Due to a number of factors: my current job/life situation, my recent obsession with TEDtalks, and my ways of coping with life, I started thinking about Life.
Sometimes I classify life by lists. Lists help me to evaluate life. I make lists for things that I actually plan on doing and for things that I don't have any real intention of doing at all. I almost never make grocery lists but I often make lists of thoughts, condensing them to simple, bullet-pointed formats.
I started out this morning by trying to figure out my life's aspirations via lists. I have done this any number of times. In high school I had a folder on my computer's desktop entitled "My Ideal Life". it was separated into various sections of ideals I valued at that time and goals I aspired to. Eventually I deleted it so I wouldn't be haunted by all that my current life is not. But for better or worse, I almost always have some such mental list in my head at any given moment.
Sometimes it helps. For instance, I've discovered my life is much better when I sing often. Best if I sing daily. Writing gives me an outlet that allows me to discover hidden worlds within my thoughts (hence my journal and the existence of this blog). Art and music allow me to participate in a singular moment of time in a way that almost nothing else can.
These are facts about my existence in the world and my flourishing in the world. So I decided once again, in response to my search for "what I should do with my life", to list out different things. The things that I value (list 1) and the things that give me life (list 2). My goal being that I would find combinations of those two lists that would give me insight into a career path. And that, as a result, I would figure out how to structure my day so that each day I participate in life fully.
I have also done this ever since I was a kid. I used lists to make a schedule, an hour-by-hour schedule that dictated what I should be doing when to allow me to do the things that are most life-giving (to myself and to others).
What I realize every time is that what had, at one point, been life-giving becomes life-demanding. If I follow the schedule, it limits me rather than freeing me. It produces stress rather than reducing it. It diminishes me to small components rather than acknowledging that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts (Gestalt theory?/I'm a Psych nerd).
I have a very Western frame of mind. In this instance, a very Type A, Western frame of mind. I thought about how life tends to be lived out in seasons. In Ecclesiastes, the writer talks about various times: a time to laugh, a time to mourn, etc., etc. I, on the other hand, have a 24-hour mindset to conceptualize Time. I see a day as units to be filled, with each day ideally holding a particle of every separate essence of myself. Self-actualization, in my mind, is actualizing every bit of myself in a given day. People with this mindset would hypothetically arrange the literal seasons of the year into a day, where we could experience fall, summer, winter and spring every single day.
That doesn't work at all. It would be like mixing all of your favorite foods into a single morsel. It ruins and depletes each item of its beauty by assigning it such a small place in a mix. Sure, if you ate every meal in this way, you might finish what would have typically been a single-serving of your favorite food, but you would never appreciate its distinctness from anything else. You would never be able to revel in just that one thing and all of its intricacies.
It's useful for me to consider this in life. I'm a hardcore idealist. An extreme idealist who constantly re-envisions life, its meaning, and my place in the big picture, and I want to live into that reality immediately. Everything to me feels urgent. Everything to me is a global issue. Everything contributes to the positive or negative well-being of the cosmos. And I often feel that if I am not vigilant in producing things of value or living into everything that I value all at once, that my decisions are actively destroying what I care about the most.
I forget about seasons. I forget about the Being vs. Doing dichotomy. I lose myself in trying to be myself so that I can be less but serve more in the bigger picture. It's too much. I can't do it all in a day. I can't do it all.
There are seasons. Those seasons 1) are revealed by God, 2) are demanded by your circumstances, or 3) are only revealed to you in hindsight, or some combination of these three. I am not sure which one in I am now. Probably all three. And I will probably figure that out in hindsight. But recognizing the season I am in, defining it, and reveling in the moment and recognizing its distinctness will allow me to live fully into it, offering the most I can of myself to God and to those around me.
A TEDtalks person said, "We all need a fishbowl." Considering my natural tendencies, I think this is especially true for me, and true to my nature, nothing scares me more.
*Note: This is coming from an INFJ. Read a description online and this entire post will make more sense if I seem crazy to you now.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Joy and Unknowingly Joining God's Movement.
I've had a lot of thoughts lately that I reply to in my head by saying, "Ooh, that'd make a good blog entry!" I haven't blogged on a single one yet, but now I'm going to try to combine them into one and hope that they somehow relate to one another (and that this isn't as long-winded as it could be).
One of the things I've been thinking about is how hard it is for me in this exact stage of life to just be present with a moment. It used to be a lot easier for me to just exist in a moment that somehow seemed unbound by time. It seems to be a contradiction, to be so in a moment of time to be unaware of the concept of time, but somehow I know that state because I've experienced it.
Maybe it's the cool of the fall, maybe it's the stress of feeling like I'm in a place I am ill-equipped for, but whatever it is, I keep returning to memories from years ago. One memory that has kept coming back, like a ripple in a small enclosed area that keeps reverberating in space, is the memory of the jacuzzi.
In high school, one of my best friends and I had this tradition of sneaking into this jacuzzi that was owned by a condo out on the Island. There were a few variations to the tradition, but the overall effect was, we would sneak into this jacuzzi late at night. We snuck past the "No Trespassing" sign without a second thought. It became our place. It was as though we always belonged there. We never did anything crazy. We were quiet and respectful. Sometimes we invited friends and sometimes it was just us. It was our escape. We could be joking around or having a serious conversation. Some of our deepest conversations happened out there. Somehow there was an openness there that we couldn't experience in the light of day in the realm of our normal lives.
I remember the feeling of the water. I remember how badly our frozen feet hurt when we first stepped into the hot water. I remember how cold it was in the dead of winter when we ran from the car to the jacuzzi in our bathing suits. I remember the sounds of the ocean waves lapping onto the shore, just a couple dozen yards from the hot tub. I remember the stars above and the way the moon shone through the clouds on so many nights. It was almost a sacred place.
I have missed being so present with people, with nature, with God, with a single moment. I have been so boggled by a sense of unbelonging in some ways. I am in a new place and I feel right about it. Mostly. But there are still so many questions. Am I supposed to be working where I am? Where am I supposed to live? How is making an actual living possible? I have no doubts that I am supposed to be here. I have doubts about HOW I am supposed to be now that I am here.
I am living in so many moments that don't exist, mentally and emotionally trying on different solutions as though I was picking out the right dress for prom. There's the hope of this beautiful dress, with elements of a few of the special dresses I have tried on. This color, with that waist-line, that intricate beading, and those materials. It would make a beautiful dress. But if such a dress existed, would it really fit? Would it even be as beautiful as I envisioned it?
My saving grace in this has been reading through my journal. Old entries. I had all these ideas of what I wanted. Often God has led me to places that have been different than what I've wanted:
1) I wanted to go to college in Florida, where I had a Bright Future's scholarship with my name on it and acceptance to an academically competitive school. I ended up doing Mission Year in Chicago.
