The internet seems to be brimming with an angry mob mentality currently with prominent Christian bloggers loosing attacks on everyone from Rob Bell to Ann Voskamp. It may just be those two being attacked, but really? Anyhoo...No, they're not being attacked because they've sinned grievously but because of their theology. Now I do understand the importance of sound theology, but a disagreement over theology should not justify some of the vicious personal attacks going on.
I may be very wrong, but I don't really care about theology. I should probably clarify that I hold to some rather conservative theological viewpoints, and I do understand the importance of sound doctrine. After all, I have read the warnings about false teachers. Scary stuff. In my own life, I've seen what happens when theology gets twisted. It ain't pretty. But all the same, I don't really care. You can debate all you like whether the rapture is pre, mid or post-trib or women's role in ministry. Talk about hell, what constitutes observing the Sabbath, whether or not we can eat pork. Just leave me out of it. I may offer some interesting perspective, but for the most part I really don't care. (I do however have some opinions on whether or not a Christian should eat halal meat. Technically, that counts as food offered to a false god. Paul is fairly clear that we are freed from those laws and can eat whatever we feel we should, but I still think it's a very interesting dilemma that we typically don't think about. For the record, I do eat halal meat occasionally because disrespecting my friends' deeply held beliefs would be a stumbling block between them and the gospel. Oh, and because M*slims have very good food. Mmmm...shawarma....)
The problem with theology is that for the most part it is pretty abstract. Some of it, like women's role in ministry, impacts how church actually works, but for the most part all of our arguments about the rapture, predestination, hell, etc don't impact the here and now. And for me, that's what I'm most concerned about. Yeah, not ending up in a lake of burning fire is a bonus, but I'm much more aware of what the consequences of salvation are right now. Colossians 1 v13 says that God has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. Did you just read that? We are rescued! We are set free from all the sin and bondage that enslave us. Having been terribly enslaved, I am loving that verse. Although it has been a very bumpy road, this freedom in Christ, being brought out of darkness into light and redemption has transformed my life. When I look around at my friends, family, children, neighbours, this is what I want for them. Yes, I don't want any of the people in my life to go to hell, but I long to see them live lives transformed, to know the glorious peace and freedom that comes from this relationship with God. My heart is in the present, not the future.
Not only are we set free, we are transformed. This may be my favourite part of the gospel, that we are filled with the Holy Spirit's power and can be forever changed. Sometimes we get this idea that the fruits of the Spirit are ideas to aspire to rather than real changes that happen in us as we believe. As we pursue God, we are made righteous by our simple belief. I love seeing the changes happen in my life when I draw near, the gentle response in tough situations that is not my natural reaction. It's hard to put this into words, but I am blown away by the changes I see in my life and in the lives of others when they allow the Spirit to work. I'm not talking about people trying harder and living fake lives, but rather a very real transformation out of sin and towards holiness. It blows my mind.
So really all that theological stuff I mentioned earlier doesn't really do it for me. Why? Not because I don't believe it is important, but because my energy and focus is on the very real transformational power possible only through the shed blood of Christ and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. If I'm going to get up in arms about anything, it would be regarding our culture's indifference to such things, to the fruit of the Spirit and to the concept of real and possible holiness. Nope, I'm not talking about legalism(been there, done that, gave back the t-shirt), but rather a drawing towards God and away from the world. We shouldn't be competing to see how worldly we can be while still embracing the Christian label. Neither should we be secluding ourselves from our culture and only taking part in "Christian" things. Somewhere in there should be a middle ground where we are part of our culture and yet set apart by in the indisputable presence of God.
If I am going to get up in arms about anything, this will be it. Let others argue about the existence of hell or possible depth of our relationship with God. I'll be over here with my cup of tea mulling over how best to reach those around me for Christ or how to raise my children to be relevant and yet different, Christ-like even. I'll also be the one who gets all passionate and loud about the amazing power of Christ that breaks the bonds of our sins, addictions, habits and junk. I have no desire to go back to when I was uber-conservative and bound up in sin. Because of the profound freedom and changes I experienced, I'm also gonna be the one sitting there praying for our youth who may love Jesus but look, act and sound just like the church. I'm going to be the friend that initiates some hard conversations on what following Christ looks likes practically. I'm also going to be the girl that screws up lots, and so speaks from desperate experience as to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. If it weren't for Him, I'd be screwed.
