I have thoughts whirling around my head and I know I need to write them out, but I am not sure where to start.
These past few weeks, I've been feeling heavy and burdened by my own selfishness and inward focus. I keep thinking, how is it that I have been a Christian for 16 years and am only now realizing some things that seem so basic and central to the Christian faith? I feel like a child in my faith, when I've spent years attending church, studying the Bible in both church and academic settings, reading theology and books on Christian living. How is it that I'm only now coming face to face with the concept of living my life in a missional way for Jesus?
I am knee deep in repentance. Forgive me, Jesus. I've missed so many opportunities to love people in Jesus name, to go out into my own neighborhood as a missionary to my community. It's not that I think I've lived in a way that denies my faith, but I've been pursuing growth in Christ while missing the mark.
Acts 11 describes a scene from the early church, where believers in Antioch learned that a devastating famine was coming. The church in Antioch decided they should send whatever help they could to their brothers and sisters.
Do I do this? When I hear of terrible things happening across the globe, across the nation, across my city, my neighborhood, do I drop everything and give of myself, my resources, my time?
Yes and no.
It was just prior to these verses, that we read that it was in Antioch that the Lord's followers were first called Christians. The word Christian means "little Christ". I'd like to know, who coined the term? Was it a follower of Jesus? Someone outside the little church, looking in? Either way, these people were living in such a way that people thought their way of life was worthy of being called "little Christ."
Would my way of life earn the same respect? Would the church throughout America?
We're missing something. I'm missing something.
As if reading Jen Hatmaker's book, 7, didn't mess with me enough, I just finished the prequel, Interrupted. It's all still sinking in. One of the things that has really struck me is her discussion of the Passover as described in the gospels (Luke 22, for example). Hatmaker challenges us to rethink what Jesus meant when he said "Do this, in remembrance of me." Most believers read this scene and incorporate the sacrament of communion into their Christian practices. The bread is Jesus' body, broken for us. The wine is Jesus' blood, poured out for us. Eat the bread, drink the juice, in remembrance of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. There is a lot of meaning in this ritual, and God has used this teaching to grow my faith in Him.
Hatmaker suggests there is more to draw from this. That when Jesus said "do this" he wasn't merely talking about eating the bread and drinking the wine, but that he was telling his disciples to go out into the world in such a way as to be broken for others, as Jesus was broken for us. To pour themselves out for people, as Jesus poured himself out for us.
That's a whole different spin on the Passover meal that I have never heard before. But so rich and deep in meaning.
And yet in just a few short weeks, we'll be welcoming our 2nd child into our home, circling back around to the newborn stage once again, when it seems like life has just finally settled into a somewhat predictable routine since before having kids. Really, God? Is this really the time to bring conviction to my heart about the need to be more engaged in my community and service toward my neighbors? Is this really the time when you are challenging me to be broken for others, to pour myself out? I remember all too well the first year with our daughter, the feelings of having nothing left to give at the end of the day (heck, by mid-day I was often drained and exhausted). What does all of this look like for a mom with two children under the age of 3, uncertain of how work situations and childcare will play out in the next few months? I know part of the answer may be that God is calling us moms to be broken and poured out for our children, and yes, I believe there is truth here. But I also don't want to use that as an excuse to avoid lifting my eyes higher to the needs beyond my own family.
I can only wonder that God is preparing my heart. Giving me new eyes to begin to see opportunities. Readying me to be in a place of wanting to say Yes, God when I feel that quickening in my spirit that tells me He is doing something and I better be available for Him to use.
Here's my final thought for now. Several good friends are also walking this journey with me, seeking God with fresh eyes, challenging themselves with considering new ways of Christian living. And yes, still pursuing the crazy fasts (still currently in clothing month, by the way, and disliking my 7 items more and more each day - more thoughts here later). As one lovely friend put it, now that God has shown us these truths, we can't just go back to the old patterns we've been used to. If God is leading me toward something new, I can't just ignore it, that would be direct disobedience. Ouch.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
loving my neighbor
When we bought our home several years ago, I was immersed in seminary culture, surrounded by people who were pretty much scraping by. Seminary students are not known for living with abundance. I felt guilty at the extravagance of owning our own home, and I prayed that God would give us opportunities to share what He'd given us with others.
