Its the most wonderful time.....

Ebenezer Scrooge just stopped by my office and bah humbugged her way down the hall.  She hasn't put up a Christmas tree in so long that when she decided to give her Christmas tree away to the church, she had no idea where she had stored it.  She used to be part of an ornament exchange but there was no point really, she never even took them home. This is not her most favorite time of the year.

Then there is the Elf on the Shelf woman down the hall.  She loves to jump out of bed and whip up a batch of Christmas cookies, run to the local community parade, then stop in at the Christmas party, and shop online to the wee small hours of the day.  She has been humming Christmas carols, thinking up amazing things for her elf to do to entertain the children, and sending out her Christmas cards which she got the week of Thanksgiving because she didn't want to get behind.  This is most definitely her favorite part time of the year.

I am at neither extreme, though I like this time of the year.  I am too busy to decorate as I once did, and the magic of the magic isn't really happening as it once did.  I do put up my tree and I like the opportunities that come along to be with family and friends for the holiday, but the frantic rush isn't appealing at all any more.

I blame this all on the Advent Conspiracy people and Michael Slaughter.  Once they forced me to deal with the strange way I was celebrating the coming of my Savior, they have left me with no traditions that fit any more.  I cannot go so far as to say I am sorry they have opened my eyes, but I do say that there has been a crisis of sorts created by the zeal to reclaim Christmas from consumerism. 

In this new place, everything seems to be optional and I find myself holding up various things saying, does this still fit?  Is it right to hang up all these wreaths when there are people who need water in the Sudan?  Is it good to make cookies to share, when I could be hardening arteries and pushing over-eaters to the edge?  Is it good to buy people gifts that they want....if its all about sacrifice and suffering?  What does one do now after one opens the very few, non-frilly, socially acceptable gifts, that used to take hours but now only 10 minutes.  After all, we have tried and it is just really hard to sit around talking about the ills and injustice of the world, and still feel that joy has come.

Let me be clear, I am all for reclaiming Christmas.  I am all for being sacrificial and sharing what I have with all who need.  I just want a little of the party to be seen as sacred too.  I want to send money to people in need, and I want to buy things for people I love, who will love receiving.  I want to feel the awe and wonder that  fills my heart on Christmas Eve, remembering once again the overwhelming love of God represented in this baby.  I want to look at the children around me, and wonder how God will be using these precious creatures to bring in the Kingdom.  Surely there is balance in all of this?

Maybe there isn't.  Maybe the non compliant part of me is resenting the call to grow up to the meat of life as a disciple moving on toward perfection and holiness of heart and life.  Perhaps there is still a little girl inside that doesn't want this to be about being poured out for the sake others.  Maybe I am still happier with being the center of my reality rather than surrender this place to the Author of my reality anyway.

It is still the most wonderful time, but perhaps it is about time that I give all that I am, all that I have, all that I dream into the hands of the Lord of my life.  Wonder how that might be? 

Tearing down the facade.

Yesterday, there I was minding my own business.  I was working hard for the money, bringing in the Kingdom, practicing the life of a faithful disciple, when boom!  Out of nowhere a demon possessed me and I found myself having a nuclear melt down with one of those people who holds a piece of my heart.  If you think I was stunned, you should have seen the reponse from my precious friend.

Here is the scary thing, this isn't the only time a demon has taken possession of my faculties and turn me from supergirl into lavagirl.  I wish it were not so, but I have to confess that the truth of the matter is that I do not release frustration and anger wisely at times.  I think I am surrendering these things, talking to God, trusting that all things are working to good.  It is certainly my plan anyway, and I am working round the clock to practice these spiritual disciplines more consistently.  Yet, when a number of unresolved issues begin to stick to each other, growing into an ever growing stack, I have notice that when people I love get too close to a heart button, the whole thing blows sky high.

I would like this not to go on being a problem.  I am quite used to apologizing, as in the natural course of any typical day I will have bobbed when I should have weaved, or zigged when I should have zagged.  I am even okay with strong emotions, as I find people of passion and energy are a joy to be with and get a lot of good stuff done.  I am even okay with having some touchy places in my heart, as it reminds me that I am completely dependent on God for healing, hope, and wholeness.  The part I would like to go away is the part when I pretend I am not hurting over the accumulation of unresolved 'opportunities'. 

If I could just say to people, "I am sorry, I am a bit on edge because my bucket is currently weighed down with the man who told me a delightful story that has no basis in truth, the lady who is teaching Bible study and tearing down my character in the same breath, the unknown outcome of projects near and dear to my being, and the nagging voice of my GPS Samantha, who never lets me forget that when she told me to turn left, I turned right", I think I would not have these volcanic eruptions.  It's all the pretending that I have it all together that is wearing me out.

Tonight I passed a friend in the hall and asked how he was doing.  He replied his typical response, no sense in complaining, and no one is listening anyway.  We think it's funny and we both laugh, but we are wrong.  It isn't funny, but it's very true.  No one wants to know what is going on inside our heads, or banging around in our hearts, they just want us to wear the facade, smile and reply "I am fine thank you, and you?"  We want that too, because after all it is the desire of our hearts to be fine, thank you.  I wish I always was, only I am only pretending sometimes.

I don't think I am the only one pretending, as I have some fairly volcanic friends from time to time.  I really believe it is not the stuff we have that is making us erupt, it is all the pretending.  If I could just respond to sincere inquiries about the status of my soul, I suspect I wouldn't be lavagirl any more.   Yes, I confess I might become whineygirl, or Mrs. NoFriends, but I wonder what life without the fake grin might be like. 

