The weekend that we were in Knoxville for the launch of Crossings, our church here in Chicagoland did this video. I miss the one Sunday where they take one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite artists on one of the most important topics. Geez, good thing I feel so great about having been at crossings. Check it out.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Vocare: To Call
Yesterday, I had the blessing of working together with one of my closest friends at Panera Bread. It is blessing enough in itself to have a friend with whom you can be fully yourself, and she can do the same. Everyone needs one or two of the type of friends who will sit with you in a coffee shop, lap top in tow, and work alongside you just because they like your company.
I felt especially blessed because we discussed our callings. I disclosed to my friend that in the past year, God has had several people whom I trust deeply each affirm a specific calling in my life, independently without knowledge of the others. It's one of those things as Christians you would think that we would shout from the rooftops. But I haven't, the number of people I've told include my husband, my mother, and one other friend.
"Why?" you may ask. Well, as my mom jokingly said, you can understand how it makes me feel a little like Pat Robertson claiming that the world is going to end on Wednesday. So, I whisper what I have been told only to those who I know will not doubt it. I hedge it with "Well, we'll see if that happens..." and "Oh, I don't know.." I worry that my whispering offends God. It's actually unusual for me to be secretive about anything. I've always marvelled at mysterious people who live their life internally, such as my brother or my husband. Those mysterious, internal people attract me like a bug to a light on a summer night.
And when I undertook this sort of confession, my friend confessed to me her own calling, its development, and the sources of her own doubt. To me, the calling she speaks of seems so clearly fitted to her. It's so much easier to see in others their gifts and God's work in their lives than it is to do so about ourselves, in our own foggy minds and sense of self.
I always have had difficulty hearing the small still voice of God. I most often learn about God through other people. That's why I so strongly believe in the value of the priesthood of believers as a community. Aside from the fact that it's scriptural and historical, I know it and I've experienced it.
It saddens me that my friend and I, two passionate, strong, loving women of faith, whisper our callings in small conversations with each other. While such interactions are important and powerful, why do we hesitate to announce this powerful work of God in our lives? In our cases, I think some of it has to do with gender. In our conservative evangelical tradition, we have each experienced the invalidation of our gifts and callings purely because of our gender at times, in ways that wound and hurt. But, I think we're struggling with more than that.
There come all the doubts, the fears, the Moses-like feelings of, "Who? me? God, I think I'm going to horribly disappoint you." There's also the sacrifices that I must make, having had parents who were involved prominently in our community, I know the struggles that come with parents that are watched. Some of my hesitation stems from the fact that it's hard to reclaim a dream that you have let go. When a dream is deferred, you mourn its loss, feel the grief, and have to let it go. Similar to how the followers of Jesus had to reconfigure and evaluate their entire existence when he rose from the dead, when a dream rises from the dead you have to tear down all the new ones that you've built in order to embrace the old one. The overwhelming joy is mixed with a sense confusion and disbelief. It's a gift for your birthday, 5 months and 14 days after the date...it makes no sense, but you're unbelievably grateful.
A Dream Deferred
~Langston Hughes~
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I felt especially blessed because we discussed our callings. I disclosed to my friend that in the past year, God has had several people whom I trust deeply each affirm a specific calling in my life, independently without knowledge of the others. It's one of those things as Christians you would think that we would shout from the rooftops. But I haven't, the number of people I've told include my husband, my mother, and one other friend.
"Why?" you may ask. Well, as my mom jokingly said, you can understand how it makes me feel a little like Pat Robertson claiming that the world is going to end on Wednesday. So, I whisper what I have been told only to those who I know will not doubt it. I hedge it with "Well, we'll see if that happens..." and "Oh, I don't know.." I worry that my whispering offends God. It's actually unusual for me to be secretive about anything. I've always marvelled at mysterious people who live their life internally, such as my brother or my husband. Those mysterious, internal people attract me like a bug to a light on a summer night.
And when I undertook this sort of confession, my friend confessed to me her own calling, its development, and the sources of her own doubt. To me, the calling she speaks of seems so clearly fitted to her. It's so much easier to see in others their gifts and God's work in their lives than it is to do so about ourselves, in our own foggy minds and sense of self.
I always have had difficulty hearing the small still voice of God. I most often learn about God through other people. That's why I so strongly believe in the value of the priesthood of believers as a community. Aside from the fact that it's scriptural and historical, I know it and I've experienced it.
