Wednesday, January 30, 2013

violence of the soul

There have been times recently and times not so recently when I became extremely angry.  Anger is a regular part of my day to day existence.  I do handle anger differently than most, I think.  I get nauseous, shaky, and filled with adrenaline.  I lose my appetite, and it's hard to focus.  I usually call one of my best friends and rant.  I scare myself when I'm angry.  My words made audible are a dangerous force, mostly because the anger is allowed to take up residence in my soul.  Those with whom I'm angry rarely if ever find out that I'm angry with them.  I refuse to tell them.  Maintaining relationships is one of the things I value most in life, and I hate confrontation.  So I call a friend, I rant and rave.  I listen to my music very loud, I play piano louder and faster than normal.  Before long the anger dissolves into sadness.  Incredible anger-filled sadness.  A sadness that overcomes me and makes "faking it" almost impossible.  I retreat into myself.  I blog.  And I pray.

Tonight I am angry because of the pain in the world.  I am angry because we hurt each other.  I am angry because people are okay with the fact that we hurt each other.  I am angry that we use violence, both verbal and physical, to win.  I'm angry that we need to fight.  That we need to win.

I'm a pacifist.

It's a lonely pacifism.  I'd be hard pressed to find those in a military town who agree with me.  But I'd also be lying if I said I'm at all okay with violence.  Violence scares me.  It's destructive and unrestrained.  If it's restrained it's calculated and cunning.  I believe that there are times in this world when violence is the only answer remaining to hold back unrestrained evil.  But I believe that violence, when necessary, should always be accompanied by sorrow and brokenness before God.  Violence, when directed at our fellow humans, is nothing other than the direct result of our brokenness.

It occurs to me, though, that my anger is so often not-so-restrained violence.  Maybe not the physical kind, but at the least the kind that results in my saying things that are intended to harm, to cut deep.  And this violence of the soul comes from the same thing that exists in all of us, the thing that believes ourselves right, that believes we must fight and win, that survival instinct, that protective instinct.

I'm an extremely aggressive person (although not in the physical sense).  This scares me.  It scares me because I believe that which drives me to "win" is the same thing that drives so much of physical violence and aggression in our world.  Where I fight with words, some of my brothers and sisters fight with fists, knives, or guns.  Where my brothers and sisters fight a visible war, I fight an insidiously destructive and invisible war of wits.  This is no more okay than embracing physical violence.

And so a conversation tonight about violence reminded me of the violence that lurks in my heart, the violence that threatens to destroy me and those around me each and every day.  The violence from which God sent his son Jesus to redeem me.

God forgive me.

May I lay down my arms.  May I give up the fight.  May I learn to love and to sacrifice and to bring peace into my world, because that is what Jesus came to do.  That is my calling.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

in all things give thanks


"In all things, give thanks," He says.

Not this, God, not this.  This weighs too much, hurts too deeply.  This leaves scars.

It seems so wrong to thank God for today.  Today was marred with my sin, plagued with my weakness, punctuated with my mistakes.  Today was defined by my pride, destroyed by my heartache.  Today leaves me spinning.

Today could not be God's will.  There's no way.  Today is sadness and loss.  Today is fear.  Today is selfish and conceited.  Today is headstrong and stubborn.  There's simply no way.  No way.

Somewhere amid the chaos and confusion, faintly heard through the whir of anger and adrenaline, I hear God moving.  His peace precedes him.  His presence surrounds him.

He is here.  He holds me through the sadness.  He sympathizes with my weakness.  He remembers the reason for every tear that falls.  He wipes them away.  And through the sadness, he calls me to himself.

I answer the call.

It is in that moment that the game changes, that I am reborn.

Monday, January 28, 2013

joy in the journey

I am a questioner, a cynic.  Where you see black and white, I see various shades of grey.  When you want an answer, I want a spectrum of opinion.  I am a seeker but rarely a finder.  I am convinced of one thing, and that is that I'll never arrive, that I'll never know what to make of God and His power and presence in the world.

When asked a question, I don't have the answer.  I can only tell you what I know.  And I know very little.  I can talk to you of my experience of Jesus Christ, and I love to do so, but I can never report my experience as fact.  I'm okay with that.  I live by faith.

I'm a contentedly postmodernist, conservatively liberal, Jesus-loving girl who looks out and sees a wide world full of possibility.  A world full of brokenness, aggression, hatred, and fear.  A world where those who call themselves Christians are leading the charge toward of all sorts of evil.  A world where God's name is invoked for all the wrong reasons, for most of the wrong causes.

