I don't typically curse, but as I drove across town yesterday, I let it all loose. It didn't make anything better, really, but it was sort of freeing to acknowledge that words are just words and sometimes strong ones are the only ones left. I cursed my life and the corners into which I have backed myself. I cursed the Lack of Belonging, I cursed All of the Church People with All of the Answers. I cursed the fact that there is one person currently in this town who somewhat gets it and we orbit in separate circles. Well, we orbited.
I'm about to stop orbiting entirely.
I came to a breaking point yesterday, or rather a series of breaking points in the last week, and I can't do this anymore. I do not belong here, and it's time to stop trying.
There is no back up plan except my cozy apartment, a phone, and a reading list. There is no one coming alongside, no hand to hold in this journey. My husband is deployed and so I'm left with earbuds and a good playlist, with a barking, whining, bone-chewing puppy, and with the desperate hope that maybe God is here.
No, I'm not leaving my church, and, no I'm not quitting any of the ministries in which I'm involved. God has me here, and curse the consequences, I will persevere.
But I'm done with crowds for the sake of crowds, I'm done with hanging out with people to assuage the loneliness. I'm done with all of the ganging up, all of the "us-against-everyone-else"mentality. I'm done with needing to be understood by anyone. I'm done.
Curse it all, I'm done.
I won't be pulled along because I'm weak-willed. I will come alongside because God is my strength. I will not believe things because "that's what we're supposed to believe or maybe we're not really believers." I will believe things because I am compelled to believe them.
Lord, have mercy.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
for the melancholy days
Today was saturated with melancholy. It drenched me as I dreamed dreams of not belonging, it greeted me in the tossing and turning in the minutes before my alarm sounded, it followed me like a ghost through my work day of falsely cheery greetings and lack-luster customer service, and when I arrived at the assisted living center to play music for my elderly friends, it gave me a far-away look and a penchant for haunting hymns.
Abide with me
Fast falls the evening tide
The darkness deepens
Lord, with me abide.
And so it went.
Today I feel the desert wandering more acutely than most days. Today I feel the need to quit everything "productive" I'm doing in my life and go off into an obscurity that maybe, just maybe, will yield the presence of God.
~~~
The hymn book from which I play at the assisted living is the hymn book of my youth. This has always been a nostalgic thing for me, something that conjures up happy memories of choir like voices uniting in praise to God in four-part harmony. But tonight it was a double-edged sword. Tonight the hymns of my youth were a constant reminder of the fragility of that institution which I thought was so sure.
I think up until recently I didn't let my home church's current troubles affect me on a personal level. I think I thought they'd figure it out, that they'd come to the light, that they'd just magically get over it. After all, that church was my rock growing up. It was the source of my spiritual education, my discipleship, my social life, my...well, it was pretty much everything. If they can't get it together, no one can.
Of course, confidence in human institutions is always a bad plan.
~~~
I don't always deal with change well. If I'm not at the helm of the change, I feel the lack of control very acutely. My small group has changed dramatically in the last few weeks. From a small group of people I trusted discussing the Bible together to a large combined group of opinionated people, things have changed, even if only temporarily.
The center of gravity has shifted, and we're now talking in certainties. I can speak that language well, and last night I gave it my everything. The topic was safe, so we spoke in faith and certainty. Next week isn't so safe, and I likely won't be talking. As that last vestige of "maybe I can be real with someone here" falls away, I'm reminded yet again that God must be my everything.
Even in the questioning, He has proven himself faithful. Even as all else fails, He is good.
