What shall I write?

I want to write … so why don’t I?

Is it lack of discipline?

Maybe.

Lack of focus?

Quite possibly.

So many things around us are so confusing.

So much fear and frustration and anger and hate.

How do I know where to stand?

I don't know what to say.

I don’t even know what to think.

What to do with the heartbreak and empathy and fear.

What to do with my anger?

With the grief of so many people?

I so badly wish that I could make things better.

That I could fix things for the people who are terrified.

The anger pops up so easily.

I just wish I could shake perpetrators and get them to stop.

I want to be a hero but don’t know how.

I am quick to assume that those other people are villains.

I mean… if I’m right then they must be wrong.

I wish I could convince them to shape up.

I realize that I am judging.

I am pointing my finger at those I perceive as villains.

But wait... Finger-pointing is part of what I am so sad about.

Part of what breaks my heart…

That so many wonderful people have been assumed to be bad guys.

As villains who must be run out of town.

Banished from our borders.

That they have been collectively labeled as “what is wrong with our country” - often for no other reason than the color of their skin or that they don’t speak perfect English - or just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Or maybe just because some wannabe hero needed to meet his quota for the day. 

I still don’t know what to write about.

I can’t seem to make sense of my feelings - or of what is happening in our world.

I don’t know what to think.

Or how to help.

But I do know that I don’t want to automatically point my finger at others.

To be so quick to judge.

To be instantly and constantly angry.

I want to slow down to consider what is really happening.

To take the time to listen.

To really care about people. 

Messed up. Again.

I messed up. Yah, that's not unusual, but this was a biggie. I feel badly and I honestly don't know anything I can do to rectify the mess. So I could just wallow in my guilt and feel worse and worse. Or I could find something profitable to do - and maybe try to be more responsible or more sensitive or something so that I don't mess up again too soon.

When I'm thinking clearly, the choice is obvious. Unfortunately, I haven't been thinking very clearly the last few days because of a nasty cold - which is my excuse for messing up so royally in the first place.

At any rate, I do know how to choose. At least I certainly know that it won't do anybody any good for me to wallow in this pit. So I do the only thing(s) I know to do about this mess and then let it go.

And I keep moving. Put one foot in front of the other. Find something to do. One of those things that has been hanging over my head? Yah, that would be good.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Anne Lamott just nailed it again with a piece about showing up and offering hope to others.

I really want to do that. I've been thinking so much lately about how I want to be more sensitive and more welcoming and encouraging. I want to be more understanding. I want to put myself in others' shoes. I want to be a minister of reconciliation, but I often don't know what to do. But still I can try.

Anne is one of the people who challenge me to be a better person. And yes, I was challenged by her writing once again. But the comments... Oh, the comments! Often I don't let myself read the comments - because it can be time consuming and mostly because internet comments are normally ignorant and infuriating. But I read some of them today. And today they were worth reading.
Here's one: Because of your book ... I went on my first hike today

And another: I just stood in the grocery weepily debating whether I could afford to squander my food stamps on cherries & chocolate for my birthday. No. But, dammit, my birthday is tomorrow, and I'm so discouraged ... and ... I really needed this today.

And one more: Thank you, Anne. Love and Hope are very much needed here in Australia today.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

These comments stir me. They inspire me. They help me put myself in those others' shoes. Oh, God, please help me to be an ambassador of healing to people like this. I really wish I could find that person and send cherries and chocolate for her birthday. I want to send hugs to the people of Sydney and the entire country of Australia after what they've been through. I want to pat that woman on the back and congratulate her for going on that first hike.

And I want to frame these comments and hold them up to Anne Lamott as a mirror to remind her of how many people she has helped.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So I messed up. And I will again. And that's okay.

Most of us have messy lives and can really use some understanding from other people.

I want to be one of those people.

What I DON'T want to be is one of those people who automatically points fingers of blame at people who mess up. Unfortunately, that finger-pointing routine tends to be my default setting. But I don't need to settle there. I can change that setting to a much more helpful one.

And that's good news.

　

　

Sunday sermon - always welcome, no matter what

Even delicate subjects could be introduced and discussed in this home. No heated discussions. An environment was cultivated in the home that assured openness and honesty.

