swim parallel

Sometimes I get caught in the bullshit of male authority.  Being a Christian hasn't helped in this case...subjecting myself to an institution that historically and sacredly has embraced male leadership.  For me, I can go to great mental and real scenarios that leave me hurt, confused, and scared.  I just don't know how to stop it.

My therapist made an interesting observation of how I was caught up in something I didn't have any control over.  She said I reminded her of someone being caught in a rip tide.  The feeling resonated.  Then she asked me what are we are supposed to do when we get caught in one.

You can't fight a rip tide.  You must swim parallel with the coast.  There is no resistance when we swim parallel.  It's the way to be free of the current.

There's a lesson here beyond the current.

I can't fight the rip tide, the social constructs of male authority, but I can swim parallel.

fundamentals

I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds; God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God; begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father, by whom all things were made.

Who, for us people and for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary, and was made man; and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered and was buried; and the third day He rose again, according to the Scriptures; and ascended into heaven, and sits on the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again, with glory, to judge the quick and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end.

And I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and Giver of Life; who proceeds from the Father and the Son; who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified; who spoke by the prophets.

And I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.

Everything else is negotiable. 

somebody asked me to pray

Funny how that makes my heart jump.  It's such an honor that someone would actually ask me to pray for them and with them.

Prayer is such an intimate act; I consider it spiritual lovemaking.  If you have ever prayed in the Spirit, you can feel the energy fill the room as the Divine takes away every breath.  There have been times when my knees want to give way.  It is just awesome.

But I wonder if they knew what I am thinking about the church if they would even ask me to pray....I wonder if they knew that I really am questioning many of our fundamental beliefs if they would even allow me in the same room with them.

I hide nothing and yet, I feel I am hiding everything because if I were to tell it as I see it then I fear I would be banished from their circles.

Somebody asked me to pray and in so doing I revealed my very intimate and honest connection with God.

Is a connection to God enough?    

the God box

How often have we put God in a box of our own construction; a box that suits our liking?   We've got all kind of boxes, big ones, little ones, ones of gold and silver lined with silk, ones of cardboard and tarps.  

God cannot be boxed.  His ways are not our ways; His thoughts are far beyond our farthest reach.  How dare we even think we can know Him?  Glimpses are all we have; glimpses that give us only hints to His majesty, glory, and power.  
   
On a visit to a Buddhist temple in the far east I discovered that eastern religious traditions are quite similar to our western orthodox Christian traditions.  They pray; they have holy water; their craftsmen took great care to create magnificent structures; and they have statues of their great man. 

 It must be a human condition to put God in such boxes. 

As I ponder, there seems to be only three essential touch points where God and humanity connect: creation, redemption, and peace.  The Father created, the Son redeems, and the Spirit brings peace.  

Distilled further: Caring, forgiving, and loving.  No boxes there.
 

   

shame on me

I was introduced to shame at a very young age.  My mother was the first to introduce me. Whenever she was displeased she used to point at me with one hand and strike her fingers together toward me saying, 'Shame, shame, shame.'  Then she ignored me.  It didn't take long to learn how bad I was. 

Then I was ashamed because of the attention I got from men.  Somehow it was my fault.

Then I was ashamed for all the mean things I did to people.

Then I was just ashamed. 

But even that shit is nailed to the cross:

I'm forgiven because you were forsaken
I'm accepted, you were condemned
I'm alive and well
Your spirit is within me
Because you died and rose again

Amazing love, how can it be?
That you, my king. would die for me
Amazing love, I know it's true
Its my joy to honor you

Thank you, Jesus.

 

redeeming sex

I was a beautiful child.  As such, I was invited to sit on the laps of men while they visited at my parents' house.  I never really wanted to but sensed from my parents that I had to accommodate our guests.  I was touched and used as a rubbing post often.  

So there was my role in childhood---a sexual play thing for men.  

But it started even before then; I don’t actually remember when.  I know I witnessed the sexual abuse of my sisters by our uncle while I was in the crib.  Then my uncle started with me when I was 6 or 7 and continued until I was 16 years old.  I was a very angry and rebellious adolescent; rebellion empowered me to confront him in the act.  He stopped.  I won, so I thought.  Little did I know the bondage sexual abuse had on the soul.

My first sexual intercourse encounter was when I was 13 years old.  I was raped.  Funny how I never considered it rape.  I did say no, but no wasn't an option.  So I obliged, naturally.  Isn't that what girls were for?  Thereafter, I was unable to say no to any other advances that came my way.  I was filled with so much shame.  I remember considering becoming a prostitute, thinking it was all I could do.  I thought so little of myself and even less of men. 

