I used to think that there was one right way to be a Christian. In my mind, there was no room for theological differences, or even differences in some preferences. No nuance, no sliding scales, no sometimes or maybes. Simple black and white. My whole childhood was black and white, everything fit into neat, tidy boxes. I remember well the discomfort in high school when I bumped into people with different beliefs; I didn't want any conflict, but they were wrong. I went to a college that was linked with my childhood denomination, and though that school officially agreed with what I had been taught my whole life, I met Christians from different backgrounds. Sure, we agreed on more or less most of the same things, but there was a hint of Christian diversity in my bubble for the first time.
My experience leaving college was messy and painful, and it pretty much destroyed any part of me that was still consciously hanging onto that black and white framework. I had seen too much to believe neat, tidy boxes were the way to sort my faith. As I spent the next years trying to put my life back together and figure out how to navigate as an adult, I found other people of faith who taught me great things. I discovered blogs and books and regular people just doing their best to love Jesus.
I grew up believing that rigidity was the mark of a true Christian. Now I believe that the best posture I can take is one of openness. I know full well that just as I've discarded many things I held onto dearly in the past, one day I may let go of beliefs I hold strongly now. I am more comfortable with uncertainty; I embrace it, in fact. I find great relief in admitting that I don't understand a lot, and there are so many things I don't know.
Sure, there is a part of me that still like rules. I like the tidiness of knowing what's right and what's wrong. But the messy uncertainty of learning to love freely is infinitely more rewarding than checking off boxes for good behavior, even when I know I'm falling short of loving well. The more I discover others who are throwing out checklists in favor of radical love, the less alone I feel, and the more excited I get about the love of Christ. That's when it feels magical, which is the unspiritual way of saying that I think the Holy Spirit likes it when we chase love and share love and revel in love.
Intellectually I have it all sorted out (as much as you can ever sort things out). I know what I feel in my heart, how I want to love and be loved and not feel as if I have to earn love. The reality is that I still have the echos of my childhood rules flitting through my head, so sometimes (OK, a lot of the time), I still feel as if I need to check off all the boxes even though my brain tells me the boxes are no longer helpful for me or even good for me. Often I am able to help block those echos by reading authors whose work speaks to the part of my heat that loves rather than the authors who like lists. Authors like Sarah Bessey and Glennon Doyle Melton make me feel like the only box I need to check is the one that asks if I am trying to love people (including myself). No caveats, no followup questions, not even a perfect response or completion. I like to remind myself that generally everyone is just trying to do the best they can, and that means I need to accept that my best probably doesn't equal perfection, but that's OK because nobody's does.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Why Christian?
I've been trying to figure out how to talk about the Why Christian? conference I attended a few weeks ago without sharing every single detail, because the details matter less than the big picture. I chose to attend the conference because I had been greatly impacted by the writing of the hosts of the conference (Rachel Held Evans and Nadia Bolz-Weber), plus WX15 was in my backyard (aka Minneapolis), so it was logistically possible to attend.
Big picture: the Holy Spirit was moving in St. Mark's Cathedral. Every woman who stood before the crowd shared her story, shared her love for Jesus. To see strong, female leaders of such diversity was something I had never seen, and it was, quite simply, a thing of beauty. To hear from women of different denominations, different ethnicities, different sexual orientations, different lives all share the one thing they had in common was so powerful. It makes me think of Paul's words in Gal 2:28, "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."
So often in Christianity it feels like we are talking about how we're different. How we're different from the world, how we're different from those Christians over there who are doing it wrong, how we're not like THOSE people over there. It was so life-giving to celebrate our commonalities instead and have our differences fall to the wayside in light of truth of who Jesus is.
Jesus chose to inhabit a human body. He lived among regular, ordinary people. He was the recipient of judgment, scorn, and violence. And yet he loves us. His love is so much bigger than I can even dare to imagine. One of the most powerful moments of the weekend for me was receiving communion. At my churches we've always had a pass-the-plate or go-get-your-elements-and-then-take-it-to-your-seat-so-we-can-take-it-together sort of approach to communion. Taking communion at St. Mark's was different. I was looked in the eye and told that Jesus broke his body for me, that he shed his blood for me. For ME. It was intimate and personal in a way communion has never been for me, and so different from the shame and guilt that often leaves me not participating in communion at my own church.
I spent so much of day two (Saturday) in tears. Part of that was grieving the loss of my aunt who passed away that morning. Part of it was simply responding to the stirring in my soul. When redemption and grace showed up in the form of Amazing Grace played on the trombone, when I was told I am worth Christ's sacrifice, when my soul yearned for a kingdom where our pain and hurt will be no more and our sorrow is turned to joy, I couldn't help but weep. And let me be clear: I am not a public cryer. I think I've only cried in front of my therapist twice in the six and a half years we've worked together. It's really a testament that I felt safe enough even among strangers to let my heart flow through my eyes.
That weekend was the first time I'd ever heard gay, bi, and trans people share their stories in person from a place of wholeness. My whole life I have been told that first and foremost gay people are sinning. That's always what the emphasis was. At Why Christian? gender and sexual orientation were not the emphasis. Sure, people talked about them as they pertained to their own stories and the church in general, but the emphasis was love and passion for Jesus. How Jesus loves us as we are. How God created us and it was good. It was such a beautiful reminder to see the dignity in every human being, to call out and respect the Imago Dei in each of us. I felt so deeply in my soul the importance of loving others well, especially the people we don't understand, the people on the fringes, the people who are hurting. I felt the importance of loving myself, of recognizing God's love for me even when I feel my sin disqualifies me from being worthy of love.
Love God, love others. This is how I've been describing my faith lately. I just don't know about so many things, but I know that I believe in love. I truly believe that the love that was shown among the conference speakers and attendees was a sliver of a taste of what God's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven will be like. It was such a sacred, moving, healing experience. I was reminded of why I choose to be a Christian even when I doubt, even when I face unspeakable loss, even when I am in the depths of despair and when my friends let me down. I cling to the hope of love like Christ showed, that he laid down his life for us. Love is powerful. That's what keeps me hanging on for dear life in the depths of my soul even when I feel like I'm drowning. It is an addicting, intoxicating love, and even when I can't feel it or even believe it fully, I have the hope that it's true.
I am so grateful for the stories shared, for the grace extended, for the unity displayed. I was changed at WX15 and so very encouraged. God is love, and love wins.
Big picture: the Holy Spirit was moving in St. Mark's Cathedral. Every woman who stood before the crowd shared her story, shared her love for Jesus. To see strong, female leaders of such diversity was something I had never seen, and it was, quite simply, a thing of beauty. To hear from women of different denominations, different ethnicities, different sexual orientations, different lives all share the one thing they had in common was so powerful. It makes me think of Paul's words in Gal 2:28, "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."
So often in Christianity it feels like we are talking about how we're different. How we're different from the world, how we're different from those Christians over there who are doing it wrong, how we're not like THOSE people over there. It was so life-giving to celebrate our commonalities instead and have our differences fall to the wayside in light of truth of who Jesus is.
Jesus chose to inhabit a human body. He lived among regular, ordinary people. He was the recipient of judgment, scorn, and violence. And yet he loves us. His love is so much bigger than I can even dare to imagine. One of the most powerful moments of the weekend for me was receiving communion. At my churches we've always had a pass-the-plate or go-get-your-elements-and-then-take-it-to-your-seat-so-we-can-take-it-together sort of approach to communion. Taking communion at St. Mark's was different. I was looked in the eye and told that Jesus broke his body for me, that he shed his blood for me. For ME. It was intimate and personal in a way communion has never been for me, and so different from the shame and guilt that often leaves me not participating in communion at my own church.
I spent so much of day two (Saturday) in tears. Part of that was grieving the loss of my aunt who passed away that morning. Part of it was simply responding to the stirring in my soul. When redemption and grace showed up in the form of Amazing Grace played on the trombone, when I was told I am worth Christ's sacrifice, when my soul yearned for a kingdom where our pain and hurt will be no more and our sorrow is turned to joy, I couldn't help but weep. And let me be clear: I am not a public cryer. I think I've only cried in front of my therapist twice in the six and a half years we've worked together. It's really a testament that I felt safe enough even among strangers to let my heart flow through my eyes.
That weekend was the first time I'd ever heard gay, bi, and trans people share their stories in person from a place of wholeness. My whole life I have been told that first and foremost gay people are sinning. That's always what the emphasis was. At Why Christian? gender and sexual orientation were not the emphasis. Sure, people talked about them as they pertained to their own stories and the church in general, but the emphasis was love and passion for Jesus. How Jesus loves us as we are. How God created us and it was good. It was such a beautiful reminder to see the dignity in every human being, to call out and respect the Imago Dei in each of us. I felt so deeply in my soul the importance of loving others well, especially the people we don't understand, the people on the fringes, the people who are hurting. I felt the importance of loving myself, of recognizing God's love for me even when I feel my sin disqualifies me from being worthy of love.
Love God, love others. This is how I've been describing my faith lately. I just don't know about so many things, but I know that I believe in love. I truly believe that the love that was shown among the conference speakers and attendees was a sliver of a taste of what God's kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven will be like. It was such a sacred, moving, healing experience. I was reminded of why I choose to be a Christian even when I doubt, even when I face unspeakable loss, even when I am in the depths of despair and when my friends let me down. I cling to the hope of love like Christ showed, that he laid down his life for us. Love is powerful. That's what keeps me hanging on for dear life in the depths of my soul even when I feel like I'm drowning. It is an addicting, intoxicating love, and even when I can't feel it or even believe it fully, I have the hope that it's true.
I am so grateful for the stories shared, for the grace extended, for the unity displayed. I was changed at WX15 and so very encouraged. God is love, and love wins.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Inundated with Depression
I have spent pretty much all of today immersed in depression. I felt it in my heart, my head, read it with my eyes, listened to a talk about depression, cried tears related to depression, craved (and ate) sugar because of depression. It's been rolling over and through me in wave after wave.
I felt raw all day. Last night I cried and stayed up too late trying to sort out how I felt. Today I read blog after blog about depression. When a beloved actor commits suicide, people share all their thoughts about mental illness, even the ones that are ignorant and hurtful. People who should have just listened spoke and caused harm instead of healing.
I've been listening to Jason Gray's latest album for the last few days. He doesn't really have a unique sound. He fits right in with the typical Christian pop music melody-wise. It's his lyrics that make him stand out from the crowd. His songs are the most honest songs I've ever heard.
I keep holding on to the lyrics from the end of this song: "You don't even have to speak/Just sit with me in the ashes here/And together we can pray for peace/To the one acquainted with our grief." It's just the worst when I risk being vulnerable, take off my mask, and let someone know how I've really been doing, how much depression has really been hurting me, and they try to fix it or they brush it off. Sometimes more than anything I just want a friend to bring me some ice cream and sit with me while we watch a couple episodes of Friends. I just want someone to be there, to sit with me in the pain, to walk beside me as I try to make it long enough for it to get better.