The father waits for God to do what he cannot do. Dad was the magnet.

You're always welcome at home.

No matter what your condition.

No matter what others think of you.

The father became a model of authentic Christianity.
...

I came across these lines from a sermon preached by Mark Bolender at Brown City camp many many years ago - about the welcoming father in Luke 15.

What a contrast to some of the stories I've heard recently of Christian parents who make unrealistic demands on their kids and refuse to welcome them.

These modern day stories remind me more of the older brother - about whom Mark Bolender said this: The older brother lives by the clipboard. He was keeping a record. Older brothers are always around, keeping track of you. They are harder to please than the father, because they don't understand grace.
Ouch! I have been that older brother. Clipboard living is my natural tendency and it breaks my heart to recognize it in myself.

But I also know how it feels to be judged by the older brother. To try to please those who live by the clipboard. Those who keep records. Those who express their displeasure at attitudes, actions, beliefs or routines different from their own. Those who resent the father's love for the wanderer.
...

These lines are the few I chose to save from pages and pages of sermon notes in that one particular notebook. And there are yet more and more boxes of notebooks filled with sermon notes and all kinds of stuff from my years as a religious insider. Those piles of boxes seem somehow symbolic of all the things I was taught during those decades - and the things I taught to others. They were the foundation of my weltanschauung - my worldview.

Since being catapulted from that world of organized religion, and since beginning to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, I have a new perspective. A very different viewpoint.

It is important to note that as I have been processing all that I was taught to believe, I have tried to be careful not to throw out the baby with the bath water. That is an interesting process, by the way, because it requires first figuring out which is the baby - that which is precious, that which really matters and should be cherished. Identifying which is the really important makes it easier to let go of the rest - because it is simply dirty water.

So yes, it is interesting to be sorting through the bins and boxes from a lifetime lived in the same house while simultaneously sorting through the layers and layers of truths and Truth that I have willingly consumed over a lifetime of being a good kid. A rule-keeper. A pleaser who feared God and tried to please everybody. A fixer. An older brother - or an older sister anyway - who wanted to set a good example for others, but who also tended to impose my expectations on them. Someone who often struggled to sort through all the good trying to discern what is best.
...

This story in Luke 15 has always amazed me. I am attracted by the love shown by the father. I am saddened by the attitude of the older brother - whether seen in myself or in others around me.

Living by the clipboard is NOT the model of authentic Christianity. I don't want to live like that anymore. And you know what? I don't have to. We don't have to. We can choose to be critical clipboard-carrying older brothers. Or we can choose to be welcoming and loving. And that is one of the things that really matter.

God help us make the right choice. People's lives depend on it.

You say you love us...

The battle lines have been drawn and there is so much bad feeling in the air between gays and Christians. I admit being fearful to say almost anything because of the likely backlash. But my heart breaks. When I hear the awful things said about gays, part of me wants to ask the person speaking, "What if it were your son? Your daughter?" I want to ask if they have given any thought to how it would feel in that case. Or "If it were true that your son or daughter were gay, how would it feel for them to hear what you are saying?"

Unfortunately I know that there are sons and daughters hiding in fear because they have heard what dad or mom or grandpa or grandma or some other relative is saying. They have heard the rants and know that they are not welcome - as long as they are gay. They have tried everything they know to "pray away the gay" or to "be healed" or whatever it takes. They have read the books that have been pushed on them and heard the testimonials of gays who "are better now." Unfortunately they also know the vast number of people who can't brag about stories like that because their prayers were not answered so happily. If they want to be accepted, they dare not be honest; their only option is to hide in fear.

Why does this have to be a battle? Why do we Christians like to turn it into something that we have to win? Why can't we love gays just the way they are? You know, sort of like we love other people just the way they are. Well, at least we are supposed to.

I rarely hear Christians ranting about divorced people and their evil agenda - and I'm glad it is rare. I can't remember the last time I heard someone calling out an obese friend for their gluttony and remind them that they are going to hell because of it. I'm really glad about the grace that covers that sin. So why in the world do we treat gay people the way we do? It breaks my heart and yes, I believe it breaks the heart of God. There I said it. So go ahead and judge me for being an ally or a liberal.