I met Jesus at age 18.  When I became a Christian, I really didn’t think believers even had sex at all.  I thought when I gave my life to God I was going to be a nun; a Baptist nun.  And I would never ever have to oblige another man with sex again.  But God knew that all my experiences with sex needed to be redeemed.  And God had chosen the perfect person to walk this path with me.  This man loved me so gently and completely.  I dare say he was unaware of the deep brokenness I cradled in my soul when he married me, but he never once made me feel ashamed, broken, or ugly.  He holds the key to my ongoing healing.   

Of all wounds, it is the sexual wounds that reach deep within and affect the very essence of our womanhood.  Each of us must tend to our own past, nurse our own wounds, and confess our own brokenness.  It is our process, our journey, which then becomes our story.  Wonderful stories that meanders through the changes and seasons of our lives.  And as we share them, shame is released and healing comes.

What was once broken is now made whole: Redemption happens.
            

have you ever...

Looked hunger in the face?
Held a sickly child while she urinated on your lap?
Sat in the suffering of another?

on spiritual matters

I am a Christian.  I would even go so far as to say I am a born again Christian, even though that has negative connotations in our culture.  But it is what I am; let it be said for the record.  But let it also be said that I am becoming less and less comfortable associating with the right-wing, conservative, fundamental, evangelical subculture.  I find that subculture extreme and excessive in nearly all things. Come on, helicopter egg drops? Smoking stages? Campuses for thousands? Really?

I'm not so sure this is what Jesus meant when he said to Peter, "build my Church."

Fact is, the North American Church spends millions of dollars on promotion, presentation, pastoral and staff support while the Asian and African Church starve.  Not to mention the myriad of social injustices that plagues humanity today.  Injustices such as poverty, AIDS/HIV, the oppression and abuse of women, and the orphan crisis, just to name a few.  Injustices that I believe as Christians, as the Church, should be our focus and priority.

This is what I read in my Bible:
  Matthew declares our 'acts of righteousness' as giving to the needy, praying, and fasting. 
  Micah tells us to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.
   James says true religion looks after orphans and widows and guards against corruption.
  And Jesus himself says we have but two commandments; to love God and to love others.

I dare say that God is not pleased with our collective indulgence while the needy elsewhere goes without.

Am I the only one who sees this? 

soft pink roses

Sometimes the simplest things bring the greatest comfort.

Soft pink is a gentle color.  Tender and delicate.  To be honest, it has always been a favorite of mine.  Over time I think I outgrew it.  It was too gentle, too delicate for the harsh world I lived in.  I needed bright, bold colors to push against the angst.  Intense colors that declare life.  Loud colors.  There's nothing loud about soft pink. 

Recently, at an indoor flower show, my soul was awakened from her winter's slumber as spring sprung forth in magnificent displays of plants and gardens. Of course I wanted to bring some of it home. While looking over all the choices, I found myself attracted to the soft pink roses.  I dismissed the notion and tried to find something more bold, more vibrant for my table.  Something more my style.  But I kept going back at the array of roses, back to the soft pink ones. They caressed me with their tenderness and beauty; they reminded me of the child within who once loved soft pink things.  They were absolutely lovely. 

For years, I have held back the harshness of life with vibrancy and boldness.  I have pushed away the soft and delicate things in order to survive the sinfulness of men.  Soft pink is a color that would never describe me. But that day I was feeling free; there was something about those soft pink roses that felt so good.  Finally, I gave into to the wanting and embraced them.  My soul smiled as my heart filled with love. God is not finished with me.  I am still ever changing.

My friend and I admired the bouquet, inhaling all its glory.  I decided to speak the unspoken. In a quiet voice, I said, "Ya want to know something? These soft pink roses is really what I'm like on the inside." She looked at me in utter disbelief and said, "Really? Maybe you should let it show more often."  "Hmmmm, maybe I should."

Maybe I will.

jagged edges

I am so afraid so much of the time and of so many things. Seems to me I've been afraid ever since I can remember.  I fight it with hate, judgment, and isolation.  I just don't know how to shake it off. God promises me that He has not given me a spirit of fear, but of love and sound mind.  And yet, I find myself hateful and full of anxiety.  And what do I fear? Do I fear love itself? Am I so broken that I can't even allow others to love me?  Do I ultimately push them away in order to fulfill my own fate of isolation?  My own self loathing? 
I have been hurt so deeply by those entrusted to protect me and care for me. I have stories, sad stories of what was done and how I responded. It shattered my little soul and now I'm left with jagged edges that cut others who get too close in order to protect myself. 
I know the God of all creation, the Savior of all humanity, and yet, I find myself fearful and unable to response to uncomfortable situations without hate and judgment.  God help me. 

In the beginning...

God created the heavens and the earth. And so begins all of history.  A beautiful place, perfect and harmonious in every way.  Peace and mutuality prevailed.  Until, that is, sin entered.  Shame, brokenness, oppression, pain, sickness permeated our perfect world.  A very sad day for all of humanity. 


We'll start here.