2) I wanted to continue living in Englewood and go to school there afterwards because it fit with my understanding of how God wanted my life to be.
3) Then I wanted to go to school at UIC, where I had already been accepted into the school and into the Honors program. I ended up at a private, Christian school (incidentally, since I was a young teen, I have *never* wanted to go to a Christian school). But I still did live in the inner-city.
4) I ended up moving out of the type of neighborhood I envisioned myself living in. I ended up in a neighborhood that, to me, seemed quite posh in comparison. I moved up near my college.
5) I intended to major in Psychology, but I ended up majoring in Biblical and Theological Studies.
6) After graduating, I intended to stay in Chicago and to start a home church with friends. I ended up moving here, to South Carolina, to become part of a church and God knows what else.
I was amazed at one point, looking at all of these things, trying to make sense of it. I felt like I'd never chosen anything in my life until I moved to South Carolina. But hadn't I chosen each thing in that list?
So often people rely on God to close doors for them to know what to do. Strangely, the way God has often worked with me is by not closing doors. He hasn't closed doors. In fact, He's often left doors open to the very things I thought I wanted.
How? How have I so consistently chosen against that which I so very desired?
Joy.
Somehow, at each step, when I was faced with what I wanted and what else was available, joy is what so often grounded me. This isn't always the case, and it isn't the case for two of the numbered examples above either. But it has so often been that indication of God's movement.
I remember when I was in high school, I imagined myself leaving everything behind, stepping into a canoe somewhere and seeing where it led me. I have lived in the hope of one day being able to do that in life without realizing I was in the darn canoe the whole time. How much I have feared and fretted and kept myself from living in the moment when the whole time I have been exactly where I have tearfully, fervently prayed and hoped to one day be.
I am here.
The phrase that keeps coming to mind to describe where I am now is that I feel as though I have accidentally stepped into a stream that is now carrying me.
Joy has been part of what has kept me in the stream. I have made some darn foolish decisions based on joy.
I chose to move to the inner-city, far away from anyone I knew. I chose to stay. I chose to leave the neighborhood I thought I was staying in Chicago for. I turned down acceptance to a fairly prestigious university - actually two. And an honors program and full-fledged scholarship (that I worked hard to get) to boot! I chose a degree that is unmarketable, especially for my gender. I chose to move to South Carolina without any sort of job security and I am still very aware of that fact.
But I am overwhelmed with joy. And I see God pulling together pieces from my past and piecing them together here now. Things that I had journaled that I wanted in my life, just days before I found out about the option to move here... Seeing those desires finding root here. Seeing my purpose in Mission Year being rediscovered in a non-urban environment. Seeing my love for singing and teaching finding homes.
Joy keeps me present in the moment. Joy keeps me united to God's heart and His purposes for me. Joy directs the way I live my life. The decisions I make sometimes that look stupid. I doubt sometimes. But then I find myself seized by a joy and an assurance that I am still in the canoe in the stream. And God keeps proving to me piece by piece that I am okay. And I can see for myself that I have ended up with a life that is better than the one I dreamed for myself. Not better in a worldly sense. But better nonetheless. And I praise God.
One of the things I've been thinking about is how hard it is for me in this exact stage of life to just be present with a moment. It used to be a lot easier for me to just exist in a moment that somehow seemed unbound by time. It seems to be a contradiction, to be so in a moment of time to be unaware of the concept of time, but somehow I know that state because I've experienced it.
Maybe it's the cool of the fall, maybe it's the stress of feeling like I'm in a place I am ill-equipped for, but whatever it is, I keep returning to memories from years ago. One memory that has kept coming back, like a ripple in a small enclosed area that keeps reverberating in space, is the memory of the jacuzzi.
In high school, one of my best friends and I had this tradition of sneaking into this jacuzzi that was owned by a condo out on the Island. There were a few variations to the tradition, but the overall effect was, we would sneak into this jacuzzi late at night. We snuck past the "No Trespassing" sign without a second thought. It became our place. It was as though we always belonged there. We never did anything crazy. We were quiet and respectful. Sometimes we invited friends and sometimes it was just us. It was our escape. We could be joking around or having a serious conversation. Some of our deepest conversations happened out there. Somehow there was an openness there that we couldn't experience in the light of day in the realm of our normal lives.
I remember the feeling of the water. I remember how badly our frozen feet hurt when we first stepped into the hot water. I remember how cold it was in the dead of winter when we ran from the car to the jacuzzi in our bathing suits. I remember the sounds of the ocean waves lapping onto the shore, just a couple dozen yards from the hot tub. I remember the stars above and the way the moon shone through the clouds on so many nights. It was almost a sacred place.
I have missed being so present with people, with nature, with God, with a single moment. I have been so boggled by a sense of unbelonging in some ways. I am in a new place and I feel right about it. Mostly. But there are still so many questions. Am I supposed to be working where I am? Where am I supposed to live? How is making an actual living possible? I have no doubts that I am supposed to be here. I have doubts about HOW I am supposed to be now that I am here.
I am living in so many moments that don't exist, mentally and emotionally trying on different solutions as though I was picking out the right dress for prom. There's the hope of this beautiful dress, with elements of a few of the special dresses I have tried on. This color, with that waist-line, that intricate beading, and those materials. It would make a beautiful dress. But if such a dress existed, would it really fit? Would it even be as beautiful as I envisioned it?
My saving grace in this has been reading through my journal. Old entries. I had all these ideas of what I wanted. Often God has led me to places that have been different than what I've wanted:
1) I wanted to go to college in Florida, where I had a Bright Future's scholarship with my name on it and acceptance to an academically competitive school. I ended up doing Mission Year in Chicago.
2) I wanted to continue living in Englewood and go to school there afterwards because it fit with my understanding of how God wanted my life to be.
3) Then I wanted to go to school at UIC, where I had already been accepted into the school and into the Honors program. I ended up at a private, Christian school (incidentally, since I was a young teen, I have *never* wanted to go to a Christian school). But I still did live in the inner-city.
4) I ended up moving out of the type of neighborhood I envisioned myself living in. I ended up in a neighborhood that, to me, seemed quite posh in comparison. I moved up near my college.
5) I intended to major in Psychology, but I ended up majoring in Biblical and Theological Studies.
6) After graduating, I intended to stay in Chicago and to start a home church with friends. I ended up moving here, to South Carolina, to become part of a church and God knows what else.
I was amazed at one point, looking at all of these things, trying to make sense of it. I felt like I'd never chosen anything in my life until I moved to South Carolina. But hadn't I chosen each thing in that list?
So often people rely on God to close doors for them to know what to do. Strangely, the way God has often worked with me is by not closing doors. He hasn't closed doors. In fact, He's often left doors open to the very things I thought I wanted.
