the Body of Christ,
so of course it will be broken like this, too,
so it should be familiar, and I can't blame it for being what it is, right?
But I can't fix my body and haven't really had much luck improving the overall health of the Body, and I
am tired of being broken
in a broken world
surrounded only
by broken people
just like me. Familiarity
breeds, well, you know
how the saying goes (and that it's not positive).
The thing that gives me hope is that I haven't given up on either body. Sometimes I just get discouraged when I am forced to face that fact that I cannot make either body healthy, perfect, and pain free. And sometimes my individual body is so loud, I have no coping to spare for the bigger Body. Avoidance can be a reasonable strategy. At times like these, I'm glad for my small group. They are
my tiny connection
to the Body, the place
where I can use my gifts
(even if imperfectly) to bless
others and be blessed. A smaller group of broken people, a manageable number to care too much for. And for now, that will have to be enough.
broken
wholeness waits
on the other side of
destruction, redemption,
resurrection
Not a new idea, but I find myself really understanding it in a very personal way lately. Body as one unit made up of many parts, sometimes all doing their own thing.
- I can't stretch my hamstrings because my joints are too loose, so to go far enough to get a stretch, I have to strain the tear in my hip, which hurts.
- I need to loosen the overworked muscles in my leg that have been kindly keeping my hip in place despite the tear, but to stretch them, I strain the hip tear, which makes the muscles tighter and angrier in the end.
- I need to strengthen my upper body to help stabilize the tear in my shoulder, but when I do yoga, core work, or anything beneficial to my upper body, the injuries in my wrist, elbow, and shoulders protest vociferously.
and so I seek
equilibrium of some kind
strengthening without
damaging pain because
movement without pain
may not be possible.
Perhaps this is why the church seems wearily familiar to me when I see it as conflicting ideas and opinions clashing against each other, accomplishing nothing worthwhile, a noisy gong and clanging cymbals, a sound and fury signifying nothing.
When I started writing this piece, I was thinking it would end more positively, like,
our bodies are broken like this,
and the church is called the Body of Christ,
so of course it will be broken like this, too,
so it should be familiar, and I can't blame it for being what it is, right?
But I can't fix my body and haven't really had much luck improving the overall health of the Body, and I
am tired of being broken
in a broken world
surrounded only
by broken people
just like me. Familiarity
breeds, well, you know
how the saying goes (and that it's not positive).
The thing that gives me hope is that I haven't given up on either body. Sometimes I just get discouraged when I am forced to face that fact that I cannot make either body healthy, perfect, and pain free. And sometimes my individual body is so loud, I have no coping to spare for the bigger Body. Avoidance can be a reasonable strategy. At times like these, I'm glad for my small group. They are
my tiny connection
to the Body, the place
where I can use my gifts
(even if imperfectly) to bless
others and be blessed. A smaller group of broken people, a manageable number to care too much for. And for now, that will have to be enough.
Monday, February 18, 2013
There is no going back, only forward
There's a man in my small group who is older than me and is one of those sunny, happy, jolly, slightly oblivious people very much like good-natured, adolescent puppies. When some of us begin talking honestly about the flaws in our church, it makes him sad. His wife says that before he met us, he was unaware that our church had any warts. And that is okay. I think it is just fine for him to see and praise the positive things in the church, to be so focused on what he can do to help that he doesn't notice that things aren't even close to perfect. People that see the church like he does are necessary to keep the church body from exploding under the forces of cynicism and discontent (or continue to splinter until every building was its own denomination). Frankly, I sort of envy him his way of looking at the church. I wish I could go back to the time when I was that positive about the church. I liked myself and the church better back then.
I want to go back before I thought that my church was too big to be a family, too wealthy and suburban to give a crap and organize to help hurting and broken people in need inside the body and in the surrounding community.