~~~
I wandered through the open field in the park across from my apartment complex tonight. The stars were brilliant, and I aimlessly wandered, soaking in the splendid isolation. I am alone, and it's disconcerting at times, but it is also beautiful in its way. As I drift outside of the camp of belief in which I have spent my whole life to this point, as I explore the furthest reaches of my faith, I am increasingly confident that God is with me. I don't know where it is all leading, and I know I'm so far off on so many things. But God is here. He's distant and unreachable, and yet He's all around me. He's just beyond the fabric of this reality,
Tonight I stared up at the stars in frustration with a God who I cannot see or touch. I asked him where He was. And this song began playing in my earbuds (Jenn Johnson):
I am the Lord your God
I go before you now
I stand beside you
And I'm all around you
Though you feel I'm far away
I am closer than your breath
And I am with you
More than you know
Even if it wasn't God talking to me, it was certainly a good reminder of the faith that I hold in an invisible God.
To that I'll cling, no matter what.
~~~
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
in this season
I sat among those I love most here in this town tonight and felt the distance grow, the unrelenting and growing knowledge that I have never fit here, that I will never fit - that one day I must depart. I even added my voice to the certainties, to the answers. When I should have remained silent, I spoke, when I should have spoken I remained silent. But mostly I talked needlessly. The room was full of people with the answers, and as I added my voice to that number, I was struck by how little I really wanted to be talking. How little I want the answers.
Sometimes I am struck with the intense need to walk away from it all for a season, to abandon others' expectations and the constant reminders that I'm the skeptic, the doubter. There are increasingly common moments when the conversation slides so entirely out of the realm of my control, and increasingly common moments when the desire to wrest it back fades almost entirely. This season of my life, this lonely time, this solitary time - this is a time for introspection, a time for single-minded pursuit of God, and a time for the abandonment of all the things that would slow me down from that.
I have little left these days. With my husband's departure came the removal of the last bit of security I had. I was thrown out into the wilderness, and -oddly enough- I find myself thriving there. I find myself wanting less and less to waste the time in this wilderness. I want to enjoy every moment of the questions, of the searching. I want to throw myself wholeheartedly into this pursuit of God.
He will be found.
I wonder, though, where I'll find Him.
Curse the answers. Curse the textbooks and the systematic theologies. Curse the Sunday School questions and their corresponding answers. Curse our cornering of God and our small-minded conceptions of who He is. Curse it all.
I'm reading. I'm asking all of the wrong questions and finding all of the wrong answers.
And God is working.
Of that I am sure.
For the first time ever, I'm no longer confident that my presence here is fruitful in the least.
I might disappear into the wilderness.
Sometimes I am struck with the intense need to walk away from it all for a season, to abandon others' expectations and the constant reminders that I'm the skeptic, the doubter. There are increasingly common moments when the conversation slides so entirely out of the realm of my control, and increasingly common moments when the desire to wrest it back fades almost entirely. This season of my life, this lonely time, this solitary time - this is a time for introspection, a time for single-minded pursuit of God, and a time for the abandonment of all the things that would slow me down from that.
I have little left these days. With my husband's departure came the removal of the last bit of security I had. I was thrown out into the wilderness, and -oddly enough- I find myself thriving there. I find myself wanting less and less to waste the time in this wilderness. I want to enjoy every moment of the questions, of the searching. I want to throw myself wholeheartedly into this pursuit of God.
He will be found.
I wonder, though, where I'll find Him.
Curse the answers. Curse the textbooks and the systematic theologies. Curse the Sunday School questions and their corresponding answers. Curse our cornering of God and our small-minded conceptions of who He is. Curse it all.
I'm reading. I'm asking all of the wrong questions and finding all of the wrong answers.
And God is working.
Of that I am sure.
For the first time ever, I'm no longer confident that my presence here is fruitful in the least.
I might disappear into the wilderness.
Monday, October 20, 2014
a desperate whisper into a raging storm
~For my church family in South Dakota~
Everything has fallen apart, at least for those dearest to me. I watch from afar as that which is most dear to my memories of my childhood crumbles into so many pieces. I haven't lived it, and so I find myself stricken with a painful neutrality, a neutrality that demands my sorrow at the decisions made by each of those living the reality. I will be going home in December to a world I won't recognize.