I think God likes me when I am frustrated.  I think He feels good about me saying, you know, this is not making me at all happy.  I even think when I say, "This too shall pass, and NOW would be very good" I am a beloved daughter, infinite in value and worth because they are freely given based on God's character and not my own.  If truly nothing separates us from the live of God in Christ Jesus as Paul wrote and the Church has embraced for 2000 years, then I want to stop pretending I don't have stuff.  I want to keep my hands open, and let God take my stuff as He often does, but I don't want to try to hide it under the 'mini me' that has this unbelievably bad way of making me nuclear. 

St. Paul says that now we see through the mirror dimly, then we shall see face to face.  I bet what we see one day is just the real us, made perfect through Jesus, being made holy.  Won't that be a fashion show!

Messy, Messy, Messy 2

I am tired of messy.   I am tired of mail that comes, and stays though no one will ever open it, or gain one insight from the hard work someone put in to develop, edit copy fold and stuff these documents.  This mail is placed carefully into a stack along with wedding invitations, or baby announcements, and catalogues, and the occasional newspaper until a new stack must be started.  One day, when my inability to endure it anymore meets a hole in the schedule, I will go through the stack, shaking my head over RSVPs that didn't get sent, baby gifts that are late, deep confusion over why I thought any of the rest was even stack worthy.

I  am really out of patience with people, and opinions, and those who clamor on about that which they admit they have no personal knowledge.  I am frustrated by the people who share opinions in vacuums, and even more irritated with people who re-share the opinions of people who have no real right to even hold an opinion in the first place.  I am desperately close to a full scale temper tantrum, in fact.  This is a different kind of stack and it needs sorting no less than the one of accumulated mail.

I remind my self that life is messy.  Faith is messy.  People are really messy.  There is no way to stay clean and be connected, and without connection there is no way to be the Body of Christ.  Darn it.

 I know what the organizer people say.  They say we should have one touch mail, and it stays or goes the moment we touch it.  This works by the way, if you happen to look at your mail every day.  If you are like me, this sometimes doesn't happen until the stack is threatening the neighborhood and a formal complaint has been made about you to the clutter police.  

I know what they say about people too.  We are supposed to remember everyone is a child of God, recognize that most of our annoyance is based on us not others, that we need to release all of that in Sabbath rest and start with a clean slate often.  Yes to all of that, it is all true.  But just as with the mail, often we don't realize we are hording emotions until, quite unsuspectingly, our heads spin around and pea soup come spewing forth. 

I think the bottom line for me is that means of grace are important, just like organizational systems are, but nothing will keep the world a neat and tidy place all of the time.  I need to journal more often, it is incredibly helpful in working out my thoughts on something.  Journaling more often wont keep me from being confused at times.  I need to go through the mail with more determination, but sometimes, in the midst of crazy weeks, the mail is going to stack up and there is going to be a pile.  All of those cards I bought, to let people know I was thinking of them, will not expire if my good intentions lead me to thinking more than sending.   I did think of them when I bought the card after all.  Is it essential they know that I was thinking of them this week?

It's just messy.  I will clean it up today, and tomorrow and a little more the next day.  Before you know it, there will be an attitude I failed to release, in fact I rolled up into it and got really comfortable.  There will be an RSVP that went unrsvped.   There will be an opinion that has no business being shared that will stumble into my line of vision, and I will have to stop and remind myself that I am not the opinion police. While everyone should be sitting around wondering what I think, very few are.  There will be no secret formula that makes it all neat and tidy all the time.  People who are have different issues altogether...just sayin.

So, good thing there is grace.  Grace is greater than all that messiness.  Grace is even greater than my need for order, and cleanliness, and good behavior.  Grace is even enough for me when a temper tantrum is right around the bend, and I have too many opinions of everyones opinion.  Jesus made it possible, the Spirit gives the ability, and the Father makes messy good.  Therein lies peace.  Good thing.

Passing on the mantle

I am not growing older.  I chose a number of years ago to stop having birthdays and elected to instead celebrate the anniversary of a birthday I enjoyed.  I stayed with 30 for sometime, then after enough time had gone by, I moved on to 35.  I think that this season recently expired and I am currently enjoying the celebration of birthday 39.  Amazing how many woman at my church are also celebrating the anniversary of their 39th birthday.  It must be a really fun year!

As anti aging as I am, I will begrudgingly admit that I have recently had the opportunity to watch someone who aged gracefully, lead beautifully, and retired again not in defeat or weakness, but with a sense of satisfaction and completion.   A year ago we were told we would have the leadership of a retired bishop for a one year interim until the next election.  There were opinions from the cheap seats in abundance.  This would be a lame duck year, nothing would be accomplished.  It would be one of the retired bishop that currently reside in our Conference and it would be awful.  It would be a wasted year.  HA!

One thing about the cheap seats, once their predictions are proven wrong, they are quick to disassociate themselves from all the others.  Who ever those others are.  Our retired bishop rode into town with all of the wisdom a long tenure in ministry ought to have conveyed.  We went from lame duck to visionary leader, and in just a few months change was already happening.  There were changes in leadership, vision, and purpose.  There was a quiet authority that listened well, decided firmly.  In one short year direction was begun that can be built upon for a hope and a future.  All this from a retired guy. 

A retired guy is still adding to the foundations for those who will follow.  In ten years from now we may not remember that this retired guy opened the door for health and vitality.  Who knows where we will be in twenty years, but if we are growing and making disciples and actively furthering the Kingdom of God, this guy will have been the catalyst that helped that happen.

