here's your sign straight from the throne

you know the jokes. jokes about handing out signs. signs to those who seem to ask the dumbest questions or do the stupidest things.

It's like before my wife and I moved. Our house was full of boxes and there was a U-Haul truck in our driveway. My neighbor comes over and says, "Hey, you moving?" "Nope. We just pack our stuff up once or twice a week to see how many boxes it takes. Here's your sign."

I was watching one of those animal shows on the Discovery Channel. There was a guy inventing a shark bite suit. And there's only one way to test it. "Alright, Jimmy, you got that shark suit on, it looks good... They want you to get into this pool of sharks, and you tell us if it hurts when they bite you." "Well, all right, but hold my sign. I don't wanna lose it."

i wonder if at times God has a sign for us.

recently a friend and i were talking about seeking God for various things, wanting to pursue

talents passions gifts dreams callings

but wondering if we really had what it took. this friend mentioned that if God gave them this particular gift He'd also show them how to use it but there seemed to be no directions, no map, no manual, no "how-to-do" list. Yet, opportunities were presenting themselves to use this very gift, this passion and people were noticing and holding open doors. it was almost as if God was trying to get their attention, standing on one foot, jumping up and waving his hands all around, shouting in 'spiritual speak', YES YES YES

and yet...

we ponder. we wonder. we question.

and as a result,

we hesitate. we falter.

and i wonder if God has a sign for us.

i'm no different. lately everywhere i turn a particular group of scriptures keep turning up. i can't even remember, to be honest, where or when this set of scriptures began to roll around in my mind. i think during a sermon when i should have been listening and following along and part of the scripture was used as text. and i kept reading pass where the pastor stopped. since then it's been everywhere. like billboards. read a book and it's quoted there. doing a women's bible study and it's there.

i keep coming back to it and again i come.

and it speaks to my fears.

recently i read a book called captivating or i think that's the name. it's written primarily for women and i always struggle with books like that. i'm going to hear what a "christian woman" should be like and since i'm not sweet, gentle, and hate all things fluffy and pink i know the grade i get. but something in this book captivated me. the phrase: I am not enough. I am too much. and i could relate. so much of my life i've felt I am too much. and having lived through a divorce and added a decade to my life i now struggle with the feeling I am not enough.

and this feeling follows me.

to meetings. to relationships. to interactions. to opportunities. i censor myself. i hold back. because i might be too much and then what? i hesitate. i falter. because what i have to offer might not be enough and then what?

and then what? and then i hear. and oh, how i hear it, in the most forceful silence it speaks,

And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him (walk in Him). Let your roots grow down into Him (be rooted), and let your lives be built on Him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.

Don't let anyone capture (cheat) you with empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense that come from human thinking (the traditions of men) and from the spiritual powers of this world, rather than from Christ. For in Christ lives all the fullness of God in a human body. So you also are complete through your union with Christ, who is the head over every ruler and authority.

and i wonder if God has a sign for me.

you've accepted ME

get into ME

not what you lack, not what you don't have

build on ME

not what you have, not what you overflow with

don't think on anything but ME

don't let man's opinion cheat you out of my joy

live based on who you are in ME

don't be swayed by the tangible, temporary, ever shifting realities

I am the reality

everything you need is right here in ME

when in doubt come to me, when in fear come to me,

when in agony come to me, when anything...come to me,

it's all right here

you are complete,

whole,

full,

enough,

and never too much

because your life is now hidden

in ME

and I have it all under control

and the light bulb over my head starts to blink

2 + 2 finally adds up to 4

and finally i'm starting to not care

whether the light blinks above me 'cus it's His job to keep the electricity on

and

i'm starting to not worry about the outcome so much as making sure i offer my 2 and my 2

He's the Potter, He's the Sun, He's the Rain and He makes it all come up just like He needs it to be in His time, and amazing thing is He never needs a sign.

And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them. Romans 8:28

a weighty satisfication

the church where i work and sometimes seem to live has a commit2bfit challenge going on. (http://www.commit2bfit.blogspot.com/).

the premise is that basically you can't pick and choose which sins "against the temple" i.e. our bodies you'll preach about like smoking or drunkenness but not gluttony or overeating or eating so much junk that our bodies are literally turning in on themselves. if our bodies are the temple of God than let's face it some of us have temples that are run down and deteriorating like towns where factories have left and neighborhoods have dried up. our temples are gunky and gushing with seepage and i imagine our insides are functioning like plumbing that's got gunk in its works. and like most plumping problems it doesn't smell that good.

what i'm discovering as i live out this challenge each day. sometimes successfully (grapes, veggies, protein shake, spinning class and treadmills) and other days not so successfully (jr.whopper with cheese, large fry with extra salt and x-large dr pepper) is what makes me feel good isn't really so much the numbers on the scale. i've only lost 4 1/2 lbs. no need to rush out and buy new pants or shirts. and while i am feeling better in terms of physical health and overall energy and can tell when i've eaten that jr whopper w/cheese by the way i just feel clogged up, it's still not so much that.

