Pretense and Prayers

This week, I have found myself caught in a difficult place I have found myself so many times before.

To families I work with, I have often called myself a "nontraditional Christian". Perhaps that's prideful, perhaps it's a cop-out so that I avoid judgment, but I'm really not 100% sure of my motivation. A professor in college once called my personality "slippery". I didn't like that, but he's not wrong. I avoid, as much as possible, any and all definition, even though there's nothing more satisfying than feeling known.

I am a question asker. I am a person who needs to know "why". I am a fighter and a seeker, and that can come off wrong. Many times, people have judged that as not being a faithful Christian because they see it as a sign of doubt or disbelief. In my mind, I see it as a sign of faithfulness, of belief. Why fight for something you don't believe in? No, you fight for that you do believe in.

Throughout my life as well, I have been in puddles of "perfect" people while at the same time having a knack for collecting broken people. Maybe I love the broken because I know that we are all broken. Everyone is broken. Everybody has their fissures and canyons in their life. That's why we need Jesus. But there's something beautiful about broken people's inability to hide theirs. You can see Jesus better when you can't hide where he's working, or wants to be working.

Perfect people, people with rock solid testimonies and veneers, bother me. They bother me at some level because I distrust them and their stories. God is good; yes, all the time. But he is also working all the time. In true community, you share. If we are supposed to be in true community spiritually, then why are we not sharing? Why are we judging instead? I posit that we judge out of our own insecurity, out of our fear that we ourselves are seen as being imperfect. Because maybe we won't be respected anymore or get that job at that Christian foundation or be thought of as a "struggler."

Because we have seen how those labels have power and have seen their impact on lives, as people start to believe what they are called. We're responsible for our own development, but it is hard not to feel the sear of the rejections and the names.

My broken collective has all gone different directions. Some have become their labels, some have overcome their labels. All grow, just in different ways.

Have you ever sat down to "judge" someone's faith walk for one reason or another? Walk that line with prayer and petition. Just because one person has chosen to be vulnerable and share where they honestly stand does not mean that they are necessarily more or less "solid" than the person who stands in front of you and says that they're rock solid in Jesus. No man knows another's soul. No one has "arrived" in their spirituality or their walk with Christ. One man's plateau or peak period may be during another's valley. Give them six months. The man you thought couldn't be shaken might have proven himself weak and the "weak" man may still be standing strong.

We are called to love, to lead back to Christ, to be diligent and prayerful and gracious. We correct when we need to correct, but we should always start with love and with God.

I am a person with the propensity for very strongly worded opinions, This is something I am challenged about daily and something I try daily to be more wise about. However, with regards to this topic, I know that I speak truly when I say that above all other subjects, this one should be treated with more gentleness, wisdom, diligence, and prayer than any others before words come out of our mouths.

Paul writes, "may your love abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight so that you maybe able to discern", "approve what is excellent" "and may be sincere and blameless for the day of Christ--filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ".

The first definition that comes up for "sincerity" is "without pretense." Without our masks.
When I read this verse, I hear, "If you are following God with your whole heart, then he will cast aside all human-coated thoughts, leaving behind only what is true and good and holy."

Follow God, listen to his voice while turning yours off, and speak out with a voice that is not your own, one not coated all over with your pride, your position, your particular brand of sinful.

Into the Fold

I cried at work today.

We were doing our morning devotions, and today, we decided to do a devotional thought over "O Come O Come Emmanuel", which happens to be my favorite Christmas song.

It also happens to correlate with my favorite Bible verse, which had been weighing on me heavily for the past week or so. This is what I shared and what brought me to big tears of remembrance and of thankfulness and humility.

It re-appeared in my heart last Thursday. I was sitting there beside my boyfriend, our mothers, and our fathers, in the Candlelight service at my university.

As I sat there, I marveled at how far removed and redeemed both our families (and us) had been in the past two years. In the past two years, both our parents had been at places where they thought they had lost their children to darkness forever.

We had thought the same about ourselves.

And in the past two years, we have been restored to joy, to God, and to our families. Granted, more work is yet to be done, but God is so good.