 Legacy is a concept that has been overdone by the financial folks who want me to save all money for the next generation, when clearly the next generation should just go out and earn their own.  But legacy is not a gimmick, it is a means of grace for every single generation that follows.  As I type today I know I do so because there are women and men that have gone before me.  Good, bad, and the messy mix of both have helped to form and shape the way I think, the opportunities I have, my understanding of God, my understanding of worth, my perceptions of the world.  People I know, people I have only read about, people who influenced people who influenced me.  Legacy is the gift of aging, the mantle a means of grace. 

So, I am going to have to make room for that in my vision of life.  I may have to allow a few more year to pass under the anniversary radar to embrace that even I have the opportunity to contribute to the legacy for generations who will never even know I lived.  This is the power of the pond, ripples that move out from places no one remembers, and still impact life in the pool.  They don't happen when we are attempting to freeze time and miss the opportunity to make a splash.

What an awesome opportunity!  How could I miss this gift?!  Easily, who wants to be old?  Not me, that's for sure!  I can joyfully embrace the blessing of being a blessing though, of God using me in some small,  perhaps comic way, to share His love with the world.  I think that would make the wrinkles worthwhile.  But not the grey hair....good thing we can fix that.

Facing the Giants

I am a coward.  Truly, I am.  I have often dreamt of being brave, of odes written about my valor in battle, Goliath falling like a rock when I amble across the scenery.  But no, I would be the one sitting very quietly in the dark, hoping the someone will rescue me before the monster discovers me and eats me whole.  I hear they do that, and while I have never actually met anyone who could affirm this reality, I think it makes good sense to be cautious. 

So, Shakespeare blathering on about a coward dying a thousand death, a hero but once, is no doubt true.  The thing I was always pretty sure about though is that the hero goes down early.  Like those people in all of the murder mysteries...the program starts with them minding their own business, buying groceries, making phone calls.  Then they are dead.  Just one time, they went early and quick, and none of them appeared to me to be packed and ready to go!  Sure a coward has to do die a thousand deaths but comparatively, they are small and less dramatic.  The coward may be scared and panicking, but since they are at the back of the pack, in a tiny corner, under everything they can drag over themselves, they don't tend to go so early in the game.

But very seldom to you find people inspired by the coward.  There is much head shaking over cowards.  If I had a dime for every time some well meaning person asked me what I thought was in the darkness, I would be retired, hiding behind a huge fence, in some well lit cabin.  What do I think is in the dark?  My goodness people, do you never watch the news?  Or television?  Or read a book?  The dark is full of all those things that avoid the light.  Our parents know this instinctively.  It's why we all had curfews and had to get home before midnight.  Everyone knows th more dark, the more  out of control it is, turning well behaved teens into hormonal, out of control, savages.  Yet, they still shake their heads at me.  Where is the justice in that?!

Recently, I have been poking at one of the giants who lives inside my head.  I don't know his name, and yes of course all giants are masculine, but he has spent years messing with my vision.  Some amazing things percolate through my brain, you know.  Most should not be shared with even me, but every once in a great while there is deep profound good.  And while I am celebrating good, this giant fellow peeks his head out of whatever corner he lives in and he says, "you know, I don't think you should tell anyone that...it isn't really that good."   "Yes, it is," I always insist, because I am bossy by nature.  "Nope, I don't think it's that good.  You know, you are more of an amateur, a wannabe.  If you show anyone else that thing, they will be kind, but they will know that you don't do very good work.  You know how we want everyone to feel good about themselves, even though they aren't really all that good.  They will tell you that, to spare your feelings." " No sir," I always argue back.  "It's funny, or touching, or clever, or witty, or insightful." " No, no it's not.  I think you are being vain, yes, and more than that egotistical.  No one likes that.  You should stop.  Go back and organize something.  You are okay at that.  Not anything big though.  Sometimes you put things in the wrong places." 

I am a big grown up girl.  Why on earth haven't I murdered off this giant many years ago?  You know what happens without me finishing the dialogue.  In the end, I quit whatever I was doing, and I put it away, and if I happen to stumble across it later I think that wasn't bad, or else I think boy that's awful, how good it was that I didn't share it with anyone.  I don't know if it is good, bad or indifferent really, but I do know that this giant has had me eating out of his hands all of my life.  This is how a coward does it, runs and hides but never calls out that giant, face it down, and clear the ground so I can live in the Promised Land of the freedom that comes from being a child of God and a person of value. 

I am arming myself, and I am going to battle.  I am taking a huge flashlight, getting one of the enormous shield, and I am hiring a hit man to go with me.  Jesus and I are going to take on this giant and we aren't taking prisoners.  There will be no more placating, no more arguments.  Churchill once said that an appeaser goes on feeding a crocodile, hoping it will eat him last.  I am not feeding that giant anymore, and I am not waiting for him to die of starvation.  I am inviting Jesus to name him and send him on his way, I guess the herd of pigs is optional.  The son of man does set us free, and I am ready to be free for sure. 

You know, it occurs to me that many others have their own giants to face down.  Perhaps, like me, dying the thousand deaths seemed so much better than the one big death to self, to fear, in losing our lives, to find them in Christ.  So come on world, stand up with me.  Lets put on the armor of God, and allow God to make us able to stand still and fight, instead of hiding and running.  I am seeing the fall of a thousand giants, and a lot more fun for God's people.  But lets do it in the light, okay? 

Bullies in the Church

I am particularly bad at tolerating some peculiarities in people.  It is a shameful confession to make.  By now I ought to be the poster adult for patience, and kindness, and understanding.  But alas no, I am a very slow study.  When people whine, or repeat themselves, or tell a story the same way Billy used to wander in Family Circle, it requires unceasing prayer to keep me from saying any of the things I think.  I worry that one day the filters that keep me from being ostracized, or locked up in the jacket with the real long sleeves, will be gone and in the middle of Walmart it will all roll out of my head.  Oh Lord, save me from such a moment.

