Thoughts for the New Year

A Strange Place

For 2019 I want to try creating something every day. 

Creating is life-giving to me, but in recent years I have left it far behind. Reverting to survival mode is not working very well, as it seems the longer one spends there, the less appealing survival can become. 

Writing used to fill a creative void - shared and private. I am hoping every day to write, to create, to sing, to play, and fill my life with color again. 

The strange place I am in is one of discovery. At the same time as I am discovering hard truths and painful times, I am also giving room to more tenderness, patience, and gentleness. Life is fraught with disappointment; could it bring more healing to embrace these things open-armed, rather than beating them back? 

Opening the door, so to speak, to struggle, and rather than bracing for cold winds, leaning into whatever direction they fly.  

Sadness of Change

One major change this year has been my daughter essentially leaving home, moving away and going to college. 

Now I know countless parents experience such times, but it is me right now experiencing this one, this particular leaving. It hasn't even been all at once, and yet I understand now the tears I have seen on other mom's faces as they talk about their grown up children. 

Nothing can really prepare you for the empty chair, the quieter house, the sense that something is always missing. 

One day you are leaping up from a few hours of blissful sleep, rushing to the crib to see if they need to be fed, held, comforted...and what seems like the next day you wake with a start, remembering they are now sleeping miles away. I find it very hard to rest again.  I think I get less sleep now than even those early new baby days. 

It isn't so much a feeling sorry for myself, but more of an acknowledgement that hey, this is happening - it isn't great - but I'm getting through it. 

The change is like... when as a youngster I went outside to look for my special friend, our dog Teddy, and forgot that he was gone forever. 

Or like starting out to play with my best friend at recess, and remembering she had moved away. We've all felt something like that. 

Of course I am super happy for my daughter though, and she knows I pray for her and think of her every day. Hoping (of course) that she makes less mistakes than I did at her age (please God).

 Life moves forward - you have to jump on that train and move with it, however fast it seems to be racing. 

Adjust the Sails

I can't tell you how hopefully I jumped into last year.

It was similar to now. Recovering from a bad flu, Christmas break spent mostly coughing and in bed with a fever (really have to do something different next Christmas), but life seemed to be full of possibility - God was good - hold on to hope. 

Have you ever thrown yourself into something with every fiber of your being, and watched it crumble in front of your eyes?

Just when I think I have learned all there is about a difficult life lesson, Lo and Behold, Nope. 

I had barely scratched the surface of all I didn't know. 

I think I ran ahead of God this year. 

I was Elijah, running before the rain to the entrance of Jezreel, the hand of God upon me. Perhaps not quite as holy or dramatic (not even close, but you get my drift) however, I did feel God was with me. Cool things were happening - it was like a heavy rain after a long drought. I couldn't stop running with it. 

Pretty much the next day after his victory over the prophets of Baal, after the great rain and run, Elijah "arose, and ran for his life..." He "went a days journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, 'It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers." (1 Kings 19)

So that is about where I find myself now. Sitting under a figurative broom tree, feeling like a hopeless mess, like I've made a mess out of everything, and all I can do is hide out and wait for the inevitable disaster to fall. 

An angel came twice to Elijah to give him food. The second time the angel said, "Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you." 

What a lovely and kind gesture. 

Maybe if I wait, some kindness and understanding will come to me, too. 

"And he arose and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God" (v.8). Elijah learned that though he could not depend on others, he sure could rely on God. 

Though he was exhausted and discouraged, and it looked like all of his effort had come to nothing, God made a way to bring him back to life and strength. 

When the wind blows hard from unexpected directions, the boat seems like it could sink.                                        

It will be alright though; it's only time to adjust the sails. 

Writers Galore

       

       When I was a girl, yesterday, I had this tendency for great expectations. Greater, higher, loftier than humanly possible expectations about birthdays, holidays, and Sunday School picnics.
There would be magic on my birthday. Fairies must fly in, gifts wrapped in gold-leaf and music from a pan flute as I danced with the young birches over the lawn. Holidays would be perfect - restful, fun, with merry-go-rounds, endless marshmallow campfires, and family laughter.
The Sunday School picnic would be just like Anne of Green Gables, with flowers, ice cream, a best friend, and beating boys at the three-legged race. I really believed all this.

