Unique Aloneness

an unpublished, unedited blog from October 2014.

Sitting in the dance studio lobby, waiting for my daughter's 90 minutes of ballet, tap and jazz - here in the chaotic hall I find my respite. It is my 90 minutes of "me" time. But with a nagging feeling of being alone from the social event I just left, Netflix being down and my new headphones broken in one ear my precious time seems violated....

I never knew I needed time alone. But as I have become an adult I find the need to do what I like, to express my own self, is not only important but sometimes essential for getting through the day. As a doer, I am excellent and going till the breaking point. Not stopping till everything falls apart forcing me to stop moving. This is seen in my work, my marriage, my parenting, my ministry and friendships - I go until I can go no more and the world can see who I really am. Because truly they wouldn't seen anything else but what I do, for I am a doer...

That's not true, I hear my husband speak, a soft but firm voice much like the Holy Spirit. I struggle with worth, with place, with knowing myself and doing is the way I most easily reconcile all the struggles inside. You see the place I just left before coming here was an ice cream social, it was for the seminary my husband attends. (Note I said he attends as I am taking a semester off and have isolated myself from that community.) These people are friends, acquaintances, ministry partners, professors, and even my pastors. But walking into that crowd of people I felt a rush of aloneness. A sea of isolation gripped my heart, as my current speechlessness due to illness forced me to see myself. I didn't know my role. I was neither the facilitator, nor the student, I wasn't the comrade, or the employee, I was not the one supposed to be hospitable, nor was I a new face others sought out. Truly with my five year old daughter by my side, I felt horribly out of place and wanted to hide. I hated it. I always hate that feeling.

It's not an unfamiliar wrap, rather it's one I've struggled with most of my adult life. I am a highly extroverted, social butterfly that without a role I die suddenly, like the frost kills the fruit. So I avoided role-less situations. I have my husband with me, and if he isn't I put on a role - a self assign a necessary identity to the group dynamic. But if I am truly myself, just me - we'll I'm so unfamiliar with her surely no one lee would recognize her as the friend they've made.

Oh the awkward moments! The times of saying your name for the third time, of being welcomed but not known, yes those moments when you may be recognized but truly you are unknown.

Beloved, that is the time for hospitality. Churches, groups, people - we all say welcome. But so many of us never act it out. We avoid those ones who make us uncomfortable, the high calorie people we find ourselves making excuses to not talk to. We don't care to go past the basic facts, inviting others into who we are. You know that's what we all want, in those moments of unique and utterly aloneness - when our own personhood is in question, we want to be gathered up into the story of the other. To be grabbed by the heart and hand by another's world, and thus finding ourselves not nearly alone as we thought. In those moments of utter vulnerably we are given the rare opportunity to find something new about ourselves, but only through the act of the other.

Today was not my day to be raptured by another, because I had to face my loneliness, my complete sense of lostness - especially in the midst of my heroes, my examples, my friends. See while holistic hospitality is the gift God wanted to remind me of, the need for role is what God is trying to repair.

I'll be honest. I've called myself many things.
Mom.
Wife.
Friend.
Administartor.
Student.
Teacher.
Boss.
Employee.
 theologian.
 Seeking pastor.
Missionary.

But I will say this... The only one of those I hold onto day and night are those that I can accomplish on my own. Through my own strength, initiative, and gifting I can accomplish and live out many of those roles - so in the darkest days, and highest nights I hold onto them because I CAN DO IT.

Those roles that I can't make happen... The theologian, the pastor, the missionary.... These are gifts given by God, not roles I can put on and off as I please. They are enrapturing roles, encompassing identities, ways of living not streams of acting. And if I were to be honest, I don't trust God or my own worthiness to be given such a gift.

I always thought it was just a trust issue with God, but I'm finding more and more I don't trust my own value in the eyes of the Creator. If I am not doing, I am not being valued. I can't earn these, and I have to trust a God who operates on a completely different level than I to bring them about. You see, I don't trust anyone to be more committed than I - especially a distant deity.

So here is my prayer in contrast to my confession.