Mostly, I am able to keep my lip zipped.  I know this is the highest and best, so I strive for at least silence if I cannot keep my mind nice.  However, I have no ability to withhold my thoughts when it comes to bullies.  I can not tolerate bullying for any reason under the sun.  If I see it, I am going to respond to it, even if doing so is clearly a really stupid thing to do.  I can't help it!  The injustice rolls over me in such a wave, I could no more ignore bullying than go immediately to the moon.  I have done all manner of dangerous things in response to a bully, including chasing one down the streets in Pittsburgh, or running my car right smack dab into a mob that was beating the snot out of a young man, or yelling at the drunk to move his car, when he was blocking the rest of us so his friends could get out.  These were all dopey things, but I am confident that if I were to come upon this again, I would probably react in the same way. 

Okay, I might not.  Now that I am a mature Christian, I probably wouldn't say to the man, with the car blocking my lane,  "listen, loser, move it or gather it up in an envelope and mail it home".   I see now that this is unkind and not helpful.  I might now say something like, "Sir, could you please move your car so that we might all have the opportunity to bless one another by offering hospitality?", which I suspect would be responded to in the same manner the first sentence was.  Maybe with more hostility, though.  I think that man believed I might put his car in an envelope and mail it home.  At the time, I thought so too.

The church is just filled to over flowing with bullies.  They are in all shapes and sizes, all ages and stages.  They hint they will be unable to support a program, or a pastor, or a person if they do not get what they want.  They are sometimes vague and gentle, sometimes loud and rude, sometimes covert, sometimes overt.  The bottom line is they force their own way by using whatever power base at their disposal and they succeed.  The church falls down like a house of cards, because they fear the consequences of what might happen if they don't.  This is so bad for the church, and so bad for the bullies.  Worse, it is so unfaithful.

So what to do, what to do, what to do.  I am sure that there has to be a happy place between me bullying bullies, and others letting the bullies win.  I know I am in the wrong, I know others are in the wrong.  So dear ones, how do we find that place where we can be faithful together?  If we are ever going to find the way, the time is now.  The world needs us to be the kind of people who truly can love everyone and stand up and do what Jesus asked us to do.  Bullies need to know that they will find love in the church, but not power.  People who cave have to know that they will find love in the church and the power of the Holy Spirit that will enable them to stand.  We will all win, when we remember that winning in the Kingdom is less about triumphing and more about surrendering. 

Losing your life to find it, loving others, and staying at peace as far as it depends on us is really hard work.  I wouldn't recommend it at all if it weren't for this:  Jesus said so.  That must mean something vitally important.  So, my sisters and brothers in the faith, let us stand together, and sacrifice together, and speak the truth in real love not pretend spirituality.  Let us hope that God will make us a means of grace that changes the hearts of those bullies in the church, and the hurting in the world.  More than 2000 years later, we stand with a great host of witnesses shouting encouragement.  If I can do it, anyone can.

Wrestling again!

I have been reading again lately.  Some of those who know me would say I read all the time, and of course this is not true, but I do like to read.  I often in the middle of some book, or article, or cereal box.  It is a family trait, you know.  When the newspapers were striking in Pittsburgh, my family fought over reading the cereal boxes. 

But I mean reading like I am being sucked into the experience again, and loving it.  Not only loving the reading part, but the stuff I am reading is inspiring me,  filling me up, and calling me to more.  It is just the best of all stuff, when the reading is soul food, the words and the heart behind the words.  When what I am reading so captures my attention that I hate to put down the book, I can generally block out all of the annoyances around me, you know like people wanting dinner.  I am blessed beyond measure.

So, I am rethinking the stuff of blogs.  I have kept my blog a dirty little secret, known only to friends and family, because it seemed the most self absorbed, naval gazing time.  I really hated for anyone to know that I sat and wrote thinking that the world would be fascinated by anything that I could imagine.  It has seemed to me to be the ultimate in narcissistic behavior, and while I am not beyond self absorption, I delude myself in thinking no one else knows this by not publishing my blog.

But as I have climbed into these incredible books lately, and I think how much God has spoken to me from the pages of others thoughts, I am wondering anew if this is something I could be called to do.  Oh, don't imagine that I am now envisioning myself as the new voice of God for the world today.  I just wonder if every once in awhile, when I feel the need to express a thought, or a feeling, or an experience, if God could use me to speak love, or grace, or gratitude into someone else.  After all, even a bad example serves a purpose.

My other hesitation is that, when I write to entertain myself, which is what I do primarily, that is exactly what I do.  I enjoy the writing, and often crack myself up.  I will be writing along and a phrase or an expression really does tickle me.  I am not concerned with grammar, or run on sentences, though this should be of major concern because it is a huge sin for me.  I am not hoping to impress others, or thinking that I should use more professional expressions or better vocabulary.  I do not write when I do not feel inspired,  I do not worry about whether I have offended someone, I am silly at will.  Often after writing a blog, I simply put it out of my mind.  Who would want to give that up?!

Strangely enough, that is the harder question for me.  Is my lack of willingness to see this as a spiritual discipline, where God is shaping me in his image for the sake of others, humility or arrogance?  UGH!  Surely, Lord, you are good with me...being all about me....somewhere.  No, huh?  Really?  Because I think you have all stars on the bench who are absolutely thrilled to be in the game, and I could stay in the locker room where the temperature is a constant, and the insects are not buzzing around my head.  You let too many people read what you write and before you know it, they are all blogging about your blog.  Sheesh.