In the years since, we've had many gatherings; parties, holiday dinners, barbecues, small group meetings, a high school girls Bible study, play dates, talks with friends over coffee, house guests. We have been able to open our home, and I've loved these moments. Consider my prayers answered.
Except that...we live next door to a widow. Several years ago, a single mom moved in to the house behind us. I am fairly certain the couple across from us are in the military, with the husband frequently deployed. I am positive there are other difficulties represented in other households on our street. But I don't know the names of most of my neighbors. I can probably count the number of significant conversations (i.e. more than a "hi, how are you" at the mailbox) I have had with these people on one hand. My natural tendency is to allow others to approach me, and in the absence of this initiative, I don't usually go out of my way to leap the chasm that busy lives and the fear of intrusion or rejection create.
But let's be honest, the bottom line is that my comfort zone is so very very small.
This all hit home this past month after I met a family at our neighborhood park. After learning they have a young toddler and newborn twins (Lord, have mercy), I found myself offering to bring them a meal. Complete strangers! The words were out of my mouth before I could think, and then it was too late. This was new territory. Scary territory, I'm openly ashamed to admit.
I agonized over it. I knew without a doubt I had to follow through. So about a week later I got up enough nerve (and let's face it, the Spirit was working on me), and sent a text. A few texts back and forth working around scheduling, and plans were still in process. And then one morning at the library, I look up and see the dad standing unavoidably across from me in the children's section. What the heck! It sealed the deal, and we set up a date. Papa Murphy's pizza, bagged salad, and store bought cookies delivered to this family for a hassle free dinner during a chaotic and exhausting season of life. (I did debate a home cooked meal, which is obviously superior to even Trader Joe's cookies, but as I told the couple when I delivered the meal, "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable with some strange woman forcing weird food on you." I'm so neurotic).
Yay, me. Yet I felt strangely unsettled about what had been a delightful encounter. As I prayed, it hit me, these people are not really the "least of these" that Jesus commands me to care for. Honestly, they are just like me. I know it blessed them. I know it was generous and kind and good, and I believe it was a God-thing. And I believe it pleased God that I was responsive to the prompting He'd given me to reach out. But that fact that this had scared me, felt uncomfortable? Jesus has so far to go in convicting me of the need to love my neighbors, to love the least of these. If this was awkward, no wonder I struggle so much to interact with those who truly are "different" from me - the homeless, the teen moms, the poor. In graduate school I wrote some pretty nice papers about every person being made in God's image and the necessity of seeing the humanity and beauty in each living soul, regardless of economic status, age, ethnicity, etc. I talk about wanting to love people in radical ways, but I don't think I have much of a concept as to what that means. I barely even know my widowed neighbor, let alone the homeless population in our city. It's painful to see the hypocrisy in myself and to recognize the snobbery I've unknowingly harbored.
It's also freeing.
Jesus, give me eyes to see the real needs of people and make it clear where I can be a blessing. Tear down barriers that separate me from truly loving those who live such different lives than I do. Make it obvious, Jesus, because I am learning that I can be pretty blind.
In the years since, we've had many gatherings; parties, holiday dinners, barbecues, small group meetings, a high school girls Bible study, play dates, talks with friends over coffee, house guests. We have been able to open our home, and I've loved these moments. Consider my prayers answered.
Except that...we live next door to a widow. Several years ago, a single mom moved in to the house behind us. I am fairly certain the couple across from us are in the military, with the husband frequently deployed. I am positive there are other difficulties represented in other households on our street. But I don't know the names of most of my neighbors. I can probably count the number of significant conversations (i.e. more than a "hi, how are you" at the mailbox) I have had with these people on one hand. My natural tendency is to allow others to approach me, and in the absence of this initiative, I don't usually go out of my way to leap the chasm that busy lives and the fear of intrusion or rejection create.
But let's be honest, the bottom line is that my comfort zone is so very very small.