How? How have I so consistently chosen against that which I so very desired?
Joy.
Somehow, at each step, when I was faced with what I wanted and what else was available, joy is what so often grounded me. This isn't always the case, and it isn't the case for two of the numbered examples above either. But it has so often been that indication of God's movement.
I remember when I was in high school, I imagined myself leaving everything behind, stepping into a canoe somewhere and seeing where it led me. I have lived in the hope of one day being able to do that in life without realizing I was in the darn canoe the whole time. How much I have feared and fretted and kept myself from living in the moment when the whole time I have been exactly where I have tearfully, fervently prayed and hoped to one day be.
I am here.
The phrase that keeps coming to mind to describe where I am now is that I feel as though I have accidentally stepped into a stream that is now carrying me.
Joy has been part of what has kept me in the stream. I have made some darn foolish decisions based on joy.
I chose to move to the inner-city, far away from anyone I knew. I chose to stay. I chose to leave the neighborhood I thought I was staying in Chicago for. I turned down acceptance to a fairly prestigious university - actually two. And an honors program and full-fledged scholarship (that I worked hard to get) to boot! I chose a degree that is unmarketable, especially for my gender. I chose to move to South Carolina without any sort of job security and I am still very aware of that fact.
But I am overwhelmed with joy. And I see God pulling together pieces from my past and piecing them together here now. Things that I had journaled that I wanted in my life, just days before I found out about the option to move here... Seeing those desires finding root here. Seeing my purpose in Mission Year being rediscovered in a non-urban environment. Seeing my love for singing and teaching finding homes.
Joy keeps me present in the moment. Joy keeps me united to God's heart and His purposes for me. Joy directs the way I live my life. The decisions I make sometimes that look stupid. I doubt sometimes. But then I find myself seized by a joy and an assurance that I am still in the canoe in the stream. And God keeps proving to me piece by piece that I am okay. And I can see for myself that I have ended up with a life that is better than the one I dreamed for myself. Not better in a worldly sense. But better nonetheless. And I praise God.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Being a Woman as a Follower of Christ in the World.
This blog is very different than usual. Its message (if one can dig through to find one) is not easily applicable, it is founded on generalizations which have often but not always been true in my life. It is simply a personal rant designed to help me process things and to help me not feel alone in experiencing what I'm experiencing. I do not claim that what is contained here is true always or that it should limit anyone in any way. I'm not even writing this to cause males to question how they interact with women.
If nothing else, I hope this entry, if any of you have accidentally stumbled into this hot mess, will allow you to step into another's shoes. My shoes. I know I am speaking very one-sidedly and entirely from my own experiences. I hope you can have grace with me and recognize that this is coming from a place of pain for me.
________________________________________________________
There was an incident the other day that infuriated me on a deep level. Seriously. My immediate prayer thereafter was *not* pretty. The incident itself will remain vague because it's not unique. If it was unique it might warrant explanation. But this incident is one of many just like it. In fact, this incident was milder than many/most others. This time, though, the implications bothered me more than ever before.
This post is not about a woman's place in the church. I have plenty to say on that, but I'll spare you. For now. It bothers me that women aren't allowed a place in the church a lot of times, but I am far more bothered that a woman's place in the world as a Christ-follower is at stake.
The overall dynamic that I commonly experience, and what I believe it means, follows.
The Dynamic
I belief in embodying a missional life. This means that I believe in loving people fully. It means engaging the world around me - followers of Jesus and not. It means not withholding who I am because who I am is a beautiful part of God's mission for the world at this time. It means interacting to cross barriers - barriers of race, religion, gender, politics, language, culture, etc. It means being fully present and acknowledging the full presence of the Other (who is distinct from me, yet in some weird way is like me).
Being a female in a cross-gender context like this is disastrous. Not always. But in my experience, often. Often the case is that after a moment of genuine connection/engagement is experienced, the language changes. The dynamic shifts. When this happens, my ability to do ministry (and by "do ministry", I literally and simply mean "engaging in a genuine/honest/authentic way with another") is undercut. The power shifts from a balance of two people interacting to one person usurping that power to change the dynamic.
To be less vague: I am talking about a shift to the romantic or lustful sort of thing. And "romantic" is putting a sweet spin on it. I get romantic attraction and there is nothing wrong with it. Lust to me has been wrongly defined often. I think lust is simply desiring something in a way that counteracts the good that is, was, or could have been in something. I think lust is a word of power or a claim to power. Or its a power that seizes and controls you. Something to that effect. Romantic attraction, done right, doesn't take power to lay claim to another person. THAT is the sort of dynamic I am referring to.
My Defense
Before I go into why it bother me so much, I need to set the record straight because inevitably people will want to harp on the whole "pearls to the swine" idea or the "guarding your heart" verse or the general concept of wisdom in a ministry/relational context, especially a multi-gender context. I'm not going to break down each one, though I could certainly try to do so.
All I will say on this is that the types of interactions I am describing are NOT ones in which I am being unwise. They are not ones in which I am being in any way flirtatious. They are not ones in which I am doing anything that any male would ever be accused of exercising poor judgment in. Which leads me to...
Why I Am Irate About This
1) The double standard
Because I am a female, I am aware of the double-standard in culture that is in place. It's in place everywhere you look. In the workplace, in physical/sexual relationships, in the porn industry, in the church, in the home, etc. It's a mess.
A man would never be accused of exercising poor judgement in the situations that I'm describing, whereas, because I am a female I have been accused of that or at the very least expect to be.
2) The one-sided power shift
I do not believe that in most situations a woman can usurp power from a man the way a man can from a woman. At least in the situations I am describing. In conversation. In relationship. The feelings that those dynamics evoke in me, because I am a female, are not simply annoyance or frustration. The feelings are those of fear (at worst) and belittlement (at best).
Even when women take a lustful interest in a man that subverts his ability to relate in authentic communion/community with her, the woman still does not assert power over him the same way he could over her. It still demeans the fullness of who he is, but it does not render him unable to speak or interact with her the same way it does for a woman. And please hear me on this: It is just as wrong for a woman to relate in that way to a man as vice versa. I'm just saying that gender dynamics cause the effect in that dynamic to be different for women than for men.
3) The result this seems to have for me
Taking these things into account, it feels there are a few inevitable results.
1. I can expect to never be able to relate in an authentic way with a male without it being counteracted.
2. I can expect that because I have a gender which I didn't choose, that by nature of the twisted dynamics that often happen, my ability to impact the Kingdom of God will be limited - not because I am not stepping out on faith, but because when I do, another person has the ability to immediately quash its intent.
3. I can expect that because I am a woman, the most effective place of ministry I will have is a place where my being female doesn't matter (which mostly means roles where I am quiet and not interacting openly with males).