I want to go back to the time before I tried to make a difference and got involved and became a member and tried to fit into the communion of the saints even though it was more like the brunch at the country club, before I tried to improve things and got stonewalled or tried to participate but couldn't stand the crappy Baptist choir CCM after all that glorious Latin in the mini-cathedral at my previous doctrinally unsound church, before I joined a small group of very nice young ladies who were single and very nice and as bland as a Scandinavian casserole and so shy and slow about saying anything real or honest that I just couldn't take it anymore, before I gave up on attending Sunday services at all, before I despaired of ever being able to minister in any biblical way in my local body and accepted that "leading" a small group of quirky, interesting people was all I was going to get from this fellowship.
I want to go back to the time before I picked my current church because the doctrine they preached was acceptable to me and would pass muster with my alma mater in case I got the chance to try to teach there and because it was so big that no one would bother me when I snuck into the back always late and dressed shabbily and no one even noticed me because there were just so many people who attended and because it didn't demand anything of me when I had absolutely nothing left to give from the bottom of my well of chronic pain, exhaustion, and discouragement.
I want to go back to before I had to leave the beautiful neo-Gothic church with the amazing organ and the outstanding chancel choir, before the organist got booted even though she was incredibly talented and passionate because she was "too high-church" for the powers-that-be, too invested in beauty and the meaning of rituals to let things slide, before I realized that I couldn't stay in a place where they preached doctrine that just didn't jive with the Bible as I interpreted it.
I want to go back to before college, where the church choices were limited and terrible for shy folks without vehicles, before it became somewhere I went because I didn't want demerits, before it became a soul-sucking experience you survived, so you could go to Sunday lunch in the cafeteria, which was always excellent.
I want to go back to how I saw my church before all those crazy, passionate, Jesus freak college kids got older, before they took down all the lovely and rough art created by congregation members, before they redecorated so things looked expensive and fancy (including the chairs), before everyone grew up and moved away, and there were only strangers there.
I want to go back to the time before I had to avoid my best friend because she didn't want anyone else to know we hung around a lot outside of school and church, before our pastor committed adultery, before I realized that the other churches in our town treated ours with derision because it was founded by a bunch of fumbling college kids who got saved in the Jesus movement and tried to follow the Bible by making a church, man, because they were so in love with Jesus and His people.
I wish I were back in that time before I knew too much, back when church was just a good and safe place full of adopted, extended family who loved to sing and praise the Lord for hours and pray for my mom for years while she was dying and make terrible pasta dishes for us when she was in the hospital and just generally generously help each other.
I want to go back.
But the only way out is forward and through.
And I was not called to be successful, just to try, to keep trying, to keep going and never completely lose hope in this beautiful, messy, too-human, flawed, filthy, in-the-process-of-redemption body of which I am part whether I really like them or not. (Family is always like that.) Sometimes, it's just really hard.
Maybe it's a good thing that I am pathologically incapable of quitting forever. Maybe that just means I grind myself down faster against the rough edges of the folks around me.
Maybe it means I long for heaven, for future perfection, for complete redemption that much more. Some day. Hope. Keep walking forward, one foot in front of the other. Be glad when when people walk beside me. Be gracious when they fall and trip me and send me sprawling (and pray they do the same when Ifall). Don't spend too much time looking back. Walk on.
I want to go back before I thought that my church was too big to be a family, too wealthy and suburban to give a crap and organize to help hurting and broken people in need inside the body and in the surrounding community.
I want to go back to the time before I tried to make a difference and got involved and became a member and tried to fit into the communion of the saints even though it was more like the brunch at the country club, before I tried to improve things and got stonewalled or tried to participate but couldn't stand the crappy Baptist choir CCM after all that glorious Latin in the mini-cathedral at my previous doctrinally unsound church, before I joined a small group of very nice young ladies who were single and very nice and as bland as a Scandinavian casserole and so shy and slow about saying anything real or honest that I just couldn't take it anymore, before I gave up on attending Sunday services at all, before I despaired of ever being able to minister in any biblical way in my local body and accepted that "leading" a small group of quirky, interesting people was all I was going to get from this fellowship.