 Now, having explored my aged personality, I know all about the boring facts related to Idealism and the Limits of Reality. I've also learned small lessons regarding mosquitos, the stationary nature of trees, and long rainy road trips with young siblings. As time went on I discovered the colour leaching out of all the glorious expectations, and learned that fantasy, though fantastic, is fantasy. I looked in the Wardrobe. I felt all the way back - reached for tree branches and the shock of snow - always, always the flat wall. Not even when I closed my eyes. Perhaps my parents wondered why their clothes were often askew on the hangers, or they simply rolled their eyes at each other's apparent carelessness. They didn't remember about Wardrobes, at least not in the cold light of day.

Growing up some, I settled in, realizing that presents were simply things bought at stores and that holidays and picnics were best anticipated. New experiences, however, were still surrounded in wonder and softly falling glitter. My cynicism surely could not extend to boyfriends, first dates, new jobs, college. Alas, the glitter showed itself to be simple dust, turning slowly in the glare of street lamps. It wasn't that life was so awful, it was that the expectations were so HIGH. And so, disappointment. Disappointment multiplied can lead to a generally cynical attitude toward everything. The protective callus forms over the raw flesh, does it not?

This past weekend was an exception. I went, finally and with trepidations and anticipations, to a Christian writer's conference in Edmonton. Oh, there were the usual realizations that workshop speakers are, in fact, mere mortals. And that not everyone who is a good writer is an effective teacher. And it was crowded; we were sitting mostly in each other's laps and if you happened to leave your purse sticking out under your arm there was likely a human domino situation. Yes, we were tired and yawning, brains stuffed and overflowing.  Ah, but we were learning about writing! And there were BOOKS! Stacks, plethoras, mounds even of books, written by the mere mortals that paced the conference halls and rode in elevators with me, ME, of all people! And there was food! And the food was good! And free coffee!

Picture the crowning moment. I'm alone, sprawled over one of two queen beds in a clean white hotel room, surrounded by pens and notebooks and new books, pillows behind me, reading and writing and revelling. I was just inspired by a day of listening to seasoned writers pour out their hearts. I've been encouraged and cheered on by spiritual advisors I respect and admire. Of course, they don't actually know if I can write a note on a napkin, but I know I can.
 
Alas and alack, it was glorious. Expectations firmly grounded in reality, this time, anticipation was free to soar. I soaked it all in like a kid on the last sunny day at the beach. I listened, talked to interesting people from all over Canada, I took notes, I laughed. I may have insulted a Rider's fan from Saskatchewan. I had breakfast with a perfect stranger. I re-warmed ideas that had been left to congeal far too long on the back burner.
Life at the moment is hectic and I may never have that perfect time to write. I may never be published, and honestly that is alright. I have been to the top of the lookout and I saw the ships in the harbour, white sails unfurled.

As I walked away from the hotel, across the parking lot to my car and thence home, I didn't have to turn around to know there was glitter, real and sparkling, in the air.

  *   .    .      *  .  +   *       .     . .. . *     *     .   . * . . *   +  ..   .  * +   ..  .   .    . * . * 

Church 2: Some Wee Clarifications

The trouble with such a big topic as Church, especially through the eyes of a personal history, is the inevitable gaping holes left that can cause questions and the raising of eyebrows. As the majority look much better with our eyebrows calmly settled in our faces I thought I'd revisit the topic. Now that the dust has settled 'round the corners of my mind I find myself with a bit more to say. I did try to change the topic entirely, go back to paint colors or a poem about mountains of lovely snow -- or something equally benign -- but it wouldn't let me. So I succumbed.

Enlightened...?

The first wee clarification is the line about disillusionment with church being a "go-to topic of conversation for those brave and enlightened enough to face the reality". Now I meant that almost entirely tongue-in-cheek. There ARE a lot of people, generally Christians, talking about this. But I'm not sure about the level of courage involved here, and the "enlightened" part is most certainly in jest. Tinged with a sarcastic hue, even. It seems that those talking about disillusionment with church are either bemoaning the mass youth exodus, complete with statistical charts and blame flying here and there, or conversely, standing with arms folded and eyes rolling...and blame flying.
 
Frustration about going to church, and especially criticism of the conservative evangelical "old guard", is a hot topic of conversation. It sells Christian magazines. Books on the subject are popular. I'm not brave or enlightened by discussing it, but it does resound with me, and there are reasons for that which may be able to shed some light.
 

Matters of Size

A lot of what I've felt about the small local church is precisely because it IS as small, local, church.
 
Small means there are a lot of jobs to do and not many bodies to do them. It means you might be teaching Sunday School, shoveling the sidewalks, and playing the piano all in the same service. It means that you wash the dishes by hand after a potluck meal, scraping a hundred dirty plates and running after people in the parking lot saying, "Hey! I think this is your casserole lid."
 