This is not the first struggle with this concern.  I return to it at least annually.  I want to be faithful, willing and open to the Holy Spirit.  I want to be honest, real, and silly because that's often who I am.  I want to be the kind of person that Katie Davis is, only I want to NOT go to Uganda and NOT pick jiggers out of the bottom of people's feet.  I want to share the love of Jesus with the world in my every word, every thought, every action.  If this is in a blog, then yes, take even this Lord.  If it is in learning to be open to the nastiness that comes from others participating in my wanderings, as long as you will make me able, I will follow you, Jesus.  If we could avoid going to Uganda, I would be grateful, but even there Lord, I will follow you.  Come, Holy Spirit, come. 

All Talked Out

I am making an announcement.  This is very important (I will say this only once).  We have to stop talking so much.  Seriously.

Guess how many people have a blog and think that there is a long line of people who are just on the edge of their seats, waiting with bated breath for some wisdom from the few, the elite, the educated, and articulate?  Go ahead, guess?  100 million billion trillion quadrillion.  I might have left out a few...it is hard to count because after the first hundred thousand, they all look a like.

Name a topic, there is an opinion.  Millions of opinions actually, some people express two or three opinions in the same blog.  My favorite demotivators change, depending on my mood, but I think I am claiming Blogging as my current favorite:  "Never before have so many people, with so little to say, said so much".  A close second is Meetings: "Because none of us is as dumb as all of us".  Okay, right behind those two is this one: Diversity: "Because every person deserves an equal chance to prove their incompetence". 

Some obvious irony, I am writing a blog about people writing blogs.  There is a method behind the madness, but mostly it is just justification for why my blog isn't the same as 'those others', whoever they may be.  Worse than being a blogger, there are other bloggers who exchange blog addresses to read what each other writes and then comment on how the blogger was incorrect.  You have your own blog! Do not blog about others blogs on their blogs, this is double dipping. Oh, the inhumanity! Do you see the kind of things we do to one another?!

 I am beginning to think that the only thing for it is to make people pay for their blogs, by the word.  This will work for me, I don't know that many.  I will make a rule that I can only use the ones I know two times in each blog.  That will keep me in the 'low chatter' group with the cheap rates.  A special place in heaven for those in the low chatter group.

Here is where we get to the meat of the topic.  Do you really think that we are making the world a better place with all our endless chatter?  Particularly Christian people, who think our every utterance is swaying billions to love God, when really no one has been listening to us for several generations now.  We fight, pontificate, theologize, point/counter point, and the world just smiles and nods.  "Silly Christians, babble on."

What if we stop talking about what we think quite so much, and start talking about what God thinks.  What if we stopped trying to explain that we are so much smarter than the people who wrote the scriptures, and asked God how we can learn his heart, see what he sees, love as is practiced with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.   Here is a wild thought, what if we thought the highest and best was finding God in the moment, instead of bringing enlightenment to the moment?

Alright, I am violating my low chatter policy.  Stop me before I blog again!  Forgive me God, and make me the one who comes to the party to dance with you, instead of dissecting the music,  critiquing the decor, commenting on the guest list. .  After all, this is your party, and I am grateful for the invitation.  I think I hear the music now.

Messy, messy, messy

I like order.  I am at peace when everything fits into its own space.  I am deeply satisfied by clean kitchens, clean laundry, clean closets.  I like when you open a file drawer, and there in alphabetic order, are neatly hanging files, waiting for you to find the receipt you need.  I love drawers that have nicely organized compartments that let you find the pens, or highlighters, or magic markers you need.  I am confident that when we discuss 'highest and best' with one another, we are talking about a place for everything, and everything in its place.   In my heart of hearts, I suspect that whoever first said 'cleanliness is next to godliness' was offering prophetic truth. 

So imagine my frustration, which is running amok in case I have failed to mention this, over the sad but unmistakable truth that the Kingdom of God might major in order, but it isn't any kind of order I have ever experience.  It doesn't move in a straight line, it meanders all over the place, starting over,  back tracking, and then making major leaps.  Somehow all of those forms of motion are all about the same and God seems to delight in all of it.  The further along you go, the further you seem to need to go.  The more you know, the more you discover there is know.  The people who hurt you, somehow become the very people who open your heart to receiving more of God, more healing, more grace  if you are willing.  What seems to be an end is always another beginning.  Surrendering everything and submitting, gives you everything and peace.  It is so darn messy, I don't know even how to organize all that!

Nearly a year ago, I attended a workshop where a speaker challenged me about my numerous critiques of the church.  He said, very gently and kindly,( but no less rudely) that the Gnostic believe they have secret knowledge that no one else has about how God wants things done.  What?!  Me, gnostic?  I sure didn't see that at all until I went home and looked it up.  Looking to defend my criticisms with what the scriptures say church should be, I ran face to face with church as messy, relationships with brothers and sisters that are messy, even Jesus' teaching which challenge and confuse me at the same time and this is messy too.  How on earth can God, who created the world in the most orderly of fashion, be in the midst of so much messiness.

Paul says that the creation groans in anticipation of the redemption that is coming.  Perhaps order is also groaning, awaiting the redemption what will come in the right season.  Surely, all the organizational thought processes can't be evil!  How can anything that makes me feel so peaceful be a bad thing?  Why wouldn't God want churches that were well organized, filled with wonderful people working out their salvation in nice neat and orderly kind of ways?!