I've been feeling incredibly lonely over the past few months. I've been fighting depression mostly by myself. I've had long-distance support from my best friend who lives on the West Coast, and of course my therapist helps. But I'm still left alone most of the time. I was thinking tonight that fighting depression is like training for sports competition. I should disclose that my only experience with playing sports outside of gym class in high school was when I played flag football in college, so the analogy probably isn't perfect. But it's fourth and goal and I'm going for it (I'm so full of sports knowledge!).
I spend all day every day training (fighting depression). I know that I need help to know how to train better, more efficiently, so I hired a coach (counselor/therapist). He gives advice, educates, cheers me on. It's a special kind of relationship, but it's professional. I need more help than just one person can give me, more support, so I've sought out some teammates, as it were (other people who are walking their own journey of mental health). I've attended a depression support group a few times, and it is so encouraging to know I'm not the only one going through this. So now I feel like there are other people on the field who are working towards the same goal I am, and if we help each other we can all get closer to the goal (making it through each day, getting to a place where we feel more in control of our mental illness). What's missing are fans (friends). Fans just show up and cheer on the athletes. They're supportive even though they can't hop on the field and play the game for me. This is a game where critics are not welcome, but fans are deeply appreciated. I keep looking up at the stands hoping for someone to smile and wave at me, cheering me on, but the stands are empty. My family loves me, and I love them dearly, but they don't live near me. It's like they're watching on TV; they're cheering me on, but it's not the same as watching the game live. The thing about fans that is so great is that they're there only if they want to be. I pay my coach. He's totally on my team, helping me, cheering me on, but it's different. I want people to choose to root for me just because they care about me and believe in me. People who are actively in my life because they live here and they like me.
So all these thoughts and feelings have been rolling around in my head. I'm trying to sort out my faith in the midst of feeling like church is harming more than helping. I started trying to connect with God in different ways and discovered that I love going to mass at the catholic cathedral a mile from my apartment. It brings peace to my soul. It feels a little weird to share all this, to talk about how much depression hurts, to talk about how I'm trying new things which is scary but helpful. Tonight I was at a talk on depression, and after the speaker shared his own story of dealing with depression and anxiety, he shared some scripture. He talked about how the Bible is testimony, and there is tension between the testimonies it contains. The primary testimony is how God relates to the people with whom he chooses to be in relationship, how he sees them, rescues them, loves them. And there are testimonies that are in direct opposition to that primary testimony, people who acknowledge how God has shown up for their ancestors, but they also cry out asking why God has forsaken them. Thinking about how the Bible is a collection of people sharing how they have or haven't encountered God made me want to testify the truth of my life right now. I felt compelled to share more about what depression is like for me, what trying to find God and faith in the midst of the pain is like. For years now I've hoped that somehow my experiences, my story, my testimony could somehow help someone else. They can't do that if I keep everything to myself and hide behind a mask of "I'm fine," so for now this blog feels like a safe way to experiment with sharing.
I felt raw all day. Last night I cried and stayed up too late trying to sort out how I felt. Today I read blog after blog about depression. When a beloved actor commits suicide, people share all their thoughts about mental illness, even the ones that are ignorant and hurtful. People who should have just listened spoke and caused harm instead of healing.
I've been listening to Jason Gray's latest album for the last few days. He doesn't really have a unique sound. He fits right in with the typical Christian pop music melody-wise. It's his lyrics that make him stand out from the crowd. His songs are the most honest songs I've ever heard.
I keep holding on to the lyrics from the end of this song: "You don't even have to speak/Just sit with me in the ashes here/And together we can pray for peace/To the one acquainted with our grief." It's just the worst when I risk being vulnerable, take off my mask, and let someone know how I've really been doing, how much depression has really been hurting me, and they try to fix it or they brush it off. Sometimes more than anything I just want a friend to bring me some ice cream and sit with me while we watch a couple episodes of Friends. I just want someone to be there, to sit with me in the pain, to walk beside me as I try to make it long enough for it to get better.
I've been feeling incredibly lonely over the past few months. I've been fighting depression mostly by myself. I've had long-distance support from my best friend who lives on the West Coast, and of course my therapist helps. But I'm still left alone most of the time. I was thinking tonight that fighting depression is like training for sports competition. I should disclose that my only experience with playing sports outside of gym class in high school was when I played flag football in college, so the analogy probably isn't perfect. But it's fourth and goal and I'm going for it (I'm so full of sports knowledge!).
I spend all day every day training (fighting depression). I know that I need help to know how to train better, more efficiently, so I hired a coach (counselor/therapist). He gives advice, educates, cheers me on. It's a special kind of relationship, but it's professional. I need more help than just one person can give me, more support, so I've sought out some teammates, as it were (other people who are walking their own journey of mental health). I've attended a depression support group a few times, and it is so encouraging to know I'm not the only one going through this. So now I feel like there are other people on the field who are working towards the same goal I am, and if we help each other we can all get closer to the goal (making it through each day, getting to a place where we feel more in control of our mental illness). What's missing are fans (friends). Fans just show up and cheer on the athletes. They're supportive even though they can't hop on the field and play the game for me. This is a game where critics are not welcome, but fans are deeply appreciated. I keep looking up at the stands hoping for someone to smile and wave at me, cheering me on, but the stands are empty. My family loves me, and I love them dearly, but they don't live near me. It's like they're watching on TV; they're cheering me on, but it's not the same as watching the game live. The thing about fans that is so great is that they're there only if they want to be. I pay my coach. He's totally on my team, helping me, cheering me on, but it's different. I want people to choose to root for me just because they care about me and believe in me. People who are actively in my life because they live here and they like me.
So all these thoughts and feelings have been rolling around in my head. I'm trying to sort out my faith in the midst of feeling like church is harming more than helping. I started trying to connect with God in different ways and discovered that I love going to mass at the catholic cathedral a mile from my apartment. It brings peace to my soul. It feels a little weird to share all this, to talk about how much depression hurts, to talk about how I'm trying new things which is scary but helpful. Tonight I was at a talk on depression, and after the speaker shared his own story of dealing with depression and anxiety, he shared some scripture. He talked about how the Bible is testimony, and there is tension between the testimonies it contains. The primary testimony is how God relates to the people with whom he chooses to be in relationship, how he sees them, rescues them, loves them. And there are testimonies that are in direct opposition to that primary testimony, people who acknowledge how God has shown up for their ancestors, but they also cry out asking why God has forsaken them. Thinking about how the Bible is a collection of people sharing how they have or haven't encountered God made me want to testify the truth of my life right now. I felt compelled to share more about what depression is like for me, what trying to find God and faith in the midst of the pain is like. For years now I've hoped that somehow my experiences, my story, my testimony could somehow help someone else. They can't do that if I keep everything to myself and hide behind a mask of "I'm fine," so for now this blog feels like a safe way to experiment with sharing.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Rubber Ducks and Anchors
I was thinking about my rubber duck today and had an epiphany.
One of my greatest flaws is my tendency to get swept away by my emotions. I don't mean that in some sort of romantic, happy way. I get swept away in a way that makes it seem like when I feel something, that feeling trumps everything else. When I feel alone, that feeling tends to trump the truth that God is always with me. When I feel worthless, it trumps the truth that Jesus paid the highest price for my salvation.
I have been working hard to improve in this area, and I think especially in the last few months I've started to see some maturity there. I'd describe my life in 2014 as spiritually turbulent. I've been asking really hard questions and finding no satisfactory answer. I've been reading scripture that I can't make sense of and that makes me feel angry and sad. I've cried during sermons and stood silent during worship, unable to utter words that I don't know if I mean. And through all this I've been faithfully praying and reading my Bible, serving in church regularly, having deep conversations with friends, pushing through this chaotic storm just trying to hang on until the waters calm.
This brings me to the rubber duck. A few years ago a friend of mine was being supportive through a similar time of spiritual turbulence. She encouraged me to just keep floating on the water and ride out the storm. She then spent the next week or two looking for just the right rubber ducks before she gifted me one duck with a pirate hat, eye patch, and striped shirt and one duck that was blue so I would have a tangible reminder to ride out the storm.
So I was gazing at my pirate duck (the one I keep on my work desk) and thinking about storms and water when the lyrics "and this hope is an anchor for my soul" floated through my mind. When I think of anchors, I tend to think of sinking and drowning, but today I was thinking about how they are stabilizing. When you're in a storm, you want to stay afloat, but you also don't want to find out that you've blown off course when the waters finally calm and you can see where you are. An anchor keeps you where you need to be regardless of what the water is trying to do.
Somehow this idea of an anchor gave me a new perspective on hope. For a long time I've sort of resented the idea of hope because I had several years where my life was very dark and hope seemed nowhere to be found. Hope seemed so emotionally unstable, so fickle. Now I think maybe hope is more like something that's there subconsciously, waiting for the storm to die down so you can see it was there all along. Remember the story of when Jesus and the disciples were on the water and a storm came up? Jesus was sleeping. The disciples were freaking out. I want to be more like Jesus, calm in the midst of my emotional storms, instead of like the disciples, sure I'm going to die. The great thing is, though, that whether or not I'm able to keep my cool, the anchor is there. My faith is there, anchoring me. Faith is bigger than just how I feel on any given day towards God. It's something that tethers my identity to something bigger than my circumstances. I don't need the right answers, I don't have to try to be a better person or earn more righteousness. I just have to cling to the hope of my anchor to keep me where I need to be so I can emerge from the storm victorious.
It's hard to put into words exactly how I'm feeling right now, but I think the best way to sum this whole post up is to say that this: my whole life it's seemed like there's a disconnect between my head and my heart. I always had all the "right" answers intellectually, but I couldn't make my feelings match what I knew in my head. Somehow this revelation of hope being an anchor has bridged the gap, at least a little. I feel such a confident peace that I will be OK, even knowing that there will still be times I will cry myself to sleep out of fear or despair or feeling utterly alone. I will make it through the storm and keep sailing forward because I am anchored to Jesus. What a beautiful revelation to ponder during Holy Week.
One of my greatest flaws is my tendency to get swept away by my emotions. I don't mean that in some sort of romantic, happy way. I get swept away in a way that makes it seem like when I feel something, that feeling trumps everything else. When I feel alone, that feeling tends to trump the truth that God is always with me. When I feel worthless, it trumps the truth that Jesus paid the highest price for my salvation.