I respect that there are a lot of Christians with some strong opinions and voices. It would just be nice if that strength was directed towards calling us as a body towards holiness instead of attacking people over theology.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Keep Going
Today I'm taking part in the Your Secret Name read-along over at Marla's. We're responding to chapters 12 and 13, which I must confess hit me hard.
Last week I wrote about some of the consequences of broken relationships that we are currently experiencing. Leaving our church has not been easy. Compared to some of the other consequences I'm facing, that has been an easier one. Like Kary, relationships have caused me pain. Because of the pain, he withdrew, locking away his emotions. Unable to stifle my emotions, I have simply stopped trusting. Without trust, my world has become filled with fear. When my husband is late, I begin to seriously wonder if he has finally had enough and left. While hanging out with friends, I wonder how long it will be until they end our friendship. When a small child attacks me in a store, I keep quiet for fear of getting in trouble. (Yes, that did happen.) Making new friends and maintaining current friendships drains me now because of all the fear. It would be easier just to hide.
I've tried hiding. But my husband makes me go to church, reminding me of my marriage vows when I get particularly stubborn. Before this season started, God blessed with me two amazing friends who live in my complex. Though I've tried to run away and hide, these amazing friends won't let me. Trust is something I struggle with, but less around them because of their transparency. If they didn't like me, I'd know. Still, I just want to crawl into a hole until Jesus comes back. This is too hard for me.
So this is where I am, this place of deep hurt and broken trust. Trusting God is challenging too because it was obeying Him that got me into this mess. (Side note: It was Jacob's obedience to his mother that landed him in exile. I wonder how he responded to that and how it affected their relationship.) With all this fresh in my mind from chapter 12, I then read this:
"God wanted to transform Jacob, but transformation is never easy and always involves pain."p.141
"As author Oswald Chambers wrote "Before God can use a man greatly, he must wound him deeply." Even though at times the hurt is excruciating, we simply must stay in the fight." p. 141
"In this final stage, many of us give up and go back to our Given Names. Wrestling with God takes its toll, and even though we're only inches away from a new identity, we let it slip away once more." p. 142
Does this mean there is hope? Given hope, I can keep going. Perhaps if I think of this in terms of childbirth, this deep time of pain as transition, then I can make it through. In transition, it is easy to panic. That's the time when many labouring mamas start to get discouraged. I can't do this, it is too hard. But in reality, they are getting closer to meeting their little one with each new wave. During this time of intensity, a doula offers words of encouragement such as "Just keep breathing" "You're almost there!" "You are doing such a good job!" Perhaps this is what I need to remind myself. I want this new identity, to be birthed into the fullness of what God has planned for me. Just like I longed for my babies to be OUT, now I long for that freedom. And it is almost there, I just need to keep going, taking each day, each breath at a time. That I can do.
Last week I wrote about some of the consequences of broken relationships that we are currently experiencing. Leaving our church has not been easy. Compared to some of the other consequences I'm facing, that has been an easier one. Like Kary, relationships have caused me pain. Because of the pain, he withdrew, locking away his emotions. Unable to stifle my emotions, I have simply stopped trusting. Without trust, my world has become filled with fear. When my husband is late, I begin to seriously wonder if he has finally had enough and left. While hanging out with friends, I wonder how long it will be until they end our friendship. When a small child attacks me in a store, I keep quiet for fear of getting in trouble. (Yes, that did happen.) Making new friends and maintaining current friendships drains me now because of all the fear. It would be easier just to hide.
I've tried hiding. But my husband makes me go to church, reminding me of my marriage vows when I get particularly stubborn. Before this season started, God blessed with me two amazing friends who live in my complex. Though I've tried to run away and hide, these amazing friends won't let me. Trust is something I struggle with, but less around them because of their transparency. If they didn't like me, I'd know. Still, I just want to crawl into a hole until Jesus comes back. This is too hard for me.