I wasn't always an ally - and could barely be called one now because I really don't like to make my conservative friends mad at me. In fact I have been heard saying some of those conservative lines. I'm embarrassed now by how unloving I must have sounded. My "love" was not what you could call unconditional. That was before I really knew a gay person well enough to just love him. Just plain love him.  You know, like I loved other people, faults and all. Before I hung out long enough to know what my precious lesbian friend is really going through and before I felt her pain in my gut.

Sometimes when I talk about this, people reply, "I don't hate gays; I just want them to understand the consequences of their sin." That leaves me confused - because I don't see them following that same logic with other people. I mean we are talking about nice people who don't make it a practice of going around pointing out the faults and sins in other people. They don't demand their friends to be free from sin before they'll stand alongside them. They don't have a habit of lecturing and preaching at people about their sin. Except gay people.

I suppose that's why this post by Justin Lee hit me so hard.

If you love gay people, why doesn't it seem like it?

Missing the old days - Part Two

See Missing the old days - Part One here.
...

Once in awhile I miss the old days.  But not really...

...

I don't know that I have ever watched "Dancing with the Stars" and I don't know that I ever will. I have however seen a few episodes of other performance shows as well as the Olympics from time to time - enough to know there are two distinct sides to this brand of entertainment. There is the amazing talent, the emotion of the music, the personality of the performer, the beauty of the dance and the grace of the skaters - those are the wonders to behold and to celebrate.

Then there is the judging.   Oh, my, the judging - whether by the judges or the voting public.  The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. But also the harshness, the picky critiques, the heart-breaking put-downs. I suppose there is a place for performance judging in our world, but some of our worlds contain far too much judgment and pettiness and far too little celebration and grace.

...

Some of the oft-repeated rules in my old world were demanding and difficult.   

• If you are sick, you must not have enough faith. Maybe you're not praying enough. Maybe you should throw away your pills.
• You have to submit and be more surrendered.
• Try harder and believe more strongly.
• You must be willing to pay the price.
• We must live in victory - all the time.
• Perhaps you are being punished for not having consistent daily devotions.
• When God says "Jump" it is not your place to argue or to wonder why. It is simply yours to ask "How high?" (Yes, yes, that one was probably for my protection more than about my performance, but it didn't always sound that way.)

...

But in my new world, rather than a harsh raspy-voiced coach bellowing out orders to try harder, to jump higher, to throw farther, now I discover a loving father and I hear the new rules from his gentle voice. 

• Dance with me. Don't worry about stepping on my feet. In fact, some of the time, you can just stand on them and let me do the work - just like when you were little...
• It's not like DWTS. You will not be critiqued by judges. America will not vote on your performance.
• In fact, don't even think about an audience - because they don't matter. That's right; dance like no one is watching.
• Don't fret about how to keep the steps in order. Just relax and follow my lead. Lean in and feel the graceful rhythm.
• Let the music sink into your spirit and feel the breeze on your face.
• Enjoy the dance.
• Celebrate. 

...

I miss the old days like I miss having two left feet!  Being klutzy is no fun. Neither is always missing the mark.  Feeling like a failure gets really old.

Good-bye, Judgment.  Hello, Grace!

Shame on you!

Shame, shame; shame on you.

There seems to be lots of shame hurled around these days - epidemic proportions.  Maybe there's a new game on the market - called the blame and shame game.

Shame on you.

When is it appropriate to say that to another person?  Is it ever appropriate to say that to another person?  I'm not sure it ever is...

Oh, yah, I'm pretty sure that I used to say it, but now I wonder.

...

I do not like the feeling of shame - no matter the source.  It's one thing if I do something to bring it on myself and another totally different thing to have someone intentionally shame me.

Does shame accomplish any good purpose? 
Does it cause unnecessary harm?

...

I want to live a life of grace.

I want to receive grace and I want to extend grace.

I wonder where shame fits in a life of grace.

Hmmm...

Not sure how I feel about that

"Not sure how I feel about that."
Those are the words she said, but what I heard was more like, "I do not approve of that."
They sounded judgmental to my ears, almost like "I do not approve of you."

