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. 

What if I'm wrong?

For a long time I’ve been thinking about that question:  What if I’m wrong?  I try to ponder that possibility now and then because I think it is so important and it requires a little humility.

When I’m feeling a little cocky and wondering why other people can’t understand…

Seems like a good time to ask that question.

When I notice that I’m angry about some injustice…

That might be a good time to pause and ask again.

When I hear friends spewing some ridiculous dogma…

Okay; I admit I really want to ask THEM that question: What if you’re wrong?

But maybe it’s not my place to ask them or maybe it’s not the right time.

Then again, maybe it is.

In the meantime I will continue to ask myself: What if I’m wrong?

Asking myself questions

and 

Remembering Rachel Held Evans

June 8, 1981 to May 4, 2019

Rachel Held Evans was one of the first bloggers I ever read. Her words gave me hope in really difficult weeks and months.  Rachel dared to ask that question:   What if I’m wrong?  In fact that might be where I picked it up.

What a delight to watch and listen and read as Rachel wrote more and more stuff. 

I began to think of her as a little sister, but with big-sister wisdom, helping me figure out things that life threw at me. It was like I was growing along with her - or maybe a little behind her.

When I found ourselves suddenly outside the walls of religion and trying to figure out what I really believed, it was obvious that lots of things were man-made and less than noble.  With other things, it took a little longer to sort out those that were really true and worth clinging to. Rachel’s words and generous wisdom were invaluable during that process. 

Then suddenly, on this date three years ago, at age 37, she was gone.

...

Rachel's dear friend and fellow writer, Sarah Bessey, posted some great words and memories today and a wonderful photo.  Here are a few of her lines about Rachel:

Who kept the faith,

Who needed the Church enough to speak truth,

…

Who gave permission to a generation,

Who made origami out of hate mail,

…

Who was wickedly smart and hilarious,

Who always chose integrity and courage over making a profit or being palatable to the gatekeepers,

…

Who pulled up more chairs to the Table and scooted over to make room,

Who made us laugh and made us think,

Who was bold and courageous and kind,

Who would not be budged from her conviction that this Gospel is Good News for everyone,

Who moved to the margins because she knew this is the centre of God’s Story…

I am so grateful to have found Rachel’s words when I may have needed them most… and to continue to learn from them even while grieving over her being gone too soon.

I hope to follow her example to chose integrity and courage, to speak truth, to pull up more chairs at the Table, and scoot over to make room.

And may I always be willing to ask myself that question:  What if I’m wrong?

Somber day, somber year

Feels like a somber 4th this year.

Feels like a somber year.

So unusual

Weird

Surreal

No friends gathering in the back yard tonight to view the fireworks...

Because …  no fireworks show this year

No gathering with family for months now

No snuggling with grandkids…

...

I’ve always been grateful to be an American.

I used to be proud…

But this year, I am humbled and sad.

I am embarrassed about how little I really knew about the history of my country.

And so this Fourth of July finds me more serious.

• Somber
• Quieter - well, except for fireworks exploding every night for weeks now!
• More thoughtful
• More intentional
• Choosing to listen to voices that I have not bothered to hear before
• Choosing to listen and learn
• Noticing how I have benefited from racism
• Processing how to handle my privilege

...

Speaking of privilege... 

Takes me back to my years in church leadership.

I used to preach sermons about a proper attitude about our blessings.

I used to sign my letters with the closing, "Blessed to be a blessing"

Because I really believed that I was...  blessed SO THAT I could be a blessing.

And I still believe that.  

I still want to use my blessings to bless other people.

That's the kind of person I want to be.

"With great blessing

comes great responsibility..."

But there was so much I did not realize.

It had not occurred to me that some of my blessings and some of my privilege came at such an unfair cost to others.  Well, maybe I knew parts of it.  Bits and pieces.  But maybe I had not yet taken time to get quiet and somber enough to sit under the truth that so many of our systems are cruel and unjust.  