i find a sense of accomplishment. you know how you felt or how you think you probably felt when you took that first step as an infant. how everyone clapped around you. or when you first learned to swim (or in my case how i'll feel when i figure out how to go under water for the first time without holding my nose). it's seems almost childlike and silly. but there is a satisfaction that comes only from accomplishing something, especially something that tends to be hard or new or different. i also find myself feeling good not about my butt size (though i am looking forward to looking at less of it in the mirror and say "ah, girl! you look good!) but about the fact that i am in control not food or some craving or some emotion. i am deciding when i will eat or won't eat. even on days when i "cheat" and eat that jr. whopper with cheese and fries with salt and honking dr pepper it's clear it's a choice and not a result of pure laziness or old habit and i know what i'm eating and that tomorrow i'll need to do better. but i also know that i'm drinking lots of water, eating more veggies than grow in an average person's garden, i'm becoming even more a fruit, and rarely does anything fried get past these sweet lips. i'm spinning, and walking briskly (i'm not up to running yet folks, this is a work in progress), i'm doing something on a machine that's half gliding, half climbing, half stair stepping and i don't know what's it called but my lower thighs, those muscles right above the knee and calfs, well they know what it's called - wake up time! no longer do i think about dr pepper. no longer do i gauge how tired i am or how far the grocery store is to my need for caffeine. the addiction (and let's call it what it is folks, no white washing or 'christianizing' here to make us feel better) is disappearing. and i like that. i like being in control (i know that's a shock to all my readers).

i hope to find myself a few sizes smaller in the next few months. walking up stairs at a running (not brisk) pace and still have oxygen left to ask someone a question at the top. and i'll take anye "ah, girl! you look good!" comments you want to give me when you see me. but, really, i think i'll just like knowing i can do it and i did it.

back to the cold

i'm back from a few days in florida. back to the cold that is illinois in the winter. i have to admit i've never really seen the appeal of florida. at least not in comparison to other southern states with warmer weather. but perhaps this skeptic and this girl who likes to go against the grain might make it to florida again.

it was so green. you get so used to the snow and the crisp cold that you forget how greenless you are and how brown everything will be right before the spring comes. it was so beautiful. granted i was on a disney resort so i'm sure things are a bit tainted but just flying over orlando, green was everywhere. flying back here was flat brown sprinkled salty snow on hard ground. don't get me wrong. i'd miss the snow. the soft falling outside the window. the running and plopping in the cold cushion that falls from heaven. the beauty of snow before anyone or anything has trampled upon it. there's a beauty to the starkness of white for miles around and even a beauty in the crisp wind that bites. but i'm just ready for green.

and i was blessed. no delays. flights all on time and some even early. luggage not lost anywhere. even got to ride from florida to washington with a handsome, puerto rican man who was charming and a flirt which made for interesting conversation and yes, i admit i have a soft spot for all things latin. but to be honest, and you might call me lacking self esteem or just plain needy, it was nice to have someone try to charm you. of course, the trick is to guard against the bee's sting or the possibility that there is no honey. and to have a conversation with someone who might have different opinions or ideas about life. i always find that invigorating, even if i know i'm right. ;)

and i got lots of reading time. my latest books: the walmart effect and the fast food nation. i may never eat fast food or shop at walmart again. then again cheap and fast is a hard and lazy addiction to beat.

so alas it's back to the cold until our green arrives here in illinois and then i'll remember that this place to holds a charm that's all its own. greens, yellows, browns, deep reds. corn and soy beans, buds and flowers all rising as if from death. and what was once so dead and dreary and crisp and hard and harsh becomes a place soaked in life, full, vibrant, loud, soft and tender.

kind of like where i've come from and who i'm becoming once again. but that's another blog for another cold day with some hot chocolate.

i want to go home

it sounds strange to say it. i want to go home. i remember as a kid when i would hear old people say how they just wanted to go to heaven, how they wished that God would just return, i would get upset. i wondered how they could want that. i was terrified when when Desert Storm took place in 1990. the end of the world was being circulated across the tv and in dinner conversations and i was so afraid. there was so much of life to live. children to have. worlds to see. starving people to feed. books to be written. so much was out there for me to do. i never understood this desire that some people had to leave this world. i understood heaven. i understood it would be fantastic but there was plenty of time to get there and that was the point. plenty of time in the here and now. i wondered how people could want to end their life, because after all that is what they wanted if they didn't want to live here now but go on to heaven.

and i almost hate to say it now for fear people will question my mental or emotional stability.

it does almost sound suicidal, but it's true.

i want to go home.

there's an ache in me. it's been there growing over the last couple years. i think it started with the tearing of a marriage, the ripping of two souls, the shock of finding yourself sleeping with someone who never was. and most days i think that is where the ache lies. it the hole that was created. the lack thereof of what God intended between man and wife. and most days i figure the ache will get less as life reshapes itself, redefines itself and God takes in the pain.

but some days, lately, i wonder if the ache is more than that. i wonder even if God brings someone down the road having filled me to overflowing with Himself, if there may still be an ache. see i have this theory. we were made for eternity. we - the guts of our soul, the inner mechanics that make you you and me me, and the spirit that moves through it all like gasoline or fire - are eternal. the eternal bound in objects intented for eternity but altered due to our sin. and so we strive against the present, here and now, and that which is eternal knowing somehow in our inner being we are part of the Eternal.

desinged for it. built for it. created for it. meant for it.

and so the ache begins.

and the ache grows. to go home. to crawl up into my daddy's lap.

i had a daddy once. a real earthly fatherly one. he died the spring before i turned seven. he was a good daddy. a good man. and i remember sometime that spring and summer that blend into one that i wanted so bad to see him again. to go to heaven to see him again. and i realized that there was no way i could. i could never be good enough. never do enough chores. never be nice enough to my sister. never keep my dog from killing her bunny rabbits enough. never enough to make it to heaven. i needed Jesus. and Jesus would come and live with me and someday He'd take me to see my daddy. i thought of this this past week as i, yes at 31, sat down next to my mother and cried. i wanted my daddy. but this time. this time i wanted to run past my daddy straight to the biggest armchair there is (they call it a Throne) and crawl right into my Daddy's lap. there'd be no explanation expected for feeling the way i feel. no need to justify why i felt the way i felt. no judgement for not having moved on.

just arms. big and strong and loving. secure.

and so the ache continues.

and i think it grows as we grow. we grow to see life in bigger pictures.

eternity.

eternal.