...

Different occasion:
"I'm not sure what to think about that."
Those were the words that came out of my mouth.  I did not mean them to be judgmental or disapproving, but I now realize that they may well sound that way in the ears of someone hearing them.  Someone who felt like I disapproved of them.

...

Two separate conversations.
Two separate issues.
Similar words.
Totally different understanding.
What made the difference?

 ...

Probably the main difference is that one time I was the hearer, the judged, from whom approval was being withheld.  In the other instance I was the speaker, and possibly the judge.

Is it possible that the first speaker did not intend to judge me? 
Maybe.  But I certainly felt judged.

Is it also possible that someone hearing the second conversation may have felt judged by me, may have felt the lack of my approval, even though that was not my intent?
Maybe.  I must admit that my words may have sounded like judgment.

...

Moral of the story:
Be aware that my words may come out sounding like disapproval even when I don't mean them that way.  Duh. 

Another difference could be the tone of the two conversations.  The first was full of questions - almost an interrogation.  The second was mostly listening.  Learning.

Yep, listening is usually a good thing.
I could learn to do more listening.

Assignment: free-write

This is an assignment for my writing class - to spend 15 minutes free-writing without stopping to edit or worrying about whether it makes sense - so please forgive the rambling.

...

Ready... go.

Okay; it’s time to free-write.
I seem to do lots of that. I write and then wonder where it came from or what to do with it. Or I come up with these great ideas of what to do with it, but then I fail to follow through. So I could be thrilled – that I have produced so much stuff. Or I could feel defeated that I have produced so little useful stuff.

Am I becoming schizophrenic?
I am confused for sure – especially when it comes to my writing. I used to feel a sense of purpose in my writing, but now not so much. Wait; is that true? I still feel passionate about writing and about so many topics, and I guess I do have some sense of purpose, but there is also conflict and confusion about what direction to take – or even what side to take.

I want to get free to write.
What do I even mean by that?
The obvious answer would be that I want to get free from fear – about what people will think – but I think there was a different meaning there. I think that I want to get free from the lingo. Having been in church all my life, the church lingo accent is pretty thick. It feels like I don’t know how to talk like normal people – because I’ve mostly talked with church people. I’m tired of that. I want to talk to real people in the real world and I don’t want to be frustrated by my inability to speak their language. Our purpose in the church is not just to talk to other people in the church. Aren’t we supposed to be the church? I’m trying to figure out what the crap it means to be the church, because I’m not so sure I have done a good job of being the church – even though I sure enough could “talk the talk.”

But you know what? I don’t even want to be known as the church. Whoa. Well, sometimes at least. Mostly I want to be known as someone who loves people and helps them where I can. Obviously, my motivation is tied to my identity as a Jesus-follower, but I wish the label weren’t so dang important.

So, yah, I don’t want my writing to be “Christian” – in that I don’t want that to be a descriptor – or do I? Sure, I want to honor God in what I do and I want to point people to Jesus, but I want to break free from the labels and the lingo.

Oh, and another thing. I wish I could quit being such a pompous Pharisee. Yah, yah, I am recovering. But unfortunately I still find myself judging people on externals. I am finally feeling a bit of freedom from letting myself be judged that way, and I sure don’t want to participate in doing that to others.

I wish to be part of a movement that builds people up rather than tearing them down. …

...

Judging the judgers

Casey Anthony was acquitted yesterday. By a jury, that is. But not by the masses. Nope. By them, she was judged, convicted AND sentenced to burn in hell. She is not the only one judged by the populous. The jury has also been deemed to be incompetent or corrupted - or something. Of course, some people also blame the prosecution for not doing their job. And what of the media who has chosen to give this trial so much air time? It seems that there is much blame to be thrown around.

I quickly admit that I haven't been following the details of the trial and that I certainly don't know enough about it to judge her or anyone else. However, I HAVE been in a courtroom enough times to know that the view from inside is vastly different than the one outside. I have sat on the jury enough times to know how tough it can be to remain objective. How agonizing to feel one way in your gut, but to not have confirmation by the evidence. To stay true to the law when it comes to reasonable doubt. What a heavy robe is worn by a juror!