I have been working hard to improve in this area, and I think especially in the last few months I've started to see some maturity there. I'd describe my life in 2014 as spiritually turbulent. I've been asking really hard questions and finding no satisfactory answer. I've been reading scripture that I can't make sense of and that makes me feel angry and sad. I've cried during sermons and stood silent during worship, unable to utter words that I don't know if I mean. And through all this I've been faithfully praying and reading my Bible, serving in church regularly, having deep conversations with friends, pushing through this chaotic storm just trying to hang on until the waters calm.
This brings me to the rubber duck. A few years ago a friend of mine was being supportive through a similar time of spiritual turbulence. She encouraged me to just keep floating on the water and ride out the storm. She then spent the next week or two looking for just the right rubber ducks before she gifted me one duck with a pirate hat, eye patch, and striped shirt and one duck that was blue so I would have a tangible reminder to ride out the storm.
So I was gazing at my pirate duck (the one I keep on my work desk) and thinking about storms and water when the lyrics "and this hope is an anchor for my soul" floated through my mind. When I think of anchors, I tend to think of sinking and drowning, but today I was thinking about how they are stabilizing. When you're in a storm, you want to stay afloat, but you also don't want to find out that you've blown off course when the waters finally calm and you can see where you are. An anchor keeps you where you need to be regardless of what the water is trying to do.
Somehow this idea of an anchor gave me a new perspective on hope. For a long time I've sort of resented the idea of hope because I had several years where my life was very dark and hope seemed nowhere to be found. Hope seemed so emotionally unstable, so fickle. Now I think maybe hope is more like something that's there subconsciously, waiting for the storm to die down so you can see it was there all along. Remember the story of when Jesus and the disciples were on the water and a storm came up? Jesus was sleeping. The disciples were freaking out. I want to be more like Jesus, calm in the midst of my emotional storms, instead of like the disciples, sure I'm going to die. The great thing is, though, that whether or not I'm able to keep my cool, the anchor is there. My faith is there, anchoring me. Faith is bigger than just how I feel on any given day towards God. It's something that tethers my identity to something bigger than my circumstances. I don't need the right answers, I don't have to try to be a better person or earn more righteousness. I just have to cling to the hope of my anchor to keep me where I need to be so I can emerge from the storm victorious.
It's hard to put into words exactly how I'm feeling right now, but I think the best way to sum this whole post up is to say that this: my whole life it's seemed like there's a disconnect between my head and my heart. I always had all the "right" answers intellectually, but I couldn't make my feelings match what I knew in my head. Somehow this revelation of hope being an anchor has bridged the gap, at least a little. I feel such a confident peace that I will be OK, even knowing that there will still be times I will cry myself to sleep out of fear or despair or feeling utterly alone. I will make it through the storm and keep sailing forward because I am anchored to Jesus. What a beautiful revelation to ponder during Holy Week.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Envy and Worth
Sometimes when a friend is doing something amazing, I feel genuinely excited for them. I cheer them on, send encouraging notes, and try to be a good friend all around. But sometimes, something good happens to someone I know, and it happens. I feel it creep up on me, sinking its ugly teeth deep into my soul. Envy worms its way into my heart.
Envy is not about wanting what other people have. It's about believing deep down that because someone else has something that you do not, you are less valuable. For me, envy says that because she is married and I am single, I am worth less. Because he is more respected than I am, I am worth less. Because she is prettier than I am, because she can act better than I can, she is more valuable than I am.
That is NOT how God sees things. Jesus told a story of a lost sheep where a shepherd left the 99 he had to go look for the missing one, and when he found it he rejoiced. Jesus told a story of a father and his two sons, and when one son screwed up big time and the other had a bad attitude, the father loved them both. He did not rebuke his sons but declared his love in a way that showed there was nothing they could do to make him love them less.
Yesterday I texted a friend some thoughts about how great it is that God does not have a finite number of blessings. This friend and I have both been in similar areas of need, and I thought about how great it is that she doesn't have to worry that the fact that God provided a computer for me does not negate his ability to provide a computer for her. God isn't up in heaven crunching the numbers and feeling bad because he already used up his computer blessing quota. He is not picking and choosing blessings giving only to the perfect favorites.
My thoughts are a little scattered, but I feel a need to remind myself (and maybe you) that "Beloved" is not a title we can lose. It is not a name God hands out on a whim and takes it back when we are bad. We are each God's favorite, we are each worth so much to Him that he sacrificed His son for us. I don't pretend to really understand that or even believe it very well, but it bears repeating: God rejoices over us even when we're slinking back to Him ashamed of where we've been. He will not give up on us, he will not neglect us. God loves us more than we can comprehend.
Envy is not about wanting what other people have. It's about believing deep down that because someone else has something that you do not, you are less valuable. For me, envy says that because she is married and I am single, I am worth less. Because he is more respected than I am, I am worth less. Because she is prettier than I am, because she can act better than I can, she is more valuable than I am.
That is NOT how God sees things. Jesus told a story of a lost sheep where a shepherd left the 99 he had to go look for the missing one, and when he found it he rejoiced. Jesus told a story of a father and his two sons, and when one son screwed up big time and the other had a bad attitude, the father loved them both. He did not rebuke his sons but declared his love in a way that showed there was nothing they could do to make him love them less.
Yesterday I texted a friend some thoughts about how great it is that God does not have a finite number of blessings. This friend and I have both been in similar areas of need, and I thought about how great it is that she doesn't have to worry that the fact that God provided a computer for me does not negate his ability to provide a computer for her. God isn't up in heaven crunching the numbers and feeling bad because he already used up his computer blessing quota. He is not picking and choosing blessings giving only to the perfect favorites.
My thoughts are a little scattered, but I feel a need to remind myself (and maybe you) that "Beloved" is not a title we can lose. It is not a name God hands out on a whim and takes it back when we are bad. We are each God's favorite, we are each worth so much to Him that he sacrificed His son for us. I don't pretend to really understand that or even believe it very well, but it bears repeating: God rejoices over us even when we're slinking back to Him ashamed of where we've been. He will not give up on us, he will not neglect us. God loves us more than we can comprehend.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Who I Am
Last night was the first meeting of the summer book group in which I am participating. We're reading "Girls with Swords," by Lisa Bevere. We've only hit up the first chapter, but its about choosing who you will be. Will you be a hero in your story, in other people's stories? I'm pretty excited about it, and we had a great group of women there.
Today I finally remembered to look up a music video that a friend told me about weeks ago. I'm already on the3rd 4th 5th listen through, and I wanted to share it.
This is a constant struggle for me, to discern if the things that have been said to me are truth or lies. It's especially hard when some of the most awful things people have said or done to me are by people I was supposed to be able to trust, people who were supposed to be looking out for me. I am trying to embrace the truth that I am a daughter of the most high King, that I am loved, wanted, cherished. In a world where people grow, change, and move in and out of seasons of life, it can be really hard for me to accept that God does not change. He does not love me more or less based on how I act. He doesn't get tired of me and move on, or get married and have no time for me anymore.
This is where it gets hard for me: I FEEL like God doesn't love me, or none of my friends care about me. It can be really hard for me to acknowledge that my feelings do not determine how others feel. That's why I still have birthday cards up on my VCR. They (and the kind words inside) are tangible reminders of the friends I have, things that I can't deny. And when I focus on those, my feelings start to change, to line up with the truth that I have amazing friends who love me.
That's why I started trying to memorize the book of Ephesians earlier this year. Sadly, I dropped the ball, but I intend to pick it back up and keep going. Meditating verse by verse, even sentence by sentence, helps the truth of God's love to sink in deep down. As a wise friend pointed out to me yesterday, sometimes what I really need is to take my problems and hurts to God first. It's ridiculous how easy it is for me to forget how healing being in His presence can be.
I am a beloved daughter of Christ. I have been purchased at a high price. I am God's masterpiece. I am a warrior. I left normal behind and am now covered in righteousness.
Today I finally remembered to look up a music video that a friend told me about weeks ago. I'm already on the
This is a constant struggle for me, to discern if the things that have been said to me are truth or lies. It's especially hard when some of the most awful things people have said or done to me are by people I was supposed to be able to trust, people who were supposed to be looking out for me. I am trying to embrace the truth that I am a daughter of the most high King, that I am loved, wanted, cherished. In a world where people grow, change, and move in and out of seasons of life, it can be really hard for me to accept that God does not change. He does not love me more or less based on how I act. He doesn't get tired of me and move on, or get married and have no time for me anymore.
This is where it gets hard for me: I FEEL like God doesn't love me, or none of my friends care about me. It can be really hard for me to acknowledge that my feelings do not determine how others feel. That's why I still have birthday cards up on my VCR. They (and the kind words inside) are tangible reminders of the friends I have, things that I can't deny. And when I focus on those, my feelings start to change, to line up with the truth that I have amazing friends who love me.
That's why I started trying to memorize the book of Ephesians earlier this year. Sadly, I dropped the ball, but I intend to pick it back up and keep going. Meditating verse by verse, even sentence by sentence, helps the truth of God's love to sink in deep down. As a wise friend pointed out to me yesterday, sometimes what I really need is to take my problems and hurts to God first. It's ridiculous how easy it is for me to forget how healing being in His presence can be.
I am a beloved daughter of Christ. I have been purchased at a high price. I am God's masterpiece. I am a warrior. I left normal behind and am now covered in righteousness.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Learning to Embrace My Puzzle Piece
If you know me well, you know that I enjoy quite a few rather nerdy hobbies. I enjoy quiet, solitary things, and one of them is jigsaw puzzles. I'm sure I inherited this trait from my dad, who used to spend hours and hours on a huge puzzle in our basement.
Tonight at my small group we were talking about the Kingdom of God, and what that means in the here and now. We talked about how we are to let the Holy Spirit flow through us, and when we do that, God is reflected uniquely in each of us. We all play a part in the Kingdom of God, and no one is the same. It's like we're all puzzle pieces.
Have you ever put together a puzzle only to find out that the last piece is missing? It's incredibly frustrating. I once put together a 500 piece puzzle, but there was a problem. There were definitely 500 pieces, but two of them were the same.
When I got to the end of the puzzle, I had an empty space and an extra piece that was of no use to me. As I was thinking about our small group conversation, I realized how important it is not only to realize that we reflect God uniquely, but that we need to realize that we shouldn't try to be just like someone else. It's easy for me to wish I looked like that person or had a more fun personality like this person. But if I change who I am, I not only leave a hole where I was created to fit, but I could steal the spot of someone else. I need to remember to work in my own strength and let other people find their places.
Tonight at my small group we were talking about the Kingdom of God, and what that means in the here and now. We talked about how we are to let the Holy Spirit flow through us, and when we do that, God is reflected uniquely in each of us. We all play a part in the Kingdom of God, and no one is the same. It's like we're all puzzle pieces.
Have you ever put together a puzzle only to find out that the last piece is missing? It's incredibly frustrating. I once put together a 500 piece puzzle, but there was a problem. There were definitely 500 pieces, but two of them were the same.