It saddens me that my friend and I, two passionate, strong, loving women of faith, whisper our callings in small conversations with each other. While such interactions are important and powerful, why do we hesitate to announce this powerful work of God in our lives? In our cases, I think some of it has to do with gender. In our conservative evangelical tradition, we have each experienced the invalidation of our gifts and callings purely because of our gender at times, in ways that wound and hurt. But, I think we're struggling with more than that.
There come all the doubts, the fears, the Moses-like feelings of, "Who? me? God, I think I'm going to horribly disappoint you." There's also the sacrifices that I must make, having had parents who were involved prominently in our community, I know the struggles that come with parents that are watched. Some of my hesitation stems from the fact that it's hard to reclaim a dream that you have let go. When a dream is deferred, you mourn its loss, feel the grief, and have to let it go. Similar to how the followers of Jesus had to reconfigure and evaluate their entire existence when he rose from the dead, when a dream rises from the dead you have to tear down all the new ones that you've built in order to embrace the old one. The overwhelming joy is mixed with a sense confusion and disbelief. It's a gift for your birthday, 5 months and 14 days after the date...it makes no sense, but you're unbelievably grateful.
A Dream Deferred
~Langston Hughes~
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Just a Normal Person
Somedays, I am just a normal person. Not a graduate student, not a therapist, not a teaching assistant...just a human trying to get by. Today was one of those days, if we ignore the 7 hours that I spent at Panera Bread working on my theoretical orientation for my professional qualifying exams. But, it's not outside of normal that someone might work at Panera with a friend on a Saturday to get some things done. So we'll just pretend I was working on something a little more "normal." Like taxes, or the next chapter of my best selling novel. HA!
Anyway, I had some observations today:
1.) If you chew with your mouth open and literally slurp your pizza-like dinner so loudly that it makes my (awesome cool girl) friend and I break out in giggles 15 feet away...you have a problem. Perhaps a serious one. Come on...really...surely you must be aware that you slurp solid foods so loudly that no one can enjoy eating, working, talking, or even being near you at Panera.
2.) Mother's have difficulty hiding what they are thinking. My mom, bless her heart, sounded suspicious on the phone tonight because while I went shopping (for clothes! that fit!), my husband wisely spared himself from such horrors. He, instead, went to a movie......gasp! Without me. Will someone please send my mom a post card that our marriage is better than ever...probably because I no longer feel the need to bring my husband clothes shopping.
3.) Forth and Towne is the best new shopping experience known to woman. They give you free bottled water. And bring you sizes! And have good lighting and mirrors! And they put things on sale! And Clinton and Stacy from What Not to Wear totally need to give me $5000 to spend on clothes. I dress like a sloppy overworked grad student because I have the budget of a sloppy overworked graduate student. And because I hate to iron.
4.) Of our two cats, Pippin is a jerk! At Ikea I bought a dining room rug ($40! A rug! It's new! And beautiful!) The moment I unwrapped it, he claimed it, rolling around on it, chasing Zuzu away from getting near the full 12 square feet of space available on the rug. As if his butt needs all that room! Then..then! I had bought this little kitty pop up tent ($5! Endless distraction while the cats act stupid!) for the cats to hang out in (hey, I shop like....never) and he won't let Zuzu in it either. I need to send my boy to therapy or something. Does the dog whisperer take on feline cases?
5.) Speaking of Forth and Towne, I finally found jeans that fit me great! (Tonight! is the night! of the exclamation point!) The curvy stretch jean in size INSERT LARGE NUMBER HERE A. See,cut R is for all you regular folks with legs like giraffes. And cut A is for those of us with midget legs on an otherwise normal body. Like me. It's not a petite, which is cut for true little people. Nope, I'm a normal 5'6" height person with shrunken legs. Think Bart Simpson, all body and stubby limbs. On sale, they were a price that will be worth it if I sleep in them, wear them to work, school, and all formal occasions.
6.)Tired of snow. Tired, tired, tired of this snow. Cold, wet, snow. Tired of the dirty shoes, the wet pants, and the snow.
Anyway, I had some observations today:
1.) If you chew with your mouth open and literally slurp your pizza-like dinner so loudly that it makes my (awesome cool girl) friend and I break out in giggles 15 feet away...you have a problem. Perhaps a serious one. Come on...really...surely you must be aware that you slurp solid foods so loudly that no one can enjoy eating, working, talking, or even being near you at Panera.