My heart felt full to burst, and the words of Psalm 126 pushed their way into my thoughts:

When the people returned to Jerusalem from captivity in Babylon, they became as those who dreamed. Their hearts were filled with laughter; their tongues with shouts of praise. The people of Earth said to them, "The Lord has done great things for you." Indeed, the Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.

That's the verse I shared this morning after we sang.

I reflected on my own "return from Babylon" two years ago tomorrow.

I was broken. I was ugly. I was beyond all reckoning.

And my parents opened their arms up and loved me. My aunt, my uncle, my cousin, my grandmother. They loved me and took me as I was: broken. ugly. lost.

And yet, and yet!! the Lord has done great things for me. 
Though Decembers cause me to get way too deep in my head and heart and ache with the past woundedness, I know too of the deep joy of restoration to hope and light and life.

The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.

Reading in the Rain, Through the Fog

There are all sorts of rains here in NI.

There's the kind that falls even when the sun is shining like the liquid version of sifted powdered sugar: light and sweet. 

Then there's "wet rain" (previously discussed, I think) in which you can't really hide from it no matter how big your umbrella is. It just kind of saturates the air; the tiniest water buds falling in such slow motion as to seem as though they're not moving at all. 

Then there's the kind that actually smells of rain and comes down straight and hard like at home. I've only experienced it once here. 

And then, of course, there's what's been coming down nonstop I hear for the past two months to today. Sideways, holding onto the sides of the wind, coming in just as hard and from what seems like every direction but up. 

Tireless stuff. From inside, it's hard to tell if you're hearing the wind or the rain, the sounds have become so congruous. Either sound is nice, though. 

Inside is me, snuggled into a pile of pillows, with my journal and laptop, an oscillating heater and an oscillating reading list: Oswald Chambers (I'm behind), The Elements of Philosophy (an old textbook I'm reading for fun), Dubliners (James Joyce. Again, for fun), Connecting (A reread by Larry Crabb). 

Cozy, cozy. 

2.5 hours until my first class of the semester starts. 

Many would question the sanity of such thick reading before I get smacked with my semester heap's. 

It makes sense to me, though (which I guess is all that matters). 

You see, I really do love to read. That isn't a surprise to anyone, but what may be is that in the 42 days I was home, I only read one book. One. It was one I'd already read and YA at that. 

I started 9. 

Never seemed able to make it past the first page of any. My mind wouldn't do what I wanted. Didn't do any content developing either. 

My mind, which I've always felt able to bend to my academic will, sat down and fell into an unwakeable sleep. 

A bit before I left, I started writing copious letters to send out to my students of last semester, people I attended the OneThing conference with, and a few other JBUers I appreciated. 

I planned those letters a month before I actually wrote them. It took me that long to make myself do it. 

Those two ideas are connected. I started to judge myself and get frustrated, knowing the degree to which I am capable of accomplishing such feats as note writing and book reading. 

The thing was, though, I was also coping with an extended period of depression. My mind literally wasn't functioning as I had become accustomed to. 

I had to change my outlook on myself, start lowering my expectations and raise my commitment, as Pastor Tom Harrison would say. 

Grace, with myself.

One day, I may read three pages. But that was more than the day before!!! So I celebrate. Or I wrote five notes in a row! So great! Well done! That was more than the zero of yesterday! 

As I explained this process to someone, they asked me the very valid question: "How do you avoid becoming complacent or underachieving?" 

My answer was "Thankfulness." I see where I want to be. I'm not "content," necessarily, with where I am, but I recognize that I am, in fact, here. Therefore, I have to celebrate every step that I take toward becoming who I want to be. 

If I don't achieve as highly today as I did yesterday, very well. I am thankful for what I did happen to accomplish today (comparison is the thief of joy. Let yesterday's victories be yesterday) and hope for at least as wonderful, if not more so, tomorrow, with the knowledge that if I "fail" tomorrow, I am not a failure and it is not a signal for perpetual failure in the days to come. 

My current reading is varied so as to allow me to trick myself. I can only get through 10 pages of Dubliners? Awesome. I can do that and maybe half a chapter of Crabb and one wee article of philosophy. 