4. Therefore, the only places where my gender doesn't matter are places where my gender's stereotypes are strengthened and where I will never be able to be fully authentic.
Okay. I'm done. No neat wrap-up. I'm not actually all that cynical. I am just incredibly frustrated that this is what I have encountered again and again. Though I think those results I described can be encountered and can be contextually true, I do not believe they are True in the sense of the ultimate ethic of the Kingdom of God.
No. I will not sit back. I will not take the place that people occasionally try to put me in. I will not guard myself the way so many seem to think I should. In doing so, I am guarding the message that I believe to be True from those who desperately need to see it. I will live into what I believe is possible. I have relationships with males where the dynamic is right and good. I know it is possible.
I am just tired of questioning my place in the world as a woman who follows Jesus when so many men, that have never experienced this dynamic in the ways that I regularly have, have been the cause of it so much in my life.
It scares me that because of something I didn't choose, I will never be able to relate the way I feel created and called to relate to people in this world.
If nothing else, I hope this entry, if any of you have accidentally stumbled into this hot mess, will allow you to step into another's shoes. My shoes. I know I am speaking very one-sidedly and entirely from my own experiences. I hope you can have grace with me and recognize that this is coming from a place of pain for me.
________________________________________________________
There was an incident the other day that infuriated me on a deep level. Seriously. My immediate prayer thereafter was *not* pretty. The incident itself will remain vague because it's not unique. If it was unique it might warrant explanation. But this incident is one of many just like it. In fact, this incident was milder than many/most others. This time, though, the implications bothered me more than ever before.
This post is not about a woman's place in the church. I have plenty to say on that, but I'll spare you. For now. It bothers me that women aren't allowed a place in the church a lot of times, but I am far more bothered that a woman's place in the world as a Christ-follower is at stake.
The overall dynamic that I commonly experience, and what I believe it means, follows.
The Dynamic
I belief in embodying a missional life. This means that I believe in loving people fully. It means engaging the world around me - followers of Jesus and not. It means not withholding who I am because who I am is a beautiful part of God's mission for the world at this time. It means interacting to cross barriers - barriers of race, religion, gender, politics, language, culture, etc. It means being fully present and acknowledging the full presence of the Other (who is distinct from me, yet in some weird way is like me).
Being a female in a cross-gender context like this is disastrous. Not always. But in my experience, often. Often the case is that after a moment of genuine connection/engagement is experienced, the language changes. The dynamic shifts. When this happens, my ability to do ministry (and by "do ministry", I literally and simply mean "engaging in a genuine/honest/authentic way with another") is undercut. The power shifts from a balance of two people interacting to one person usurping that power to change the dynamic.
To be less vague: I am talking about a shift to the romantic or lustful sort of thing. And "romantic" is putting a sweet spin on it. I get romantic attraction and there is nothing wrong with it. Lust to me has been wrongly defined often. I think lust is simply desiring something in a way that counteracts the good that is, was, or could have been in something. I think lust is a word of power or a claim to power. Or its a power that seizes and controls you. Something to that effect. Romantic attraction, done right, doesn't take power to lay claim to another person. THAT is the sort of dynamic I am referring to.
My Defense
Before I go into why it bother me so much, I need to set the record straight because inevitably people will want to harp on the whole "pearls to the swine" idea or the "guarding your heart" verse or the general concept of wisdom in a ministry/relational context, especially a multi-gender context. I'm not going to break down each one, though I could certainly try to do so.
All I will say on this is that the types of interactions I am describing are NOT ones in which I am being unwise. They are not ones in which I am being in any way flirtatious. They are not ones in which I am doing anything that any male would ever be accused of exercising poor judgment in. Which leads me to...
Why I Am Irate About This
1) The double standard
Because I am a female, I am aware of the double-standard in culture that is in place. It's in place everywhere you look. In the workplace, in physical/sexual relationships, in the porn industry, in the church, in the home, etc. It's a mess.
A man would never be accused of exercising poor judgement in the situations that I'm describing, whereas, because I am a female I have been accused of that or at the very least expect to be.
2) The one-sided power shift
I do not believe that in most situations a woman can usurp power from a man the way a man can from a woman. At least in the situations I am describing. In conversation. In relationship. The feelings that those dynamics evoke in me, because I am a female, are not simply annoyance or frustration. The feelings are those of fear (at worst) and belittlement (at best).
Even when women take a lustful interest in a man that subverts his ability to relate in authentic communion/community with her, the woman still does not assert power over him the same way he could over her. It still demeans the fullness of who he is, but it does not render him unable to speak or interact with her the same way it does for a woman. And please hear me on this: It is just as wrong for a woman to relate in that way to a man as vice versa. I'm just saying that gender dynamics cause the effect in that dynamic to be different for women than for men.
3) The result this seems to have for me
Taking these things into account, it feels there are a few inevitable results.
1. I can expect to never be able to relate in an authentic way with a male without it being counteracted.
2. I can expect that because I have a gender which I didn't choose, that by nature of the twisted dynamics that often happen, my ability to impact the Kingdom of God will be limited - not because I am not stepping out on faith, but because when I do, another person has the ability to immediately quash its intent.
3. I can expect that because I am a woman, the most effective place of ministry I will have is a place where my being female doesn't matter (which mostly means roles where I am quiet and not interacting openly with males).
4. Therefore, the only places where my gender doesn't matter are places where my gender's stereotypes are strengthened and where I will never be able to be fully authentic.
Okay. I'm done. No neat wrap-up. I'm not actually all that cynical. I am just incredibly frustrated that this is what I have encountered again and again. Though I think those results I described can be encountered and can be contextually true, I do not believe they are True in the sense of the ultimate ethic of the Kingdom of God.
No. I will not sit back. I will not take the place that people occasionally try to put me in. I will not guard myself the way so many seem to think I should. In doing so, I am guarding the message that I believe to be True from those who desperately need to see it. I will live into what I believe is possible. I have relationships with males where the dynamic is right and good. I know it is possible.
I am just tired of questioning my place in the world as a woman who follows Jesus when so many men, that have never experienced this dynamic in the ways that I regularly have, have been the cause of it so much in my life.
It scares me that because of something I didn't choose, I will never be able to relate the way I feel created and called to relate to people in this world.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Jesus: Mary Poppins?
A few months ago I had my first real hit of a real "crowning moment". On the day that I graduated college, I was awarded with a medallion and the title of Valedictorian. My university doesn't tell the Valedictorian who he/she is until graduation day, when that person is awarded with a medallion. In May of 2012, just a few months ago, I was awarded with this honor.
I didn't really think much of it till others did. It was incredible the amount of support and congratulations I received. It meant more to my family I think than it meant to me. But it meant a lot to me that my family could be so blessed by it, and I was too.