I want to go back to the time before I picked my current church because the doctrine they preached was acceptable to me and would pass muster with my alma mater in case I got the chance to try to teach there and because it was so big that no one would bother me when I snuck into the back always late and dressed shabbily and no one even noticed me because there were just so many people who attended and because it didn't demand anything of me when I had absolutely nothing left to give from the bottom of my well of chronic pain, exhaustion, and discouragement.
I want to go back to before I had to leave the beautiful neo-Gothic church with the amazing organ and the outstanding chancel choir, before the organist got booted even though she was incredibly talented and passionate because she was "too high-church" for the powers-that-be, too invested in beauty and the meaning of rituals to let things slide, before I realized that I couldn't stay in a place where they preached doctrine that just didn't jive with the Bible as I interpreted it.
I want to go back to before college, where the church choices were limited and terrible for shy folks without vehicles, before it became somewhere I went because I didn't want demerits, before it became a soul-sucking experience you survived, so you could go to Sunday lunch in the cafeteria, which was always excellent.
I want to go back to how I saw my church before all those crazy, passionate, Jesus freak college kids got older, before they took down all the lovely and rough art created by congregation members, before they redecorated so things looked expensive and fancy (including the chairs), before everyone grew up and moved away, and there were only strangers there.
I want to go back to the time before I had to avoid my best friend because she didn't want anyone else to know we hung around a lot outside of school and church, before our pastor committed adultery, before I realized that the other churches in our town treated ours with derision because it was founded by a bunch of fumbling college kids who got saved in the Jesus movement and tried to follow the Bible by making a church, man, because they were so in love with Jesus and His people.
I wish I were back in that time before I knew too much, back when church was just a good and safe place full of adopted, extended family who loved to sing and praise the Lord for hours and pray for my mom for years while she was dying and make terrible pasta dishes for us when she was in the hospital and just generally generously help each other.
I want to go back.
But the only way out is forward and through.
And I was not called to be successful, just to try, to keep trying, to keep going and never completely lose hope in this beautiful, messy, too-human, flawed, filthy, in-the-process-of-redemption body of which I am part whether I really like them or not. (Family is always like that.) Sometimes, it's just really hard.
Maybe it's a good thing that I am pathologically incapable of quitting forever. Maybe that just means I grind myself down faster against the rough edges of the folks around me.
Maybe it means I long for heaven, for future perfection, for complete redemption that much more. Some day. Hope. Keep walking forward, one foot in front of the other. Be glad when when people walk beside me. Be gracious when they fall and trip me and send me sprawling (and pray they do the same when Ifall). Don't spend too much time looking back. Walk on.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Bringing good out of bad
I contemplated this as the ten year anniversary of the injury that started it all came and went, bringing no Mayan Apocalypse with it.
Happy New Year.
"To the limited extent that I suffer, I want that suffering to be productive, to bring about holiness and a purity of character. I am grateful that the Bible is honest about the bad in this world: the bad is bad. Too often Christians seem to want to say that because God allows suffering, that suffering is somehow good in itself. This is not true; God is good, but sin and suffering are not. They are not what God intended for this world and they will not be there in heaven. But God does have the power to bring good out of bad (which is not the same as saying that a bad situation is inherently what God wants), and He is able to work in all things (good, bad and ugly) for the good of those who love Him (Rom 8:28)." - Tanya MarlowI choose to believe this.
Happy New Year.
Family depression
The recent school shooting has brought mental illness and how families deal with it into spotlight once again. The blame game has been played (the mother should have known, should have gotten her son help, the signs were there, etc.). It's good to try to look for root causes to prevent future problems if at all possible, but her son was legally an adult. And just because you want to help your adult children or adult siblings, doesn't guarantee that they get help, or that if they get help, they will be fixed by it. The human mind is an unbelievably complex thing.