By the end, I've accomplished much more than I would have out of just one subject and my mind has gained a little more grid in its goo. 

I needed to practice before put back in the big leagues of grad school, and what better weather to practice in than the glowey green raininess of Ireland? 

JBU Audio Archives Fall 2007 (in part)

Do you ever have recurring theme metaphors in your life? Like the ones that seem to follow you?

I have a few including, but not nearly excluded to, knitting, puzzles, and bubbles.

Bubbles are the ones I've been thinking of today, starting with this sweet Vine of smoke bubbles. 

Then, I decided to start at the back of the JBU audio chapel archives and listen through the last five years of chapels. Not today but in my spare time, like when I'm puzzling or playing geography games or blogging.

I started out with a chapel by Tracy Balzer who also happens to be my mentor, so it was a double bonus of Jesus and Tracy. She spoke about the concept of the JBU bubble. It's a pretty popular topic of complaint among JBU students, that they are trapped in "the bubble."

She had some good thoughts on The Bubble, though. Bubbles are translucent (my brother Chon's answer to "what is your favorite color" all while we were growing up). You can see through them. You can't be trapped in ignorance if you have the total ability to see the world around you. Internet, the news, newspapers. You have the opportunity.

Second, bubbles are permeable. You can go in and out of them.

Quotable Quotes from Dieter Zander (spiritual emphasis speaker for Fall 2007)'s first, second, and third chapel talks.
"Grace is not opposed to effort. Grace is opposed to earning."
(speaking in relation to himself as a non-runner becoming a marathon competitor): "I was able to accomplish something through training which  I would never have been able to accomplish through trying...trying is a spur of the moment effort with no preparation. Training is intentional, strategic preparation for an inevitable outcome." 
"Spiritual disciplines create the space in our lives needed for the Holy Spirit to work."
"You can't be a loving person if you're moving too fast, [are anxious/overwhelmed], or [self-absorbed]." 
To become loving: 1. The spiritual practice of slowing. "If I can start [the day] slow, I can stay slow." 2. Observe the Sabbath. 3. Start saying "no." 4. Take time to really see people. 5. Serve others. Go beyond the stated request.
"Jesus was interruptable." 
That last one there is what caught me. A lot of these quotes did, but this last one especially. I often am glad to help but require a few minutes to finish up something. That's kind of ungracious (though perhaps may feel necessary to me). Slow obedience is no obedience. Slow service is no service. Demonstrate through your actions and attitudes that other people are more important than you are.

The Awkward Phase

I spend a lot of time talking with other humans.
This is natural, considering I am a human.

I have also served as camp counselor, mentor, and friend to those younger than me.

I have heard several times, from those with whom I speak, that I couldn't possibly understand what they are going through because I don't have any idea what it's like to be so awkward/socially outcasted/weird/friendless/overwhelmed. That I am perfect and have everything put together.

Generally, I laugh at their response.
I have, during the vast majority of my life, been all of those things.

Only in college did I start making sense to other people socially, and even then, I am often considered to be "one strange bird."

When I think back through my years of life and schooling, it is easy for me to get irritated and depressed by how truly desolate I was. How much of the time I used to spend in tears, how much time I used to spend alone, how people's strongest impression of me is one of a low ponytail matched with glasses and hidden in the corner with a book, during recess.

If I'm to be honest, though, I was never truly alone. Granted, to consider me popular or well-liked is a hilarious joke. However, God always provided for me. Even in the loneliest corners of my life, He always sent me at least one friend, often an unexpected person.

And while those friends often shifted, I always had someone who cared about my existence.

I also had my family. They don't count, however, as adolescents consider their family to be an irritation at best and a veritable dagger in their kidneys at worst.

Those friends taught me the value of patience, of remembering birthdays, of writing little notes of encouragement, of remembering to send even a text invitation to the party "everybody" knows about, of standing by the snack table and talking during a party.

Without those friends, I would only have an idea what it's like to be socially awkward and outcasted;  because of them, though, I understand how dynamic it is to be extended the hand of grace, accept it, and learn how to extend mine as well to others.