I am also well aware that the jury has not heard the same things that we have heard. At least we can only hope that they have not heard all of the media hype. There's a reason why juries are sequestered; otherwise none of us could ever hope for a fair trial.

I found myself reacting to the reactions - to the instant anger, the sadness, the condemnation that was flying across the pages of the internet. How quickly we judge - with the confidence that our opinion, our information, our point-of-view is the correct one. That of course I know what I'm talking about and of course those people who decided differently are stupid or evil or inferior in some way.

In my desire to jump in and react to the reactions and the reactors, part of me wanted to say "Chill out a bit; is it possible that you don't have every detail at your disposal?" But another part was reacting angrily to the anger. I felt my own blood pressure rise a bit.

It was not until after I had distracted myself from the subject and was not so obsessed with it, that I realized that I was angry with the anger of the people who were judging the jury and in so doing I was judging THEM. Yep, I was judging the judgers.

Weird. But that's the way it works, isn't it? My idea is the right one, of course. My information is more correct than anyone else's; therefore my viewpoint is the wisest and best informed. Oh, yah, by the way, I'm not just talking about a court case anymore. I'm talking about life. I/we do it all the time. Why must I always be so quick to try to find a place to pin the blame? I've asked myself that question so many times. Am I not getting any better? Maybe I get better and then have relapses.

Is there an antidote? The only one I think of is to remember what it feels like to be falsely accused and wrongly judged. I know all too well what that feels like, too. So... can I give others the benefit of the doubt that I would like extended to me if I were the one in that chair - the defendant chair or a seat on the jury? Can I be grace-filled and compassionate to my friend who flies off the handle in judging someone else? Hmmm...

The bride

Best-selling author Anne Rice has renounced Christianity, but not Christ. Reactions to that news are varied: empathy, identification, sadness, judgment, scoffing, disagreement, admonition, anger, admiration, respect… My first reflex was to completely understand her frustration and to agree with some of her conclusions as stated on her Facebook page.

“Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being 'Christian' or to being part of Christianity. It's simply impossible for me to 'belong' to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I've tried. I've failed. I'm an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.

“I'm out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.”

I know that feeling of not belonging anymore, of not wanting to identify with the extreme right-wing group-think mentality that is so prevalent in evangelical circles. Like Ms. Rice, I am beginning to feel like an outsider – not from the body of Christ, mind you, but from the legalistic, anti-grace political machine of organized religion. For a very long time I’ve been sad that Christians have come to be known for what we’re against rather than what we are for and how we love.

Some are saying that they hope Anne Rice can find a loving caring segment of the body of Christ where she could be at home. I can agree with that wish, but maybe it misses the point she is making – that Christianity is becoming known for some ugly characteristics. Instead of pointing our fingers at her and being upset with her, shouldn't we be concerned about the things that are so very wrong within the church?

Interestingly, this is not a new problem. Jesus-followers in other parts of the world have avoided the term Christian for some time. When we in the West first heard of that happening, some of us judged their motives; perhaps they are trying to avoid persecution or are guilty of diluting the Gospel. In reality, they likely know more about persecution than we can even imagine. Instead the reason for avoiding this term is because it is an inaccurate label; it means something completely different in those cultures than it originally meant.

And now a similar phenomena is happening here in our own country - that the label "Christian" conjures up all kinds of hateful stereotypes. What are we to do about this perception? Different people come up with different tactics. Some choose to try to change Christianity into something that more closely resembles our leader. Others have given up on that attempt and feel that they must disassociate themselves from the hateful brand of Christianity that seems so un-Christlike. No matter which route you or I choose, somebody is going to find fault with it and question our wisdom and our motives as they have done with Anne Rice.

So what is the best God-honoring stance for me? Should I focus my energy and resources on trying to change the church? What can be done that might make a difference? Do we need to be part of the body of Christ? Does that mean that we must be members of the institutional church?

May God give Anne Rice wisdom to use her vast influence in a Jesus-honoring way. And God help me to be grace-filled and God-glorifying in my little world as well.

May the bride of Christ be beautiful and ready for her bridegroom.