This is much on my mind as I watch and wonder if my sister is spiraling further into mental illness. She is an adult, nearly 30, and she has suffered from depression (untreated) for years. We have asked her if there is some reason for the way she treats my father (the kind of treatment one would expect from someone toward their rapist/abuser). She has promised us that it's nothing like that. He just sniffs, and she can't stand it. That's all.
Depression runs in my family. (As Miles says, "We give it to each other.") My mom has explained the briefest bit of her childhood struggles with it in her dysfunctional family. She later sought treatment for anxiety and panic disorders, and her mental health has improved.
My sister has not sought treatment. Instead, she has always had many excuses. We are reaching the end of our patience for excuses.
We, her loving family, are tired of watching her hurt us. Some of us think she is fully in possession of her mental faculties and is choosing to act in cruel ways. I think maybe this is related to OCD, depression, and maybe other mental health problems. Either way, she needs help.
I think a reason I lean towards mental illness is because I don't want to believe that she is capable of deciding to act with such cruely while mentally balanced. I don't want her treatment of my father and her distancing from my mother and her decision to end her friendship with me to be possible if she is in full possession of her wits. That would hurt too much. I would rather have something to blame it on. I have that luxury because I live several states away and am naturally someone who does not need the company and affection of others.
My parents who live with her do not have that luxury. They just have the hurt. And it's eating at them, threatening their mental health. It has to be stopped. But how? I'm praying. But I can't help thinking there is no right answer. Having a loved one with mental health issues is not a simple situation with a single right answer.
If you are ever tempted to point fingers and blame when you encounter a situation like this, well, maybe hold that thought. Humans and human relationships and love in a fallen world are messy, and it's always easier to point from outside, especially after the fact, to try to make neat conclusions once all the chips have fallen. But inside, it is sad and scary and messy. Please remember that. Be careful how you judge.
And please pray. Because I don't really know how to right now.
Give your friends a chance
An acquaintance recently informed us that she has suffered with depression and OCD for a couple of decades. She was so nervous, it hurt to watch her. I wondered whether she would start unraveling the blanket if she ran out of tissues to shred. She made eye contact in stuttering dashes.
Oh, I thought, some things make sense now. And then I thought, Why is she acting like she's coming out to a hostile audience? She knows two others in the group have wrestled with depression (and still do). Why is this so hard for her to "admit"?
As she told us she'd been kind of suicidal, I said a little prayer of thanks to God that I had been too typically procrastinatory to actually write that email I had been thinking about sending because I thought maybe she was just doing what my other friends who just wanted to move on had done because they were too cowardly to just say it to my face and break things off cleanly and openly. Don't leave us hanging and wondering if you're going to come this week or ever again, I would have said in a more polite way because I was afraid she was just dithering in a passive aggressive way and afraid of hurting our feelings with the truth. It's a very good thing I didn't send that email, which would have kindly assured her that if she didn't want to be part of the group anymore, she could just tell me, and I would tell everyone else and no one would hold it against her.
Because that would really not have been a good thing for her to hear while she was trapped in negative thoughts, withdrawing from us all, as she told us she has done to many friends, because she didn't want to inflict herself on us, especially not when she was like that.
I thought of a couple of my friends who pulled away in this way for some of these reasons because they were depressed. Were they, like her, afraid of finding their friends really weren't that good of friends? That their friends would slowly drift away, always having a good excuse, not saying anything, not returning calls until no one called anymore? Did they, afraid of finding out that truth, take the yoke upon themselves and wrap themselves in silence because forcing everyone away and leaving them seemed preferable to being left by them? Probably.
My heart hurts.
How do I tell her that I am honored that she told us these things, yet that I beg her to please oh please give those friends a chance. Because while it's true that some of them--even most of them and maybe all of them--will leave, some might stay, and she owes it to herself and those friends to uncover this truth?
"I was writing to figure it out, writing to get through it, writing because I couldn’t remember how to pray." - Addie Zierman
My heart hurts. And all I can pray is, "Please, God . . ."