Since then, the moment of my highest honor/glory, has become one of the biggest sources of condemnation. In the quiet, doubtful moments of my graduate life, I look at what I have and what I am, at least from a worldly view, and I cannot believe that I was the Valedictorian.
I'm currently living with some amazing people, who have graciously accepted me into their home until I get on my feet. It's been 6 months since graduation and I'm still not there. I work 20 hours a week at not much more than minimum wage. At times when I feel a lot of pressure, I look at my bank account and I hear, "And you were the Valedictorian? And this is how you've ended up?" What had been a symbol of success has become the comparative image that declares my current state of utter defeat. Or so it seems.
I used to think of Jesus this way. I once wrote in my journal about how I thought of Jesus the way I thought of Mary Poppins. Anytime I read the gospel, I saw Mary Poppins.
He was a performer of miracles, who could have pulled a lamp out of a bag if he wanted. He did plenty of weirder things. And in my head, he most certainly had a tape measure exactly like the one she did.
"Jesus Christ: Practically perfect in every way"
And of course, anytime this measure was used for anyone else, like myself, it certainly would yield just as distasteful results as it did for the poor little younguns in the movie.
Jesus had become to me this divine measuring stick who walked the earth to show everyone they didn't measure up. Literally that was the exact sermon I was told again and again about the Sermon on the Mount.
I never had the fondest of feelings for Mary Poppins. I really didn't. She was unpredictable. Some moments she was fun-loving and cheerful. Others, she was irritable and she always had high, yet unclear, expectations of the children. And she was always, in her best and worst, absolutely full of herself.
I felt the same way about Jesus. I'd even had people tell me, "Jesus is the only person who could be full of himself and not be sinning. Because he is sinless, he can be full of himself because its him being full of righteousness." Philosophically there is an interesting argument there, but I think it falls flat to its face. I think its entirely false. Philosophically, if that's how pride worked: where it's sinful only if the person is sinful, it would be an interesting theory. A fun little thought excursion for nerds like me.
It's interesting to me that Jesus seemed to me for so long to be a Divine Measuring Stick. He, who was supposed to be my very glory, had become, in my mind, the biggest source of condemnation. Everything I did became wrong in light of Jesus, this measuring stick. It's interesting to me to think that our understanding could be so perverted that our greatest glory and hope could seem to us to be the exact opposite.
For a minute I had thought that Jesus' death was the symbol of the Divine Measuring Stick being broken. At first glance that seems true. I mean, as someone I greatly respect reminds me, the Bible says that it wasn't simply our sins that were nailed to the cross, but actually the whole system of indebtedness was. That is true. Absolutely true.
But my previous conclusion, that Jesus as the symbol of the divine measuring stick being broken conveyed this truth, is absolutely incorrect. For this to be a fair reading of the gospel, Jesus would have to be set up as the divine measuring stick. And guess what. He never was set up to be that.
Was he sinless? There are debates, but I believe so. So was he perfect? In my beliefs yes. If so, could one set themselves up to Jesus to measure where they stand? One could try, but Jesus himself never uses this approach because it's not the right approach.
I'll close with one of the most faith-changing things someone has ever spoken to me.
I approached a close friend of mine a handful of years ago about my frustrations with God and my disbelief that I was really truly forgiven freely, when I had always believed I was forgiven begrudgingly.
I said to him, "Okay, listen. Let's say I came up to you every and asked for a pencil. Then I broke it every single day in front of your face. But every day I still ask for a new pencil. Would you still keep giving me the pencil? If you did, wouldn't you resent me for putting you in that position?"
He said, "Emily, He would take the pencil and break it himself because it's not about the pencil, it's about you and Him."
That changed me life. I don't say that lightly. We cannot allow Jesus, who has become our glory, for we are co-heirs with Christ, to become our source of shame and condemnation. He is not, was not, and will not be our measuring stick. He never set himself up that way. Don't put Jesus where he would not go himself.
Colossians 1:21-23
Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation— if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel.
I didn't really think much of it till others did. It was incredible the amount of support and congratulations I received. It meant more to my family I think than it meant to me. But it meant a lot to me that my family could be so blessed by it, and I was too.
Since then, the moment of my highest honor/glory, has become one of the biggest sources of condemnation. In the quiet, doubtful moments of my graduate life, I look at what I have and what I am, at least from a worldly view, and I cannot believe that I was the Valedictorian.
I'm currently living with some amazing people, who have graciously accepted me into their home until I get on my feet. It's been 6 months since graduation and I'm still not there. I work 20 hours a week at not much more than minimum wage. At times when I feel a lot of pressure, I look at my bank account and I hear, "And you were the Valedictorian? And this is how you've ended up?" What had been a symbol of success has become the comparative image that declares my current state of utter defeat. Or so it seems.
I used to think of Jesus this way. I once wrote in my journal about how I thought of Jesus the way I thought of Mary Poppins. Anytime I read the gospel, I saw Mary Poppins.
He was a performer of miracles, who could have pulled a lamp out of a bag if he wanted. He did plenty of weirder things. And in my head, he most certainly had a tape measure exactly like the one she did.
"Jesus Christ: Practically perfect in every way"
And of course, anytime this measure was used for anyone else, like myself, it certainly would yield just as distasteful results as it did for the poor little younguns in the movie.
Jesus had become to me this divine measuring stick who walked the earth to show everyone they didn't measure up. Literally that was the exact sermon I was told again and again about the Sermon on the Mount.
I never had the fondest of feelings for Mary Poppins. I really didn't. She was unpredictable. Some moments she was fun-loving and cheerful. Others, she was irritable and she always had high, yet unclear, expectations of the children. And she was always, in her best and worst, absolutely full of herself.
I felt the same way about Jesus. I'd even had people tell me, "Jesus is the only person who could be full of himself and not be sinning. Because he is sinless, he can be full of himself because its him being full of righteousness." Philosophically there is an interesting argument there, but I think it falls flat to its face. I think its entirely false. Philosophically, if that's how pride worked: where it's sinful only if the person is sinful, it would be an interesting theory. A fun little thought excursion for nerds like me.
It's interesting to me that Jesus seemed to me for so long to be a Divine Measuring Stick. He, who was supposed to be my very glory, had become, in my mind, the biggest source of condemnation. Everything I did became wrong in light of Jesus, this measuring stick. It's interesting to me to think that our understanding could be so perverted that our greatest glory and hope could seem to us to be the exact opposite.
For a minute I had thought that Jesus' death was the symbol of the Divine Measuring Stick being broken. At first glance that seems true. I mean, as someone I greatly respect reminds me, the Bible says that it wasn't simply our sins that were nailed to the cross, but actually the whole system of indebtedness was. That is true. Absolutely true.
But my previous conclusion, that Jesus as the symbol of the divine measuring stick being broken conveyed this truth, is absolutely incorrect. For this to be a fair reading of the gospel, Jesus would have to be set up as the divine measuring stick. And guess what. He never was set up to be that.