So this is where I am, this place of deep hurt and broken trust. Trusting God is challenging too because it was obeying Him that got me into this mess. (Side note: It was Jacob's obedience to his mother that landed him in exile. I wonder how he responded to that and how it affected their relationship.) With all this fresh in my mind from chapter 12, I then read this:
"God wanted to transform Jacob, but transformation is never easy and always involves pain."p.141
"As author Oswald Chambers wrote "Before God can use a man greatly, he must wound him deeply." Even though at times the hurt is excruciating, we simply must stay in the fight." p. 141
"In this final stage, many of us give up and go back to our Given Names. Wrestling with God takes its toll, and even though we're only inches away from a new identity, we let it slip away once more." p. 142
Does this mean there is hope? Given hope, I can keep going. Perhaps if I think of this in terms of childbirth, this deep time of pain as transition, then I can make it through. In transition, it is easy to panic. That's the time when many labouring mamas start to get discouraged. I can't do this, it is too hard. But in reality, they are getting closer to meeting their little one with each new wave. During this time of intensity, a doula offers words of encouragement such as "Just keep breathing" "You're almost there!" "You are doing such a good job!" Perhaps this is what I need to remind myself. I want this new identity, to be birthed into the fullness of what God has planned for me. Just like I longed for my babies to be OUT, now I long for that freedom. And it is almost there, I just need to keep going, taking each day, each breath at a time. That I can do.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Exile and Return
I'm writing this post for Marla's read-along featuring Your Secret Name by Kary Oberbrunner. This week we're covering chapters 10 and 11.
"Exile is temporary."
The opening sentence of chapter 10 reached out and grabbed me. While writing this, my eyes fill with tears and that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. Right now, I feel like I'm exile. It's a nasty feeling. In September we left our church. We didn't want to leave, but a broken relationship within the church was tearing us apart. We were plagued by grief and hurt, chased by bitterness and surrounded by isolation. Not only were the negative circumstances playing havoc with my health, they were also causing tension within the church. When our pastor commented that our church felt like a war zone, we decided to leave. This didn't seem fair as we had tried to resolve the situation, but such tension could not bring glory to God. So we left as honourably as we possibly could.
Leaving was both good and hard. My health slowly improved and I stopped dreading church. We started attending a church where we have been able to heal. Worshipping together again has been a blessing as my husband is no longer in charge of the sound board. Our children really like this church, even our grumpy toddler. We are very thankful for the healing that has occurred.
But leaving is hard. We've had to grieve the loss of relationships, of people we called family. Among the hardest part is the feeling of failure, that the church is better off without me. During this season of hurt and exile, I have felt like my given name is "Problem". God (and my husband) continue to whisper different names, ones that offer hope. But can that hope, can God, be trusted? I struggle.
I doubt a lot. I doubt that God can use me, that He does indeed have good plans for me. I doubt that He can bring about restoration and reconciliation. Much like Jacob when he learned that Esau was approaching with 400 men, I cannot see peace ahead. And to be very honest, I'm not sure if I want reconciliation or peace. Not that I want war, I would just like to stay very far from conflict. Unfortunately for me, the situation appears to be moving towards reconciliation. I don't think I have the strength to walk through any more confrontations.
It would be very easy to walk away, but not only have we committed to walking through this honourably, we also feel called to attend church in our neighbourhood. The church we were attending is the closest church to our house and right next door to the low-income housing complex we are building relationships in. There are definite advantages to going back to our former church. But to do this will require a lot of faith and trust. I don't think I have much of that left. Unlike Jacob, I don't have the ways and means to come up with alternative plans. Instead I'm being forced to trust. So now to wait and see that God really is good, that His plans for me, just like His plans for Jacob, are good.
I could keep writing because chapter 10 resonated with me. I think I could have highlighted every other sentence. Perhaps I'll write again later.
"Exile is temporary."
The opening sentence of chapter 10 reached out and grabbed me. While writing this, my eyes fill with tears and that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. Right now, I feel like I'm exile. It's a nasty feeling. In September we left our church. We didn't want to leave, but a broken relationship within the church was tearing us apart. We were plagued by grief and hurt, chased by bitterness and surrounded by isolation. Not only were the negative circumstances playing havoc with my health, they were also causing tension within the church. When our pastor commented that our church felt like a war zone, we decided to leave. This didn't seem fair as we had tried to resolve the situation, but such tension could not bring glory to God. So we left as honourably as we possibly could.
Leaving was both good and hard. My health slowly improved and I stopped dreading church. We started attending a church where we have been able to heal. Worshipping together again has been a blessing as my husband is no longer in charge of the sound board. Our children really like this church, even our grumpy toddler. We are very thankful for the healing that has occurred.
But leaving is hard. We've had to grieve the loss of relationships, of people we called family. Among the hardest part is the feeling of failure, that the church is better off without me. During this season of hurt and exile, I have felt like my given name is "Problem". God (and my husband) continue to whisper different names, ones that offer hope. But can that hope, can God, be trusted? I struggle.