It means that if you aren't there, you are missed. Mm-hmmm.
 
I've attended much larger churches, and one mega-church, in different places we've lived. You're not likely to get worked to death, and not likely to be missed. Not at the 9 o'clock service? Well they probably went to the 11 o'clock. Or the Saturday Night. It's easy to go to church and not see a single person you know! Oh the FREEDOM! Ha ha.
 I did teach Sunday School and was involved in a home bible study and Women's Ministry group at the mega-church, so I know if you put in a bit of effort you won't get lost or over-looked. I am not critical of big churches, because their bigness almost always means they were doing something right, something needed, and were blessed with the huge responsibility to care for those who came.  

The Good Stuff

The church was where I heard about Jesus and how God sent Him to take my place, to pay for sin. I heard about the cross and how He was willing to sacrifice it all, His very life, so I could live in freedom and hope. At the age of 5 I understood what I needed to understand, and I told God that I believed Him and thanked Him. And so I started my pilgrim's progress there, upstairs in a cold, too-brightly-lit Sunday School room.
 
The church pulpit, a monstrous wooden thing, is what I stood behind when I read from my Bible these words, "Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day".  I was shaking with nerves; it was the day of my baptism and I was 12 years old.
 
The stage is where I stood to sing my first solo, "Jesus, Name Above All Names", when I was 9.
 
I took lessons at the piano as a teenager, puzzling out the intricacies of hymn harmonies and chord progressions. (It's a puzzle I've never exactly put together. Why change chords for every syllable?) Later as a young adult I brought choruses from far and wide and introduced them at that same piano.
 
I could go on and on. It's special stuff, life-changing and important, and I remember. I honor the loving and caring people who looked after me in Sunday school and Jr. church, who gave me a Kleenex for my runny nose and sacrificed their time and energy. Perhaps they too, were wondering about why they were there. Or their mind miles away, thinking about what they would rather be doing.
 
In my personal disappointments with church I do not want to show disrespect to those who served me or those I am serving now.

 

So What?

This church actually sounds pretty good! What's not to love?
 
It is healthy to have some honesty. You can temper it with kindness, but just say it. Is church a safe place to be yourself? Can you actually say a real and honest sentence to anyone there? If you can, then that is great. I do not doubt that there are people who truly love going to church, they do feel like themselves there, and it is the highlight of their week. I haven't experienced joy in church for a long time myself, but I know it's out there.
 
But if not, when are the layers going to peel back? If we immerse ourselves farther and farther into programs and "getting things done" and never ask (or listen to) some hard questions, I think death by drowning is inevitable. The next generation will be dealing with our bloated spiritual corpses. Or we'll be dealing with theirs.
 
If you have a real problem, would you go to your local church for help?
 
Why not?
 
For some former church-goers and others, the wounds are too deep. They can't be wrapped in phrases, verses, or even good arguments from a blog. Your pain is real and you feel it like a slap even driving by a church. Layers of disgust and mistrust wall in your heart, a concrete barrier that would involve some demolition to break through. Church is the very LAST place you would go if and when your world falls apart.
 
What if a few of those I just mentioned are sitting in the pew? Sitting there in body, standing for the songs, but so far away...
 
What do we do with that? Do we provide the space to feel? To ask an unanswerable question, raw with implication?
 
I'm thinking out loud. I don't know exactly how to change it.  
Except for that saying about doing things the same way and expecting different results...new isn't always better, but it could be a start.
 
What are you going to do with your hard questions?
I'll tell you what I did. I stuffed them away so far and deep down I thought they'd never have the nerve to surface. And they leaked out over the years, poisoning me, toxifying my soul and hardening my heart.
 Don't do that; it's so destructive to everything you love or will love. Find someone you can be true with. Tell that safe person what you really think.
 
Do you think God is not leading and guiding you this very minute? His Spirit speaks. He draws us, loves us, puts seeds of hope into our minds and hearts, counsels us along paths that, though strange and foreign soil, are leading away from dark, shadowy hollows toward marvelous light. He knows shortcuts through and away from the enemies of our souls.
 
The church is not meant to feel like prison.The church is meant to be Love shown on earth, an open doorway. A place of peace and truth. Where the lost are found and the wounded can heal, and those with ice-cold hearts and concrete walls begin to feel.