When I got to the end of the puzzle, I had an empty space and an extra piece that was of no use to me. As I was thinking about our small group conversation, I realized how important it is not only to realize that we reflect God uniquely, but that we need to realize that we shouldn't try to be just like someone else. It's easy for me to wish I looked like that person or had a more fun personality like this person. But if I change who I am, I not only leave a hole where I was created to fit, but I could steal the spot of someone else. I need to remember to work in my own strength and let other people find their places.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
It's like magic
Last night I met with a group of people who is interested in bringing spiritual depth to our church culture. My friend has been wanting to do this for six months, and last night he was vision casting. He said that one time as a part of a fast, he sought to bring God into every single thing he did. So at one point when he was thinking about cars (he's a car guy), he stopped to ask God what He thought. My friend now has a huge network/group of people who are into cars, about half of them Christians.
Today as I was reading some Harry Potter, I recalled this conversation. Somewhat amused, I thought to myself, "I wonder what God thinks of Harry Potter." I realized that our love of magic, our desire to see the amazing, the impossible, is something put in us by God. God spoke, and the universe formed. Out of nothing. Jesus spoke and raised Lazarus from the dead. If we didn't use the word miracle, we'd probably say it was magic. Our love of creating is because we are made in the image of God, the creator of everything.
How cool would it be if heaven is where we get to create like God does? What if instead of painting a sunset, I could actually create a sunset? What if instead of sketching a seascape, I could actually create a cliff and rocks and waves? How amazing would that be? I have no idea what heaven will be like. It's just too much to imagine. But when I paint, when I create, it's a little bit of heaven on earth.
Today as I was reading some Harry Potter, I recalled this conversation. Somewhat amused, I thought to myself, "I wonder what God thinks of Harry Potter." I realized that our love of magic, our desire to see the amazing, the impossible, is something put in us by God. God spoke, and the universe formed. Out of nothing. Jesus spoke and raised Lazarus from the dead. If we didn't use the word miracle, we'd probably say it was magic. Our love of creating is because we are made in the image of God, the creator of everything.
How cool would it be if heaven is where we get to create like God does? What if instead of painting a sunset, I could actually create a sunset? What if instead of sketching a seascape, I could actually create a cliff and rocks and waves? How amazing would that be? I have no idea what heaven will be like. It's just too much to imagine. But when I paint, when I create, it's a little bit of heaven on earth.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Fog
Tonight I went to a worship night at church. It was still going when I left, because my attention span starts to short out after an hour or so, but it was really nice to just forget everything else that's going on. A lot of times on Sundays I'm volunteering, so it's times like tonight when I can just focus on God and really immerse myself in the worship.
It was foggy as I drove home. I recalled hearing that there was a fog advisory on the radio, and as I drove down the road, there were thick patches of fog and then patches where it was clear except for a haze around the street and traffic lights. As I drove across high places, I could see the fog gathering in low spots. And I thought how lovely the fog is, how mysterious, how quiet. I remember once in high school there was such thick fog that you could barely see the building from the student parking lot. Everything sounds different when it's foggy, everything looks softer because of the blurry edges. I have tried once or twice to paint fog, but it eludes me.
I think fog is a pretty good representation of the presence of the Lord. Sometimes it's thick and practically tangible, sometimes you can't feel it around you but you think you see it far off. Sometimes you notice a haze of it as your gaze wanders. It's not a perfect metaphor, but drifting through the mysterious fog reminded me of the wonderful mysteries of God's presence.
It was foggy as I drove home. I recalled hearing that there was a fog advisory on the radio, and as I drove down the road, there were thick patches of fog and then patches where it was clear except for a haze around the street and traffic lights. As I drove across high places, I could see the fog gathering in low spots. And I thought how lovely the fog is, how mysterious, how quiet. I remember once in high school there was such thick fog that you could barely see the building from the student parking lot. Everything sounds different when it's foggy, everything looks softer because of the blurry edges. I have tried once or twice to paint fog, but it eludes me.
I think fog is a pretty good representation of the presence of the Lord. Sometimes it's thick and practically tangible, sometimes you can't feel it around you but you think you see it far off. Sometimes you notice a haze of it as your gaze wanders. It's not a perfect metaphor, but drifting through the mysterious fog reminded me of the wonderful mysteries of God's presence.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Why arguing is never going to save someone
I am an external processor. I think best when I'm talking, which means that more often than is probably acceptable to admit, I end up talking to myself. I can make better sense of my thoughts when I say them out loud. Sometimes that makes journaling or blogging hard, because I can't organize my thoughts as well if I don't talk it out, but once I talk it out, I don't feel the need to write things down as much. Tonight I had a great conversation with a friend, and I wanted to write down some of the thoughts that came out.
I'm not sure it would be entirely accurate to call me a skeptic. I think it would be more fair to say that while I do have some firm beliefs, I also have a lot of questions. I used to feel really frustrated and sometimes guilty that I had all these questions but no satisfactory answers. Lately I've come to a place of being at peace even when I don't have the concrete answers I'd like.
Tonight I went with a few friends to a showing of a documentary called "Hellbound?" It was basically a look at some of the different schools of thought on hell. Three main schools of thought were shared: eternal torment, annihilation, and universalism, although annihilation was touched upon only briefly. I found it fascinating to watch people talk about their different views, the different ways the Church has viewed hell throughout history, and the different cultural and political aspects of power. It was a well-filmed documentary, and I think it's a great conversation starter. Here are some of my thoughts after watching the documentary and a Q & A with the director (Kevin Miller) and one of the interviewees (Greg Boyd).
I kept thinking about how my pastor quotes a verse from Romans 2 about how it is kindness that leads to repentance. People don't change their lives because someone tells them how horrible they are. I know that some people will pray for salvation out of fear, but I don't think true transformation occurs when people are just looking for fire insurance (a safeguard against hell).
There are so many things I don't know. When I was younger, it really freaked me out when my black and white world started to crumble. In college my experience of the world didn't line up with some of the things I'd always believed, and it created great cognitive dissonance. I didn't know how to believe that God loved me and had a plan for me when life was so hard, so painful. I had so many questions and no answers, and I felt guilty that I even had questions.
Over the last year, and particularly the last six months, my faith has matured and deepened, and I think that is in large part due to a shift in how I view the questions I have. I feel free to ask questions and admit that maybe I'm wrong. I used to think that if a non-Christian friend asked me a tough question and I didn't have a definitive answer, it would turn them away from God and it would be my fault if they went to hell. I used to get genuinely panicked at the thought of trying to save all my friends and family from hell, because if it was real and it was awful, I had to save them, and of course it was my job to save them. All I knew how to do was argue that I was right about heaven and Jesus. But arguments don't save people. Judging people doesn't save them. Why would they want to enter into a religion that is largely known for judging and condemning people?
Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love God with everything you have and to love your neighbor. If I think about that in the big picture, I feel so free. All I have to do is love Jesus the best way I know how, to learn and grow and seek him, and then love the people around me. Treat them kindly; offer them help and support. Really, if all Christians stopped fighting about the details and just started loving people, don't you think the world would be a different place? When I think about the hot-button sin topics of today, I wonder if those are really the things that matter. If we stopped looking at certain sins like we're looking through a telescope and instead took a step back and looked for ways to love each other, wouldn't that be an amazing place to live? I'm not perfect. Far from it. And even though I've grown a lot, I'm never going to achieve perfection. So why do I expect other people to achieve something that I can't? Why is there an expectation of instant perfection instead of valuing the process and journey? Maybe it's enough if someone loves Jesus and tries their best to follow Him. We're never going to agree on the perfect list of things you have to do and say or not do or say in order to get to heaven, because that's not how grace works. If we're all works in progress, why don't we stop nitpicking the journey some people end up taking as long as they're walking towards Jesus? Maybe if we walked with them for a bit, we'd see how hard their walk is and appreciate that they're doing their best.
I have discovered that I love reading Rachel Held Evans' blog (www.rachelheldevans.com). Some of the things she writes or links to are uncomfortable. I don't agree with everything. But she's not afraid to ask tough questions, to ask that we read the Bible for what it is, not what we want it to be. Even when her views seem controversial against the mostly conservative views with which I'm accustomed, she treats people with dignity and respect. The comments from her readers spark discussion and thought, and I've learned that I do not have to agree with every point of a person's theology in order to respect them as a human being. I don't have to be definitively right about everything. When I enter into a conversation and I'm not put on the defensive right away, there is room for me to truly listen and reflect. Reading opinions that differ from mine has helped me to explore if my beliefs are based on things I've been told to believe or things I've read and discerned for myself. I actually found myself feeling more respected and elevated as a woman and as a person after I allowed myself to discard some beliefs I'd had simply because that's all I knew growing up.
I hope that I continue to ponder some of the questions and issues that have popped up lately. I want to be open to the possibility that other people might have insight where I do not, and I want to continue to learn to love people whether they agree with me or not. If I really trust God, then I want to trust that He is in control and doesn't need me to run the world for Him.
I'm not sure it would be entirely accurate to call me a skeptic. I think it would be more fair to say that while I do have some firm beliefs, I also have a lot of questions. I used to feel really frustrated and sometimes guilty that I had all these questions but no satisfactory answers. Lately I've come to a place of being at peace even when I don't have the concrete answers I'd like.
Tonight I went with a few friends to a showing of a documentary called "Hellbound?" It was basically a look at some of the different schools of thought on hell. Three main schools of thought were shared: eternal torment, annihilation, and universalism, although annihilation was touched upon only briefly. I found it fascinating to watch people talk about their different views, the different ways the Church has viewed hell throughout history, and the different cultural and political aspects of power. It was a well-filmed documentary, and I think it's a great conversation starter. Here are some of my thoughts after watching the documentary and a Q & A with the director (Kevin Miller) and one of the interviewees (Greg Boyd).
I kept thinking about how my pastor quotes a verse from Romans 2 about how it is kindness that leads to repentance. People don't change their lives because someone tells them how horrible they are. I know that some people will pray for salvation out of fear, but I don't think true transformation occurs when people are just looking for fire insurance (a safeguard against hell).
There are so many things I don't know. When I was younger, it really freaked me out when my black and white world started to crumble. In college my experience of the world didn't line up with some of the things I'd always believed, and it created great cognitive dissonance. I didn't know how to believe that God loved me and had a plan for me when life was so hard, so painful. I had so many questions and no answers, and I felt guilty that I even had questions.
Over the last year, and particularly the last six months, my faith has matured and deepened, and I think that is in large part due to a shift in how I view the questions I have. I feel free to ask questions and admit that maybe I'm wrong. I used to think that if a non-Christian friend asked me a tough question and I didn't have a definitive answer, it would turn them away from God and it would be my fault if they went to hell. I used to get genuinely panicked at the thought of trying to save all my friends and family from hell, because if it was real and it was awful, I had to save them, and of course it was my job to save them. All I knew how to do was argue that I was right about heaven and Jesus. But arguments don't save people. Judging people doesn't save them. Why would they want to enter into a religion that is largely known for judging and condemning people?