I doubt a lot. I doubt that God can use me, that He does indeed have good plans for me. I doubt that He can bring about restoration and reconciliation. Much like Jacob when he learned that Esau was approaching with 400 men, I cannot see peace ahead. And to be very honest, I'm not sure if I want reconciliation or peace. Not that I want war, I would just like to stay very far from conflict. Unfortunately for me, the situation appears to be moving towards reconciliation. I don't think I have the strength to walk through any more confrontations.
It would be very easy to walk away, but not only have we committed to walking through this honourably, we also feel called to attend church in our neighbourhood. The church we were attending is the closest church to our house and right next door to the low-income housing complex we are building relationships in. There are definite advantages to going back to our former church. But to do this will require a lot of faith and trust. I don't think I have much of that left. Unlike Jacob, I don't have the ways and means to come up with alternative plans. Instead I'm being forced to trust. So now to wait and see that God really is good, that His plans for me, just like His plans for Jacob, are good.
I could keep writing because chapter 10 resonated with me. I think I could have highlighted every other sentence. Perhaps I'll write again later.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Stripped Away
This was supposed to be written for the Secret Name read-along, but I was busy. Or grumpy. Or something...I can't remember. I thought about writing though. Really. Maybe my arm was hurting. I can't remember anymore. What I'm about to write comes more from Marla's questions than it does from my reflections on the book.
I may have mentioned before that the church I grew up in was very legalistic. There were some very good things that I took away from there, but understanding grace was not one of them. Instead, even though I knew my Scripture, I came to believe that having a relationship with God required a lot of work on my part. My church did not believe that Christians could be depressed. Instead it was taught that if a "believer" was struggling with depression, he or she was not truly walking with God. Instead of medication or counselling, the depressed individual needed to pray more, read their Bible more and attend more church services. Our church had six services throughout the week. The same philosophy held true for any areas of weakness. If a believer struggled, it was because he or she wasn't trying hard enough. Hearing this was hard for me as I struggled with addiction and depression from a very young age.
To be honest about my struggles would have meant rejection. I wouldn't have necessarily been able to communicate about them effectively as it took me many years to learn the words for what I was experiencing. But I knew I didn't measure up, that my life needed work. I both loved and feared my pastors, so when they said to try harder, I did. I began to pray through a huge list every night before I went to bed and read through my Bible multiple times. I attended as many services as I could during the week, but still I struggled. During my teen years, I tried to be as Godly as I possibly could and yet always always always fell short. I hated myself, believing that I was just too bad for God. The messages I received from the authority figures in my life didn't help matters. Eventually I walked away from God because I was just too bad for salvation.
I didn't want to walk away. My crisis of faith wasn't one of belief for I had personally known who God was from a very early age. I knew God, knew that He was real. But I began to believe that there was something deeply flawed in me, that God had made a huge mistake when I was formed. It wasn't Him, it was me.
So I walked away and longed for God, but couldn't really come back. I'd try periodically, but something would happen. I finally gave my boyfriend an ultimatum that it was either me or drugs and alcohol. I couldn't live this far from God, it was destroying me. He chose drugs, alcohol and partying instead of me. But he still loved me and we couldn't bear to be apart so even though we weren't dating anymore and I was trying to follow God again we kept sleeping together. I hated myself even more because I just couldn't get it right. Couldn't stop sinning, couldn't follow God properly enough, just kept failing.
And then right before my 21st birthday, I got pregnant. I found out shortly after my birthday. I was terrified. My parents were horrified, my family angered. It was a horrible time. During that time, God allowed all I held dear to be stripped away. My relationship with my not-exactly boyfriend further disintegrated as he became aggressively abusive and hostile. When I was eight and a half months pregnant, he left me for someone else. I plunged into the depths of despair. Being at home was horrible. My parents were so hurt and angry with me, my sister claimed that I had ruined her life. After a violent encounter at home, I grabbed what little of my possessions I could carry and left. During that evening, I lost my home and my best friend from childhood( another long crazy story). Thankfully, the grandmother that I had been distant from took me in for the duration of my pregnancy. Without her intervention, I would have been homeless. Shortly after this, I lost my ability to walk. So there I was, without my boyfriend, my family, my best friend or my job. Everything had been stripped away.