Oh, I thought, some things make sense now. And then I thought, Why is she acting like she's coming out to a hostile audience? She knows two others in the group have wrestled with depression (and still do). Why is this so hard for her to "admit"?
As she told us she'd been kind of suicidal, I said a little prayer of thanks to God that I had been too typically procrastinatory to actually write that email I had been thinking about sending because I thought maybe she was just doing what my other friends who just wanted to move on had done because they were too cowardly to just say it to my face and break things off cleanly and openly. Don't leave us hanging and wondering if you're going to come this week or ever again, I would have said in a more polite way because I was afraid she was just dithering in a passive aggressive way and afraid of hurting our feelings with the truth. It's a very good thing I didn't send that email, which would have kindly assured her that if she didn't want to be part of the group anymore, she could just tell me, and I would tell everyone else and no one would hold it against her.
Because that would really not have been a good thing for her to hear while she was trapped in negative thoughts, withdrawing from us all, as she told us she has done to many friends, because she didn't want to inflict herself on us, especially not when she was like that.
I thought of a couple of my friends who pulled away in this way for some of these reasons because they were depressed. Were they, like her, afraid of finding their friends really weren't that good of friends? That their friends would slowly drift away, always having a good excuse, not saying anything, not returning calls until no one called anymore? Did they, afraid of finding out that truth, take the yoke upon themselves and wrap themselves in silence because forcing everyone away and leaving them seemed preferable to being left by them? Probably.
My heart hurts.
How do I tell her that I am honored that she told us these things, yet that I beg her to please oh please give those friends a chance. Because while it's true that some of them--even most of them and maybe all of them--will leave, some might stay, and she owes it to herself and those friends to uncover this truth?
"I was writing to figure it out, writing to get through it, writing because I couldn’t remember how to pray." - Addie Zierman
My heart hurts. And all I can pray is, "Please, God . . ."
Friday, November 9, 2012
Homosexual voices of faith
This blog post about a Mormon who identifies as homosexual and chooses to live the way he believes is correct even though it goes against his inclinations is one of the best things I've read in years. Everything is so logical and clear while still being emotionally powerful and ringing with the truth of hard choices made. I've wondered if these voices were writing somewhere because they are voices that need to be heard in the church.
"Why was he gay? What did God expect him to do?" - Josh WeedDoes this mean I agree with everything the poster said/concluded? Of course not, but so what? It is a voice that is part of an important conversation we need to be having about homosexuality and religion so that thinking people who are homosexuals can see that they don't have to either "live a lie" or just give up on the church.
"One of the sad truths about being homosexual is that no matter what you decide for your future, you have to sacrifice something. It’s very sad, but it is true. I think this is true of life in general as well. If you decide to be a doctor, you give up any of the myriad of other things you could have chosen."A while back, there was a kerfuffle on one of the related-to-Publisher's-Weekly blogs wherein commenters got very vocal about the idea of different voices in genre fiction. A lot of people who were not fans of religion said some things that made me sad in their call for inclusion and tolerance and such. They didn't want any more lying religious propaganda where no characters are ever not-heterosexual or where any incidental homosexual characters are miraculously "cured" to live happily ever after. They wanted stories that ring with truth (in their case, defined as not-mainstream, not-easy, not-convenient, not-limiting, not-church).
. . .
"I chose not to “live the gay lifestyle,” as it were, because I found that what I would have to give up to do so wasn’t worth the sacrifice for me." - Josh Weed
"It all comes down to what you choose and why, and knowing what you want for yourself and why you want it. That’s basically what life is all about." - Josh WeedI agreed with these posters in theory, that kids need to be able to read stories told well by realistic narrators they can identify with. I disagreed with these posters because I think there are stories with religious and even Christian narrators who wrestle with their faith and homosexuality and find their way onto a path they can live with in both their hearts and their heads. But who would ever publish such writing? As my college writing professor once said, "Too liberal for the conservatives and too conservative for the liberals." But I can't help feeling that the audience is out there, listening to the sound of crickets chirping and feeling miserable and horrible and more sinful than those around them because that is the only message they really hear proclaimed loudly.