Somewhere deep inside, I understand.  My desire to control my environment, to control my stuff, to control other people's stuff, is that never ending delusion that I can be safe, or I can be perfect leads me to all kind of self absorption and self worship.  The necessary acceptance of messy reminds me repeatedly that I am not God, I don't understand God, and I don't have all there is to know yet.  Seeing through the mirror dimly is all there is for now.  One day, it all becomes clear and maybe it turns out messy is the highest and best.  Won't my dust bunnies be excited.

Too Many Daves

As a small person, growing up in a literary household, I was read to until I could read myself.  We were book friendly people: books with pictures, books with words and pictures, and then when one had advanced to the proficient reader status, books without pictures.  I wasn't too fond of those really until late elementary school, when I discovered Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew and romance.  As all young girls, in the process of hurling as fast as they can into puberty, can tell you Trixie and Jim have quite a thing going, and even held hands once.  Nancy actually has a lip locking experience with Ned.  My brothers read the Hardy Boys, but there were no girls bobbing along to save the day in those books and I wasn't really too interested. 

The all time family favorite though, that crossed over every stage of reading, was Dr. Seuss and in particular, the lovely tome that included The Sneetches, What was I Scared of, The Zax and Too Many Daves.  All of the stories were read allowed,  silently, and giggled over by children and adults alike.  My father was forever calling each of the siblings by one of the names Mrs. McCave might have named her 23 sons, if only she hadn't thought it was a good idea to call them all Dave.  My brother, who was a moody fellow, was often cajoled into being Sunny Jim, instead of Hoos Foos.  I myself was particularly fond of Sir Michael Carmichael Zutt, and Oliver Boliver Butt.  You can see how we all grow up to be such radical thinkers.

Actually, we grew up to have children who were exposed to the same high brow reading.  My own children were such experts in Seussisms that they could quote the entire Zax story, and often did foot to foot, face to face.  Granddad was still good for reminding grandchildren to be Sunny Jim, and not Weepy Weed, Paris Garters or Harris Tweed.  I was really sad when he graduated into eternal glory and my youngest missed this kind of witty banter,  We can only hope that my generation can pick up the torch.

It has occurred to me lately, that Mrs. McCave and I have a similar issue, though for different reasons.  Mrs. McCave choose to name her children the same thing, I have people who name themselves the same thing but don't mean it at all the same way.  In the end, the same things happen though, we both call out "Yoo-hoo" what comes on the run is really not what we want.

My particular issue isn't with Daves, it is with Christians.  Every shape, size, attitude, persuasions, all comes running when you yell out "Yoo-hoo Christian" but you don't really want all those people.  To be fair, perhaps some of you do want those people, but I don't.  I want very specific people, so I wish I could name various types by those names that Mrs. McCave wished she had named her Daves.  Can I indulge my fantasy here for a moment?

You know the people who run around saying that they aren't at all religious, just spiritual?  The ones who say they don't go to church because it is filled with hypocrites and you can worship God anywhere, and proclaim it is all about 'me and Jesus'?  I think they should quit calling themselves Christians and take on the label Buffalo Bill. 

Biffalo Buffs can be those people on the exact opposite end of the spectrum. The people who want nothing to change in their church at all, because it is the way it has always been done.  Every song ever sung slowly and poorly must be repeated at regular intervals.  New thoughts, activities, or (gasp) musical preferences should be tossed out into the darkness where all the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth occurs.  New people are welcome, as long as they like everything the way it is, and bring no new thought with them.

Bodkin Van Horn could be the people who want to see reform in the church, but have dismissed outright all of the reform proposed.  These are the people who want more discipleship but have never had this burning in their hearts until some plans for moving towards making more disciples hit the radar to be considered.  They narrowly define disciple to stuff they like, including those who aren't in the traditional church, but not those who think it is 'just Jesus and me'.  They are not actually making disciples, you understand.  They are studying making discples, teach discipleship, writing about what others should do, but no real discipling going on.

Moon Face could be the name of all of the social activist that have invaded the church and want to make it the place where a particular agenda is addressed and adopted.  Yes, of course this includes homosexuality, but it is a much more diverse group than that.  They want to meet all of the ills of society that they are offended by, which by itself isn't a bad thing.  It's just not at all about Jesus, it's about the way life should be.  Like the lady who is spearheading making dresses out of pillow cases for poor little girls in Africa who would otherwise not have anything to wear.  Do we know they want to wear something?! 

And finally Marvin O'Gravel Balloon Face would be the group that has developed following Jesus into a profession.  Contrary to popular belief, this is not just clergy who's call became a career somewhere along the way.  These are lay people too who have found their place in leadership at the local church, or district, or conference, and firmly settled in regardless of call or even new idea.  The position is about power, and self importance, and about being someone.  They don't share Jesus, they share gossip, and tear down instead of lift up.  They are professional Christians, and maybe they had a heart warming experience once, but they don't live from it. 

But instead they are all named Christian, and I guess it is too late to do something else.  Although, the Lorax gives me hope.  He leaves us with "Unless".  Perhaps it is not too late to rename people, or allow them to rename themselves.  Perhaps what could happen is we could take back the name Christian, and we could redefine it so that people stopped calling themselves that, if it didn't fit.  We could say Christians are followers of Jesus, not admirers.  We could say that our main mission is to be formed and transformed into the image of Jesus, and allow ourselves to be poured out for the world, making more disciples of Jesus.  We might even say that we feed the poor, and love the unlovely, and stand with people in their time of need, not because we have answers, but because we have been so filled with the love of God, it is the faithful response.

 Mr. Lorax, I am holding onto your 'Unless'.   I think it could happen.

Finding my way back

So, it's me again, and I am lost. 