Jesus said that the greatest commandment was to love God with everything you have and to love your neighbor. If I think about that in the big picture, I feel so free. All I have to do is love Jesus the best way I know how, to learn and grow and seek him, and then love the people around me. Treat them kindly; offer them help and support. Really, if all Christians stopped fighting about the details and just started loving people, don't you think the world would be a different place? When I think about the hot-button sin topics of today, I wonder if those are really the things that matter. If we stopped looking at certain sins like we're looking through a telescope and instead took a step back and looked for ways to love each other, wouldn't that be an amazing place to live? I'm not perfect. Far from it. And even though I've grown a lot, I'm never going to achieve perfection. So why do I expect other people to achieve something that I can't? Why is there an expectation of instant perfection instead of valuing the process and journey? Maybe it's enough if someone loves Jesus and tries their best to follow Him. We're never going to agree on the perfect list of things you have to do and say or not do or say in order to get to heaven, because that's not how grace works. If we're all works in progress, why don't we stop nitpicking the journey some people end up taking as long as they're walking towards Jesus? Maybe if we walked with them for a bit, we'd see how hard their walk is and appreciate that they're doing their best.
I have discovered that I love reading Rachel Held Evans' blog (www.rachelheldevans.com). Some of the things she writes or links to are uncomfortable. I don't agree with everything. But she's not afraid to ask tough questions, to ask that we read the Bible for what it is, not what we want it to be. Even when her views seem controversial against the mostly conservative views with which I'm accustomed, she treats people with dignity and respect. The comments from her readers spark discussion and thought, and I've learned that I do not have to agree with every point of a person's theology in order to respect them as a human being. I don't have to be definitively right about everything. When I enter into a conversation and I'm not put on the defensive right away, there is room for me to truly listen and reflect. Reading opinions that differ from mine has helped me to explore if my beliefs are based on things I've been told to believe or things I've read and discerned for myself. I actually found myself feeling more respected and elevated as a woman and as a person after I allowed myself to discard some beliefs I'd had simply because that's all I knew growing up.
I hope that I continue to ponder some of the questions and issues that have popped up lately. I want to be open to the possibility that other people might have insight where I do not, and I want to continue to learn to love people whether they agree with me or not. If I really trust God, then I want to trust that He is in control and doesn't need me to run the world for Him.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
God's Math
I grew up tithing all the money I got. When I was little and got 50 cents for an allowance, a nickel went into my Sunday School offering. Tithing was just something you did, no questions asked. Christmas money, allowance, job money, whatever it was, 10% went to church. When I got to college, I stopped having steady income. I didn't work my first few semesters of college, and I didn't have a church home. So the tithing stopped.
I started tithing again after college. I actually hadn't found a church yet, but I was out of a job and money was tight, and I just remembered all I had been taught about money and how it was God's in the first place, so I gave to various charities. Once I found Substance (my current church which I love dearly), I began tithing there. One summer we had a sermon series call The Blessed Life, and I felt like 10% was great, but that was a baseline, and I wanted to do more than the minimum, so I upped my regular giving.
Money is something that can bring up all sorts of feelings in people. Talking about it in church can be really uncomfortable. It's rather taboo to talk about how much money you make, or to mention how much something expensive cost (totally OK to talk about what a bargain you scored, though). I most often refer to money in a "I'm broke until my next paycheck" sort of way.
Over the past few years, I've have ups and downs financially. I've tried to budget, I've saved money, I've spent money. I actually gave up on a formal budget because I could never make the numbers work. I'm moving at the end of the month, and as I was searching for an apartment, I was worried about money. My car broke down, and I had to spend some money to get it fixed. I didn't have enough money saved to for a deposit, but I had to find a place to live. I looked at my income, I looked at when bills were due, and I just couldn't figure out how I would have enough to pay for a deposit. The week I put my cash savings into my checking account so I could send in my deposit I was entirely unsure how I was going to pay for food and gas the next few weeks. But I trusted God. I did my best not to worry, and I read passages in the Bible like Matthew 6 where Jesus talks about not worrying because God knows our needs and cares about us.
Money is still tight. I don't make a lot of money, and I have a small amount of debt that's taking me awhile to pay off (student loans and hospital bills). But it works out. I re-looked at my bill due dates and when my paydays were, and it worked. As of this blog I have around 50 cents in my checking account, and I will get paid tomorrow and be able to pay all the bills that are due. At Substance we talk about how tithing is the believe that when we give God 10%, he enables us to do more with 90% than we would have been able to do with all 100%. I thought about not tithing even one paycheck, because that would have really eased the strain. But I held fast to the promise that God knows my needs. I honestly can't explain how it all worked out. I'm really good at math, so it's not like I added things wrong the first time. I didn't suddenly receive money from a relative or friend. It just worked out.
Today Pastor Bart shared about how there is a difference between head knowledge and experiential knowledge. You can know in your head that God provides, but when you start to experience it you gain confidence. I have been through bouts of unemployment. I have had car repairs pop up. I have given large sums of money away outside of my regular giving. And God has always provided. When my car broke down and God provided someone to fix it, that gave me confidence that he would also provide a great apartment in my price range. And the apartment I found is actually less per month than what I've been paying, and the apartment is bigger.
There are some things I just can't explain. All I know is that God really does provide.
I started tithing again after college. I actually hadn't found a church yet, but I was out of a job and money was tight, and I just remembered all I had been taught about money and how it was God's in the first place, so I gave to various charities. Once I found Substance (my current church which I love dearly), I began tithing there. One summer we had a sermon series call The Blessed Life, and I felt like 10% was great, but that was a baseline, and I wanted to do more than the minimum, so I upped my regular giving.
Money is something that can bring up all sorts of feelings in people. Talking about it in church can be really uncomfortable. It's rather taboo to talk about how much money you make, or to mention how much something expensive cost (totally OK to talk about what a bargain you scored, though). I most often refer to money in a "I'm broke until my next paycheck" sort of way.
Over the past few years, I've have ups and downs financially. I've tried to budget, I've saved money, I've spent money. I actually gave up on a formal budget because I could never make the numbers work. I'm moving at the end of the month, and as I was searching for an apartment, I was worried about money. My car broke down, and I had to spend some money to get it fixed. I didn't have enough money saved to for a deposit, but I had to find a place to live. I looked at my income, I looked at when bills were due, and I just couldn't figure out how I would have enough to pay for a deposit. The week I put my cash savings into my checking account so I could send in my deposit I was entirely unsure how I was going to pay for food and gas the next few weeks. But I trusted God. I did my best not to worry, and I read passages in the Bible like Matthew 6 where Jesus talks about not worrying because God knows our needs and cares about us.
Money is still tight. I don't make a lot of money, and I have a small amount of debt that's taking me awhile to pay off (student loans and hospital bills). But it works out. I re-looked at my bill due dates and when my paydays were, and it worked. As of this blog I have around 50 cents in my checking account, and I will get paid tomorrow and be able to pay all the bills that are due. At Substance we talk about how tithing is the believe that when we give God 10%, he enables us to do more with 90% than we would have been able to do with all 100%. I thought about not tithing even one paycheck, because that would have really eased the strain. But I held fast to the promise that God knows my needs. I honestly can't explain how it all worked out. I'm really good at math, so it's not like I added things wrong the first time. I didn't suddenly receive money from a relative or friend. It just worked out.
Today Pastor Bart shared about how there is a difference between head knowledge and experiential knowledge. You can know in your head that God provides, but when you start to experience it you gain confidence. I have been through bouts of unemployment. I have had car repairs pop up. I have given large sums of money away outside of my regular giving. And God has always provided. When my car broke down and God provided someone to fix it, that gave me confidence that he would also provide a great apartment in my price range. And the apartment I found is actually less per month than what I've been paying, and the apartment is bigger.
There are some things I just can't explain. All I know is that God really does provide.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Car Troubles and Answered Prayer
I'm not someone who has had lots of moments when I can say "That was an answered prayer." Maybe I'm just not very observant, or maybe I just don't pray for big things that only God can do. But last week, I totally had a prayer answered in a big way.
Tuesday night I was scheduled to run the lighting for Deeper, our Tuesday night service at church. It was insanely hot, so I was ready to sweat it out on the drive there and then sit in air conditioning for a few hours. As I was driving, my radio started to turn on and off, and I thought maybe it was so hot that it was affecting the electronics. Then I realized that my turn signals weren't working, and that's kind of a problem. I made it to the stop light that's one block from our building, and my car died. Nothing happened when I tried to turn the key.
I immediately called my friend Mia. I thought she might already be at the OC, but even if she wasn't, she's told me in the past that if I ever break down she has a big network of people. Mia and her dad Bob pulled up to my car, and we managed to use jumper cables to get my car going long enough to pull into the church parking lot. My car died again as I was coasting into the parking space.
When Mia asked me what I wanted to do next, I just said "I don't know." After an hour of sitting outside stuck with my car, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I went inside to see if Andrea had been able to find someone else to run lighting. They had it covered, and Andrea and Josh said they'd help any way they could. Andrea suggested that she take me home and I get some sleep, waiting to deal with the problem until the next morning. I thought that sounded like a pretty good idea, so she drove me home.
After I got home, I let myself cry. I was super focused and fairly calm while everything was happening because I knew that getting upset in that moment wouldn't do any good. I knew that as long as I let my emotions out later that night that it was OK to stuff them down temporarily. I spent some time reading the passage in Matthew where Jesus talks about God providing for even the birds, and how much more valuable we are than the birds. I did my best to stay calm and just trust that God would provice, and then I posted on my church's Facebook group wall asking if anyone was able to help me get my car fixed. A few hours later, a guy I'd never met posted his contact info saying he might be able to help.
Wednesday afternoon I called Cory, and he seemed pretty confident that he'd be able to help. He's not a mechanic, but he knows a fair amount about cars. He said he could look at my car while I was at work on Thursday since he didn't have to work until Friday, and he even offered to come to my office to pick up the keys. I was able to leave a key for him Wednesday night, and Thursday I waited with anticipation to hear if he thought he'd be able to fix it. At about 4pm, I got a phone call saying my car was fixed and I was all set. Cory and his brother even drove my car to my office and dropped it off for me. My car had a new alternator and a new battery, and Cory didn't want me to pay for anything other than the cost of the parts.