Church - I'm Not a Fan

To be perfectly honest, I haven't been a fan of church for a long time now. Since I was about 12, actually. Many people are disillusioned and tired of church these days; it's a go-to topic of conversation for those brave and enlightened enough to face the reality, and a secret shared between those who are there, smiling, week by week, but who are living an inner world of frustration and a desire to have a good scream.
To clarify, I mean the typical evangelical church, with pastors and singing and sermons and sunday school.

ME

I think it began slowly as I helped with various tasks...nursery, children's church, sitting through morning and evening services, stacking chairs, doing dishes...and that all seemed to be so important. I really did enjoy it at the time, in a way. Then I began to play the piano, help with the singing. One time I recall being very ill-prepared to do an offeratory, and still had to do it -- I failed miserably and was good and humbled. Another time the music leader was unavailable and I had to lead the singing, last minute, with a bad cold and no accompaniment. The word "chagrin" comes to mind. I desperately wished I could crawl under a pew and disappear. And so, gradually, I started to be nervous when we went to church. I dreaded Sunday as the worst day of the week, and would bite my nails to the quick on the way there.
(I seriously feel so guilty saying all this, but I'm going somewhere with it, wait and see)

WHY

But what about the experiences of others? Why don't people like church these days, particularly those of the younger sort? I'm not entirely sure, and I'd like to hear from people about it. However, opinionated soul that I am, I do have a few theories:

1.  "It's just not my style"

We are extremely focused on the individual, and our individual needs in society today. A phrase I've heard often is "what's best for me and my family". And so if the church doesn't have a very good children's or youth program, we'll leave it. Or what-have-you. Basically, if something doesn't appeal, that's a good enough reason. I don't like sushi; I don't eat it. I don't like church; I don't go.

2. "There are a lot of other ways to do church"

We are also surrounded by post-modernism and relativism. Deconstruction. Everything is new, and better. We are enamored with equality, and don't feel anyone should have the right to "preach" at us from the pulpit. So we create services where it's more of a conversation between the...umm...leader up front and those...welll... not up front. So everyone is right, and no one is right. Absolutes, authority, willingness to be taught...those are SO last year. Last decade, I mean. And I can watch some guy on TV, or sit in church and look up a better sermon on my iPhone, for crying out loud. Who has time for an inferior product?!?

3. "I've been hurt in or by the church"

People have genuinely been let down or really injured by other Christians. I don't really know many who haven't been. Callousness, condemnation, hypocritical attitudes abound, like a game of minesweeper. It's sad, but you're bound to get blown away by someone, sometime.

4. "I'm tired and I could care less"

Yeah....mostly, this is me. Everything is meaningless, says the teacher. Now I surely don't have the wisdom of Solomon, but I am starting to know when I'm worn out and can't take anymore. All the programs, the potlucks, the meetings, the stacking of chairs and scheduling of ladies to run around after small children, meaningless. Half the time that the phone rings, it's someone wanting me to do something at church. WHY? So we can just keep the thing going? Keep everybody happy? Keep everyone IN by keeping them BUSY? Aha. It took awhile, but I've caught on.
Now you can tell by the prolific use of capitals that this one upsets me. I don't buy it. Getting people in the church and then getting them busy to KEEP them in is a nasty, nasty business. It may seem right, but it backfires magnificently.

Now to Explain. No, take too long--let me Sum Up.

(huh, huh? Where is that quote from? First prize to s/he who knows!)

It may sound preachy here. Let me say that these are just my own musings on church, filtered through my own little brain, and I'm only talking to myself. Perhaps I AM only talking to myself! That's A-OK. At least I got it in writing.

NUMERO UNO -- We need each other. Drive each other nuts, often, but we need the friendship and accountability of others. Just because we don't like it, doesn't negate the facts.

"And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another -- and all the more as you see the Day approaching."  Hebrews 10:24, 25
 

This was  originally to the early Christians who had good reason to avoid getting together, as they were undergoing immense persecution.

Number TWO -- New is not better. Well, sometimes it is. But rarely in the case of meeting together to worship God and hear about Him. There is a reason for preaching. It may not be great, the preacher may even be a pompous donkey, but there is a reason for preaching. Hopefully the preacher is humble and can communicate. Paul says to the young pastor Timothy:

"Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of scripture, to preaching, and to teaching." I Timothy 4:13

and...

"It was He who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers, to prepare God's people for works of service, that that the body of Christ may be built up..."    Ephesians 4:11, 12
 

Incisively, God's word cuts through the fog of postmodern drivel. It almost burns my ears, because I've been taken in now and then. My rebel heart thinks there must be a better way, a TRUER way.