"I want you to stop battling with this part of you that you may have understood as being sinful. Being gay does not mean you are a sinner or that you are evil. Sin is in action, not in temptation or attraction. I feel this is a very important distinction. This is true for every single person. You don’t get to choose your circumstances, but you do get to choose what you do with them." - Josh WeedWe need writers who have gone through this struggle to relate it to those struggling with it now to show that there is hope, intellectual integrity, faithfulness, and peace out there, not just despair. The backlash could be tremendous, but those kids struggling now deserve that helping hand.
"You are no more broken than any other person you meet." - Josh WeedIf you've come across anything written by those with non-heterosexual inclinations who have chosen to live what they believe is right according to their carefully considered faith, please pass them my way.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Let's Stop Pretending, Shall We?
"[T]he truth has always been that without God’s intervention, I am selfish and prideful every minute of every day. I care what others think because deep down I want to be seen as great—I want to matter. I find it impossible to forgive; to truly be able to forgive people who hurt us must be one of God’s greatest miracles. And I belittle the God of the universe by worrying as if he is not really in control. Inside, my soul seems prone to slant toward every quality I would never want to possess. I live assuming I am not alone in these weaknesses. Mostly because I know a lot of people."
. . .
"We don’t want to fall. We like to see great testimonies of God’s grace, but we don’t want to be the testimony."
Oh, yes. Please check out this article. It's called "Don't Pretend," and a lot of broken people just like me, just like us, need us to stop pretending in the church.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Lord, teach us to pray (Part II)
So I stand here panting from the effort of figuring out what to say, silent in another hour of need.
What I want to pray is,"God, please don't let me lose my job in the layoff the day before I talk to the surgeon. God, I know I complain about the arm and how much simpler things would have been if something was just ripped/broken/torn and repairable, but I think maybe I take that back in this case. God, please don't let me need surgery. Please don't let this be torn or worn away or dented. Please don't let this be arthritis." So many things I am asking for.
"What I want is for this to go away quickly because the magic cure to this one thing--God, please, just this one damn thing--exists, and I can afford it, and I'm not allergic to it, and it won't make things worse, and my inability to heal quickly due to exhaustion won't matter, and then this will be over, and I can go back to concentrating on the pain in my arm and my jaw and my foot and my wrist and my shoulder and my knees. Please, Lord, aren't those things enough?"
There are so many people who have it worse, and I feel like a jerk for praying for me instead of them. "What should I be saying, God? Please tell me." These are some of the things I consider saying.
Instead I stand silent on the official prayer channel.
What if I once again pray for the wrong thing? (And then get what I pray for?) But what if I just need to pray one more time for the answer to be yes? Is it sinful for me to wonder if it's like that parable about the old woman getting justice because she kept at that corrupt judge, or was that the point of the parable "always pray and never give up." But this is a young woman and a righteous God, and how do I know if what I ask for is justice or just selfishness? And maybe I'm supposed to just be whimpering help, but it feels like a cop-out, like laziness, like weakness, like failing.
"Lord, teach us to pray," one of His disciples said. Oh, please, God, please. Amen.
What I want to pray is,"God, please don't let me lose my job in the layoff the day before I talk to the surgeon. God, I know I complain about the arm and how much simpler things would have been if something was just ripped/broken/torn and repairable, but I think maybe I take that back in this case. God, please don't let me need surgery. Please don't let this be torn or worn away or dented. Please don't let this be arthritis." So many things I am asking for.
"What I want is for this to go away quickly because the magic cure to this one thing--God, please, just this one damn thing--exists, and I can afford it, and I'm not allergic to it, and it won't make things worse, and my inability to heal quickly due to exhaustion won't matter, and then this will be over, and I can go back to concentrating on the pain in my arm and my jaw and my foot and my wrist and my shoulder and my knees. Please, Lord, aren't those things enough?"