I was so blessed that a stranger would go to such lengths to help me out. It made me a little sad thinking of all the people who are without a community like the one I have at Substance. I was pretty excited to tell everyone what an answer to prayer my fixed car was. I thought about how God answered my prayer by using a person with a skill who was willing to be used. I think sometimes people have the idea that you have to have an amazing spiritual gift to really bless someone, but I think sometimes it's the practical skills that can bless someone the most. Yes, I loved the friends who prayed for me, but it was a guy with some tools who came through in the end.
I wanted to write this post to share about my excitement for this blessing, but also to remind myself that God is faithful. Just last night I was on my way somewhere and the pipe to my muffler broke. After I walked to Target to buy a coat hanger to rig it so the pipe wouldn't drag on the group, I was on the ground getting dirty in the parking lot of Caribou when the other end of the pipe broke off. In that moment I was so frustrated, so stressed out, but I wanted to trust that God would take care of my needs. Once again I did my best to stay calm and deal with the situation at hand. I got in touch with an uncle of mine who's a mechanic, and I got the go-ahead to drive (it wouldn't damage my car, just be insanely loud). I'm thankful that I was able to drive to and from work today, and that I'll be able to drive to my apartment showings tomorrow. Yes, it's a little embarrassing to have such a ghetto-sounding car, but I just try to remember that it is OK that I don't have a plan. It's OK that I don't know when I'll be able to afford to fix the pipe or get a new, more reliable car. If God never changes, and his promises are true, then the promise he made to take care of me still applies.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
When God Affirms Your Internal Call
Today has been a crazy series of events that led to a crazy God confirmation in my life. As I think about my day, it's so clear that none of it is coincidence.
I volunteer a lot at my church. I lead a parking team, which serves every third week, and I'm also a lighting volunteer every third week. Today was one of the days when I wasn't volunteering, and I decided to try something a little different. The campus where I usually attend had to switch locations for the late service, so I though I'd sleep in and visit the SLP campus, where I'd never been. I also thought it would be neat to check out the lighting booth, since SLP is the only campus at which I have not run lighting.
It felt a little funny to have the visitor jitters going to my own church, but everyone at SLP was so nice. The service was great, and a friend steered me in the direction of the staircase to the media booth (thanks, Dale!). Will and Josh gave the grand tour, and then they asked if I was attending the Intern Q & A tonight. I hadn't even known about the Q & A, but since I had no interest in being an intern, I declined. Without being obnoxiously pushy, Will and Josh both encouraged me to come anyway, because at least it was free food. I said I probably wouldn't, then headed home, but the idea stuck with me. I actually had two other friends tell me I should go, so I decided that if nothing else, I'd get to support my media intern friends.
The Q & A was about as I expected it to be. Honestly, as I listened, I knew that there was no way I was going to apply for an internship. Besides a bunch of logistical reasons, I knew my heart wasn't in the right place, and I definitely wouldn't want to waste time and resources and commit to something so big if I didn't mean it. I actually spent part of my afternoon rehearsing the bullet points of why I wasn't going to apply so that I wouldn't freeze in conversation when I was inevitably asked about applying. After the Q & A officially ended, I hung around and talked with a few people. I talked to Josh about why I wasn't applying, and then I talked to Tabi. While I talked to Tabi, I got to talk about all the things I love about where I'm at right now. I love being a part of my parking team. I love running the lighting. I've especially loved running the lighting for The Well (our women's ministry) the last few months, because I've really gotten to be creative and do things without a lot of restrictions.
I have had quite a few people tell me they think I should do X or that I'd be good at Z. And mostly I've found it frustrating because I feel like they're pushing me in a direction I'm not comfortable with. As I talked with Tabi and explained lots of the reasons about why I don't want to change what I'm doing now, she affirmed that there was a lot of wisdom in knowing myself well enough to say no to certain things. Having someone finally listen to the things I've been thinking about a lot over the past several months was such a relief. As I walked back to my car, I felt so light. I started to cry on my way home, because I felt like God was telling me that right now I am in a season of rest, restoration, and celebration and that it's OK to not take on anything else right now. I also felt, for the first time, like maybe it's OK that other people see something in me that I don't, because that's something that will happen in the future. I'm even a little excited at the thought that maybe down the line God has something big for me, whereas before I'd just feel scared and anxious. I think God affirmed that for now, I'm correct with my internal call of supporting those around me and serving as I have been, but the external call I've been getting from others isn't wrong, either. It's just not now. I have felt such tension over the difference between what I feel I'm called to do (internal call), and what others have been telling me they think I should do (external call). Pastor Peter even preached about internal and external calling this morning.
I want to remember today. I want to remember how I drove home and felt like God was telling me that He knows I've been through a lot, and it's OK to enjoy a time of peace and stability. I want to remember how I felt something stir within me at the idea of serving on a larger scale, even though I knew I'm not at the point yet. I want to remember how people encouraged me, told me things that made me feel valued and loved. And I want to remember how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends and a wonderful church. Three and a half years ago I was in a hospital because I was suicidal. Now I can't believe (in a good way) that this is my life. Today is a day to remember God's faithfulness. I'm so thankful.
I volunteer a lot at my church. I lead a parking team, which serves every third week, and I'm also a lighting volunteer every third week. Today was one of the days when I wasn't volunteering, and I decided to try something a little different. The campus where I usually attend had to switch locations for the late service, so I though I'd sleep in and visit the SLP campus, where I'd never been. I also thought it would be neat to check out the lighting booth, since SLP is the only campus at which I have not run lighting.
It felt a little funny to have the visitor jitters going to my own church, but everyone at SLP was so nice. The service was great, and a friend steered me in the direction of the staircase to the media booth (thanks, Dale!). Will and Josh gave the grand tour, and then they asked if I was attending the Intern Q & A tonight. I hadn't even known about the Q & A, but since I had no interest in being an intern, I declined. Without being obnoxiously pushy, Will and Josh both encouraged me to come anyway, because at least it was free food. I said I probably wouldn't, then headed home, but the idea stuck with me. I actually had two other friends tell me I should go, so I decided that if nothing else, I'd get to support my media intern friends.
The Q & A was about as I expected it to be. Honestly, as I listened, I knew that there was no way I was going to apply for an internship. Besides a bunch of logistical reasons, I knew my heart wasn't in the right place, and I definitely wouldn't want to waste time and resources and commit to something so big if I didn't mean it. I actually spent part of my afternoon rehearsing the bullet points of why I wasn't going to apply so that I wouldn't freeze in conversation when I was inevitably asked about applying. After the Q & A officially ended, I hung around and talked with a few people. I talked to Josh about why I wasn't applying, and then I talked to Tabi. While I talked to Tabi, I got to talk about all the things I love about where I'm at right now. I love being a part of my parking team. I love running the lighting. I've especially loved running the lighting for The Well (our women's ministry) the last few months, because I've really gotten to be creative and do things without a lot of restrictions.
I have had quite a few people tell me they think I should do X or that I'd be good at Z. And mostly I've found it frustrating because I feel like they're pushing me in a direction I'm not comfortable with. As I talked with Tabi and explained lots of the reasons about why I don't want to change what I'm doing now, she affirmed that there was a lot of wisdom in knowing myself well enough to say no to certain things. Having someone finally listen to the things I've been thinking about a lot over the past several months was such a relief. As I walked back to my car, I felt so light. I started to cry on my way home, because I felt like God was telling me that right now I am in a season of rest, restoration, and celebration and that it's OK to not take on anything else right now. I also felt, for the first time, like maybe it's OK that other people see something in me that I don't, because that's something that will happen in the future. I'm even a little excited at the thought that maybe down the line God has something big for me, whereas before I'd just feel scared and anxious. I think God affirmed that for now, I'm correct with my internal call of supporting those around me and serving as I have been, but the external call I've been getting from others isn't wrong, either. It's just not now. I have felt such tension over the difference between what I feel I'm called to do (internal call), and what others have been telling me they think I should do (external call). Pastor Peter even preached about internal and external calling this morning.
I want to remember today. I want to remember how I drove home and felt like God was telling me that He knows I've been through a lot, and it's OK to enjoy a time of peace and stability. I want to remember how I felt something stir within me at the idea of serving on a larger scale, even though I knew I'm not at the point yet. I want to remember how people encouraged me, told me things that made me feel valued and loved. And I want to remember how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends and a wonderful church. Three and a half years ago I was in a hospital because I was suicidal. Now I can't believe (in a good way) that this is my life. Today is a day to remember God's faithfulness. I'm so thankful.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Daughter
Tonight at Deeper I decided to spend some time reading my Bible. Regardless of what is going on in the service, Deeper has really become more of a time that I set aside to spend time with God in whatever way I feel like that night (worship, prayer, Bible reading, journaling, etc.). I decided to start with the book of Matthew since I've recently seen Godspell, a musical loosely based on the Gospel of Matthew.
As I read, different things stood out to me. I enjoyed just reading through, pausing to reflect on certain passages. And then I got to chapter 9. My Bible is New Living Translation, and here's what Mt 9:19-22 says: "As Jesus and the disciples were going to the official's home, a woman who had had a hemorrhage for twelve years came up behind him. She touched the fringe of his robe, for she thought, 'If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.' Jesus turned around and said to her, 'Daughter, be encouraged! Your faith has made you well.' And the woman was healed at that moment." I've certainly heard this story before. But the word "daughter" caught my eye, and I wanted to see how this story was told in other gospels.
Luke 8:43-48 is the other telling of this story. This account gives more details. It says, "And there was a woman in the crows who had had a hemorrhage for twelve years. She had spent everything she had on doctors and still could find no cure. She came up behind Jesus and touched the fringe of his robe. Immediately, the bleeding stopped. 'Who touched me?' Jesus asked. Everyone denied it, and Peter said, 'Master, this whole crowd is pressing up against you.' But Jesus told him, 'No, someone deliberately touched me, for I felt healing power go out from me.' When the woman realized that Jesus knew, she began to tremble and fell to her knees before him. The whole crowd heard her explain why she had touched him and that she had been immediately healed. 'Daughter,' he said to her, 'your faith has made you well. Go in peace.'"
This woman is desperate. She has done everything she can to get well, spent everything she had trying to find a cure. She knows Jesus is the answer, that he has the power to end her pain. But she doesn't do what most of the other people Jesus healed did. They went up to Jesus and asked him to heal them. She crept up behind him. If she was anything like me, maybe she felt like she didn't want to bother Jesus. He was obviously a very important man, and he was on his way somewhere to do something important. Maybe she didn't want to bother him, but she was desperate. So she sort of got her miracle on the sly. Except Jesus knew right away that something was up. And again, I think the woman reacted like I would; she was afraid of Jesus' reaction. I bet she was afraid Jesus would say, "Who do you think you are? You don't even have the courage to ask me to heal you? And now you're holding up this entire group when we're on our way to do something important!" Plus, she went through the embarrassment of telling everyone what was wrong with her!