God,
You are here.
In the dirty spaces,
The crowded lobbies,
Your Spirit is present.
 I will speak boldly then,
In my own voice I will confess,
I trust You not.
Where the transgression lies,
I do not know,
But I feel it so ever deeply -
"You've done me wrong".
I know this is foolish,
But Lord if I'm honest,
I feel hurt by You.
You know me better,
You know me best.
So precious Jesus,
The Savior, please respond to me.
Call me.
Oh precious Jesus,
Call me.
I feel like one of here friends of John,
For some reason you've passed me by.
I feel like the other brother of Philip,
The one you did not speak to.
I want to be called.
I want to follow you.
I want to see that road,
Or have the blinding light,
Encounter Your glory
And be named.
Mark me Spirit.
Call me to you so I may be found, known and loved.

nothing Scary

In reading Matthew 3 this morning, I was struck by how we read the Bible. For many of us the Bible holds literal words, most of which are directives from God, with little to no space for the humanness of the writers. When we read John the Baptist talking about Jesus and the chaff being thrown into unquenchable fire - we read it as though God himself is telling us that those who are chaff will be thrown into that fire.

But what if we don't read Scripture that way? What if we interacted with this sacred text, as a dangerous book that reveals not only the heart of God but our own nature. That as we read the words, hear the stories, interact with the themes we aren't being given a textbook or manual but an invitation to be revealed and to see?

The more time that passes here in South Dakota, I find myself more and more grateful for my childhood, my adolescence, and the spiritual spaces of college/grad school. When I sit down and read Scripture I'm not afraid of the questions that are certain to arise. Give me enough time and I'll wrestle through any text to try to find what God's heart is on the matter. Through that wrestling I know I will be changed, my motives will be unveiled, my own lack apparent and I will either see or long for another way. But I didn't get here alone.

My dad gave space for questions, in fact he often demanded critical reflection on anything we engaged with and Scripture was no exception. While I may have grown up in a conservative family, attending Awana, being home schooled, and living in the middle of nowhere - the eccentricities of my family gave space for many interpretations.

Moving helped as well. Encountering diverse people throughout my childhood, demanded a common ground mentality and the space for ecumenical work that my 10 year old started to operate in. 

In college, I had professors who believed different things. Very conservative, committed liberal, strong Feminist, passionate reformer, missionaries, pastors, - these people shared with me their life and their ways of engaging with God.

In grad school I finally found my language. Theology gave me grounding for the ways I saw the world. Challenged to engage with doctrine in robust and holistic ways, learning the ways other branches of the Christian faith interacted with Scripture and the Triune God - I was stretched but I was also at home.

When Cheryl Bridges Johns, touched my arm the night of the Pentecostal Theological Seminary Christmas dinner, she looked me in the eye and said, "you are a part of us" - I began the journey of interpretation within community. All of a sudden I was known and beheld, invited into a system I had often felt only halfway a part of. Reading the Word within a community, especially a diverse community of various ethnic, education, tradition, and socioeconomic backgrounds meant being challenged to read in more faithful ways. My patterns and habits may not fit, they may even silence others voices and so it was many years of learning how to live out the new ways I was interacting with Scripture and God.

But our pastors made that space, they worked hard to cultivate a place to wrestle and rest, to know and doubt. When Cheryl spoke of Scripture it a wild and dangerous book, one we should engage with curiosity and even a little trepidation. Jackie would invite us to hear the constancy of the faith, the long roads others had walked here with us, and to remind us to go back go where God had been before if we ever felt like we lost him

Like all people they are imperfect and so was our church. But it was beautiful. I may not have recognized it then, but New Covenant would hold me steady through tumultuous seasons. 

I don't read Matthew 3 as God saying through John that those who do not produce fruit will be thrown into a fire. I read it and hear a man who was an outsider, likely rejected for his eccentric ways, but then when he got popular those who are the haves wanted what he - as a had not - had. He spoke with righteous anger. Wary be those who repent simply because it's popular. Don't you dare just come so you can say you did and then continue on in your selfish, holier than thou ways. It is a judgment you take upon yourself when you come only for show. John was personal and prophetic when he spoke, but I don't believe he was prescriptive. Does that change the weightiness of John's words? No. Does it shift the focus? Perhaps. If you are operating out of a fear of judgment then the interpretation lies heavily on John's ending words. But if the weight doesn't land there, perhaps we can focus more on John's caution to the Pharisees that "they must bear fruit of repentance"?