I turned to the only place I could turn: to God. I began to pray constantly. I began to devour my Bible. One of the pastors at the church my parents had been attending came alongside me. When I tried to commit suicide, he dragged me on the 20s retreat. There two couples befriended me and came alongside me in a big way. They loved on me, offering no condemnation, but plenty of prayer and good examples. For the first time in a long time, I was able to just be me. I couldn't hide my sin anymore, it was right there for all to see. By my baby bump, I was marked a sinner. During that time of shame and brokenness revealed, God restored me. I read in Romans that it is by our faith that we are made right with God. That verse hit me. Could it really be that easy? All I have to do is believe? And that was it. It was that easy. After all that time of striving, freedom was there in the resting, the believing, in the simple act of following.
It took what felt like years, but God changed me. He freed me from the chains of addiction and although depression will probably stick with me for the rest of my life, I have experienced much healing and grace in that area as well. There have been more trials, more stripping away and rediscovering God, but my relationship and understanding of God will never be the same. For that I am so thankful that God allowed me to walk through the fire.
Shortly after Aris was born, I met a wonderful man. He fell in love with my little one first. He became a good friend, one that understood grace too. Just by being in my life, he challenged me to be better. I followed God even more passionately, determined not to fall back into my sin because I wanted to be better for him. After a brief courtship, we married just after Aris' first birthday. After six and a half years of marriage, I praise God for him even more than I did in the beginning. It hasn't been easy, but the hard times have served to further develop our character and love for each other.
I regret the pain that I caused myself and my family. Sin destroys. But somehow this crazy wonderful God of ours never ever lets go and He redeems all things. Absolute craziness! My eyes are burning with tears because I am so so so thankful for God's amazing grace and mercy that He has showered on me, a sinner.
I may have mentioned before that the church I grew up in was very legalistic. There were some very good things that I took away from there, but understanding grace was not one of them. Instead, even though I knew my Scripture, I came to believe that having a relationship with God required a lot of work on my part. My church did not believe that Christians could be depressed. Instead it was taught that if a "believer" was struggling with depression, he or she was not truly walking with God. Instead of medication or counselling, the depressed individual needed to pray more, read their Bible more and attend more church services. Our church had six services throughout the week. The same philosophy held true for any areas of weakness. If a believer struggled, it was because he or she wasn't trying hard enough. Hearing this was hard for me as I struggled with addiction and depression from a very young age.
To be honest about my struggles would have meant rejection. I wouldn't have necessarily been able to communicate about them effectively as it took me many years to learn the words for what I was experiencing. But I knew I didn't measure up, that my life needed work. I both loved and feared my pastors, so when they said to try harder, I did. I began to pray through a huge list every night before I went to bed and read through my Bible multiple times. I attended as many services as I could during the week, but still I struggled. During my teen years, I tried to be as Godly as I possibly could and yet always always always fell short. I hated myself, believing that I was just too bad for God. The messages I received from the authority figures in my life didn't help matters. Eventually I walked away from God because I was just too bad for salvation.
I didn't want to walk away. My crisis of faith wasn't one of belief for I had personally known who God was from a very early age. I knew God, knew that He was real. But I began to believe that there was something deeply flawed in me, that God had made a huge mistake when I was formed. It wasn't Him, it was me.
So I walked away and longed for God, but couldn't really come back. I'd try periodically, but something would happen. I finally gave my boyfriend an ultimatum that it was either me or drugs and alcohol. I couldn't live this far from God, it was destroying me. He chose drugs, alcohol and partying instead of me. But he still loved me and we couldn't bear to be apart so even though we weren't dating anymore and I was trying to follow God again we kept sleeping together. I hated myself even more because I just couldn't get it right. Couldn't stop sinning, couldn't follow God properly enough, just kept failing.
And then right before my 21st birthday, I got pregnant. I found out shortly after my birthday. I was terrified. My parents were horrified, my family angered. It was a horrible time. During that time, God allowed all I held dear to be stripped away. My relationship with my not-exactly boyfriend further disintegrated as he became aggressively abusive and hostile. When I was eight and a half months pregnant, he left me for someone else. I plunged into the depths of despair. Being at home was horrible. My parents were so hurt and angry with me, my sister claimed that I had ruined her life. After a violent encounter at home, I grabbed what little of my possessions I could carry and left. During that evening, I lost my home and my best friend from childhood( another long crazy story). Thankfully, the grandmother that I had been distant from took me in for the duration of my pregnancy. Without her intervention, I would have been homeless. Shortly after this, I lost my ability to walk. So there I was, without my boyfriend, my family, my best friend or my job. Everything had been stripped away.