I find joy in the journey, in the questions, in the seeking but never fully finding - not yet, at least.  I delight in the diversity of Christianity and how it points to a big God whose love is extravagant.

I put my faith in Jesus of Nazareth.  In a simple carpenter who lived a radical life.  Who pushed the boundaries, asked questions to provoke his followers to change, and who died a criminal's death in an act of ultimate love.  I believe that He is who He says He is.  And I give my life in pursuit of Him.

I have decided to follow Jesus.

No turning back.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

when music is useless

The music overwhelms me with its sound.  

I'm not sure what it was.  Maybe it was the long, boring day.  Maybe it was being betrayed by a work friend.  Maybe it was putting up with stressful people.  Maybe it was the encroachment of real life on my work life - both perfect, but perfect only when separate.

I really don't like this music at all.

I didn't sleep well last night. It was my fault; I knew a cold night was ahead but I stubbornly left my window open.  I don't remember my dreams, I never do.  I'm sure they were the neutral kind, the dreams that reflect a life that is neither good nor bad, a life that just is.

Perhaps skipping this song will make it better.

I know Jesus calls me to follow Him.  I feel like I am failing at following.  Mediocrity, a life that just is.  I'm paralyzed.  Always have been, maybe.  There's only so much I can do, and I don't even do that.

The music puts my nerves on edge.  I can't bring myself to skip it.  Or stop it.

Why do I keep my lives separate?  I love work, I love real life, and I very carefully compartmentalize them.  When life gets complicated, I gladly throw it all away.  I embrace new starts rather than fixing the broken.  The new quickly becomes broken as well.  And I'm left where I started.  A failure.

Finally a song that matches me.  "I don't like what I've become."

I don't know what I'm thinking.  I feel removed and alienated.  I feel entirely uprooted.  Profoundly un-belonging.  Fundamentally placeless and friendless.

I give up.  Forget it.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

in which i have an opinion on guns, sort of, not really

Something very interesting happened in the past twenty four hours.

It all started last night, when I posted a seemingly innocent question on Facebook with the intent of ascertaining whether there was any good reason to care if assault rifles are banned.  Any practical reason.  You see, I'm not interested in fear mongering or mud slinging.  I'm not interested in name calling and scare tactics.  I'm simply interested in finding out whether my hunting friends cannot live without assault rifles, and whether my gun-carrying friends cannot protect their families without them.

So I asked: what do you use them for, anyway?

Facebook blew up.

It blew. up.

I had people throwing all sorts of opinions at me.  I had trolls trollin', I had haters hatin', I had concerned citizens defending the second amendment, and I had lib'rals being lib'rals.

And it was hilarious.

But it was more than that.  It was enlightening.

I didn't really figure out what assault rifles are.  After all, I'm completely gun illiterate and you could explain a gun to me and it wouldn't mean a thing.  Not to mention that different people were telling me different things and I realized I should have just googled it if I wanted a straight answer.

I came to the conclusion that my hunting and gun carrying friends are suffering the consequences for an irresponsible few.  Sometimes in life people do stupid things and they end up not being the only ones to suffer.  Three hyper kids start jumping on desks in kindergarten?  Whole class puts heads on desks.  One guy hijacks a plane?  Whole nation faces longer and more involved security checks.  One guy uses his weapon to kill way too many innocent children?  Hunters and gun carriers face possible loss of their weapons.

It's life, folks.

I realize I'm able to look at this from an emotionally removed perspective.  I don't own a weapon and have no desire to do so.  I have lots of close friends who do own weapons, and I respect them and their responsible use of said weapons.  I sympathize with their fear of losing what they enjoy.  I have lots of close friends who hate weapons, and I respect their hatred of weapons and the destruction they can have.

But what is happening here is simple:  People are dying, and people are dying because stupid people are doing stupid things with objects that, used incorrectly, can have horrific effects.  As a result, authorities are taking extreme measures.  Not because they be hatin'.  Not because they want us to become Nazi Germany.  But because people honestly, truly, really do care.  They care that people are dying.  And their voice is being heard.  Loudly.  Passionately.

And I think their voice is compelling.

Maybe their voice is compelling because it is the voice of peace.  The voice of lets-do-whatever-it-takes-to-stop-people-from-killing-each-other.  And for that reason I think it's worth listening to that voice and taking it to heart, even if you continue to believe (as I would like to), that people are capable of responsible use of guns and that people should have the right to carry them if they wish.  But that voice should never be silenced.  Let's never become so politicized that we forget to mourn the violence that threatens to overtake us.  Let's never become so politicized that we forget those who die because of the hateful few.