I want to be an invitation to engage and wrestle. I want to be a safe space to work through hard things. Thanks for joining me here.

Grace and peace. 

Ohana

It's silly I know.
But I am sad for me,
and excited for you.
I knew life would keep on moving,
but I guess in the busy I assumed we stay.

Here you are going,
to another city, another dream,
exploring all the world can be.

Here I am staying,
wishing I could hold the time,
wondering why goodbyes happen at all.

I know it's silly.
Because I never expected us to stay,
We'd explore the world,
attempting our dreams,
Embracing the successes and the failures.
Somehow in the midst of waiting,
I thought we would just be together.

Busyness stole the hours,
Priorities shifting,
and new roles replacing the old.
I never realized how much I'd miss you.

I'm not ready to let go,
of that glimmer of what I always wanted,
but never could articulate.
I guess it's better to love,
to desire, to want,
than to hate, or never care at all.

It's silly, but that's okay.
Things are changing,
and we will never be the same.
Yet the excitement will roll,
and our dreams will unfold.
Until next time my sisters, my brothers, my dearest friends.

I love you.

When Mercies Are New

Today I feel overwhelmed. My body is fighting within me. My mind is unable to concentrate or connect things. I seriously feel like I can not do everything but there is nothing I can drop....... It feels a little like drowning slowly - your brain says don't panic because otherwise you will drown but your body is saying I am taking in water and I am going to die.

God, it feels trivial to ask
I don't trust that you care
There is something wrong with my approach
Trying to live this faith on my own
I'm not altogether different than my friend
Whose faith is in herself
Selah
Hold me fast Oh Lord
In the midst of my iniquity, speak
As a drown because of my own devices
Do not turn your face from me
You do not abandon but God do you fix?
When it seems I am failing
and it is all my fault, do You come and make new?

But is that not every sin?
Is not every failure a making of yours or another?
Will I not arise to your side in the darkest of trenches?
Even as you are in a sea of your own misery, I AM.
My mercy is new every morning. 

Birth

Birth

The kicks, hiccups and movement

The ambiguous feelings

The intimate knowing

All a foreshadow of who you are

Eyes of the sea

Or as an ebony night

Hair bright as the sun

Or as a shadow below

All we know is your name

That you come as we have all before

All we know is you’re ours

That you are a part of the life we begun

Belonging, but not contained

Held, but not controlled

Unique, yet linked

Known, yet a mystery

Seasons change

Life begins and ends

We are but a vapor

Yet the love lasts forever

Do not be afraid

The odd, the strange and familiar

We are destined to be a part

Death and life, simply seasons

Till our eyes meet

When you know you are safe

Till I know who you are

You are fully loved even now

For this is birth

A death of what was

The beginning of something new

Let us anticipate with great expectation

The birth of you, of us, of we

Enter into the birth of all that will be

And has been

Life.

Perhaps - a poem

Perhaps it's best to just stop

To take a moment and look

Seeing all that has happened

And is about to become

Perhaps if we waited

Just a little more, each morning

We’d see what is happening

And who we are becoming

Perhaps there is grace

A place to do life over

Where what has been

And what has become, can be changed

Perhaps

There were words I never knew

Seasons I never felt

Streams that remained full

Until now

Perhaps it’s time to step back

Surveying all that we are

Choosing what will happen

And seeking whom we should become

Perhaps we won’t have tomorrow

That right now is all we see

To make life happen

And to love who we are

Person of Grace

Father of Justice

Spirit of Peace

Truth

Love

Wisdom

Triune God who calls us into the perhaps

Help us

Even as we wade into deep, deep waters

I don't know

It's been a while.
A lot has happened.
A lot has stayed the same.

But a question keeps rumbling through, echoing throughout my mind and now my heart.
Life..