Was he sinless? There are debates, but I believe so. So was he perfect? In my beliefs yes. If so, could one set themselves up to Jesus to measure where they stand? One could try, but Jesus himself never uses this approach because it's not the right approach.
I'll close with one of the most faith-changing things someone has ever spoken to me.
I approached a close friend of mine a handful of years ago about my frustrations with God and my disbelief that I was really truly forgiven freely, when I had always believed I was forgiven begrudgingly.
I said to him, "Okay, listen. Let's say I came up to you every and asked for a pencil. Then I broke it every single day in front of your face. But every day I still ask for a new pencil. Would you still keep giving me the pencil? If you did, wouldn't you resent me for putting you in that position?"
He said, "Emily, He would take the pencil and break it himself because it's not about the pencil, it's about you and Him."
That changed me life. I don't say that lightly. We cannot allow Jesus, who has become our glory, for we are co-heirs with Christ, to become our source of shame and condemnation. He is not, was not, and will not be our measuring stick. He never set himself up that way. Don't put Jesus where he would not go himself.
Colossians 1:21-23
Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation— if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Hoping, Waiting, and the Necessity of Imagination.
Hope is one of the most confusing concepts I have ever encountered. Hope has carried me through darkness, giving me strength to make it through. It gives me the ability to see God when I'm surrounded by situations that are so devoid of His nature. Even if I can't see Him, it gives me an insane, illogical purpose to not lose myself because I have a hope that He is and that because He is, I will be too, one day.
On the other hand, hope has plunged me into the depths of insanity, of an unmet urgency, of burdens that I feel alone in bearing. It has led me to irrational choices. It has been the source of tears and of a gripping pain that seizes me on occasion.
Hope, by nature, is unfulfilled. Faith is the substance of what we hope for. Hope is this illusive glimmer. A spark of light you see in a dark tunnel and you're not sure if you imagined it. It is the glimpse of an image that could be an immanent reality or a mirage. Hope is always amidst an emptiness, a void. It is usually amidst uncertainty and ambiguity.
It seems to be tied regularly to waiting, which is one of the most painful places to be. Waiting, in my mind, is a position that most people don't choose to take in most situations. In a post office, in the DMV, for a future spouse, for enough money to get that car, for the right time to go to school, for the ease of summer break. Hope is tied to an unsettling disatisfaction with things in their current state and it exists by one's ability to see into or live into another reality. This necessitates a period of waiting as things change or an ability to live into the change knowing that its fulfillment will not occur, making the wait indefinite.
Waiting without hope is passive. At an amusement park, one waits in line in the hope of riding the new roller coaster. Of course, the line could actually end up being to the restrooms, disappointing that hope. Or it could be met by its fulfillment at the end when one reaches that ride they imagined. No one waits in line with nothing at the end of the line. People wait in line with the sole purpose of eventually not being in line anymore, which is where hope comes in.
I'm realizing more and more that hope thrives on imagination. That probably makes some nervous. Imagination can be the cause of detrimental beliefs or of delusions. The danger isn't in having and using imagination. The danger is in not having an open imagination. Imaginative solutions to problems can become a problem themselves when once this imagined reality is created, that there is no ability to amend and adjust it, or that there is no openness to receive from other voices and other imaginations.
God, the most imaginative being of all, created. Because he created and gave us the ability to imagine and create, he gives us the ability, in some senses to create the worlds we live in. We can advance the kingdom of darkness or the kingdom of light. The kingdom of darkness is advanced by active participation in its purposes and in the passive acceptance and adoptions of its ways. The kingdom of light is advance by an active and a necessarily imaginative existence and interaction with the world and with God.
Romans 8:22-25
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
To wait patiently doesn't mean the waiting is inactive. To wait patiently also doesn't mean that we can't groan as we wait. We DO groan as we wait, but we wait and we hope for what is unseen. How do we do that? By imagining the Kingdom that Jesus describes, by imagining our roles in it, by imagining the fulfillment of all things, by imagining what wholeness looks like, and by actively living into it while we wait. It can be painful; it can be joyous. But hope, in the Biblical sense of a spirit-filled hope, does not disappoint (Romans 5:5).
Sometimes I like to go into nature. I feel like nature teaches me how to wait. Nature, the whole of creation, groans knowing what has been, knowing what it was meant to be. We groan, only imagining what can/could/will be. I like the certainty I feel in the groans of nature - the certainty of a wholeness that is to come. It is one of many places that fuels my hope and teaches me to wait patiently. I think it's important for us to find those places and to find places that feed imagination.
Thank God that he has enough hope for the Kingdom that he revealed himself to us in Jesus so that we could share in his hope.
On the other hand, hope has plunged me into the depths of insanity, of an unmet urgency, of burdens that I feel alone in bearing. It has led me to irrational choices. It has been the source of tears and of a gripping pain that seizes me on occasion.
Hope, by nature, is unfulfilled. Faith is the substance of what we hope for. Hope is this illusive glimmer. A spark of light you see in a dark tunnel and you're not sure if you imagined it. It is the glimpse of an image that could be an immanent reality or a mirage. Hope is always amidst an emptiness, a void. It is usually amidst uncertainty and ambiguity.
It seems to be tied regularly to waiting, which is one of the most painful places to be. Waiting, in my mind, is a position that most people don't choose to take in most situations. In a post office, in the DMV, for a future spouse, for enough money to get that car, for the right time to go to school, for the ease of summer break. Hope is tied to an unsettling disatisfaction with things in their current state and it exists by one's ability to see into or live into another reality. This necessitates a period of waiting as things change or an ability to live into the change knowing that its fulfillment will not occur, making the wait indefinite.
Waiting without hope is passive. At an amusement park, one waits in line in the hope of riding the new roller coaster. Of course, the line could actually end up being to the restrooms, disappointing that hope. Or it could be met by its fulfillment at the end when one reaches that ride they imagined. No one waits in line with nothing at the end of the line. People wait in line with the sole purpose of eventually not being in line anymore, which is where hope comes in.
I'm realizing more and more that hope thrives on imagination. That probably makes some nervous. Imagination can be the cause of detrimental beliefs or of delusions. The danger isn't in having and using imagination. The danger is in not having an open imagination. Imaginative solutions to problems can become a problem themselves when once this imagined reality is created, that there is no ability to amend and adjust it, or that there is no openness to receive from other voices and other imaginations.
God, the most imaginative being of all, created. Because he created and gave us the ability to imagine and create, he gives us the ability, in some senses to create the worlds we live in. We can advance the kingdom of darkness or the kingdom of light. The kingdom of darkness is advanced by active participation in its purposes and in the passive acceptance and adoptions of its ways. The kingdom of light is advance by an active and a necessarily imaginative existence and interaction with the world and with God.