At the same time, let's never become so politicized that we forget that some people own guns because they want to preserve peace and protect their families.

Let's love one another.  Let's walk forward into an uncertain tomorrow unified under the banner of peace.

Saturday, January 12, 2013

It is Well

There are so many things I could say about this behemoth of a day.  It was a trip through a lot of very strong emotions, that's for sure.  But there is one thing I will say about it, or rather, about the One who graciously gave me today:

God is good.

I think sometimes those words can be used flippantly, by rote, without thinking.  But tonight, after struggling through a whole slough of heartache and sin in my life, I arrived at one undeniable conclusion.

God is a faithful God who is working in me even when it hurts, even when I feel abandoned, even when I want my life to be so much different than what it is, even when I mess up.  

God is good.

And I am so thankful.

May I learn to follow Him.  May I learn to trust that His way is best.  May I seek Him first in all things.  May I decrease that He might increase.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

on crazy feminists and denial of the gospel

In the preface of Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, the writer says the following:
Pagan ideas underlie evangelical egalitarianism, based, as it is, on ideas borrowed from cultural feminism.  Egalitarianism must always lead to an eventual denial of the gospel.
EXCUSE ME?

In addition, this fount of wisdom says the following:
Blurring spousal roles can lead not only to marital failure but also to gender confusion in children.
I am so angry.  Angry that the person who wrote this essay felt the need to appeal to fear.  Angry that I have basically been accused of heading down a path of "eventual denial of the gospel."  Angry that I feel like I have to fight this battle.  Angry that I'm angry.  Angry that I'm so alone.

It appears my emotional unrest runs pretty deep.

At the heart of it, the way I view the Bible has changed.  I believe the Bible is God's inspired Word, but I believe it was written for us not to us.  I believe the Bible is incredibly useful and powerful, but I believe that people can take it and twist it for their own agendas.  I believe that the Bible tells us about God.  I believe the Bible is God's words, but I believe we must take care with these words.  Not all people are the same, not all cultures are the same.  I'm sorry, they're just not.  But in this spiritual journey I've been on, my faith in God has deepened.  My faith in the gospel has strengthened.  My love for Jesus runs deeper than ever before.  God can't be kept out.  In all our frailty, He is strong.  He is good.  His gospel prevails through all the injustice, all the misunderstanding.  My "liberal" ways have only drawn me to pursue God more passionately, to ask questions and to seek the answers.  I have learned to be bold, to step out of my comfort zone.  I have come into my own, and I am excited to see where God is leading me.

It's not easy though.  My peace is dampened by fear.  Fear of judgment, fear of taunting, fear of ostracism.  Fear that I'm wrong.  Fear that those closest to me don't understand the journey I've been on and that they won't accept this new me.  I'm choosing to be transparent here on the blog and secretly hoping no one reads it.  I'm longing for conversations about this but terrified of those very conversations.

I want this to all go away.  I want to retreat back into passivity, into a place where I didn't really care either way.  I want to take back my education, take back my passion for theology, forget all the progress I've made, and retreat to a place where life was simple.

But God is here.  And in the corners of my soul, I can hear Him calling.  Calling me to follow Him into the unknown.  I may be very wrong about so many things (I know I am), but who isn't?  I am trusting that my God's big enough to lead me every step of the way.

I submit to Him.

Friday, January 4, 2013

Today I arrived at a controversial conclusion.

I've been wavering for weeks (well, actually more like years) now.  Unsure how to reconcile my heart and my head, my experience with my upbringing, the new with the old.  I had thought I had come to a conclusion,  but that conclusion held no peace.  Today, for the first time, I felt incredible peace.

Today I gave tours of the mansion on the island.  This afforded me long stretches of time to myself.  Time to think, time to pray, time to read, time to listen to a sermon a friend sent me.  Time to play Angry Birds.

On the drive back to the ferry dock, I was overwhelmed with a sense of peace.  I prayed, "Father, if this is not of You, take away this peace.  Change my heart, my heart is Yours and I want Your way."  No sense of unease accompanied this prayer.

Today I took a leap of faith.  Today I became a woman who for the first time in her life fully embraced her gifts, strengths, and even weaknesses.  Today I committed to submission and to leadership, both in their seasons.  Today I committed to following God wherever He takes me, even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone and taking the lead.  Today I allowed myself to dream without guilt.