My second cousin on my mom's side recently posted on Facebook talking about her postponed surgery. She is in the process of removing those body parts that mark her as female, soon she will be a he. The distance of transgender faith is no longer far, but within grasp of my finger tips. Far enough still I could ignore it, yet close enough that it will haunt my prayers.

Three or so years ago two girls came into my office to applying for work. They interviewed well, and seemed reliable - so we offered them jobs. As they left my office my boss looked at me and said - they are definitely homosexual. She said it so matter of fact, I was a bit taken aback - but only a bit,, while I loved this woman she was loud and was prone to speaking her thoughts. Her own adopted mother was a lesbian so I knew her acceptance of homosexuality was there. Still as an active Christian it surprised me to hear her label someone as such. Here I am three years later, and one of those ladies still work for me. She's gone through a lot. A year ago I had to have a write-up with another employee who was discriminating and harassing her because of her sexuality and faith. She had left our company to work for another and had moved in with a more steady partner. She had attempted to get married in Chicago only to hit roadblocks. Her wife's grandfather who had become a dad to both of them passed away a few months later. They both had been trying to get pregnant and finally she was expecting. I believe she was two weeks away from her second trimester - and then she lost the baby.

All of a sudden my guard, my standoffish stance was down. Here a woman, just as much a woman as I - was experiencing one of the most painful losses a woman can - the sudden loss of a life so longed for. See this woman is active in her church, helps lead worship, and is active with helping the poor. But unfortunately she stinks as an employee - her health and life situation causes her to be late, or absent almost every other day. Her faith has caused wrestling and annoyance in my personal life, and her work has caused disturbance and instability in my job. To be honest she has been more a thorn in my side than someone I would speak positively for. It was only a week ago when I was shown by the Lord and others that I had been standoffish to her, that I was treating her less than others - and I was convicted and repented, asking the Lord to help me because I had no idea what to do.

Today when I got her message, my heart swelled, and it keeps swelling as I think about her. Life - no matter how different, or contradictory - is a gift from God, a reminder of the imago Dei we each hold. I want to Google how to help her. I want to read the right article to make sense of her loss, to know how to speak the truth of what I believe to her, to understand how she believes what she does so I may have grace. But I find my questions crude and unrefined. I want to solve the insolvable. To resolve that which is not resolvable, to just have the answer so I don't have to wait in the ambiguity.

Oh how many times have we jumped to an answer, rushed to a conclusion, grasped onto a fragment of truth to avoid this mire? To avoid the waiting, the seeing, the being with that which we can't see or know? I have so often offered resolutions, given answers and helped fixed situations for my friends and family - sometimes with the Spirit and often without simply because it hurts sitting here.On the border of tears, and the verge of crying out - Abba, Abba, why have you forsaken me?

I remember a sermon, or conversation once with my pastors. They talked about the significance of just being with others in their loss. It wasn't something they had always known, but instead was something learned through an experience where the loss was without words. They came to the home or hospital of the loved ones, and truly had no words. The pastors felt inadequate, insignificant even and they left feeling like they did nothing to help. In the following days and weeks the family would tell them that their presence was healing, that they felt the Spirit's comfort in their being there. There were no answers, to resolutions, no cheap tricks to solve the overwhelming grief they were experiencing - there was simply the Spirit working through human flesh, touches from God through man's fingertips.

What would the Body look like if we stopped giving answers, quit manufacturing results and just sat in the room, representing the Spirit in the midst of pain and loss? What if my judgement could be left at the altar, and the bread and wine truly transform this feeble flesh into Christ's love? I am not saying we don't act, I am not advocating silence - but I am asking, what if we would just be the Body? Be the life that Jesus gave, rather than just speak of it.

I know I am one of thousands, if not millions of voices saying this same thing. Asking the Church - the holy, catholic church of Christ, what if? But truly, this question starts in my own heart, what would my faith look like in my job, in my home, in my school and in my church if I truly believed that Spirit goes with me? What if the atmosphere can change with my obedience?

Forgive this feeble flesh.
Redeem this lost soul.
How often I have left You.
Assuming You had to be restrained.
Fearing You must be absent from here.
Oh Father, I don't know,
Abba forgive me.
Give me strength to hear.
I believe, help my unbelief to follow You.