and we know that nothing will be set right or made whole without Daddy. and we know this day, this pain, will one day be healed from the touch of Daddy's hand. and Daddy won't send us away. send us off to Uncle Peter to take us fishing, but will sit on the deck of the dock with us and tell us how it all began.

the sun. the moon. the stars.

eternity.

and the ache grows till then.

until we're home.

a funny thing happened on the way to the bank

so i was on my way last saturday, december 23rd, to the bank. i was out about doing my christmas shopping. i admit i tend to be a procrastinator and well, this year i have to be honest i just wasn't feeling it. and of course, nothing gets you in the "ho, ho" holiday spirit than fighting traffic and maneuvering through crowds of other procrastinators and those annoyingly jolly people in bright red sweatshirts with bells and mistletoe dangling off who are feeling it enough for you, me and all those in the line behind me.

as i rounded the corner in my car headed to the bank, i passed our usual saturday morning protesters. most saturdays a few men and women stand with signs declaring their views on the war in iraq and encouraging us to "honk for peace" which while i appreciate their enthusiasm i am not sure that honking on a busy road, at a crazy intersection, on one of the last days to shop before christmas is wise. i fear such "honking for peace" could in fact ignite road rage in any of my fellow people who failed to plan ahead and now feel the rush to not only find the perfect gift and buy it but also fold it in just the right wrapping paper wrestling with cheap tape that won't tear at the prescribed location indicated by the sharp teethy edges.

but what made my belly laugh like a "bowl full of jelly" was as i finished rounding the corner and began the straightway leading me to my destination and passed the protesters and encouragers of honking to establish world peace, i looked up just in time to see a young teenage boy, dressed in khakis and a blue sweatshirt, thus declaring his servitude to none other than best buy, holding the brightest yellow sign i'm sure he could find at the party plus store located conveniently behind him with the words: "We Have PlayStation 3".

and while i'm not sure what it was exactly about that scene that me me laugh, i did. just something about best buy sending its employees to the corner to capitalize on the protesters' audience with signs declaring their supply of playstation 3s next to signs declaring our lack of peace seemed a bit amiss and amusing at the same time.

a poem to pass the time

i have an absolute brain freeze/block. i know what i want to write about, what i want to say but can't for the life of me figure out how to get it from the brain molecules whirling in my head to paper so for the time being i thought i'd post a rought draft of a poem i wrote during a very important church meeting. i really was paying attention i promise.

grace kills all that is dark
like a disease it grows
spreading, breaking down
the faulty immune system
built by man's distaste
for the divine and his
glutinous need for self-satisfication
which stunts his soul
and grace is violent
it surges, crashing up against Eden's
defenses, warring with the
elements, wearing down the
structures, tearing
at the grit of life


feels like there should be another last line but again brain freeze wins.

the passing of things

there’s no scab to be found hardening, covering
blood dried from the day’s healing. just
open infested sore. people bound with well
intentioned answers insist with unearned nobility
that this sinking sadness will pass. me, i’m not sure.
i can’t help thinking He got sick of us. He got fed
up with our self-imposed hassles so He took a long
deserved vacation on the coast. Sacrilegious!
or so they tell me to think such thoughts. but
sleep deprivation makes for long nights lost in
deepening darkness. so i strive for the light
which is closer to what i know and not what i fear.
what i possess somewhere under broken tissues
and torn fragments of skin is the knowledge
that waves ride on the breath of You, clouds
move at the playful twist of Your fingers,
like toddler’s toes playing in spilled paint
the sun sets and rises. i imagine You belch and
wind is created sending nature aghast with giggles.
You play with electricity like a puppy rolling tangled
with a cord. earth knows Your footsteps and responds
with the morning dew. yet despite all Your wondrous ways
You play with children giving them white dandelion dust to blow
like felt bubbles. and the hope i have through unearned
grace is that the answer is not found in pain passing like
gall stones or bell bottoms worn in faded pictures you look at
ten years down the road, but in knowing that nothing passes.
nothing passes by You that does not heal.

a wandering thought

there this thought in my head lately or perhaps it is better labeled a confession: I care far too greatly what others think. i'm not sure even really where to go with this thought. perhaps i am alone in my wondering what others think but something tells me i am not the only one plagued with this disease. and something tells me that such concern with another's opinion or thought of me adds up to idolatry and places my faith on a questionable foundation. it causes me to question. am i really who i say i am? is my faith really faith at all? am i living life as a pratical athiest disguised as a follower of Christ?

Journey

A question often floated around in the spiritual/religious world is “Where are you at in your journey with Christ?” In an interview for my present job I was presented with this question. I had to answer a similar phrased question for church membership. I have to admit that I find this question hard to answer. It’s as if we can locate on a map an exact starting point and ending point, as if the religious experience is so cut and dry. We start here and we end here. And I guess on some level it is that cut and dry, that simple. We are born, created by the Divine, and we die and meet the Divine. Every human life follows this same linear path. But I have found that the spiritual experience can be anything but linear and direct. In fact, I would propose that many times the path God chooses to lead us to Him and the path He asks us to walk with Him on can be quite winding and indirect.

Take Abraham and Sarah for example. God told Abraham to “get himself up and go from this land”. Direct, no doubt. Clear was God’s command. Get up! Get moving! However, God chose to leave out a very important detail, the destination. Abraham was not told where he was going; only that he was going to the land that God was going to deliver to him. Now how would Abraham have answered this spiritual question of “Where are your at in your journey with Christ?” He could most certainly answer that he was on a journey with his Maker. Of that there was no doubt. But he had no clue where he was in this journey because God had not even given him the final destination. God’s plan was masked, veiled, hidden from Abraham. In bits and pieces God revealed Himself and His plan to Abraham, but even then could Abraham really fathom what God had in store. Could he really see the final outcome, the end result, the destination that God had planned for him? Abraham, a fatherless old man who the Bible tells us his ability to conceive children had pretty much dried up, would be the father of a host of people, a large nation that could not be counted. How could he possibly comprehend that and if he could, how could he even possibly begin to map out how he’d get from Point A, childless, to Point B, a father of one…let alone a nation?

