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.

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.

Loss

In the past few weeks, three people that I know have passed away. So I've been thinking a lot about death and loss and relationships. I admit that I haven't lost anyone that I saw regularly, so the losses in my life, while painful, have been easier for me to deal with. I haven't lost a parent or a best friend unexpectedly. And while I'm afraid it might sound callous, it's been easier for me to deal with the deaths of people I didn't see as often. It's easier to hold on to the good memories rather than constantly feel the loss of future memories. Sure, I miss people more when I'm at weddings and I know this would have been a big event, but the day to day life is easier to bear.

I've also been thinking about relationships that are lost for other reasons. Those have been much harder for me to deal with in my life. For example, I was very close to someone in college. Our relationship was probably too close, in truth. Our emotional lives kind of meshed together in a way that was kind of messy and not always good for us. But it ended up blowing up, kind of all of a sudden. I was very caught off guard by how things turned out, and I just couldn't process and adapt fast enough to accept changes that happened in my friend's life. I still feel a lot of grief over how our friendship ended. I feel bad for my part of not being able to sustain the friendship. Yeah, I'd be amenable to see if we could still be friends, but unfortunately, with the way things ended, I don't know how I'd even begin to approach this person. So much has happened, so much has changed. I do wish I could apologize, because I know there was a time in my life when I was a terrible friend to everyone around me. I was incredibly selfish, and even though I was going through a rough time, that was not an excuse for how I treated the people around me.

Another example is that I had a relationship that ended abruptly when I left school. It was a more professional, working relationship, but it was with a person I respected. Because of the suddenness of my departure from college,  there were things that happened that still feel unfinished. I did not get closure on some pretty significant things, and I still struggle with my feelings about certain people, certain events.

As I think about the different loss and pain I've felt throughout my life, I think there is something so healing about finality. When someone dies, it's terrible and it hurts, but it's final. As time goes by, you learn to adapt and keep living your life. When you lose other relationships, whether with a friend, colleague, or (I'm assuming) a significant other, I think it's harder. It doesn't always feel final. I wonder if I should do something to mend the relationship, or if it's time to let it be. I wonder how the other person is doing, what's going on in their life. I wonder if they ever think of me, because I do think of them. I miss the good times. I'm sad for the ugly things that happened. I agonize because they are still out there living their lives, and I am living my life, and they are no longer connected.

Maybe it's more a question of forgiveness and letting go. When someone has passed away, you know there is no more chance for reconciliation or an apology. You kind of just have to let go. It's far easier (for me, anyway) to hold on to pain from someone still out there. Maybe someday, someone who hurt me will realize it, seek me out, and apologize. But that's not likely. I know I need to learn to forgive and let go even if I never get closure or an apology.

I know my thoughts aren't quite cohesive in this post, but I don't care. I start so many blog posts that I never get back to editing, so I'm trying to just write something and let it be, whether it's "perfect" or not.

On the Phenomenon of Celebrities

I love TV. If you ask me my favorite show, I'll probably rattle off three that I've been watching lately. I have the dates written on my calender of 3 different season premieres in the next 2 weeks. Sometimes I get the feeling that people think I'm a little pathetic for watching so much TV. And I might agree, except I do have a social life. I'm super involved in my church. I'm a leader, even. I still read lots of books. I knit, crochet, and paint. I have a love of theatre and try to attend shows regularly.

I grew up with books and TV shows as my main friends. When you're home all day every day with just your siblings, it can feel really hard to fill the time. The librarians used to not believe that I read so many books so fast. I lived vicariously through the people on Full House, Saved by the Bell, and Boy Meets World.

I say this because I've been thinking a lot lately about my latest TV obsession, and the reaction I've seen of others. I love Glee. I loved watching The Glee Project this summer. And I started to follow some of those people on Twitter. I started to see this pattern of person after person asking to be retweeted. For those of you not in Twitter, that basically means that you're asking a person to repost your post. It means they specifically saw your one post amidst what I'm sure are thousands of posts. My initial reaction to seeing all of these people plead for a celebrity to retweet them was that they were kind of sad and pathetic. Did these people really think that getting 2 seconds of acknowledgement from someone they'd never met would make everything better?

And then something I posted got retweeted. I hadn't asked for it or anything, I just posted something. I was surprised at the short burst of happiness that flooded through me. What? I couldn't believe it! So I started thinking about what the appeal is in being acknowledged that way. And I've been talking with someone about feeling like people don't care about you and feeling invisible.

We all crave intimacy. And these days there's a plethora of false intimacy. We have hundreds or thousands of Facebook friends. We read blogs, we Tweet. But how many close friends do we have? I have two. I have other friends that I love dearly, but we've begun to grow apart in recent years, or they're people I haven't known as long so we're not as close. When we don't have people who regularly connect with us, we start to feel desperate just to be seen, to be acknowledged. I don't want to feel invisible. I hate that feeling. I hope to continue developing new relationships, forming new intimate connections with people. I want a group of people with whom I can share my doubts and struggles and not feel judged or preached at.

I still think it'd be amazing to be on TV. I love acting, and I love the friendships and connections you can make with your castmates. But I don't know if I really want fame as much as I thought I did. I don't think I want that pressure of having so many people seek affirmation from me. I don't even fully understand why we think celebrities are so great. It's not like Hollywood has a reputation of churning out fantastic role models. Celebrities are just people. Just like I'm a person. And we all need relationships in our lives that love us for who we are, no matter what.

Seeing the Parade Differently

Every now and then I have a moment when I see the world a little differently. This happened to me tonight.

One of the cities my church has a campus in had a parade tonight, and I walked with a bunch of other people in the parade. We had a truck pulling one of our trailers, a banner, and we all wore gray (grey? I can never remember.) t-shirts. We had candy buckets, and we walked along a 2-mile parade route passing out candy and waving.

Overall, it was tons of fun. I met people from Substance I didn't know before, and the kids were a lot of fun to watch. But there were a few moments that made me want to cry. Walking in the middle of the street, looking down at the lines of people stretching into the distance, I thought of this blog post on Stuff Christians Like. I started to wish I cold walk up to every person there and tell them, very sincerely, "Do you know how much God loves you?" I kept thinking, "That little girl is God's favorite. That older gentleman is God's favorite. God sure does love that dad over there." For a few moments I got a taste of how much God loves those people, how much he wants them to come to Him.

After the parade we met back together for a bit. As people drifted away, I went and sat in my car. And I cried. Sometimes when I have those moments of seeing the world differently, I push it aside because it hurts too much; it's too big of a feeling. But tonight I just let my heart break for Fridley the way God's heart longs for those people. I may not have had words to pray, but I was praying for them just the same.