"If anyone teaches false doctrines and does not agree to the sound instruction of our Lord Jesus Christ and to godly teaching, he is conceited and understands nothing. He has an unhealthy interest in controversies and quarrels about words that result in envy, strife, malicious talk, evil suspicions and constant friction..."   1 Timothy 6:3-5

Ouch! If those words make you kinda mad, that's where the bullet is. Dig it out; get the medics.

Number 3 -- We are going to get hurt regardless. Not to belittle this point, at all, but we get burned in the world, out of the world, in the church, in the street, in our homes, in our favorite coffee shops. People hurt each other, and leaders mess up. The church is called to be a place where sick people get well, and sometimes it's a place where you pick up the Norwalk virus, or something equally disemboweling.

So to NUMBER FOUR, my favorite. My pet peeve.
I don't want to feed and water this thing until it grows into the monster in my backyard. I know I can't avoid church or be forever a church zombie because of this thing, being sick and tired of being sick and tired.

First, where did I get the idea that to say YES to everything is the most holy way? It's not. It's just the people-pleasing prideful way. I believe that Holy Spirit filled believers will NATURALLY overflow with love and service, and will know WHEN and WHERE and HOW MUCH. The exhausting thing is the guilt, that always pushed me and pushes me now to do what I shouldn't even be doing. So I gotta just let it go, say no sometimes, and even take a season of resting and not DOing much at all. The church may actually survive!! EEEP!!

Second, I'm part of the Church whether I want to be or not. The Church is more than a bunch of eccentric people sitting in a building singing songs they may not know or like, listening to a sermon that may put them straight to sleep, or helping in a room full of tired, runny-nosed toddlers. It's GOT to be. Jesus calls the Church his BRIDE, the one he loves, the beautiful one He is coming back for.

We are part of this messy and often annoying preparation for the final walk down the aisle, where it all makes sense. He loves us, and all those people who drive us around the bend, who don't get it, who don't understand us and who are even fake and ridiculous and hypocritical. He knows what we would rather be doing. David says in the Psalms that "he knows our frame, he remembers that we are dust."

I still don't look forward to going to church. Not much.... I have to stay honest here. I know that what we BELIEVE will drive what we DO. And I do believe this stuff. I hope that it keeps trickling down from my head and into my cold-ish heart, and maybe even one day, down the road, Sunday will be the best day of the week for me. We shall see.

 

 

Rainy Monday

This is a good Rainy Monday colour. Blue with a hint of grey.
So it seems, it seems (think Hamlet), that I forgot I had a blog... again. Well I was only writing for practice, and for escape, not for posterity. Which is a good thing, Martha, because no one knows I'm here anyway!
I wonder how long I could blog under the radar?
After keeping journals for years I finally type much faster than I write and think in type better than in ink.

May 22 today, a holiday. It is tough to concentrate with an untidy house, looming school deadlines, and my brother's wedding on Saturday.... I'm the MC. I'm about to have a nervous breakdown.
Satisfaction in life is directly proportional to one's expectations. As I learn to expect less, I feel more content in the everyday. I didn't expect to relax, have fun, or get away this May long weekend. I have a million and one things pending. Therefore, each moment of relaxation, a cup of coffee uninterrupted, sitting with the kids on the couch or sleeping in seem like boons of benevolence. Like Keegan's Shirley Temple at East Side Mario's last night... a red, blue, and orange cherry on a glass stick complete with a cloud of pink cotton candy!! Unprecedented riches!! Next time, when he expects it, the colorful wand will be mildly enjoyable. Perhaps the cotton candy cloud won't be as large. A slight frown, a feeling of disappointment.

Disappointment that is expected is merely normalcy. A childhood without disappointment sends perfectly sane adults to mental institutions. Actually, I am quite sure cynicism is the cure for all ills. OK, maybe not all. Complacent skepticism disguised here as serious thought will solve a few problems as well, by tucking them nicely away from view. Just sliiiide it over, gently, behind the hedge there.
A fully engaged life is one that deals with complexities, that never shuts the door and sits demurely with a dime novel. An engaged life must draw strength from God, working with Him, talking with Him. Accepting the disappointments and opening to each blessing with wonder and joy. It is tempting to shut down, to blank out, to shift the view to what you want to see and the blame to someone, anyone. Some rainy Mondays can only come one drop at a time, one foot in front of the other. One load of laundry, one rosebush pruned, one assignment graded. Perhaps in living fully, engaged in the moment, there will be no time to gaze with a cynical eye. What is required? To act justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly with God.