How about David? I am sure that if David lived today he would be labeled bipolar, suicidal, schizophrenic, or just plain crazy. Have you read the Psalms? He could in one passage, one day, one event, bless the Lord of all Creation. He could in the next Psalms doubt the Creator’s love and mercy, wondering if he had been forsaken. David could traverse a jumble of emotions toward his maker and capture it one Psalms, revealing both his doubt and anxiety about his Lord’s intentions and motives and yet claiming unwavering faith in this same Lord’s grace and sovereignty. If you tried to place David’s journey with God on a map, well you’d be all over the place. It’d look more like a connect-the-dots page than a map with clear, concise starting and ending points.

These men of God, not only traveled strange and sometimes tumultuous paths with their Master Planner, but sometimes they seemed to have fallen off in the ditch somewhere along the way. David orchestrated the murder of a man, hired a hit man if you will, to cover up his having sex with another’s man’s wife and her becoming pregnant as a result. And Abraham lied about his wife, putting her in harm’s way; something he did not once, but twice. Seems he fell into the same pothole more than once. Yet, they rose from their ditches with their scars and bruises, gathered themselves up and got back on the road traveling with the only One they knew could get them to wherever they were going.

And that is what my journey is. It’s walking. Sometimes I am sure there is a clear path and I can see the lights of place I am to be just ahead, in the distance between the trees. There are other times I feel like I’m wallowing in a ditch with briars and mud; it’s then I wonder where I am going and where the supposed Almighty and Friend of the forlorn is. But what remains, clear path ahead with a clear destination marked with potholes to avoid and streams to rest at or a path filled with potholes that veers off the clearly marked road more than I can comprehend, is that I’m walking. And I am not alone. Sometimes I can feel the Presence of the one that permeates the morning dew as if He covered me with a cloak of warmth, heavy and soft and light. Sometimes I walk through a fog so thick I can’t see my hand in front of me let alone see a God too mysterious for my mind to grasp. Yet I walk. I can’t always tell you where I am at on my journey and even if I could and even when I know my destination I have no idea how I will arrive there. And when I think I do know it’s then I find God’s voice so direct saying, “Get up! Get moving!” And to my replies of where and how, He simply beckons, “Get up! Get moving! I’ll show you.” So I walk. That’s what I know. I’m on a journey with the Divine, rarely linear, rarely direct, and rarely simple in its path. In fact, downright confusing is the process. Yet so simple: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.”

makes you go hmmmmmmm

here's an interesting thought from tony myles/don't call me veronica - go to his blog, it's thought provoking (link to the side, b/c i'm not smart enough to put a link right here):

Fiery opinions are all about your grip on life; Christ-breathed grace is all about God’s grip on you.

shells

I’ve had two interesting conversations lately with two different individuals. Ease drop with me.

Conversation A:

I have to be honest. The first conversationalist, I think, assumes much: to know more of me than they realize and where I’m at on the ‘journey’ of healing and hard inner work. It’s has if they got a peek, a momentary but revealing peek, and they know “understand” me, “get” me. But nevertheless they pointed out something that hints at a reflection of what’s inside. Perhaps, what’s inside comes outside and perhaps, what’s inside isn’t what should be. How do I really view myself and God’s grace? And maybe the question of importance isn’t so much how I view myself or the issue of God’s grace, but whether I’m even interacting with God’s grace in the deep recesses where myself says, “Self (as my friend Kelsey believes one must address oneself), you’ve gone so far, too far.”

Now I would never deny God’s grace or power. I believe and assert that God’s grace extends to anyone, anywhere, and in any situation. Name me a person, name me a place, name me a situation and I’ll hold irrevocably that God’s grace is there for the taking. The lights are working; you just got to turn them on. I worked with juvenile sex offenders and I believe God’s grace extends to them. I believe God can alter them, change them and shape them for his glory. In fact, I believe that hope for them does not exist in the tiniest of forms outside the grace of God. Yet, in my day to day life I wonder if I live, as someone I heard term it, as a practical atheist. I believe in the theory, the idea, and love to see it applied…in other’s lives. And I believe on paper his grace extends to me but when played out in reality I must admit I think his grace, while it might reach the deepest caverns, I imagine it to be a distant light that cast shadows on the wall rather than the all encompassing light that sheds the darkness like decaying moss and provides a tangible warmth to my soul.

Conversation B:

The second conversation was more intimate. Intimate because it discussed issues of vulnerability. You know the whole let’s expose my sin to the burning flames of another. That is, of course, my definition. Webster’s definition: capable of being physically or emotionally wounded, open to attack or damage, liable to increased penalties but entitled to increased bonuses after winning a game in contract bridge. It comes from the Latin word mean ‘to wound’ and is probably close to the Latin word which means to ‘pluck’.

Pluck describes it best. I’m tired of having people ‘pluck’ at me. Take from me what they need. Take from me what they want. Analyze me. Assume to know me. Criticize me. It has felt like lots of hands coming up and ‘plucking’ at my skin and my reaction has become to slap anything that comes within my parameter. But I am honestly at a loss at what to do as the heart is not an immortal object. It is not invincible. And survival kicks in. And I’m tried true fan of the “suck it up” philosophy. So what do you do when you crave the touch of another, the kindness of someone to speak comfort and balm to your wounds, to sit with you in the murky waters and have the biggest pity party (and while we’re at it let’s invite the neighbors), but hands keep flapping and your bootstraps are worn from being pulled up so much and you’re just tired. Sure, the obvious response is to “let it go and let god” (trite phrase #426, even Solomon found trite phrases nauseating – see Proverbs 25:20). But again reflexes are reflex. You can think all you want that the doctor’s mallet won’t make you knee move, but if he hits the right spot that legs coming up.