Romans 8:22-25
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
To wait patiently doesn't mean the waiting is inactive. To wait patiently also doesn't mean that we can't groan as we wait. We DO groan as we wait, but we wait and we hope for what is unseen. How do we do that? By imagining the Kingdom that Jesus describes, by imagining our roles in it, by imagining the fulfillment of all things, by imagining what wholeness looks like, and by actively living into it while we wait. It can be painful; it can be joyous. But hope, in the Biblical sense of a spirit-filled hope, does not disappoint (Romans 5:5).
Sometimes I like to go into nature. I feel like nature teaches me how to wait. Nature, the whole of creation, groans knowing what has been, knowing what it was meant to be. We groan, only imagining what can/could/will be. I like the certainty I feel in the groans of nature - the certainty of a wholeness that is to come. It is one of many places that fuels my hope and teaches me to wait patiently. I think it's important for us to find those places and to find places that feed imagination.
Thank God that he has enough hope for the Kingdom that he revealed himself to us in Jesus so that we could share in his hope.
Friday, October 19, 2012
The look of defeat, the triumph of God.
During my senior year at North Park University, I took a class on the gospel of John. The entire class was spent developing a one-sentence thesis of John's gospel. Aside from writing my very first 147-word sentence, this class challenged me to look again at Jesus.
John's portrayal of Jesus is very unique. Every gospel portrays him different (here I will highly recommend Four Gospels, One Jesus? by Burridge). If Luke displays Jesus in accessible and tangible terms, John likes to overturn expectations. He seems to take delight in presenting an idea of Jesus, then expanding it, modifying it, or turning it completely on its head to present an alternative view.
The quick sum of what John seems to set out to do is three-fold to me (though my own synthesis project is more caveated, these are the three main points that I believe are unavoidable and are the thrust of the text):
1. Jesus in John's gospel is all about self-revelation; revelation of the very nature of God, making God known to His followers and to the world
2. God's character in Messiah is most clearly revealed through his repeated I AM statements throughout the gospel that lead to a definitive declaration of His ironic kingship (demonstrated by the crucifixion, which is referred to as the "glorification")
3. Jesus calls His followers to carry on the work of revealing the nature of God; the very work Jesus did, His identity, and His mission have been passed along to us
God's self-revelation through Jesus in John's gospel is even more important than the idea of Jesus dying for sins. Soteriology, salvation, is not shown to be about personal belief in a Jesus that dies for your sin. It is simply to know God and to continue making Him known, the way that Jesus did, by following Him (John 17).
1. Self-revelation: Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. (John 17:3)
2. Identity through the glorification: I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began. (John 17:4-5)
3. Followers carry on the same mission: I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. (John 17:14-19, note the parallel language).
If the glorification, the crucifixion, is the pinnacle of Jesus' revelation of the character of God, we must know that we bear that mission. We don't seek martyrdom. And bearing our cross doesn't mean dealing with personal demons or a difficult past or a current "thorn in the side". It means following the way of Jesus. Jesus himself didn't seek martyrdom.
If we truly seek to follow Jesus and to continue God's work of self-revelation "so that the world may believe" (John 17:21), we cannot expect our glorification to look like anything that the word glory would typically imply. John turns that term on its head. Or Jesus. Or John's interpretation of Jesus.
Whatever the case, in John 14-17, Jesus again and again states our relation to Him, Jesus' relation to the Father and the purpose of His/our work, so that the world may believe Jesus was sent from God, so that they may know God in truth.
Sometimes it looks like the utmost defeat. But it is triumph in the Kingdom of God. All of this comes from a question I've been mulling over the past week, which I will now close with:
When we follow Jesus, whose glorification according to John's gospel WAS the crucifixion, why do we expect our way of life to look like a conquest of nobility? Are we seeking to pick up our crosses or our crowns?
John's portrayal of Jesus is very unique. Every gospel portrays him different (here I will highly recommend Four Gospels, One Jesus? by Burridge). If Luke displays Jesus in accessible and tangible terms, John likes to overturn expectations. He seems to take delight in presenting an idea of Jesus, then expanding it, modifying it, or turning it completely on its head to present an alternative view.
The quick sum of what John seems to set out to do is three-fold to me (though my own synthesis project is more caveated, these are the three main points that I believe are unavoidable and are the thrust of the text):
1. Jesus in John's gospel is all about self-revelation; revelation of the very nature of God, making God known to His followers and to the world
2. God's character in Messiah is most clearly revealed through his repeated I AM statements throughout the gospel that lead to a definitive declaration of His ironic kingship (demonstrated by the crucifixion, which is referred to as the "glorification")
3. Jesus calls His followers to carry on the work of revealing the nature of God; the very work Jesus did, His identity, and His mission have been passed along to us
God's self-revelation through Jesus in John's gospel is even more important than the idea of Jesus dying for sins. Soteriology, salvation, is not shown to be about personal belief in a Jesus that dies for your sin. It is simply to know God and to continue making Him known, the way that Jesus did, by following Him (John 17).
1. Self-revelation: Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. (John 17:3)
2. Identity through the glorification: I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began. (John 17:4-5)
3. Followers carry on the same mission: I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified. (John 17:14-19, note the parallel language).
If the glorification, the crucifixion, is the pinnacle of Jesus' revelation of the character of God, we must know that we bear that mission. We don't seek martyrdom. And bearing our cross doesn't mean dealing with personal demons or a difficult past or a current "thorn in the side". It means following the way of Jesus. Jesus himself didn't seek martyrdom.
If we truly seek to follow Jesus and to continue God's work of self-revelation "so that the world may believe" (John 17:21), we cannot expect our glorification to look like anything that the word glory would typically imply. John turns that term on its head. Or Jesus. Or John's interpretation of Jesus.
Whatever the case, in John 14-17, Jesus again and again states our relation to Him, Jesus' relation to the Father and the purpose of His/our work, so that the world may believe Jesus was sent from God, so that they may know God in truth.
Sometimes it looks like the utmost defeat. But it is triumph in the Kingdom of God. All of this comes from a question I've been mulling over the past week, which I will now close with:
When we follow Jesus, whose glorification according to John's gospel WAS the crucifixion, why do we expect our way of life to look like a conquest of nobility? Are we seeking to pick up our crosses or our crowns?
Thursday, October 4, 2012
A Fire in the Fire Station
I had a dream two nights ago that I felt so strongly depicted
some of the issues the Church struggles with these days. So I'll go
through the dream and explain how I think it relates.
The Dream:
In my dream I was at a fire station. At some point, I slid down the firepole and on the lower level of the fire station there was, ironically, a fire. I panicked. As I looked around, I realized no one who was a part of the fire station was around. I sounded the fire alarm and no one came. Assuming they hadn't heard it, I sounded the alarm another couple of times. Nothing.