This all hit home this past month after I met a family at our neighborhood park. After learning they have a young toddler and newborn twins (Lord, have mercy), I found myself offering to bring them a meal. Complete strangers! The words were out of my mouth before I could think, and then it was too late. This was new territory. Scary territory, I'm openly ashamed to admit.
I agonized over it. I knew without a doubt I had to follow through. So about a week later I got up enough nerve (and let's face it, the Spirit was working on me), and sent a text. A few texts back and forth working around scheduling, and plans were still in process. And then one morning at the library, I look up and see the dad standing unavoidably across from me in the children's section. What the heck! It sealed the deal, and we set up a date. Papa Murphy's pizza, bagged salad, and store bought cookies delivered to this family for a hassle free dinner during a chaotic and exhausting season of life. (I did debate a home cooked meal, which is obviously superior to even Trader Joe's cookies, but as I told the couple when I delivered the meal, "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable with some strange woman forcing weird food on you." I'm so neurotic).
Yay, me. Yet I felt strangely unsettled about what had been a delightful encounter. As I prayed, it hit me, these people are not really the "least of these" that Jesus commands me to care for. Honestly, they are just like me. I know it blessed them. I know it was generous and kind and good, and I believe it was a God-thing. And I believe it pleased God that I was responsive to the prompting He'd given me to reach out. But that fact that this had scared me, felt uncomfortable? Jesus has so far to go in convicting me of the need to love my neighbors, to love the least of these. If this was awkward, no wonder I struggle so much to interact with those who truly are "different" from me - the homeless, the teen moms, the poor. In graduate school I wrote some pretty nice papers about every person being made in God's image and the necessity of seeing the humanity and beauty in each living soul, regardless of economic status, age, ethnicity, etc. I talk about wanting to love people in radical ways, but I don't think I have much of a concept as to what that means. I barely even know my widowed neighbor, let alone the homeless population in our city. It's painful to see the hypocrisy in myself and to recognize the snobbery I've unknowingly harbored.
It's also freeing.
Jesus, give me eyes to see the real needs of people and make it clear where I can be a blessing. Tear down barriers that separate me from truly loving those who live such different lives than I do. Make it obvious, Jesus, because I am learning that I can be pretty blind.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
today i am pondering...
We make our own decisions, but the Lord alone determines what happens (Proverbs 16:33, CEV).
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
all is well, child
Every night before I go to bed, I check on my daughter. With the door slightly ajar, light pouring in from the hallway, I look at her lovely 2 year old form, sprawled across her big girl bed, arms often folded on either side of her head, bent out at angles. Her face is so peaceful and perfect. I know I'm the mom, but really? You never saw a more precious thing. I straighten her covers, make sure she's not too hot or cold, kiss her forehead gently. I whisper "I love you, sweetheart," smooth her hair back from her face. "All is well, my little girl."
That last part made it into my routine more recently. We're dealing with more whining and crying these days; I never knew a little one could be so persistent in her requests - well, demands. We still feel like brand new parents, dealing with each new challenge as the wave of her development crests and crashes into us. My patience is being tested. How many times can the word no be uttered!? More often than I'd like to admit, my patience is pushed beyond its limits, and I respond with a word spoken just a bit too harshly. A sharp tone that she's never had much cause to hear before. And even though I catch myself and go to her and say I'm sorry for getting frustrated, it leaves me feeling guilty.
My point is, we've reached a stage where Bumble Bee's world does not always go as she wants. Disappointment, confusion and frustration have entered her days. Sometimes, even hurt. Yes, we believe we're making the best choices for her. But from her little two year old vantage point, she's discovering a semblance of injustice, hardship. And so I lean over her little self, whisper loving words that despite the events of the day which may have been challenging, all is well. She is loved. We care for her. We are looking out for her.
And it hit me, does God lean over my bedside at night and whisper the same words?
I face challenges, discomfort, uncertainty, difficulty. I feel pain, sometimes for very good reasons. I see injustice, I hurt for myself and others. And too often, I whine and fight and cry that things aren't fair, things aren't going the way I want. Maybe sometimes God is grieving with me. Perhaps there are times when I am close to the heart of God and I hurt for the very things that He hurts for. Other times, I am certain He is laughing at my stubbornness, my unwillingness to let go of my insistent petitions and relax into His good plans.