And somehow this all led to talk of living in a shell. And I who lusts after words went looking to good ole Webster. And here’s some interesting thoughts I’ve come from this little research:

- it can refer to a hard rigid covering that is calcareous. Now calcareous probably involves a whole other research project but it gives the image that this shell, this covering, is a part of whatever it is covering. It’s growing. It’s a mineral. It’s an element. It comes from somewhere.
- it can refer to a ‘framework or exterior structure, especially a building with an unfinished interior’. It may not even resemble what’s inside.
- it can refer to a ‘casing without substance” which the only response I can elicit is “ouch”.
- it can refer to ‘an impersonal attitude or manner that conceals the presence or absence of feeling’ which is funny to me because what I choose to conceal is so intense, so full of feeling. There is no absence of feeling.
- it can refer to ‘a projectile for cannon containing an explosive bursting charge’ which is how I feel most of the time.
- it can refer to ‘company or coproraiton that exists without assets or independinednt operations as a legal entity through which another company or corporation can conduct various dealing” and I wonder if I’m just existing to complete a task, perhaps even my calling and in existing just to fulfill my calling if I’ve missed why God gave the calling anyway.

The definition that gets me to thinking the most is ‘the hard or tough often thin outer covering of an egg (as of a bird or reptile)’. And what happens to those eggs, those shells. They break. They shed. They open. They serve a purpose. They protect. They allow something to grow but then they break. They aren’t meant to be permanent. They aren't meant to be lifelong. At some point they're meant to be split, to be shed, to be worked off.

Interestingly enough the word is akin to a Lithuanian word which means ‘to split’ and to a Greek word which means ‘to hoe'.

networking with God, replacing names and changing particples

there's so much going through my thoughts these days. these are the ones that seem to be seeping in lately...causing me to think, which should, in my humble opinion, always be a dangerous task to take on.

networking with God:

if you haven't read Nickel and Dimed by barbara ehreneich, well... you should. you may not agree with everything or her take but it makes you think. i just finished another of her books, Bait and Switch - The (Futile) Pursuit Of The American Dream. her approach as a journalist fascinates me, going undercover in various places to learn what it means to "live on minium wage" or to "survive the corporate world". while her books are not religious in nature, in both she encounters situations/times where religion interesects with poverty, the corporate life and those living in those worlds. she is an atheist and yet when she speaks on the issues that intersect with religion and God i find that there is a truth there that is so profound and spiritual that my spirit rises to say amen.

here is just an excerpt from her book, Bait and Switch. she has been trying to find a job in the coporate world and the advice she is given by those in that realm is to network, network, network. network being the connecting with people with the end result always in mind, engaging people for an outcome. the goal of networking is the return on time spent with a person - what did i get out the encounter. she is sent to various networking sessions and finds herself among a group of christian mostly men with a few women in networking/business groups. the following is her response to Francois, a fellow who is sharing the importance of networking, and having a prepared "elevator" speech to sell oneself. He states that our first networking target should be the Lord.

"I'm sorry, this is too much for me. I endured the Norcross Fellowship Lunch as an atheist, but now, at the Mt. Paran Church of God, I discovoer I am a believer, and what I believe is this: if the Lord exists, if there is some conscious being whose thought the universe is - some great spinner of galaxies, hurler of meteors, creator and extinguisher of species - if some such being should manifest itself, you do not "network" with it any more than you would light a cigarette on the burning bush. Francois is guilty of blasphemy. He has demeaned the universe as I know it."

i wonder if we, us, me, I have blasphemed the person of God? have we, us, me, I seen him as something to be networked, to work over to get something out of in return? if an athiest can so address in, my opinion the grandor and splendor and sovergienty of God, do I, in my arrogance and "knowledge" of God have a clue? you see i'm not surprised that an "athiest" came up with that thought but i fear that in the christian world today there exists a certain arrogance - as if we have a corner on the market and the reality is that we haven't a clue.

replace the "world" with you:

overheard a conversation recently in which a young man talked about hearing all his life that when John 3:16 is quoted, For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son that whosoever would believe would have everlasting life, that he should insert his name in the place of "world".

he questioned if by making it such an individualistic verse (which is true, yes Christ died for me, specifically me and specifically you) that we lose a part of the meaning/intent and wonder of a God who loves the WORLD, whose mission was not simply to me, but to ALL.

changing the "to" to "with":

met missionaries recently who are ministering to the Muslim world and notice they do not say they are "taking" the light of Christ "to" the Muslim world or even "showing" the light of Christ "to" the Muslim world but rather they are "sharing" (signifies a mutual partaking - is it possible we could learn about God from a Muslim or that perhaps by sharing we give of our lives rather than provide a "product" to a "consumer") the light of Christ "with" (Jesus came "into"the world and not simply "to" the world) the world.

the "to" and the "with" signify a difference in theology that is as wide as the east is from the west.

some people's opinion

on wednesday night i was up waiting for my pizza and fries to finish cooking. i was flipping between the wonderful selection of tv channels that i have - slightly fuzzy (that's channel 6), clear 90% of the time (that's channel 8) and rarely clear (that's channel 4).

i stopped for awhile and watched jay leno's gray hair through the silver fuzz of the tv. i came in on the end of tom green's travels through the US meeting various ordinary people to see who was the most interesting. they had found their person and their affiliate station in that town was about to announce to a 91 year old woman that she had been chosen as "the most interesting person".