We were so strong, why would we let it fall apart? Why would our issues with one man tear an entire assembly in two? Why would he allow it? Why would we allow it? What does all of it mean, anyway? Does one mistake, one sin, disqualify my entire youth? Is an entire lifetime of biblical and spiritual training now meaningless? Were our shortcomings truly enough to result in this chaos? Were we following God at all?
As all falls away, I am left with an unshakable confidence. Although there are no answers about the frailty of my childhood church family, although the institution is rent asunder, although it seems hopeless, still there is God.
Follow Him, my sisters and brothers. Remember that your identity is found, not in an institution that seemed unshakable, but in an unshakable God. Your church is not your foundation, and to the degree to which it was mine, God forgive me. God forgive our pride and our superiority complex. God forgive our hoard mentality, our "with us or against us" mindset.
We weren't Right. We weren't the only Good ones, the only True ones. We weren't good or true at all. We didn't have it all figured out, our piety was so meaningless. All of our service, all of our beautiful singing, all of our dependable membership, all of our tradition in an age of dying traditions, all of it was meaningless. It has fallen into chaos in an instant. With a terrifying power, one domino fells them all.
And now, for so many Dear Ones, it is gone. In the void of institution, there is only wilderness wanderings, only painful exiles, only wondering where God has gone.
He's among you. Don't forget it, please don't forget it. Pursue Him and He will be found. Draw near to Him and He will draw near to you. Don't ever forget those things you learned in the sunny days of unshakable faith in God and one another; never forget that God is merciful, that God has not abandoned you.
And don't forget each other. Don't forget that this is so complex, and that everyone experiences life from a different perspective. Don't forget that sanctification is always a process, that just as you have not arrived, neither have those whom you always thought infallible. Please don't allow hate and bitterness in. Please don't divide into factions. You can choose your own path, and have great reasons for it, but please don't hate those who cannot travel your path, please don't hate each other. As much as my voice is a whisper into a raging storm, I beg you to sacrifice everything for unity, beloved. Not necessarily unity in the choices you make, but unity in spirit. Never forsake meeting together, never forsake praying for one another. Love one another. In the painful messiness of choosing to pursue relationships at all costs with those who have chosen another way, you will find restoration.
And when all falls apart, when there is nothing left, remember this: In death, we find resurrection. Above all, don't forget this.
He's making all things new, brothers and sisters. Don't despair.
Everything has fallen apart, at least for those dearest to me. I watch from afar as that which is most dear to my memories of my childhood crumbles into so many pieces. I haven't lived it, and so I find myself stricken with a painful neutrality, a neutrality that demands my sorrow at the decisions made by each of those living the reality. I will be going home in December to a world I won't recognize.
We were so strong, why would we let it fall apart? Why would our issues with one man tear an entire assembly in two? Why would he allow it? Why would we allow it? What does all of it mean, anyway? Does one mistake, one sin, disqualify my entire youth? Is an entire lifetime of biblical and spiritual training now meaningless? Were our shortcomings truly enough to result in this chaos? Were we following God at all?
As all falls away, I am left with an unshakable confidence. Although there are no answers about the frailty of my childhood church family, although the institution is rent asunder, although it seems hopeless, still there is God.
Follow Him, my sisters and brothers. Remember that your identity is found, not in an institution that seemed unshakable, but in an unshakable God. Your church is not your foundation, and to the degree to which it was mine, God forgive me. God forgive our pride and our superiority complex. God forgive our hoard mentality, our "with us or against us" mindset.
We weren't Right. We weren't the only Good ones, the only True ones. We weren't good or true at all. We didn't have it all figured out, our piety was so meaningless. All of our service, all of our beautiful singing, all of our dependable membership, all of our tradition in an age of dying traditions, all of it was meaningless. It has fallen into chaos in an instant. With a terrifying power, one domino fells them all.
And now, for so many Dear Ones, it is gone. In the void of institution, there is only wilderness wanderings, only painful exiles, only wondering where God has gone.