2.) Mother's have difficulty hiding what they are thinking. My mom, bless her heart, sounded suspicious on the phone tonight because while I went shopping (for clothes! that fit!), my husband wisely spared himself from such horrors. He, instead, went to a movie......gasp! Without me. Will someone please send my mom a post card that our marriage is better than ever...probably because I no longer feel the need to bring my husband clothes shopping.
3.) Forth and Towne is the best new shopping experience known to woman. They give you free bottled water. And bring you sizes! And have good lighting and mirrors! And they put things on sale! And Clinton and Stacy from What Not to Wear totally need to give me $5000 to spend on clothes. I dress like a sloppy overworked grad student because I have the budget of a sloppy overworked graduate student. And because I hate to iron.
4.) Of our two cats, Pippin is a jerk! At Ikea I bought a dining room rug ($40! A rug! It's new! And beautiful!) The moment I unwrapped it, he claimed it, rolling around on it, chasing Zuzu away from getting near the full 12 square feet of space available on the rug. As if his butt needs all that room! Then..then! I had bought this little kitty pop up tent ($5! Endless distraction while the cats act stupid!) for the cats to hang out in (hey, I shop like....never) and he won't let Zuzu in it either. I need to send my boy to therapy or something. Does the dog whisperer take on feline cases?
5.) Speaking of Forth and Towne, I finally found jeans that fit me great! (Tonight! is the night! of the exclamation point!) The curvy stretch jean in size INSERT LARGE NUMBER HERE A. See,cut R is for all you regular folks with legs like giraffes. And cut A is for those of us with midget legs on an otherwise normal body. Like me. It's not a petite, which is cut for true little people. Nope, I'm a normal 5'6" height person with shrunken legs. Think Bart Simpson, all body and stubby limbs. On sale, they were a price that will be worth it if I sleep in them, wear them to work, school, and all formal occasions.
6.)Tired of snow. Tired, tired, tired of this snow. Cold, wet, snow. Tired of the dirty shoes, the wet pants, and the snow.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Happy Birthday To Insanity!
I've had this blog for two years this month! It's so interesting that the things I talked about even on that first day are continuing themes in my life now. That's the main reason I keep up with this thing, as a type of journal for myself that others can bear witness to. Being an extratensive person, I make meaning in relationship with others and by talking things out. That's what I do hear because my life is so busy that I don't always have the luxury of having time to be with my dearest others, although that has been changing lately. So, there are some gems in there and some embarrassing rants, as well. Check them out.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Beloved
This weekend, my husband and I were back in Tennessee for the launch service of Crossings, a faith community. I have talked before about how we came to be involved in this church.
Worshipping was an amazing experience, mainly because I had a keen awareness of being a part of something God is doing. The absurdity that in the entire Chicagoland area we would find our current church, and then that that church would deviate from their typical church planting philosophy to entertain the idea of a church in Knoxville, and that we would be here during that time. Well, I said it, it's ABSURD! However, if I have learned anything, it's that God delights in the absurdly creative. His ways are not my own.
I have spent a fair amount of time these last 5 years feeling angry and disaffected from the Church, confused and disturbingly grieved about many failures of Christianity, Christians, the Church, and several local congregations. Not to mention the wrestling that I was doing with God. He and I had quite a few tussles. There is not enough space on the Internets or paper and ink in the world to record the lessons that God has taught me about God and about myself in the past few years. I have tried God in every way that I know how, and God has proven faithful and real. I have experienced God, tasted God, and known God through Jesus Christ...Just like Mark spoke about in his sermon on Sunday.
I make no apologies for the squall of grief, anger, and despair that I long denied, eventually experienced and finally embraced. In an equally confounding manner, I have watched the clouds of anger dissipate. Only by leading me through such a cloud of despair, allowing my wounds to occur and then binding and healing them, could I come to this moment where my story has become restored to one of wholeness and authenticity that seeks to know God and his creativity through my calling to the care of souls.
When I see the community of faith that is blossoming in Knoxville, I get all excited about the impact God is going to have on the lives of those who live there. I also get excited about the undeniably personal manner in which God is letting me be a part of it. Instead of feeling stuck, or torn between two places (Chicago and Knoxville), I experience the absurdity of God's perfect timing, His calculated writing of my story as a part of His story, and a true knowing that I belong to God, and all that I have belongs to God.