I watched as a local newsman, probably thrilled to be on the late show - national tv - announced to this 91 year old woman who looked like she had earned every year of those ninety-one years that she was jay leno's "most interesting person". the newsman then asked her what she thought about that and her response was, "well, that's some people's opinion".

"well, that's some people's opinion" that's my new goal in life! i imagine the woman at ninety one has seen all the ups and downs that life can bring, lived through much and hopefully lived while doing it that she understands the fickleness of people. that she understands that someone's opinion of you doesn't make or break you. some people will think you're grand. others will think you're small. life does not move or halt on the theory one holds about you.

i so need to somehow get there. to know who i am. who i am in God. to be like paul and know contentment whatever my circumstances. the messages says it like this:
“I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am”.

my problem is i want to be there now. and i wonder...can you get there now? i mean does it take 91 years to get there? does it take being thrown in jail, tossed on a ship, shipwrecked on an island and bit by a snake? the last year or so i've found that i agree with a statement made by thomas merton - hope is directly related to attachment. his hypothesis: the more detached to material things, the trappings of labels and man made definitions, to this world = more hope. i've lost a lot, given up a lot, made hard choices, been wounded, hurt, run through the ringer, driven through the mud and wondered who i was and yet, never once did i experience a lack of hope. i've gone from owning a home to living in a small apartment. i've gone from having a good job and been successful for my age, my field, my education with more opportunities to come to, until recently, working three part time jobs to make ends meet, waiting on tables to put food on mine. but i never went without hope.

oh i wondered what God was doing. i wondered if he had forgotten me. wondered if he knew what he was doing. wondered if what he was doing was all it was cracked up to be. funny thing is on my downest day, when i questioned everything and everyone around me including the me in the mirror, i was happier than i had been in years and i could feel it. feel hope burrowing in my bones, settling into my marrow, taking root in my veins, bring color to my skin. it was there and i knew it wasn't going anywhere.

so i've tasted of it i think. maybe i know more than i realize i do what it means to be content. but now see i have a full time job and am back on track career wise and more importantly, God-purpose wise and i now i have time worry about what people think. see before when you are waiting tables, working third shift, finding sleep and pulling in the tips to pay the utility bill...well...it doesn't leave much time for you to think about what people think even if you care. but now...well...there's time. and i feel like i've lost my mojo a bit. and where's it rooted at this mojo. perhaps i've let it take root in someone other then the "One who makes me".

i don't what it takes to get to where you know that contentment that paul spoke of or that sense of security that is rooted in nothing but the wisdom that knows the sun sets, the sun rises, people die and people are born and you may think me a dud, but, “well, that just some people's opinion".

hiding with magellan

recently my parents bought me a fish. i believe it's a beta. you know the vibrant color ones that come in a plant vase and can't live with any other fish. my fish lives with a peace lilly. the peace lilly's roots descend into the vase of water and magellan (as he has been named by staci and kelsi) likes to burrow himself up in the roots. he likes to hide.

truth is i'd like to join him. see this post is a self-pity 'woe is me' post for which i normally would follow this self-disclosure with an apology, but i'm all out of those.

when people don't call except to tell me their problems or ask for my help, when i can pick up my cell and see the number and know immediately that they want something but have little to offer in return (and not b/c they don't want to but b/c right now understandably based on what they are going through they don't have anything to offer) i want to hide. i know friendships aren't based on what you get back but then again let's be honest would we still be friends if we never got something back? maybe their levels of friendship or a difference between being friends and being friendly. maybe that's a whole nother post. nevertheless when those phone calls start coming in i start looking for roots to crawl into.

when people need hand holding that i just don't have to offer. i want to be kind and gracious and so many times i need kindness and grace but my job on earth is not to soothe your every issue or lack of self worth. i can show you love, encourage you, support you, help you, mentor you but at some point i just can't do it. i wasn't meant to and at 11:40 PM i'm just not sure it's my job and i start looking for earth to burrow into.

when people just dump, go on the attack and offensive and hey it's okay b/c why...b/c jessica doesn't care, b/c she's got broad shoulders, b/c she understands how it is sometimes. used to i'd come out with my own shovel and we could dump together. used to be i'd call a spade a spade. used to be you ask me for opinion and then get mad b/c what you really wanted was me to agree i'd say just that...seems my 'used to' is all used up.

i spend a lot of time looking at my fish and wonder if there is anyway we could both fit in the those roots together.

selecting leaders

I have been doing a lot of reading lately on leadership, perhaps out of expectation (i.e. God's faithful response to our choice to be obedient). Perhaps b/c as I move more in sync with God I am learning just what my specific gifts are, my "fit", if you will.

Perhaps b/c I sense a need for leadership in the position that I am about to step into. This ministry is need of leadership, someone with a clear vision of the future, rooted in hope that with God all things are possible. The ministry needs encouragement and love, those serving need to be boosted and cared for; it needs someone willing to grow it with daily nourishment and stay for the long haul. The ministry needs enthusiasm, a spark of joy. And it needs, desperately needs, leaders.

In Bill Hybels' book, Courageous Leadership, he talks about his criteria selection: The Three C's of Team Selection. They are Character, Competence, and Chemistry. He looks for leaders whose relationship with Christ is secure and growing. He wants people committed to pursuing growth in Christ and that display characterisitics like honesty, willingness to learn, humility, good work ethic, etc. He looks for people who have the ability to do the job and not just someone with the desire. He wants someone who has the gift of teaching if looking for a teacher. And he looks at chemistry, how well does this person mesh with the group that is already assembled. This has got me thinking. What is it that I am looking for when looking to recruit leaders?