God in His goodness is sovereign and His purposes will prevail. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. He is powerful, more powerful than the broken forces at work on the earth. He is merciful and just. And so despite the events of my day, the things I see and experience which cause me strife, all is well. Does He stroke my hair at night and assure me of this beautiful truth?
All is well, child.
That last part made it into my routine more recently. We're dealing with more whining and crying these days; I never knew a little one could be so persistent in her requests - well, demands. We still feel like brand new parents, dealing with each new challenge as the wave of her development crests and crashes into us. My patience is being tested. How many times can the word no be uttered!? More often than I'd like to admit, my patience is pushed beyond its limits, and I respond with a word spoken just a bit too harshly. A sharp tone that she's never had much cause to hear before. And even though I catch myself and go to her and say I'm sorry for getting frustrated, it leaves me feeling guilty.
My point is, we've reached a stage where Bumble Bee's world does not always go as she wants. Disappointment, confusion and frustration have entered her days. Sometimes, even hurt. Yes, we believe we're making the best choices for her. But from her little two year old vantage point, she's discovering a semblance of injustice, hardship. And so I lean over her little self, whisper loving words that despite the events of the day which may have been challenging, all is well. She is loved. We care for her. We are looking out for her.
And it hit me, does God lean over my bedside at night and whisper the same words?
I face challenges, discomfort, uncertainty, difficulty. I feel pain, sometimes for very good reasons. I see injustice, I hurt for myself and others. And too often, I whine and fight and cry that things aren't fair, things aren't going the way I want. Maybe sometimes God is grieving with me. Perhaps there are times when I am close to the heart of God and I hurt for the very things that He hurts for. Other times, I am certain He is laughing at my stubbornness, my unwillingness to let go of my insistent petitions and relax into His good plans.
God in His goodness is sovereign and His purposes will prevail. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. He is powerful, more powerful than the broken forces at work on the earth. He is merciful and just. And so despite the events of my day, the things I see and experience which cause me strife, all is well. Does He stroke my hair at night and assure me of this beautiful truth?
All is well, child.
Friday, June 1, 2012
month two: clothing
June is the month of clothing. Or, lack thereof. Well, not exactly. I won't be going completely without, but I am going to follow Jen Hatmaker's example in 7, and choose 7 articles of clothing to wear during the month of June. Undergarments don't count, and shoes count as one item. But I did scale it down to three pairs of shoes - work shoes, tennis shoes, and flip flops. My other 6 items are 2 shirts, a sweater, jeans, a skirt, and a pair of black flowy pants that can be dressed up or down. No accessories, no jewelry. No coat.
Again, being pregnant I feel like this month is a little different for me than it would be were I not pregnant. I say that because besides what I just listed, there aren't more than 5-10 other articles of clothing that I own right now that actually fit me. Being pregnant for me is a little like being in perpetual 7 clothes month - constantly aware of how much stock I place in my appearance and how much I feel pressured to look good so that others will like me, not think badly of me, think I am worth talking to, etc. Ugh, sometimes being a woman in America sucks big time! And I wish I could say that my need to look nice is less so within the church than it is without. But unfortunately that is not the case.
A couple years ago, when I was still on staff with our church youth group, I was having a conversation with an adult co-worker, also in youth ministry at her own church, about the desire to be liked by high school students. We were commiserating about the need to dress the part and look the part - you know, cool, trendy, someone a high school student would be drawn to.
I'm not sure why that conversation has continued to stick with me. Suddenly, it rings so very false. I'm no longer doing youth staff, but if I were, would I really want students to look up to me because I wear nice clothes and know the cool things to say to kids now-a-days (oh, I feel so old right now even typing this!). No. I don't. I don't even want students to look up to me. I want them to see Jesus. Isaiah 53 describes Jesus as a man who had no physical beauty to draw people to him, nothing in his appearance that made him attractive. He was not the dark skinned man with wavy black brown hair and rugged features and a shapely physique (sorry, Jesus, is that kosher to discuss your potential attractiveness as a man?), that we might want for the hero of a story. So why do I feel the need to be the female equivalent? Do I want someone to be attracted to me at any level because I'm gorgeous and wear the latest styles? But I was sitting there with my friend, who loves Jesus, and agreeing that this is part of youth leadership. Huh.