Not too long ago, on his blog, Mark asked people to share their "reel to reel" moments of faith. And I think I just remembered my most important one. Reading the The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen for a class, I recognized myself in both the prodigal and in the resentful older brother. I desperately needed to be keenly aware of God's grace, to know and to believe that I am God's beloved. I also recognized my own scowl, similar to the older brother's, as a sign of my resentment of those who experience God's grace, but who haven't been doing the "hard work" that I have for most of my life. My lack of acceptance of grace stunted my ability to extend grace to others.
For the first time, I sensed a growing awareness and acceptance of God's grace. God kept placing in my life people who reflected to me just how much I am God's beloved. Beloved. Beloved. Over time, I began to believe it. In pieces, in parts, not fully. And being assured of being God's beloved provided to me an expansive and expanding grace toward others. I felt a freedom to love, to shephard, to hold those who dish out daily doses of vitirol, disease, and toxicity. However, my assurance doubts, it wavers, I act as if I am not God's beloved. I forget the loving way in which He created me, the exorbiant price He paid for soul. As evidence of my lack of faith, and my need for continual remembrance, I had that very word..."beloved" tattooed on my body. Not as proof to anyone, not as art, not as anything but a constant reminder that God has declared me His. Even in my darkest moments of doubt, the reality of that ink on my lower back declares to me that in the face of my unbelief, I am God's beloved.
I'm beloved. You're beloved. He is here. He is real.
Worshipping was an amazing experience, mainly because I had a keen awareness of being a part of something God is doing. The absurdity that in the entire Chicagoland area we would find our current church, and then that that church would deviate from their typical church planting philosophy to entertain the idea of a church in Knoxville, and that we would be here during that time. Well, I said it, it's ABSURD! However, if I have learned anything, it's that God delights in the absurdly creative. His ways are not my own.
I have spent a fair amount of time these last 5 years feeling angry and disaffected from the Church, confused and disturbingly grieved about many failures of Christianity, Christians, the Church, and several local congregations. Not to mention the wrestling that I was doing with God. He and I had quite a few tussles. There is not enough space on the Internets or paper and ink in the world to record the lessons that God has taught me about God and about myself in the past few years. I have tried God in every way that I know how, and God has proven faithful and real. I have experienced God, tasted God, and known God through Jesus Christ...Just like Mark spoke about in his sermon on Sunday.
I make no apologies for the squall of grief, anger, and despair that I long denied, eventually experienced and finally embraced. In an equally confounding manner, I have watched the clouds of anger dissipate. Only by leading me through such a cloud of despair, allowing my wounds to occur and then binding and healing them, could I come to this moment where my story has become restored to one of wholeness and authenticity that seeks to know God and his creativity through my calling to the care of souls.
When I see the community of faith that is blossoming in Knoxville, I get all excited about the impact God is going to have on the lives of those who live there. I also get excited about the undeniably personal manner in which God is letting me be a part of it. Instead of feeling stuck, or torn between two places (Chicago and Knoxville), I experience the absurdity of God's perfect timing, His calculated writing of my story as a part of His story, and a true knowing that I belong to God, and all that I have belongs to God.
Not too long ago, on his blog, Mark asked people to share their "reel to reel" moments of faith. And I think I just remembered my most important one. Reading the The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen for a class, I recognized myself in both the prodigal and in the resentful older brother. I desperately needed to be keenly aware of God's grace, to know and to believe that I am God's beloved. I also recognized my own scowl, similar to the older brother's, as a sign of my resentment of those who experience God's grace, but who haven't been doing the "hard work" that I have for most of my life. My lack of acceptance of grace stunted my ability to extend grace to others.
For the first time, I sensed a growing awareness and acceptance of God's grace. God kept placing in my life people who reflected to me just how much I am God's beloved. Beloved. Beloved. Over time, I began to believe it. In pieces, in parts, not fully. And being assured of being God's beloved provided to me an expansive and expanding grace toward others. I felt a freedom to love, to shephard, to hold those who dish out daily doses of vitirol, disease, and toxicity. However, my assurance doubts, it wavers, I act as if I am not God's beloved. I forget the loving way in which He created me, the exorbiant price He paid for soul. As evidence of my lack of faith, and my need for continual remembrance, I had that very word..."beloved" tattooed on my body. Not as proof to anyone, not as art, not as anything but a constant reminder that God has declared me His. Even in my darkest moments of doubt, the reality of that ink on my lower back declares to me that in the face of my unbelief, I am God's beloved.
I'm beloved. You're beloved. He is here. He is real.
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