Today I allowed myself to be a "feminist" in all of the term's ambiguity and controversial nature.  Today I chose to live without fear.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

All Who are Thirsty

There have been so many times in my life where one way or another, I end up leading worship through music.

In college, friends and I would gather in the chapel late at night and worship God together through music for hours.  I'll never forget those times.  "Freedom," we called it.

When I lived in Bellingham, some friends and I did a monthly worship set.  It was usually just the worship team and one or two others that came.  I treasure those times.

Here in Georgia, I've stayed out of being on a church worship team.  I think it's one of the better choices I've made.  I do, however, play piano every Wednesday night at an assisted living home in town.  And this is unlike any worship leading experience I've had.  Maybe the most powerful.

Tonight it was just me singing - only two of us showed up and the other person doesn't like to sing.  Residents trickled in over the course of the hour.  And as I poured out my heart to God through music, I prayed for the residents surrounding me.  And I realized just how powerful music is.  In offering worship to God and lifting those precious people and their concerns and worries and sadness before the throne of God, we were imperceptibly bound together.

One of the residents never talks.  I am assuming there is something wrong that causes her to be unable to speak. But she comes every week and sits there smiling.

One resident reminds me of a stereotypical old Dutch woman (no idea whether she's Dutch or not).  She's crotchety and emotionally aloof.  And yet she is always there, and I love talking to her.

One resident told me tonight that she is "alright," that life is up and down and she wishes it would just stay steady.  I can relate all too well.

I love these people.  I'm too socially awkward to engage them in a ton of conversation, but I try.  And maybe having in depth conversations isn't the important part.  I think the most important part is being there.  Week in and week out.  Playing music for them, praying for them while I do so, and taking an interest in their lives.  Asking them how they are.

These people are the forgotten.  The visitors' log is so often strangely empty.  They are at the end of their lives, and they have so little to look forward to.  But tonight, as I sang "All Who Are Thirsty" for the residents seated around me, my prayer for them was that they would find peace at the fountain of life.

"All who are thirsty
all who are weak
come to the fountain
dip your heart in the stream of life
let the pain and the sorrow
be washed away
in the waves of His mercy
as deep cries out to deep
Come, Lord Jesus, come."

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Sunrise of 2013

I spent last night on the beach.  I was in my element, I do think.  At one point I waded through the water as it crashed onto the shore and reflected on the ocean.  Its dangerous power, its beauty, its vastness.  "Here is love, vast as the ocean, loving kindness as the flood..."  Looking out at the ocean, it's hard to comprehend anything bigger or more powerful.  And yet God's love vastly outweighs the ocean's waters.

We waited hours for the sunrise.  Hours of darkness before the sun.  Each hour of darkness made it harder to believe that the dawn was indeed coming.  How can light break forth from darkness?  The darkness seems so permanent, so all-encompassing.  But as 5:00 gave way to 6:00, the imperceptible hints of dawn made their way onto the panorama before us.

There was something exhilarating about the arrival of light.  The water almost glowed.  For the first time in our night's stay, the sky began to overpower the vastness of the ocean.  We watched as our surroundings were illuminated, our small camp revealed in all its hopelessly smallness in relation to God's creation surrounding us.

I looked for the sun with everything in me.  It had been a fun, but long and cold night.  I knew it was coming, had prepared and awaited its arrival, but that moment when the pre-dawn stillness gave way to the arrival of direct sunlight was incredible.  This, the first dawn of 2013, was the definition of splendor.

This year, I am sure, will bring both darkness and light.  But this morning I felt incredible hope.  Hope that the God who orders the ocean to stay in its place, who orders the moon and the sun, and who sheds light on the darkest of nights, holds me.  He is here and is with me.  I am not alone.

Here is love, vast as the oceanLoving kindness as the floodWhen the Prince of Life, our RansomShed for us His precious blood, precious blood
Who His love will not remember?Who can cease to sing His praise?He can never be forgottenThroughout Heaven's eternal days
On the mount of crucifixionFountains opened deep and wideThrough the floodgates of God's mercyFlowed a vast and gracious tide
Grace and love, like mighty riversPoured incessant from aboveAnd Heaven's peace and perfect justiceKissed a guilty world in love
Who His love will not remember?Who can cease to sing His praise?He can never be forgottenThroughout Heaven's eternal days
Never to be forgottenYour sacrifice, this place requiresNever to be forgotten, LordThroughout eternity
No love is higher, no love is widerNo love is deeper, no love is truerNo love is higher, no love is widerNo love is like Your love, oh Lord