He's among you. Don't forget it, please don't forget it. Pursue Him and He will be found. Draw near to Him and He will draw near to you. Don't ever forget those things you learned in the sunny days of unshakable faith in God and one another; never forget that God is merciful, that God has not abandoned you.
And don't forget each other. Don't forget that this is so complex, and that everyone experiences life from a different perspective. Don't forget that sanctification is always a process, that just as you have not arrived, neither have those whom you always thought infallible. Please don't allow hate and bitterness in. Please don't divide into factions. You can choose your own path, and have great reasons for it, but please don't hate those who cannot travel your path, please don't hate each other. As much as my voice is a whisper into a raging storm, I beg you to sacrifice everything for unity, beloved. Not necessarily unity in the choices you make, but unity in spirit. Never forsake meeting together, never forsake praying for one another. Love one another. In the painful messiness of choosing to pursue relationships at all costs with those who have chosen another way, you will find restoration.
And when all falls apart, when there is nothing left, remember this: In death, we find resurrection. Above all, don't forget this.
He's making all things new, brothers and sisters. Don't despair.
Friday, October 3, 2014
i am a stumbling Jesus-follower
My Twitter profile gives me 150 characters to describe myself - a nearly impossible task. I sat down tonight to revise my self-description (it doesn't get much more naval-gaze-y than that), and I knew with everything in me that although there is no one with whom I would rather identify than Jesus Christ, I also would be dishonest to claim his Name in any confident way.
I described myself as "a stumbling Jesus-follower."
That's what I am - kicking and screaming, yes.
~~~
I drove to meet an acquaintance for dinner tonight. I have hung out with her and her husband all of one time. I barely know her. As I drove, I contemplated how I would go about describing myself to her. I was overcome by emotion, because I can never be what these people need me to be. Certainty, confidence, boldness, these are things not mine in all fullness.
I want those things so desperately, and they're no where to be found.
Kicking and screaming, I'm learning to embrace the ambiguity that has come to characterize my life.
~~~
I married an evangelical in the full sense of the word. A verse-memorizing, Bible-donating, small-group leading man who is pretty much a word-for-word description of who high school me wanted to marry. (Except that he can't sing.) Through my relationship with him, I have learned that my doubts do not automatically exclude me from the community of believers. If he can accept my questions, if he can marry my questions, maybe, just maybe, there's hope for me. Maybe I'm not as alone as the voices whisper to me on the darker nights. Maybe I'm not crazy.
~~~
I'll never belong in the South. The heat and humidity, the trees, the lack of topographical variance: all of this means that adjusting is extremely difficult. I fell in love with a place, and this place will never be that place.
In the same way, I'll never belong in evangelical Christianity, at least not the strain in which I currently find myself.
And no, I have no intentions of leaving my church. I wouldn't change where I am for all of the world. In this situation, I have found love - a love individuals show toward other individuals, and a love for God that is admirable and speaks of God's presence among us.
After all, God refuses to be labeled, He refuses to be boxed in. He just Is.
~~~
I don't know anymore. I don't know what on earth kind of church with what on earth kind of members and what on earth kind of leadership I was raised in. I cannot comprehend the situation in which my home church finds itself, ripped apart at the very seams, with seemingly nothing left. I have no blame for any of them, I have no opinion in the matter. But I cannot help but wonder.
Who were we following? What were we following? Or rather, who and what was I following? Taking apart the pieces of my childhood and upbringing, I find myself more confused than clear. I was taught that we believed All of the Correct Things.
Clearly we didn't.
No one does.
And if we didn't believe All of the Correct Things, was any of it correct?
What, anyway, is this obsession with belief?
These days, I'm equally pulled by theology and practice. Inertia keeps me from following both poles whole-heartedly, but I am equally disturbed by the amount of things that I have no earthly idea about and convinced that all of the correct opinions about all of the theology still means nothing without action.