I think the woman was probably stunned at Jesus' reaction. He did not condemn her. He did not yell at her or belittle her. He called her daughter. He commended her faith. And he told her to go in peace.
Sometimes when I pray, I feel like I'm bothering God. After all, he has a whole planet full of people to take care of. Who am I to catch his attention? But I do believe in the power of prayer. I know God can do anything. I really needed this reminder that God doesn't want us to feel bad for asking him to meet our needs. He isn't going to be fooled anyway, so why not boldly go to him with my requests? I am his daughter, and he cares about my pain, and he loves it when I have faith.
As I read, different things stood out to me. I enjoyed just reading through, pausing to reflect on certain passages. And then I got to chapter 9. My Bible is New Living Translation, and here's what Mt 9:19-22 says: "As Jesus and the disciples were going to the official's home, a woman who had had a hemorrhage for twelve years came up behind him. She touched the fringe of his robe, for she thought, 'If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.' Jesus turned around and said to her, 'Daughter, be encouraged! Your faith has made you well.' And the woman was healed at that moment." I've certainly heard this story before. But the word "daughter" caught my eye, and I wanted to see how this story was told in other gospels.
Luke 8:43-48 is the other telling of this story. This account gives more details. It says, "And there was a woman in the crows who had had a hemorrhage for twelve years. She had spent everything she had on doctors and still could find no cure. She came up behind Jesus and touched the fringe of his robe. Immediately, the bleeding stopped. 'Who touched me?' Jesus asked. Everyone denied it, and Peter said, 'Master, this whole crowd is pressing up against you.' But Jesus told him, 'No, someone deliberately touched me, for I felt healing power go out from me.' When the woman realized that Jesus knew, she began to tremble and fell to her knees before him. The whole crowd heard her explain why she had touched him and that she had been immediately healed. 'Daughter,' he said to her, 'your faith has made you well. Go in peace.'"
This woman is desperate. She has done everything she can to get well, spent everything she had trying to find a cure. She knows Jesus is the answer, that he has the power to end her pain. But she doesn't do what most of the other people Jesus healed did. They went up to Jesus and asked him to heal them. She crept up behind him. If she was anything like me, maybe she felt like she didn't want to bother Jesus. He was obviously a very important man, and he was on his way somewhere to do something important. Maybe she didn't want to bother him, but she was desperate. So she sort of got her miracle on the sly. Except Jesus knew right away that something was up. And again, I think the woman reacted like I would; she was afraid of Jesus' reaction. I bet she was afraid Jesus would say, "Who do you think you are? You don't even have the courage to ask me to heal you? And now you're holding up this entire group when we're on our way to do something important!" Plus, she went through the embarrassment of telling everyone what was wrong with her!
I think the woman was probably stunned at Jesus' reaction. He did not condemn her. He did not yell at her or belittle her. He called her daughter. He commended her faith. And he told her to go in peace.
Sometimes when I pray, I feel like I'm bothering God. After all, he has a whole planet full of people to take care of. Who am I to catch his attention? But I do believe in the power of prayer. I know God can do anything. I really needed this reminder that God doesn't want us to feel bad for asking him to meet our needs. He isn't going to be fooled anyway, so why not boldly go to him with my requests? I am his daughter, and he cares about my pain, and he loves it when I have faith.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Theatre and God
Today I went to see Godspell at my alma matter. I know the director and was excited to see how the show looked set in a high school. Plus, I knew at least one of my friends was in the show, and I want to support theatre because it's not the strongest program there.
This was the third time I have seen this play performed, and they were all in different settings. The first time I saw it was at a neighboring high school. The second time was community theatre, and this time it was at a Christian university. This is a show that lends itself to lots of interpretation for setting and costume. Unlike most shows, it's not a linear story. It's a series of sketches of Jesus' parables that are acted out by Jesus and the group who is with him (basically disciples, specifically John the Baptist and Judas). The second act contains the Last Supper and the crucifixion. It's funny, it's serious, it's a neat musical.
It has been moving every time I've seen it, especially the crucifixion, but there was something so special about this production. I knew beforehand from talking with the director that the cast went through an exercise of writing out their character bios (the background and personality of their character), and then, in character, they shared those bios with the Jesus character. The director is the only other person who got to see this. As I watched the show, I saw how it made a difference that Jesus really knew the heart of every person onstage. There was a kindness, a love that was so moving to watch. There was a moment with "the loner" that was so touching I started to cry.
The whole point of doing that exercise was to really show that connection that Jesus has. The high school kids didn't know each other's stories. They were just who they were on the outside: the jock, the cheerleader, the misfit, the brain, the loner, the prom queen, etc. But Jesus (who was the janitor, by the way), really knew the truth. The director talked about how he wanted that to mirror Jesus' relationship with his followers in real life.
I'm a very tactile person. I have a very hard time grasping theories and big pictures; I'm more about the specifics and what I can identify with my senses. So even when I read in the Bible, I have such a hard time picturing that Jesus loves me personally. He isn't here to give me a hug or talk with me, and sometimes it's hard to believe he hears me when I pour out my pain and frustration. This is what I love about theatre, how it gives substance to things we can't experience ourselves. I want so badly to use theatre to communicate these truths in a way that hearing a sermon or reading words on a page just can't. Theatre is living and breathing, and the potential for this tool is so much more than we even know.
This was the third time I have seen this play performed, and they were all in different settings. The first time I saw it was at a neighboring high school. The second time was community theatre, and this time it was at a Christian university. This is a show that lends itself to lots of interpretation for setting and costume. Unlike most shows, it's not a linear story. It's a series of sketches of Jesus' parables that are acted out by Jesus and the group who is with him (basically disciples, specifically John the Baptist and Judas). The second act contains the Last Supper and the crucifixion. It's funny, it's serious, it's a neat musical.
It has been moving every time I've seen it, especially the crucifixion, but there was something so special about this production. I knew beforehand from talking with the director that the cast went through an exercise of writing out their character bios (the background and personality of their character), and then, in character, they shared those bios with the Jesus character. The director is the only other person who got to see this. As I watched the show, I saw how it made a difference that Jesus really knew the heart of every person onstage. There was a kindness, a love that was so moving to watch. There was a moment with "the loner" that was so touching I started to cry.
The whole point of doing that exercise was to really show that connection that Jesus has. The high school kids didn't know each other's stories. They were just who they were on the outside: the jock, the cheerleader, the misfit, the brain, the loner, the prom queen, etc. But Jesus (who was the janitor, by the way), really knew the truth. The director talked about how he wanted that to mirror Jesus' relationship with his followers in real life.
I'm a very tactile person. I have a very hard time grasping theories and big pictures; I'm more about the specifics and what I can identify with my senses. So even when I read in the Bible, I have such a hard time picturing that Jesus loves me personally. He isn't here to give me a hug or talk with me, and sometimes it's hard to believe he hears me when I pour out my pain and frustration. This is what I love about theatre, how it gives substance to things we can't experience ourselves. I want so badly to use theatre to communicate these truths in a way that hearing a sermon or reading words on a page just can't. Theatre is living and breathing, and the potential for this tool is so much more than we even know.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Last night while I was at a worship night at my church, I felt compelled to jot down some thoughts. I immediately knew I wanted to share those thoughts on my blog. At first I thought the two things I had were unrelated, but as I thought about it, the two things fit together.
Here's the first thing I wrote (the quote is a song lyric that we sang that jumped out at me):
"Every crown no longer on display" We don't need to shine up our trophies and show off our accomplishments to impress God. We can enter into His presence just as we are because Jesus shed His blood for us. Because of God's great grace, we can enter the very throne room of heaven and praise the God who saved us.
Romans 3:22-25
(We're going through Romans in my Bible study and last week we were on chapter 3, so I knew how perfectly those verses backed up my thoughts.)
The second thing I wrote:
Sometimes I feel like Esther. She was chosen by the king, she had gained his favor, but she still feared for her life when she came before the king uninvited. Despite knowing I am God's chosen and that He loves me, I am still sometimes afraid to enter into His presence.
It can be really easy to think that we have to approach God the same way we approach everyone around us: look our best, act our best, prove we're important. But God doesn't work like that. He knows our darkest, dirtiest secrets, and He decided that He still loved us enough to send His son to die so we could be redeemed. And when we screw up again, which we will, because we're human, God loves it when we run back to Him instead of hiding from Him.
Here's the first thing I wrote (the quote is a song lyric that we sang that jumped out at me):
"Every crown no longer on display" We don't need to shine up our trophies and show off our accomplishments to impress God. We can enter into His presence just as we are because Jesus shed His blood for us. Because of God's great grace, we can enter the very throne room of heaven and praise the God who saved us.
Romans 3:22-25
(We're going through Romans in my Bible study and last week we were on chapter 3, so I knew how perfectly those verses backed up my thoughts.)
The second thing I wrote:
Sometimes I feel like Esther. She was chosen by the king, she had gained his favor, but she still feared for her life when she came before the king uninvited. Despite knowing I am God's chosen and that He loves me, I am still sometimes afraid to enter into His presence.
It can be really easy to think that we have to approach God the same way we approach everyone around us: look our best, act our best, prove we're important. But God doesn't work like that. He knows our darkest, dirtiest secrets, and He decided that He still loved us enough to send His son to die so we could be redeemed. And when we screw up again, which we will, because we're human, God loves it when we run back to Him instead of hiding from Him.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The End is Near
Have you heard? The rapture is going to happen on Saturday. That's the buzz that's going around. Here's an article about it: http://www.twincities.com/ci_
I get frustrated when stuff like this happens for two reasons. First of all, it makes Christians look kind of crazy or weird (and frankly, really gullible/stupid when it doesn't happen). We all know that often an entire people group is judged by the most outspoken people of that group, even if those people are not accurate representations. Second, I hate the reactions of other people. I heard this being made fun of on the radio today. In the article above, it says that there are people who are mocking the idea by planning anti-rapture parties. I hate how something like this diminishes the impact of the truth for many people.
I do believe that Jesus is going to come back. I do believe that there will be judgment. The Bible doesn't give a detailed play-by-play of what's going to happen, but I think there is definitely an outline. Could Jesus come back on Saturday? I don't see why not. But instead of spouting off end of the world stuff, you know, "repent for the end is near," why don't we show people through our actions how Jesus can change someone's life right now? Thinking about the end is scary. Finding hope for right now is wonderful.
P.S. Pastor Pete Wilson also wrote a blog about this: http://bit.ly/liNBdb. It reminded me that I had the link sitting in my email waiting for me to write the post. Peter Haas, my pastor, wrote an incredible blog with a brief summary of the different end-times views: http://peterhaas.org/2011/05/20/is-the-rapture-coming-this-saturday/.