My sense of direction, being what it is,  leads me into all sorts of unusual locations.  More than once I have found myself to be someplace quite different from the location I intended.  On occasion I have been rescued by perfect strangers, who come upon me and out of the goodness of their hearts, draw me maps, give me landmarks, and every once in awhile jump in their own vehicles and lead me back to where I was supposed to be all along.

I have been rescued by my family more times than I should admit out loud.  I have been known to stop in the parking lot of a 7-11, to phone home and announce this geographic marker, as if this would make it easier to give me direction home.   "I don't know, honey.  It just say 7-11.  Should I ask if they have a store number?  Maybe that would help you?"

I have had times when I didn't get rescued, or at least not in the traditional sense.  I have gotten to the end of nowhere and had to stop.  Sometimes panicky, sometimes relieved, I have waited for enlightenment, rescue, a flicker of recognition.  If none of those arrive, and my phone a friend option failed to pay off, and the GPS on my phone responds with "no location found", I have discovered that the best answer is to return from whence I came. 

I will admit that this is not my favorite response.  Retracing my steps seems like such a waste of resources.  I like onward and upward, forward motion, land ahoy!  Backing up, looking at the same scenery, wondering why the way back seems shorter than the way out, is hardly the stuff of inspiration.  The return trip seems like failure somehow, after all who has ever heard of conquering heroes who went to battle, got lost and had to go back to the starting point again to find the country they are off to claim?!

So a humble Tigger, I back up and keeping driving back until I find where I started and try again.  Sometimes I can't get quite all the way back, and I have to start again from a slightly different place.  This is okay, if I know where the new location is, but if I have made myself lost on the way to finding myself...well it's just an oxymoron waiting for some place to land.

How can all of this here and there, lost and found, two steps forward, three steps back be helpful in anyway?!  One lesson for sure is that I am never afraid that I wont find my way back anymore.  I have practiced far too many times, I know you can, and will, be found so I don't panic like I once did.  Now I enjoy the scenery more.  Right around the corner I am going to be someplace I already know, so I am trying to see lost time as opportunity.

Another lesson learned:  people are generally helpful when you need a hand,  those you know and those you don't know.  This is not always the case,  though rarely has someone refused to redirect, and when they have it has never been my only option.  On occasion, when I have been lost and ask for help, I discover my potential informant is equally lost.  Finding direction with someone else is a lot more fun than finding help for yourself, it is a journey shared.  I like when two lost souls team up in search of an obliging wizard.

You know, once I have been lost in an area, I am rarely lost there again.  I may not remember everything, but enough to identify familiar landmarks, the place I was found from the last trip.  The recognition and experience makes this something I own now.  What ever part I mastered, I am now free to use.

Of course this is more than geographic discovery.  This is the pathway that has been leading me further into the love of God.  I will have to admit, I really don't have a good sense of direction where unconditional love is concerned.  My understanding, my experiences, my lack of trust, leads me off into all kinds of weird directions.  Earning, and deserving, or losing and unworthy, I understand!  Grace, love from the heart of God, dependent only on God's character, this is a pathway I miss a lot.  So often lost, I am discovering, if I  sit still long enough enduring the fear, someone often comes along to rescue me.  It may be a perfect stranger or someone who belongs to me.  And in those times when rescue doesn't come, on my way back I learn  another piece of 'real estate'.  Strangely enough, I have been noticing lately that when I find my way back, it is further ahead than I remembered.  Even the way back seems to be...well forward.

It's an adventure, and some of us travelers are not too good with direction.  How amazing that God who wrote the map, seems to  enjoy the field trips that lead us back and yet forward. At times, when I am lost and I am waiting, I sense God's presence waiting with me.  How silly, all of this land belongs to God, why would He wait with me?!   Lost and found  become the same thing, because the boundaries are far beyond any geography we will ever reach.  Peace comes not from being found, or even knowing you will be, it comes from the assurance that there is no lost where God is.  What good news for me!

James is Moving Up into my Zip code

A few years ago we took a group of youth to the Disciple NOW weekend.  I thought the band was pretty good, though the lead singer was suffering some with a sinus infection.  I thought it was well organized, I thought the facility was nice, I thought the volunteers were friendly and welcoming.  But my favorite part, honestly, was the young man from Memphis who was speaking.  I am telling you, he was the highlight of the two days for me.

I can't really remember anything he taught.  I don't think I remember what he looked like.  I vaguely remember that he seemed awfully young to be married and have children, but that was an "off to the side" response. What I loved about this guy was all of the euphemisms he used to describe people getting into his personal space.  He talked about staying out of his zip code, getting out of his sweet tea, dropping into his mailbox.  The more he said, the more I lost track of the message, trying frantically to get all of these expressions down so I could remember them forever!  What fun to sit in meetings and listen to others respond and say to myself, " uh uh, you get out of my sweet tea", even though I don't drink sweet tea.  Actually, not drinking sweet tea makes the whole thing a lot more amusing.

Here I am studying James.  I have always liked James, such a challenging couple of chapters.  For some reason though, this time through, James is all up in my zip code, moving straight through my sweet tea to deliver a letter to my mailbox.  Why do you suppose this is the case?!  He is pretty forthright, of course.  He must work the word deceive into every other sentence.  He says we have to be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger.  I will say that since I was a teenager, and was confronted with this verse for the first time, I have improved significantly in the listening department.  I have spent the last year practicing being the un-anxious presence, so I am better at not getting all hot and bothered quickly.  But that slow to speak thing, never have gotten a handle on that.  I continue to try, I have all kinds of behaviour modification practices that I occasionally remember to practice, but I am not good at this.  Still, generally, James and I muddle through okay.