And yet, I'd be foolish and naive to assume that belief does not inform action (and action likewise informs belief). If I believe, for example, I'm going to another place called Heaven when I die and that one day this earth will be destroyed, that will make a difference as to my approach to life. Sometimes my actions are informed by beliefs I don't even realize I have.
...and so it goes...
~~~
I'm following Jesus with everything I have, but I'm stumbling down this winding road. There's no intellectual or even emotional certainty for me, only a relationship with a God who has turned my world upside down. I love Him, but I know so little about Him. I love Him, but my service for Him is so weak and betrays the weakness of my love more often than it does its strength.
I'm a mess.
Gracious Lord, have mercy.
~~~
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
No turning back,
No turning back.
I described myself as "a stumbling Jesus-follower."
That's what I am - kicking and screaming, yes.
~~~
I drove to meet an acquaintance for dinner tonight. I have hung out with her and her husband all of one time. I barely know her. As I drove, I contemplated how I would go about describing myself to her. I was overcome by emotion, because I can never be what these people need me to be. Certainty, confidence, boldness, these are things not mine in all fullness.
I want those things so desperately, and they're no where to be found.
Kicking and screaming, I'm learning to embrace the ambiguity that has come to characterize my life.
~~~
I married an evangelical in the full sense of the word. A verse-memorizing, Bible-donating, small-group leading man who is pretty much a word-for-word description of who high school me wanted to marry. (Except that he can't sing.) Through my relationship with him, I have learned that my doubts do not automatically exclude me from the community of believers. If he can accept my questions, if he can marry my questions, maybe, just maybe, there's hope for me. Maybe I'm not as alone as the voices whisper to me on the darker nights. Maybe I'm not crazy.
~~~
I'll never belong in the South. The heat and humidity, the trees, the lack of topographical variance: all of this means that adjusting is extremely difficult. I fell in love with a place, and this place will never be that place.
In the same way, I'll never belong in evangelical Christianity, at least not the strain in which I currently find myself.
And no, I have no intentions of leaving my church. I wouldn't change where I am for all of the world. In this situation, I have found love - a love individuals show toward other individuals, and a love for God that is admirable and speaks of God's presence among us.
After all, God refuses to be labeled, He refuses to be boxed in. He just Is.
~~~
I don't know anymore. I don't know what on earth kind of church with what on earth kind of members and what on earth kind of leadership I was raised in. I cannot comprehend the situation in which my home church finds itself, ripped apart at the very seams, with seemingly nothing left. I have no blame for any of them, I have no opinion in the matter. But I cannot help but wonder.
Who were we following? What were we following? Or rather, who and what was I following? Taking apart the pieces of my childhood and upbringing, I find myself more confused than clear. I was taught that we believed All of the Correct Things.
Clearly we didn't.
No one does.
And if we didn't believe All of the Correct Things, was any of it correct?
What, anyway, is this obsession with belief?
These days, I'm equally pulled by theology and practice. Inertia keeps me from following both poles whole-heartedly, but I am equally disturbed by the amount of things that I have no earthly idea about and convinced that all of the correct opinions about all of the theology still means nothing without action.
And yet, I'd be foolish and naive to assume that belief does not inform action (and action likewise informs belief). If I believe, for example, I'm going to another place called Heaven when I die and that one day this earth will be destroyed, that will make a difference as to my approach to life. Sometimes my actions are informed by beliefs I don't even realize I have.
...and so it goes...
~~~
I'm following Jesus with everything I have, but I'm stumbling down this winding road. There's no intellectual or even emotional certainty for me, only a relationship with a God who has turned my world upside down. I love Him, but I know so little about Him. I love Him, but my service for Him is so weak and betrays the weakness of my love more often than it does its strength.
I'm a mess.
Gracious Lord, have mercy.
~~~
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
I have decided to follow Jesus,
No turning back,
No turning back.
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