There are so many people who have it worse, and I feel like a jerk for praying for me instead of them. "What should I be saying, God? Please tell me." These are some of the things I consider saying.
Instead I stand silent on the official prayer channel.
What if I once again pray for the wrong thing? (And then get what I pray for?) But what if I just need to pray one more time for the answer to be yes? Is it sinful for me to wonder if it's like that parable about the old woman getting justice because she kept at that corrupt judge, or was that the point of the parable "always pray and never give up." But this is a young woman and a righteous God, and how do I know if what I ask for is justice or just selfishness? And maybe I'm supposed to just be whimpering help, but it feels like a cop-out, like laziness, like weakness, like failing.
"Lord, teach us to pray," one of His disciples said. Oh, please, God, please. Amen.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Standing silent in the armory, crying (out) (Part I)
I used to pray a lot to arm myself when facing "battles." I would pray all the time during volleyball, basketball, racquetball, and softball games, concert performances, plays, presentations, the science fair; whatever the battle, I prayed for help and victory. As I've dealt with chronic pain, there have been days where all I could muster was a whimpered help to God every few seconds. I think back then, God was always very aware of what I wanted.
Now I am afraid to pray like that, like a selfish, demanding brat. I want, I want, I want, please, please, please, me, me, me. And so I don't pray as much. There're still a lot of whimpering helps as I add new pains to my total, but I don't know that I consider this quality time in communication with God.
I am so afraid of praying for the wrong things that I just don't pray much at all unless specially called upon.
There is too much pain in me. I have asked for it to be removed (this cup, this thorn in the flesh), and the answer so far has been no (or, charitably, not yet), and I am tired of praying the "wrong" thing, tired of hearing no, wait, not yet, no. Tired of not knowing what to pray to get a "yes."
And so I am silent.
And so is He.
I am afraid to want the wrong things. I was so glad when my arm wasn't fractured, when nothing big was torn, when the nerves weren't ripped. But now that I float in a sea of uncertainty that will remain unresolved because I am at the mercy of OWCP, sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't have prayed, "Let it not be broken, let it not be torn, let it not be ripped." As if praying these things led to this result. As if my pain is somehow my fault because I asked for the wrong things and God did what I asked just to spite me. The pain interrupts sleep, which makes it hard to think, and I am so unreasonable sometimes I can hardly stand it.
Continued next post . . .
Now I am afraid to pray like that, like a selfish, demanding brat. I want, I want, I want, please, please, please, me, me, me. And so I don't pray as much. There're still a lot of whimpering helps as I add new pains to my total, but I don't know that I consider this quality time in communication with God.
I am so afraid of praying for the wrong things that I just don't pray much at all unless specially called upon.
There is too much pain in me. I have asked for it to be removed (this cup, this thorn in the flesh), and the answer so far has been no (or, charitably, not yet), and I am tired of praying the "wrong" thing, tired of hearing no, wait, not yet, no. Tired of not knowing what to pray to get a "yes."
And so I am silent.
And so is He.
I am afraid to want the wrong things. I was so glad when my arm wasn't fractured, when nothing big was torn, when the nerves weren't ripped. But now that I float in a sea of uncertainty that will remain unresolved because I am at the mercy of OWCP, sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't have prayed, "Let it not be broken, let it not be torn, let it not be ripped." As if praying these things led to this result. As if my pain is somehow my fault because I asked for the wrong things and God did what I asked just to spite me. The pain interrupts sleep, which makes it hard to think, and I am so unreasonable sometimes I can hardly stand it.
Continued next post . . .
Friday, September 28, 2012
Can we just drop the F-bomb?