Methinks this processing will be a LONG journey.  

But I have started.

…

On this day commemorating freedom and independence, I am embarking on a quest to learn how to stand for freedom for those Americans whose skin is darker than mine.  

I have much to learn.

I wish I had known better sooner.

I wish I were farther along.

But I am where I am.

And I can only start where I am.

Now I choose to know better. 

... so that I can do better.

Life and love

I celebrated Easter as an "insider" for nearly 6 decades.
I have now celebrated a dozen more Easters as an outsider.  
Landing outside those religious walls came as a total shock to me and a source of great sadness. But then I began sorting and soul-searching and seeking for truth and figuring out what I really believe and which things are worth building my life on... 

Jesus ends up at the top of my list.  

I want to follow his words and his example. 

I want to love like he loved.  
I want to be a person of grace.

I had just been pondering something I wrote during those years in exile…  about the fact that I often find myself stuck "in the middle" between friends at opposite ends of the spectrum.  Sure enough this pandemic where we currently find ourselves is one of those times when lines have been drawn and I find myself with friends on both extremes.  

In some ways and at some times, the middle is a good place to be, but there are other times when I might need to lean one way or the other.  Sometimes it's tough to know which way to lean.

Naturally I tend to err on the side of caution.  

But I hope that I also err on the side of love and compassion and kindness and grace.  The side of life and love and health and healing.  That's the direction I want to lean.

I guess you could say that is my religion.

That's how I want to live my life.

What's your excuse?

 

We all have excuses. Good excuses. Bad excuses.

There are really good reasons why we do the things we do... Good reasons why we choose not to do other things. But sometimes the things that seem like good reasons turn out to be just excuses.

We make choices and those choices bring about consequences. Some of those consequences turn into obstacles for our future choices. When we come to a point where we really want to make big changes in our lives, we bump into those obstacles and have new choices to make. It can be a vicious cycle.

 

Obstacles make pretty good excuses to stay where we are. Unless, of course, we get to the point where we don't want them to block us anymore - at which point we can decide to do something about them. Of course, it won't always be easy. And sometimes it may not even be possible to remove the obstacles. But we will probably never find out until we try.

Allison Vesterfelt has experience with letting good reasons become excuses - obstacles that kept her from achieving her goals. Fortunately, she has also learned much about dismantling those excuses. In this article she deals with some of the most common excuses I've heard - AND used:

• I don't have the money.
• I don't have the time.
• It's not possible.

Yes, sometimes those are true. Sometimes they are valid reasons. But sometimes they are not really good reasons. Sometimes they are simply excuses.


 What's your excuse?

Have you taken time to examine it carefully?

Is it a good reason? Or is it simply an excuse?

Is there something you can do about it?


What are you willing to do?


...


I keep asking myself what I am willing to do about my excuses.

STILL not done!

I woke up feeling pretty overwhelmed again - about all my stuff! I still feel buried under it. That's kinda' sad - since I was hoping to be free by now. I guess I feel powerless about my lack of ability to let go of more stuff. There is so much I could/should have gotten rid of by now, and I feel embarrassed and discouraged about it.

We went back to the farm again yesterday to deal with the leftovers in that one shed. Bitter cold out there. Too cold to work outside or in the shed or the RV. I just couldn't seem to concentrate or focus or make any decisions about what should go where. However hubby insisted that we made good progress. At this point, I want more than progress; I want to be DONE!!!

We did load a bunch of stuff in the truck and we did make numerous stops. Dropped another pile off at the thrift store and more at the storage unit and brought the rest down here.

Funny thing! The guy at the thrift store saw us pull up with our load of stuff and immediately started clearing space for it. I quickly explained that it was not all coming there.