I get frustrated when stuff like this happens for two reasons. First of all, it makes Christians look kind of crazy or weird (and frankly, really gullible/stupid when it doesn't happen). We all know that often an entire people group is judged by the most outspoken people of that group, even if those people are not accurate representations. Second, I hate the reactions of other people. I heard this being made fun of on the radio today. In the article above, it says that there are people who are mocking the idea by planning anti-rapture parties. I hate how something like this diminishes the impact of the truth for many people.
I do believe that Jesus is going to come back. I do believe that there will be judgment. The Bible doesn't give a detailed play-by-play of what's going to happen, but I think there is definitely an outline. Could Jesus come back on Saturday? I don't see why not. But instead of spouting off end of the world stuff, you know, "repent for the end is near," why don't we show people through our actions how Jesus can change someone's life right now? Thinking about the end is scary. Finding hope for right now is wonderful.
P.S. Pastor Pete Wilson also wrote a blog about this: http://bit.ly/liNBdb. It reminded me that I had the link sitting in my email waiting for me to write the post. Peter Haas, my pastor, wrote an incredible blog with a brief summary of the different end-times views: http://peterhaas.org/2011/05/20/is-the-rapture-coming-this-saturday/.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Unforgiveness
Tonight at Deeper the theme of unforgiveness came up a few times. Tonight I didn't feel like this was an issue I needed to tackle, but there are times when something brings up a memory of the past and I find myself holding a grudge again. As I was thinking about how unforgiveness holds us back, especially when it comes to God moving in our lives, I got a mental image of why we hold on to unforgiveness.
I pictured a dragon, but in case you have not recently read several books about dragons like I have, I'll use a dog. Dogs are generally considered to be friendly and loveable. They are fun, and they like to play and interact with their owners. The dog is healthy and happy. But then it gets hurt. Say the dog's paw gets pierced with a sharp stick. The dog is probably not going to walk up to its owner and willingly sit still while the stick gets pulled out and the wound gets cleaned. The dog will retreat, and may even growl and snap at its owner. The dog might even bite to keep people away. It does not want to get hurt anymore, so it does the only thing it knows to protect itself.
When we get hurt, we are like that dog. It sometimes feels easier to be angry and keep people away, sometimes even hate them, than it does to let go. Justice is really important for me. It is so hard for me to let God deal with people who hurt me rather than creating my own justice. I often cover up my pain with anger. The truth is that if I don't lower my defenses and let God start to remove the junk, I'm not going to get better.
Sometimes I think I have forgiven someone and that I'm fine, only to have someone say something that makes me hurt all over again. I wonder if maybe that's what Jesus was talking about when he said that we can't just stop forgiving after seven times. I have to choose time and time again to let go, to forgive, even for the same thing. I'm not perfect at forgiving. Whenever I hear someone talking about forgiveness, there are two people I have known in my life who always come to mind. These two people are people who hurt me tremendously. Part of me wants to stay angry, to stay defensive. Deep down, though, I know that really just hurts me.
For example: a person whom we'll call Sergio (not his real name) was someone whom I really trusted. Sergio was really important in my life. And then he did something that crushed me. I was so hurt, so devastated. For awhile, I was incredibly angry. I absolutely did not want to forgive Sergio. I wanted to hate him. I wanted bad things to happen to him so that he would hurt as much as I was hurting. But after awhile, it was really hard to be so angry. Sergio had really helped me get through some tough stuff. He had a big influence on me. It was important to me to hold onto the good memories. Trying to both hold onto good things and be really angry was more than I could handle. So I let go of my anger. I remember exactly how it happened, but I let go. And it felt so good. There are times when I still feel the hurt, but now that I'm not holding onto anger and unforgiveness, I can think about the good memories. I can heal.
I wish that deciding to forgive someone meant that you instantly felt better and you wouldn't ever hurt again. Unfortunately, that's not how it works. Even once you let someone pull the stick out of your paw, it takes time to heal. Sometimes the skin is sensitive even after it heals. And there's always the chance you'll step on another stick sometime and get hurt all over again. But choosing to forgive again and again means choosing healing again and again. Forgiving means choosing to acknowledge the pain but not holding on to it. I'm so glad that even though forgiveness is often difficult for me, God forgives me every single time I ask him, and he never holds grudges against me.
I pictured a dragon, but in case you have not recently read several books about dragons like I have, I'll use a dog. Dogs are generally considered to be friendly and loveable. They are fun, and they like to play and interact with their owners. The dog is healthy and happy. But then it gets hurt. Say the dog's paw gets pierced with a sharp stick. The dog is probably not going to walk up to its owner and willingly sit still while the stick gets pulled out and the wound gets cleaned. The dog will retreat, and may even growl and snap at its owner. The dog might even bite to keep people away. It does not want to get hurt anymore, so it does the only thing it knows to protect itself.
When we get hurt, we are like that dog. It sometimes feels easier to be angry and keep people away, sometimes even hate them, than it does to let go. Justice is really important for me. It is so hard for me to let God deal with people who hurt me rather than creating my own justice. I often cover up my pain with anger. The truth is that if I don't lower my defenses and let God start to remove the junk, I'm not going to get better.
Sometimes I think I have forgiven someone and that I'm fine, only to have someone say something that makes me hurt all over again. I wonder if maybe that's what Jesus was talking about when he said that we can't just stop forgiving after seven times. I have to choose time and time again to let go, to forgive, even for the same thing. I'm not perfect at forgiving. Whenever I hear someone talking about forgiveness, there are two people I have known in my life who always come to mind. These two people are people who hurt me tremendously. Part of me wants to stay angry, to stay defensive. Deep down, though, I know that really just hurts me.
For example: a person whom we'll call Sergio (not his real name) was someone whom I really trusted. Sergio was really important in my life. And then he did something that crushed me. I was so hurt, so devastated. For awhile, I was incredibly angry. I absolutely did not want to forgive Sergio. I wanted to hate him. I wanted bad things to happen to him so that he would hurt as much as I was hurting. But after awhile, it was really hard to be so angry. Sergio had really helped me get through some tough stuff. He had a big influence on me. It was important to me to hold onto the good memories. Trying to both hold onto good things and be really angry was more than I could handle. So I let go of my anger. I remember exactly how it happened, but I let go. And it felt so good. There are times when I still feel the hurt, but now that I'm not holding onto anger and unforgiveness, I can think about the good memories. I can heal.
I wish that deciding to forgive someone meant that you instantly felt better and you wouldn't ever hurt again. Unfortunately, that's not how it works. Even once you let someone pull the stick out of your paw, it takes time to heal. Sometimes the skin is sensitive even after it heals. And there's always the chance you'll step on another stick sometime and get hurt all over again. But choosing to forgive again and again means choosing healing again and again. Forgiving means choosing to acknowledge the pain but not holding on to it. I'm so glad that even though forgiveness is often difficult for me, God forgives me every single time I ask him, and he never holds grudges against me.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
God's Goodness
God is good. Today I got offered a job that I really wanted, and after 5+ months of unemployment it feels so amazing. It's really easy to say that God is good after I get news like this. So I emailed my friends and family about the job, I told them that God is good, and I prayed and thanked God.
As I was praying, I realized that God is always good. I prayed, "God, you are so good. Thank you so much for this job. But you would be good even if I hadn't gotten it." God is good no matter what our circumstances are. It's easier for me to believe in his goodness when I feel good, when I get good news. It's a lot harder for me to see God's goodness when I'm feeling depressed, lonely, and hopeless. God isn't fickle. He doesn't choose to be good some times and other times choose not to be. Yes, his goodness runs alongside his justice and mercy, so it's hard to understand sometimes why bad things happen in life, but he is still good.
God is good. God is love. And he will always be those things no matter what your life looks like.
As I was praying, I realized that God is always good. I prayed, "God, you are so good. Thank you so much for this job. But you would be good even if I hadn't gotten it." God is good no matter what our circumstances are. It's easier for me to believe in his goodness when I feel good, when I get good news. It's a lot harder for me to see God's goodness when I'm feeling depressed, lonely, and hopeless. God isn't fickle. He doesn't choose to be good some times and other times choose not to be. Yes, his goodness runs alongside his justice and mercy, so it's hard to understand sometimes why bad things happen in life, but he is still good.
God is good. God is love. And he will always be those things no matter what your life looks like.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Forgiveness and Consequences
Last night I read the story of David and Bathsheba (side note: spell check knows I spelled Bathsheba correctly, surprise surprise!). I've heard so many different sermons highlighting different aspects of that story. There really are so many things we can learn from this part of David's story.
When I read it this time, I saw something I had overlooked before. David and Bathsheba have sinned together, and David has sinned additionally by having Bathsheba's husband killed. Their son is born, and then Nathan confronts David about David's sin. David repents, and Nathan says that God forgives David.
OK. This is huge. David fasts and prays while his son is sick. He begs God to spare his son. But the baby dies. And as soon as this happens, David gets up, washes himself, puts on clean clothes, and goes and worships God. Woah. How often do we get really angry at God when tragedy happens in our lives? I've done it a lot. It sounds like David was not bitter at all. I think he realized the consequence of his sin, and he didn't hold it against God.
The other thing is that although God forgave David completely, that didn't remove the consequence. That point is made a lot, that God's forgiveness doesn't take away consequences. We hear it all the time. But I think it's also really important to note that God did not punish David continually; God didn't hold David's sin against him later. David and Bathsheba have another son. You might have heard of him--Solomon? And it says that God loved Solomon. God doesn't withhold love after we sin. He doesn't sit up in heaven, waiting to blast us for that sin we did three years ago. That's majorly comforting to me, to see so clearly in the Bible (the Old Testament, to boot!) about God's forgiveness, redemption, and restoration.
When I read it this time, I saw something I had overlooked before. David and Bathsheba have sinned together, and David has sinned additionally by having Bathsheba's husband killed. Their son is born, and then Nathan confronts David about David's sin. David repents, and Nathan says that God forgives David.
OK. This is huge. David fasts and prays while his son is sick. He begs God to spare his son. But the baby dies. And as soon as this happens, David gets up, washes himself, puts on clean clothes, and goes and worships God. Woah. How often do we get really angry at God when tragedy happens in our lives? I've done it a lot. It sounds like David was not bitter at all. I think he realized the consequence of his sin, and he didn't hold it against God.
The other thing is that although God forgave David completely, that didn't remove the consequence. That point is made a lot, that God's forgiveness doesn't take away consequences. We hear it all the time. But I think it's also really important to note that God did not punish David continually; God didn't hold David's sin against him later. David and Bathsheba have another son. You might have heard of him--Solomon? And it says that God loved Solomon. God doesn't withhold love after we sin. He doesn't sit up in heaven, waiting to blast us for that sin we did three years ago. That's majorly comforting to me, to see so clearly in the Bible (the Old Testament, to boot!) about God's forgiveness, redemption, and restoration.
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