I ran out from the station and noticed that people were outside the fire station. These were people that have been associated with the church in my life, and they were having spiritual conversations. The alarm sounded, but they were all outside talking. When I confronted them about it, they responded that they weren't worried about it because it seemed to be a contained fire.
That's all I remember about my dream. I have a few points to make about this.
1. The station was threatened by the very thing it was established to challenge.
The fire station was built and established to create a safe presence in the community/world, not just for its own self. Just like the fire station, the Church doesn't exist for itself. The fire station wasn't created to protect the fire station from fire. For the fire station to function at all, according to its purpose, it cannot itself have a fire. Its purpose is to protect the surrounding community from fire and to combat the effects of fire in the world.
Likewise, the Church exists for the benefit of the world. A Church existing to protect the Church is limited in scope and purpose. And if the Church houses the very thing it claims to combat or protect others from, it condemns its own self, rendering itself completely useless.
2. The fire station was equipped to put out the fire.
It would be one thing if the firehouse did not have hoses and running water, but by definition and by name, it claims that it does. If it is not equipped to put out fires, it cannot be a fire station. It may claim to be one, but the actually details would show that it is a liar.
The Church cannot claim to be the Church and not do what the Church was made to do, or more importantly, to BE what it was made to BE. If a Church is not fulfilling its purpose in the world, it is not what it claims to be. If the Church is the Church, there is no excuse for it not filling its purpose, because by definition, it is equipped.
3. No one responded to the distress signal.
It is important to know what the distress signal is. Fire stations have very distinct alarms that firefighters are trained to recognize.
Certainly some churches hear and don't respond. But I think the bigger issue is that the Church often is unaware of what the distress signals are. These vary greatly at the local church level. Every church has a distinctive way of communicating problems. In fact, every person does. The trick is to learn those signals. Paul knew those signals and his letters respond to them. We need to be conscious to learn the distress signals of the individuals around us and the church we are specifically a part of, and to respond as a result.
4. The fact that the people preferred to talk rather than to respond to needs.
In every facet of life, people have their ideas about how to handle situations. We can do a lot of talking about solutions, and ironically, sometimes it's the very discussion of the problems that keeps them from being solved. And talking can also prevent us from learning our church's distress signals. If we are singularly focused on the importance of our own words and ideas, we become deaf to the ideas, words, and cries of others.
5. The way their complacency was excused.
It's not simply worth noting that the people's complacency was excused, but how it was excused. The biggest excuse was that it was a grease fire on a non-flammable surface. It seemed like a contained fire. So long as it didn't spread and get worse, people decided to live with the flames.
As followers of Jesus, we cannot excuse the darkness within/among us and claim to be light. Rather than actively entering into a way that is more loving and truthful and good, the Church often tries to contain its fires and "suck up" (if you'll excuse the phrase) their existence.
"Well, we'll just try to avoid going there with ________"
"It's not great, but I think as long as it doesn't __________, I think we're okay."
So often we don't believe that the power of Christ really can and does transform us and/or our Church communities. So we attempt to contain our fires, or simply attempt not to spread them. And so we accept defeat and limit our participation in the mission of the Church. Or of the fire station.
That's all. No wrap-up. Just food for thought.
The Dream:
In my dream I was at a fire station. At some point, I slid down the firepole and on the lower level of the fire station there was, ironically, a fire. I panicked. As I looked around, I realized no one who was a part of the fire station was around. I sounded the fire alarm and no one came. Assuming they hadn't heard it, I sounded the alarm another couple of times. Nothing.
I ran out from the station and noticed that people were outside the fire station. These were people that have been associated with the church in my life, and they were having spiritual conversations. The alarm sounded, but they were all outside talking. When I confronted them about it, they responded that they weren't worried about it because it seemed to be a contained fire.
That's all I remember about my dream. I have a few points to make about this.
1. The station was threatened by the very thing it was established to challenge.
The fire station was built and established to create a safe presence in the community/world, not just for its own self. Just like the fire station, the Church doesn't exist for itself. The fire station wasn't created to protect the fire station from fire. For the fire station to function at all, according to its purpose, it cannot itself have a fire. Its purpose is to protect the surrounding community from fire and to combat the effects of fire in the world.
Likewise, the Church exists for the benefit of the world. A Church existing to protect the Church is limited in scope and purpose. And if the Church houses the very thing it claims to combat or protect others from, it condemns its own self, rendering itself completely useless.
2. The fire station was equipped to put out the fire.
It would be one thing if the firehouse did not have hoses and running water, but by definition and by name, it claims that it does. If it is not equipped to put out fires, it cannot be a fire station. It may claim to be one, but the actually details would show that it is a liar.
The Church cannot claim to be the Church and not do what the Church was made to do, or more importantly, to BE what it was made to BE. If a Church is not fulfilling its purpose in the world, it is not what it claims to be. If the Church is the Church, there is no excuse for it not filling its purpose, because by definition, it is equipped.
3. No one responded to the distress signal.
It is important to know what the distress signal is. Fire stations have very distinct alarms that firefighters are trained to recognize.
Certainly some churches hear and don't respond. But I think the bigger issue is that the Church often is unaware of what the distress signals are. These vary greatly at the local church level. Every church has a distinctive way of communicating problems. In fact, every person does. The trick is to learn those signals. Paul knew those signals and his letters respond to them. We need to be conscious to learn the distress signals of the individuals around us and the church we are specifically a part of, and to respond as a result.
4. The fact that the people preferred to talk rather than to respond to needs.
In every facet of life, people have their ideas about how to handle situations. We can do a lot of talking about solutions, and ironically, sometimes it's the very discussion of the problems that keeps them from being solved. And talking can also prevent us from learning our church's distress signals. If we are singularly focused on the importance of our own words and ideas, we become deaf to the ideas, words, and cries of others.
5. The way their complacency was excused.
It's not simply worth noting that the people's complacency was excused, but how it was excused. The biggest excuse was that it was a grease fire on a non-flammable surface. It seemed like a contained fire. So long as it didn't spread and get worse, people decided to live with the flames.
As followers of Jesus, we cannot excuse the darkness within/among us and claim to be light. Rather than actively entering into a way that is more loving and truthful and good, the Church often tries to contain its fires and "suck up" (if you'll excuse the phrase) their existence.
"Well, we'll just try to avoid going there with ________"
"It's not great, but I think as long as it doesn't __________, I think we're okay."
So often we don't believe that the power of Christ really can and does transform us and/or our Church communities. So we attempt to contain our fires, or simply attempt not to spread them. And so we accept defeat and limit our participation in the mission of the Church. Or of the fire station.
That's all. No wrap-up. Just food for thought.
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