Another memorable moment at the storage unit - when we searched for a metal folding chair that my mom had requested... I was able to spot it in the flashlight beam - about halfway back. We moved 2 or 3 things out of the way so that hubby could squish through what was left of our center aisle until he was able to barely reach it. Finding the oomph to lift it up out of the tightly-packed 3-D puzzle at that wacky angle and that distance and then hoisting it over everything between it and us seemed doubtful, but he did it!!! His mother-in-law has no idea what he went through to rescue that chair for her!!!

And then back to our new home with the rest of the load. That's when the shame sets in again. I don't want hubby or anybody else to have to haul around all of my boxes of things that I SHOULD have gotten rid of. And I don't like taking up so much space in this room in our daughter's house. I feel really impatient with myself for hanging on to so much stuff!!!

All kinds of feelings of failure and worthlessness threaten to pull me down. I feel silly. I feel discouraged. I feel sad. And I feel overwhelmed and powerless.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But I'm not. I am not powerless.
I am not a failure.
I can still choose to tell myself the truth.
I HAVE made progress. HUGE progress.
I can recognize that I am physically (and mentally and emotionally) exhausted and probably fighting some kind of respiratory bug which saps my energy - what's left of it.
I can choose to be kind to myself.

And when I start in on today's project of trying to whip this last load of stuff into some semblance of order, I can remind myself to focus on just one box at a time. Piece by piece.

AND I don't have to fear what others think of me.

AND that I can only do what I can do.

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.

How I Got Free

How did it happen?
How did I get free from my fear of what people think of me?

That's the question my friend asked me after I posted this quote: "The greatest prison people live in is the fear of what other people think." Maybe I bragged a little about how good it feels to finally get free.  Maybe just a humble brag...
 
But how did it happen? she asked, so I decided to try to answer. As if I have it all figured out and have now arrived at the state of "no fear." Yah, I don't think so.

How did it happen? 
How indeed.

There is no simple answer, no magic list of steps to freedom. Instead it has been (and still is) a journey. A bumpy journey with scary twists and turns, steep hills to climb and slippery slopes to avoid. It has taken a combination of factors to get me turned around and on the road to health and freedom.

Probably the real turning point was when I started to ponder whose opinion really matters in my life. I can't possibly please everybody.  Of course I know that.  But still I tried. Oh, yah, I was a classic pleaser. I did not want to disappoint anybody.  Eventually, slowly, oh so slowly, I realized that by trying to please all those people out there somewhere, I ended up neglecting the very ones who really mattered - those closest to me and even myself.

Beginning to understand healthy boundaries has been a huge part of my healing and I am so grateful. It is such a simple concept, but so often overlooked. One of the most helpful books in my library is "Boundaries" by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend. When I notice that something is out of whack in the ways I'm relating to other people, I pull that baby off the shelf and read it again. It is so dog-eared and marked up that I find myself hoping it will survive my lifetime because I suppose I might need to be reminded of its truth until the day I die. 

Basically the concept and the book are simply about responsibility, about learning what is my responsibility and what isn't. I appreciate the simple illustration of the fence between adjoining city lots being the boundary line of responsibility.  Yes, it is my responsibility to take care of my yard, but not to take care of my neighbor's yard.  While it is noble to be generous and helpful, people like me sometimes find ourselves "over-helping" with other people's responsibilities and thereby neglecting our own.

It has taken more than a little while to learn this new pattern and to recognize when it is necessary to stop and think about who I am responsible to. Who should I fear? When it comes right down to it, who do I really want to please? These questions are packaged tightly with a whole bunch of spiritual growth principles as well as mental health implications; therefore they require patient wisdom in sorting through them.

But I'm getting all philosophical here...

So yah, I need to figure out who it is that I want to please. Once I realize that I don't need to please John Doe, I no longer need to fear his displeasure. Whoa. That's true, isn't it? I mean, that is really true. I don't know that I've ever thought of it exactly like that before. If it doesn't matter what he thinks of me, well, then, why would I be afraid of him and his opinion? Wow! That really is freeing.