Okay, Jesus, here we go. Speak into whatever space is created by simplifying my clothing choices and reducing my life in this area.
Again, being pregnant I feel like this month is a little different for me than it would be were I not pregnant. I say that because besides what I just listed, there aren't more than 5-10 other articles of clothing that I own right now that actually fit me. Being pregnant for me is a little like being in perpetual 7 clothes month - constantly aware of how much stock I place in my appearance and how much I feel pressured to look good so that others will like me, not think badly of me, think I am worth talking to, etc. Ugh, sometimes being a woman in America sucks big time! And I wish I could say that my need to look nice is less so within the church than it is without. But unfortunately that is not the case.
A couple years ago, when I was still on staff with our church youth group, I was having a conversation with an adult co-worker, also in youth ministry at her own church, about the desire to be liked by high school students. We were commiserating about the need to dress the part and look the part - you know, cool, trendy, someone a high school student would be drawn to.
I'm not sure why that conversation has continued to stick with me. Suddenly, it rings so very false. I'm no longer doing youth staff, but if I were, would I really want students to look up to me because I wear nice clothes and know the cool things to say to kids now-a-days (oh, I feel so old right now even typing this!). No. I don't. I don't even want students to look up to me. I want them to see Jesus. Isaiah 53 describes Jesus as a man who had no physical beauty to draw people to him, nothing in his appearance that made him attractive. He was not the dark skinned man with wavy black brown hair and rugged features and a shapely physique (sorry, Jesus, is that kosher to discuss your potential attractiveness as a man?), that we might want for the hero of a story. So why do I feel the need to be the female equivalent? Do I want someone to be attracted to me at any level because I'm gorgeous and wear the latest styles? But I was sitting there with my friend, who loves Jesus, and agreeing that this is part of youth leadership. Huh.
Okay, Jesus, here we go. Speak into whatever space is created by simplifying my clothing choices and reducing my life in this area.
food takeaways
Month one: concluded. Here are my takeaways, in no particular order:
- I have a very minimal tolerance for spiritual disciplines, particularly if they involve a level of discomfort. The idea of putting myself in an uncomfortable situation, no matter how small, is totally foreign to me. This is not good. I know there is a balance between the peace and rest Jesus promises us when we choose to follow him, and the very real and intentional acts of obedience we should begin to engage in out of love for Jesus and a desire to live like him. I'm just not sure where that balance is yet. Legalism has a strong pull for people like me, Type-A, wanting a clear checklist. I know life in Christ isn't like that. But it can't all be about me and what makes me content either.
- Isaiah 58. I'm not sure where to begin with the things that grabbed me about this passage. True, heartfelt worship is seen in how we love God and love other people in totally real, Spirit-led, radical ways. Fasting or other disciplines have a place - one that I need to figure out more - but our worship should not stop here. It's what God does when we deny ourselves and look for more of him in our lives that leads to the real worship he desires from us.
- At a totally non-spiritual level, I really love sweets. This is probably a good spot to mention (in case any strangers who don't know me stumble onto this blog), I am not a gluttonous over eater. I eat a pretty balanced diet, maintain an average weight, and love to get outside for a good hike or even a run (when I am not pregnant). But I do really love sweets, particularly ice cream.
- I won't do anyone any good if I just get down on myself for the fact that I'm undisciplined. His mercies are new every morning. Bring on month two, let's give this another go.
- We need one another. I am blessed and grateful for the many people in my life who love Jesus and are seeking him with passion. I am encouraged by the ways God is at work in others lives and I need to hear these testimonies, because sometimes, it's just good to know that we're all walking the same journey, each of us in a little different way. Community is not to be taken lightly.
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