Why do some Christians choose to be so easily offended when they know they
live in a fallen world full of sin and are part of a family made up of believers
who are all sinful people? I re-shared something on Facebook the other day. It was pretty funny for the video game-knowledgeable, general nerd crowd. Apparently, the group that posted it had the F-word in its name. Someone I am "Friends" with on Facebook freaked out about that and sent me a text at 5 in the morning and also sent an email freaking out about it and telling how offensive it was that this word existed on my Timeline. I took a couple of days to respond because I couldn't trust myself not to be a jerk about it.
It brought back to mind this pre-occupation with appearances many Christians have. Don't smoke, don't drink at all, don't swear, don't show how you really feel, don't hang out with folks who do these things because that makes you guilty by association. I guess they wouldn't approve of Jesus since he was referred to as a friend of sinners because he had a reputation for hanging out with people the religious elite considered bad.
Keep up appearances; stay in these lines, and you are one of us. That is not the law of Christ/the law of love. It's kind of the opposite, really. Then there's the whole Don't Cause a Brother to Stumble and the way we really blow that one out of context . . . Can we really just drop this preoccupation with being offended by real life happening around us? Or is that a dangerous line of apathy to cross?
To be honest, I was irked mostly because these are tough issues, and I don't really want to deal with them right now. Again. Especially when I'm not really at my best. (See next paragraph.)
I'm in increasing pain and in a corresponding increasingly bad mood. I'm glad I took the time to respond in a way that didn't dump my general frustrations on this person, but I'm also disappointed at this reminder that sometimes we're so busy judging others about useless things that we can seem really tedious and not the loving, thoughtful people we're commanded to be. I can't possibly have this conversation with this person right now because I'm too easily riled up when I've had so little sleep and so much pain.
When I'm this hurt and likely to lash out, maybe I should just avoid all social media altogether. My poor judgment seems likely to be less exhausting and less offensive to people's delicate sensibilities. Like I said, I'm not a nice person to be around right now.
The whole situation made me more tired. I forget sometimes that some Christians:
It brought back to mind this pre-occupation with appearances many Christians have. Don't smoke, don't drink at all, don't swear, don't show how you really feel, don't hang out with folks who do these things because that makes you guilty by association. I guess they wouldn't approve of Jesus since he was referred to as a friend of sinners because he had a reputation for hanging out with people the religious elite considered bad.
Keep up appearances; stay in these lines, and you are one of us. That is not the law of Christ/the law of love. It's kind of the opposite, really. Then there's the whole Don't Cause a Brother to Stumble and the way we really blow that one out of context . . . Can we really just drop this preoccupation with being offended by real life happening around us? Or is that a dangerous line of apathy to cross?
To be honest, I was irked mostly because these are tough issues, and I don't really want to deal with them right now. Again. Especially when I'm not really at my best. (See next paragraph.)
I'm in increasing pain and in a corresponding increasingly bad mood. I'm glad I took the time to respond in a way that didn't dump my general frustrations on this person, but I'm also disappointed at this reminder that sometimes we're so busy judging others about useless things that we can seem really tedious and not the loving, thoughtful people we're commanded to be. I can't possibly have this conversation with this person right now because I'm too easily riled up when I've had so little sleep and so much pain.
When I'm this hurt and likely to lash out, maybe I should just avoid all social media altogether. My poor judgment seems likely to be less exhausting and less offensive to people's delicate sensibilities. Like I said, I'm not a nice person to be around right now.
The whole situation made me more tired. I forget sometimes that some Christians:
- live in enclaves of evangelical Christians and only have social contact with other believers. (Some statistics indicate that most new Christians have no more non-Christian friends within 2 years of getting saved.)
- don't hear this word every day through the walls of their old, cheap apartment building.
- are bothered enough by this word that they will take action on behalf of the other people it might possibly offend.
- are not mostly numb to it after spending time abroad.
- have no friends who say it. (This can mean all sorts of things.)
- are sheltered and safe enough that they care more about a bad word forwarded peripherally on Facebook than a million other things they could and should be more concerned about as Christians.
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