But the old patterns are strong.  Intimidation is a powerful force.  Fear creeps back.  That chronic helpless feeling that appears under the weight of manipulation and indimidation can be an incredibly tough habit to break.

This has not been a one-time deal for me. To the contrary, it pops up over and over and over again - sometimes with the same person, then at times with someone else. The fear may coincide with a position of power or authority or it may come with a specific relationship or role complicated by expectations or family history - like what a good son (or daughter or mother) should do.

Ah, yes, expectations. It can feel like everybody has expectations of us, demands they make, wishes they express. Because of this person's position over me (as I see it) I might find myself cowering with fear while scrambling to do everything within my power to please him or to fulfill her wishes and demands. Of course, I may also begin to feel resentful for being forced to perform on demand. In extreme cases we may even realize that we are moving toward a master/slave mentality.

How do I get free from this fear? By knowing the truth. Yep, one of my favorite people once said something about how knowing the truth shall set you free. Sure enough.

But what is the truth? I think it starts with what I've just talked about - figuring out what is appropriate, what is right in terms of bowing to the will of other people. However, I must admit that even just hearing the truth and trying to apply it can be complicated and guilt-inducing. I remember years and years and years of sermons about being a God-pleaser rather than a man-pleaser. About fearing God rather than man. A noble, lofty principle. Oh, how I used to long to be a God-fearer rather than a man-fearer.  Unfortunately wishing doesn't make it happen. So how in the world could I make it true for me?

Finally, I began to learn that I had to first recognize the things that were embedded in my brain that were NOT true. As long as I believed that I must fear this particular man, or that group of people, or the vague invisible "they" who always seemed to be unhappy about something, this fear couldn't help but occupy my thoughts and sap my energy. This false belief could keep me on my toes in a terribly negative way; let's just say it was not a happy dance.

Gradually, tentatively, I took steps to examine my beliefs - to test and see if they were valid.  When I noticed that I felt fear about someone's opinion, I learned to ask myself why it had surfaced. Is it appropriate for me to fear this person? Do I owe him something? Do I have a responsibility to make him happy? It took repeated "sessions" of asking and answering those questions before I began to get free from that person. And then another one would pop up. Someone else who wanted a piece of me. Someone else who loved me and had a wonderful plan for my life.

One by one, over and over again, I would ask and answer the questions. What is my responsibility to this person? Over and over again, I had to remind myself that this person was not my ultimate authority, not the person whose approval I need to seek.

It is important to note that this was not something I did all by myself. This journey, this battle is not the time or place for the Lone Ranger. I don't know how I could have made this journey alone. Good friends and encouragers are absolutely necessary to this process. I needed them to help me be objective. I needed them to remind me to ask those questions. I needed them to help me see the truth once again or to recognize the faulty thinking I had accepted - once again. I needed them to teach me the 12-step method for healing damaged emotions. I needed them to help me sort out whether it was time to seek professional counseling. Sometimes I needed them to help me rehearse for a possible encounter with a boundary-busting wannabe-authority-figure in my life. I even needed them to remind me to pull the "Boundaries" book off the shelf one more time.

If raising a child takes a village, and if healing damaged emotions requires a support group, it is easy to see that I need people around me in my struggle.  But they must be the right kind of people. They must understand healthy boundaries themselves. They must have a commitment to truth and wellness. They need wisdom and discernment to help me see when my perception has become clouded and when my vision needs correction. These are the people I must surround myself with.

There is another group of people who are not the right kind to be around for this season of healing.  'Tis true; some people fall into the "wise to avoid" category.  As much as it is possible and practical,  I am learning to minimize my time with these people when it is within my power. These would be the blamers and shamers - never a healthy bunch to hang around. This group would also include those who seem to specialize in complaining, demanding, gossiping and grumbling. I need to avoid these like the plague because those habits are contagious and deadly.   Please hear what I am NOT saying here.  I do not mean to imply that the people in this group are villains; otherwise I'd have to count myself because I've done my share of blaming and shaming and all the rest.  What I AM saying is that these habits create a toxic environment and I am wise to stay away.