The part about being tossed by every wave sometimes gets under my skin, because I routinely am.  I remind myself in the midst of my doubts, being blown and tossed, how on earth will I receive anything from God if I can't stand still, and sometimes that works and I even stand still.  Sometimes it doesn't, and I am forced to go back to the Psalms to remind God that he knew me in my mothers womb, and knew what a wind blown girl I was prone to be.  When I actually stand still in the midst of the storm, when the wind blows and the waves threaten,  with knocking knees and pure terror, I repeat to myself over and over again: I will put my trust in the Lord.  It isn't triumph I typically feel, just the awareness that if God isn't faithful, trustworthy, and true, I am sunk.  Somehow or another, so far anyway, he has always been all of those things.  Not that I haven't gotten soaked,  battered and bruised, but somehow I survive.  In survival, I find that at other times I can remember the previous battle, and once in a great while, I can do it again.

It is this part that is bothering me to no end: But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it, he will be blessed in what he does.   The perfect law that gives freedom.  The perfect law...love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind,  love your neighbor as you love yourself. ...gives freedom.  Then why am I not living free?  Paul says in Galatians that we have been called to freedom, and  because we are free we can love one another humbly.  So why is it again, that I am not doing that?

You can see why I am feeling a little like my sweet tea has been invaded.  Its a rather challenging thought as I ponder the lack of freedom in my soul.  Why the external has so much impact on the internal, where peace is quickly consumed by anxiety, where the behavior of others, like a remote control, can change my own.  Listen people. if we can be free, and are called to be free, why would we trade it in for the slavery of this mess?  John 8 tells us if the Son sets us free, we are free indeed.  I said yes to Jesus and stayed in bondage?  Here's a letter for my mailbox, I don't think so!  Galatians 5 It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

I have heard that yokes are definitely out in the fashion world, and honestly, we are all about standing firm.  So lets pull up our big people panties, and look into the law that gives freedom, and what do you say we live like people who know what we are all about.  Can you imagine what that kind of freedom might do to the world we live in?  Transformation in my zip code - that's what I am talking about!

God Dances with me

A few weeks ago a random conversation became one of those moments when the light bulb over my head lit up.  I am often sorry we don't get those cartoon features that are so much fun on television.  Yesterday, a lady sitting across from me said, 'I think the bus is now arriving', meaning she just caught on to what was being discussed.  It was a warm and sunny afternoon, I was a little distracted anyway, and I imagined immediately over her head this huge school yellow school bus pulling up, the door opening and the understanding popping out the door, like 'I'm just a  Bill' from Schoolhouse Rock.  Remember him?  That cute little scroll with feet and some facial features?

But I digress.  During this conversation, the question 'when did you know that God delighted in you' arose.  Strangely enough, when the question was asked, my first thought was, I don't know that I could name a time that I knew God delighted in me.  I felt that slight uneasy feeling inside, like my mom was about to catch on that I am the one who keeps eating all the Archway Icebox Pecan cookies, when I remember my birthday last year.   I was at Camp Sumatanga in Alabama for the Spiritual Formation Academy when every day I would report to my covenant group, I don't really know how to describe how today was for me except God danced with me. 

God danced with me.  I saw thick heavy snow fall, covering the ground and all the trees, and  while I watched out the landscape become a wonderland, I heard a whispering in my heart was the conviction, I made it snow just for you!  Walking through the prayer labyrinth, arriving in the center, there God was, waiting with eager anticipation for me!  I woke up in the morning, fairly early, filled with the certainty that all night, while I slept, I had been watched over by a doting Parent.  I know this sounds like it is all about princess me, and after all I would love it to be all about princess me, but honestly the fun in that week was that I had done nothing to 'earn' God's presence or interest or even affection, God just wanted to dance with me.

And then the bus arrived, and running down the steps was 'I'm just a Bill' and I realized that this is what it means when the scriptures say God delights in us.  I know delight after all.  I have held a new grandson, and studied his incredible face, and nuzzled his sweet little neck, and I thought no one has ever beheld anyone as beautiful as this.   My precious grandson, two months old, has done nothing to 'deserve' being the object of delight.  He mostly sleeps and cries and goes to the bathroom, but I absolutely delight in him anyway.  In him I see the glorious wonders of life, the miracle of his father in my life, the amazing love of God who allows me to have this blessing. 

God delights in me.  I know this because I had a whole week when I was the recipient of pure delight, I have had a whole week where I felt pure delight in my amazing grandson, and because God said so.  That ought to be enough for anyone, but at the risk of sounding like a infomercial: Wait!  There's more!  Knowing that God delights in me leads me to the freedom from trying to work hard to keep His love.  I didn't earn the delight, I can't lose it.  I can stop trying so hard to make God happy, because after all, He just delights in me.  Since God delights in me, the affirmation of the people I am surrounded by is no longer a testimonial, just in case I need it.  Now it is just fun.  Wait!  There's more!  The complaints and rejection of the people around me isn't a vote off the island where God is concerned either.  It's just painful.  God not only still delights in me, God holds me when I hurt.  I don't know how anyone could ever need more than that.

Still wishing for those cartoon light bulbs, or 'I'm just a Bill' to come busting through the school bus doors, but for now anyway, I will settle for the delight in delight.  May I wish, for all of us, more days when God dances with us, for the intentional time to recognize and live into the freedom of delight,  for a precious grandchild with a soft neck to nuzzle, and just for, me a school bus to arrive carrying 'I'm just a Bill' with a love letter more often.  I delight in them!