It is true I don't want just anyone, yet I want to be open that leaders are built not born and they have to learn and develop somewhere. I want to keep in mind that I am not Bill Hybels running a mega church, but an Early Childhood Ministry. I also, though, don't want to settle simply b/c I "need" to or "can". There has to be a standard, that includes and builds and empowers but that sets a bar of excellence. It's God's accountability and His grace infused. So what do you think are the essentials, the must-haves to be a leader in ministry, especially ministry designed around children/youth? What is it you look for? What is it that you just can't live without in a leader?

hanging up the apron

well, tonight i hung up my waitress apron, though knowing me probably not for the last time. last february i quit my full time job and took a part time job at a church (www.heritageqc.com) b/c i felt the Lord directing me too. actually i had told God in a previous conversation that i finally got it and if he'd open the door i'd walk. when he opened the door, i didn't think i could really go back and "clarify" with God that the door had to include comparable pay and hours and benefits. so to make ends meet i picked up my apron and headed out to bring quality service with a friendly smile.

here are a few things that i will not miss:
- people who order with their mouth full of crackers thus sharing their abundance of mush with me both visually and artistically on my shirt,
- people who are not ready to order after numerous trips to the table, but then become irrate when you are busy attending to other tables, because they are now ready to order,
- going home smelling of sweat, blue cheese and garlic dressing combined with au jus, lemon and smoke,
- finding your tables dirty, customers wanting water, and silverware missing and realizing that the busboy is MIA,
- customers who demand particular service - special attention and care combined with multiple trips but who do not provide a tip commesiarate with service, - moody cooks.

here are some things i will miss:
-customers like the ones i had last Sunday, a three top, who was taking out a couple of his older aunts and had a wheelchair and were an aboslute delight to wait on, but forgot in trying to get her out in the wheelchair to leave a tip. they called back in that night to let me know they'd be back in a couple days with a tip and this past tuesday stopped in and brought me in a ten dollar tip,
-customers like the party tonight of senior citizens that even though i messed up and even though they had to ask me for something more than once where jovial, patient and understanding and direct all at the same time,
-customers who get attached to ya, wish you well, and who when they ask you your story share a part of their life with you, encouraging you, letting you know that no matter how down you may think you are there is always hope.

i think most of all i'm going to miss the girls/women i waitress with. i've worked at this restuarant 5 times since 1994 and i really feel like i made an impact, like my presence will be missed, like i filled a void. of course, knowing me i'll be back at some point, the challenge of fast cash and quick service to people fits my personality: a people person with anti-social tendencies. :)

revisiting my past

i wrote this about eleven weeks ago, almost 3 months ago, end of May, life seemed very uncertain. i had taken a huge risk finaicially and spiritually and wasn't sure just where i'd land and if i'd have any broken bones when i did. i am always amazed at the force at which God sometimes chooses to send us at. personally, i sometimes think God is an closet adrenaline junkie and yet i find him to be the tenderest of lovers.

title: living life on my terms, well sort of

see lately things have been in a swirl. life has changed and taken new directions. some feel so strange and others quite familiar, like i’ve come out of a dark forest and hit a road i used to chase my sister up when we were kids.

and i have to admit that sometimes i wonder what i’m doing, what was i thinking and just how did i get here. and sometimes i get dragged under by the current of what happens if i fail? what happens if i missed the mark again? what happens if i didn’t hear God’s voice? could it be i’m tone deaf or he’s just signally on a different channel and i’ve got the skipper from Gilligan’s Island shouting directions to me?

then i remember that yes this could all be a disaster, the biggest screw up i’ve ever seen. but it’s mine. there’s something empowering about living life rather than letting life live you. you can sit back and let life happen or you can make life happen. it’s cliche, but true. you get to choose. of course that means being willing to get dirty, take risks and be a failure.

you know, be willing to wake up from that nightmare where you are walking down the school hallway in all your glory, but naked, only to discover it is no dream? it’s real life and yes, they are all staring. it’s scary but freeing really too. i mean think how nice it would be to not have to worry about what to wear each morning, whether your shirt got taken out of the dryer or is still in the dark dryer hole wrinkled and clumped up, or if your pants from last summer will still fit or are even in style anymore which if not, means you’ve got to buy more which means money and that the lovely trip to the clothing store where you realize that not only do last summer’s pants not fit but you probably shouldn’t be wearing your winter pants anymore either cus they are a little too snug too and then you leave feeling like the biggest blob of flab and jostling celluite there is.

yeah, i know walking naked down the school hallway has other complications and worries to it, like where to put your money for lunch in the cafeteria. but maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as we thought and maybe it would, but at least we’d have something to tell our grandchildren and make them laugh and think we’re crazy and great rather than that we lived, we breathed and we simply died long before our breath left us.

the skeptic finds hope

i admit sometimes i can be a bit cynical, a closet skeptic, if you will, but recently while reading a book by Bill Hybels I came across this description of the church and well it even gave me goose bumps though i don't like to admit it (truth is i'm just a mushy interior with a slightly thin crust - i'd make a good chocolate bar...hmm..i'm hungry)

There is nothing like the local church when it's working right. Its beauty is indescribable. Its power is breathtaking. Its potential is unlimited. It comforts the grieving and heals the broken in the context of community. It builds bridges to seekers and offers truth to the confused. It provides resources for those in need and opens its arms to the forgotten, the downtrodden, the disillusioned. (that's me)It breaks the chains of addictions, frees the oppressed, and offers belonging to the marginalized of this world. Whatever the capacity for human suffering, the church has a greater capacity for healing and wholeness.