Ah, yes; such a complex question - one that I've barely begun to answer.  Such a crazy journey - one that I've barely begun to walk.  But yes, at this point in my journey, I would have to say that my best companions have been people and truth. Good people. Healthy people. Wise people.  People who can point me to truth. Truth that sets me free. 


 

Five-minute Friday: HERE

Five-minute Friday - when we set the timer & write for five minutes - with no editing
Today's word: HERE

...

I am here - stuck in the middle.
On Facebook.
In social settings.
In life.

I have lots of right-wing conservative friends and I also have a bunch of flaming liberal friends - well, and pretty much everything in between. And I like that. Sometimes. But sometimes not so much. Some days Facebook is not a comfortable place to be - what with all of the colorful posters and two-word slogans screaming from my news feed. Then there are the days when I might want to post something heartfelt - like "I really like Michele Obama" - or some other potentially controversial status. But I think twice - or thrice or more times - because I'm pretty sure SOMEBODY will yell at me. Well, maybe not yell, but scold me or condemn me or jump down my throat or something. Or lecture me. Or label me.

Sometimes I'm tempted to de-friend everybody who disagrees with me - but then I wouldn't have any friends. Besides these are my friends. I like them. AND I can learn from my friends on both sides.

Besides most of the time I kinda' like being HERE - stuck in the middle - even though it feels like I don't belong anywhere. Here is where I am. Here can be a pretty good place.

...

I have both conservative and liberal parts within me and I think I can understand both viewpoints. I hope that I am conservative in the best sense of the word - as in conserving resources, taking good care of people and things and responsibilities. I admit that I am naturally conservative when it comes to being cautious or wanting to do the right thing. On the other hand, I also hope that I am liberal in the best meanings of that term - that I am generous and lavish - extravagant even - with my love and compassion, with my respect and loyalty, with service and helpfulness, and most of all with grace.

Yep, I am HERE - stuck in the middle. And that's okay.

Windows

The big house had lots of windows. The family room had one entire wall of ten windows and the dining room also had ten windows – spread around three sides of the room. Each of the bedrooms had at least 2 windows. In the big house, we could gaze out at the world around us while staying comfortable and insulated from the weather. In fact, I have whole photo albums – like “my windows on winter” – recording the outside beauty from inside vantage points. However, this new place has only three windows – meaning that I can’t see what’s happening out there from inside. I must step outside to enjoy or to assess the surroundings. I must make myself vulnerable and get out there. Yikes. 

It rather reminds me of my former existence within the institutional church. I was happily occupied with all kinds of ministries. I could observe the world around me while staying safe and comfortable – insulated from the conditions out there. I even hosted an annual event that I called "window on the world."

However, now that I am outside the walls, I feel vulnerable and more than a bit uncomfortable. But I also realize that “out here” is where I need to be if I want to engage the culture and really live the love of Jesus. My perspective was in dire need of correction – which could have only happened outside. I must now learn how to live and love out here in the real world.

Should pastors tell the truth?

Rachel Evans is becoming one of my favorite bloggers. She often tackles the tough issue of doubt which gives me courage to face mine.

This week she wrote a letter to pastors challenging them to tell their people the truth. Here's a brief sampling:

Dear Pastors,

Tell us the truth.

Tell us the truth when you don’t know the answers to our questions, and your humility will set the example as we seek them out together.

Tell us the truth about your doubts, and we will feel safe sharing our own.
...
Tell us the truth when you fall short, and we will drop our measuring sticks.

Tell us the truth when all that’s left is hope, and we start digging for it.

I was rather excited that such truth-telling would be encouraged.
But not so fast!
She received so many responses from pastors who feel like they are not allowed to tell the truth and/or they suffer consequences when they do.
Now I'm sad. So very sad.