Can I get an Amen?

on another note - i'm quite disullisioned by my blogger spell check when it doesn't recognize the word marginalized.

christian b*

i waitressed tonight and while waiting on a difficult table who are regulars at the resturant another waitress commented that she felt for me. she refuses to wait on them. i can't say that i have flat refused to wait on them, but i have managed to avoid waiting on them or talk someone else into waiting on them. this family is so difficult that two things have happened at the resturant. the first is that there are few waitresses that will wait on them and secondly, our bosses will tip us when we wait on them. if you have ever waited on tables you know that to get to this point means it is a difficult table.

but as i encountered this family at subway and the kids seemingly latched on as i was kind to them, i have had the privilege to wait on them while their "regular" waitress (about the only one who will, having made it her life's missin to show them a little kindness) was gone on vacation, i have been convicted. shouldn't i be the one to show them a little kindness? shouldn't i who profess to follow the Christ be the one serving them? should they be merely something i avoid or push off onto someone else?

this family is in fact every waiter/waitresses nightmare. the children are under foot and they aren't small children. the youngest has behavior problems. the mother and grandmother (not young) are rude to one another. i have heard very few people speak so rudely and harshly to one another. they are demanding, impatient, petty, and rude to us. they are picky and seem to think you have no other tables and expect perfection. yet they also want to talk to you and visit. they all seemed starved for affectin and love; yet it's hard to offer when the old woman is crochety and short and when the child threatens to bite the mother and the mother threatens and does knock his head into the wall at your booth, and the child literally runs loose and says vulgar things at the counter.

so tonight when it came up i was waiting on them and how horrible that must be, i began to try to explain the "art" of being convicted by God i.e. that if i wanted to confess a certain set of values on sunday i had to hold true to them in the real world. i explained that Jesus said when you did it to the "least of these" you did it to him and i can't not do it. when i first started to say this, my friend said, "and don't you start with that christian bul*s***". she did not mean it nasty or mean; it was simply a statement of fact to her.

and it got me thinking. it is bs if you think about it. to treat others not as they treat us but as Christ would. to our thinking it is an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, tit for tat, you get what you give, you reap what you sow. yet Jesus urged us, no commanded us, to love our enemies, do good to those who use us, show love to the unlovable, reach out to those society throws away. to man's wisdom such behavior is bs. but to the Christ it is the message that saves - no one is expendable in His Father's kingdom, all are welcome. it is the beauty of the gospel and bs to man's mind, but if applied, like the mud and spit to the blind man's eyes, it is healing to a world that hasn't seen the light for some time.

common secrets

i'm reading Anne Lamott's book Plan B Further Thoughts on Faith and she writes that "nothing helps like letting your ugly common secrets out." and i wanted to scream - Yes! Yes! - but thought the elderly ladies at the table next to me might be scared into heaven at my sudden outburst. but for me that is it in a nutshell, the vein of my existence. perhaps a bit melodramatic, i realize, but i feel so strongly about it. for as long as i can remember there has been a thought in me that could not be put down adequately into words. anne lamott just sealed it so beautifully for me.

as a waitress i've been able to hone in a skill i call 'inner dialogue'. in fact, to wait on tables you have to have this skill along with a fresh, clean filter that holds your inner dialogue from coming out and causing the customer to cough and sputter. your filter serves to only let words that are fresh and flowering smelling come out regardless of the inner dialogue going on. (i would highly recommend Debra Ginsberg's book Waiting which has made me so aware of what i do each night at the table)

let me give you some examples. when i come to a table and they ask me for sesame bread sticks i have to insist with total sincerity that not only do i not mind coming back to their table for the upteeth time but it would be my heart's desire to bring them back bread sticks that they could have asked me to bring when they asked me to bring them lemons for their water which could have been asked for when they asked for more water which could have been asked for when they asked for a clean glass and have now made this my fifth trip to the table in the last two minutes but hey, whose counting. this sarcasm all remains hidden neath a veil, a thin veil i will admit that is subject at times to being pulled off by the right customer or combination of factors (cooks in foul moods, dishwashers moving too slow, busboys who have disappeared and left tables covered with dirty dishes and missing water pitchers and customers who think they are the only table and the restaurant is their personal home dining room). nor do i communicate any feelings but my deepest apologies to the woman who seems put out because the new girl brought her the wrong size salad plate but who, for our sakes, of course, will manage to eat it though she is clearly not okay. i do not communicate to her amidst her sighs and glares that i would like to see her get up off her rear end and learn an 8 page menu with 2 inserts and remember which sandwiches come with soup, which sandwiches come with soup or salad, which sandwiches you offer just fries or you also give them the choice or zucchini or onion rings or fries or remember which dinner gets the large salad that she is so in need of or get the small salads which she is choosing, despite my many repeated offers to bring her a larger one or offer her something else, to eat. i also do not suggest that she place the salad bowl, salad intact with blue cheese dressing, upon her head as i'm sure it would make for a finer dining experience or at the very least make me feel better. thankfully, my filter functions most nights or at least holds up till i get to the back and can of course share my wounds with those who understand.

but see to put this out there, to say that on any given night i think mean and awful thoughts toward people while presenting an image of a person who is genuinely concerned with their dining pleasure and not simply for monetary reasons is like what we do with so many of our 'secret sins' or 'feelings of shame/regret/failure' or whatever else it is that haunts us or we struggle with. and in the maintaining a spiritual filter we isolate ourselves and give more power to that which we try so hard to break free of. i'm not suggesting we all stand up at the next service and reveal every deep and dark secret and sin but merely that we begin within our own unique communities of friends and families and co-workers to have open and honest discussions about our faith and our failures, both our belief and dis-belief in God, to share our moments of sainthood and be honest about our moments of sinnerness (if that's a word).

i think the world is looking for transparency. i think the world just wants to know that their secrets are shared. i think they want to see our lives as they are, broken and wonderful, good and bad, maybe a faith that struggles, but one that is holding on like Jacob of old and refusing to let go and when they do, i think something inside will holler out in them - Yes! Yes!