I turned to the only place I could turn: to God. I began to pray constantly. I began to devour my Bible. One of the pastors at the church my parents had been attending came alongside me. When I tried to commit suicide, he dragged me on the 20s retreat. There two couples befriended me and came alongside me in a big way. They loved on me, offering no condemnation, but plenty of prayer and good examples. For the first time in a long time, I was able to just be me. I couldn't hide my sin anymore, it was right there for all to see. By my baby bump, I was marked a sinner. During that time of shame and brokenness revealed, God restored me. I read in Romans that it is by our faith that we are made right with God. That verse hit me. Could it really be that easy? All I have to do is believe? And that was it. It was that easy. After all that time of striving, freedom was there in the resting, the believing, in the simple act of following.
It took what felt like years, but God changed me. He freed me from the chains of addiction and although depression will probably stick with me for the rest of my life, I have experienced much healing and grace in that area as well. There have been more trials, more stripping away and rediscovering God, but my relationship and understanding of God will never be the same. For that I am so thankful that God allowed me to walk through the fire.
Shortly after Aris was born, I met a wonderful man. He fell in love with my little one first. He became a good friend, one that understood grace too. Just by being in my life, he challenged me to be better. I followed God even more passionately, determined not to fall back into my sin because I wanted to be better for him. After a brief courtship, we married just after Aris' first birthday. After six and a half years of marriage, I praise God for him even more than I did in the beginning. It hasn't been easy, but the hard times have served to further develop our character and love for each other.
I regret the pain that I caused myself and my family. Sin destroys. But somehow this crazy wonderful God of ours never ever lets go and He redeems all things. Absolute craziness! My eyes are burning with tears because I am so so so thankful for God's amazing grace and mercy that He has showered on me, a sinner.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Who Am I?
Who am I? This question has haunted and challenged me for many years, quite possibly as long as I can remember. There are many answers to this question, some positive, others not so much. Unfortunately, the one that comes to mind first is "Failure". I've been pondering this question and the concept of names(birth, given and secret) over the holidays when I started reading Kary Oberbrunner's book Your Secret Name. Marla chose this book for her winter readalong, which I have decided to participate in once again. This is actually the second week of her readalong, but my arm hurt too much to type last week as I broke my arm over the holidays. So here I am now, attempting to process the many ideas mentioned in YSN. We're reading chapters 3 and 4 this week.
So who am I? I have a hard time answering that question. I could respond with the things that I am passionate about, but then I feel like a fake. I'm not yet a doula as I'm still working on my certification. Although I'm attending births and seeing clients, I'm not officially a doula. I'm scared to claim a name that isn't rightfully mine. Technically we're missionaries, but I haven't been through training because I married in and we live in my hometown. As a stay-at-home mom, I don't have an official missionary-type task, I just talk to people. Mommy is a title that I can definitely claim, but I doubt that my efforts are good enough. There are an awful lot of mothers that do a much better job than me.
As a child, I absorbed the given name of "Not good enough". So I tried very hard, quickly earning the family title of "Responsible One". But I soon learned that "Responsible Child" is short for "One who is in Trouble Whenever Anything Goes Wrong". I really didn't like that name. Names like "Pretty", "Talented", "Funny" and "Smart" were names I aspired to, but my sister scooped up those titles and didn't let go. I tried desperately to be noticed, to be special, but that didn't work either. I tried for attention-getting names like "Anorexic", but my parents didn't notice when I stopped eating for 6 weeks. Eventually I lost heart, believing that "Not good enough" was my God-given name too. That's when I started trying on "Bad Girl". But "Bad Girl" didn't fit right either, although the process of trying it on brought significant and long-term consequences. Although that time is a significant piece of my story, I feel uncomfortable using the words "Bad Girl" because I was more of a wannabe. It was like wearing clothing outside of my comfort zone, that even though I looked good, I felt like everyone who looked at me could tell I was a fake or trying too hard. Being fake sucks.
This concept of a secret name, a new name, a God-given name excites me. I long to be special. The idea of having a special identity, one that is set apart, created for me before I was formed in the womb seems too good to be true. I want to have a good name, one that glorifies God. But almost more that than, I want it to be true. Not something fake or assumed, not something that I have to strive for, but something that fits just right like my favourite pair of jeans and SuperFriends t-shirt. I am both cautiously optimistic and desperately hoping to find my secret name and shed the old names that cling like sand to wet feet.
So who am I? I have a hard time answering that question. I could respond with the things that I am passionate about, but then I feel like a fake. I'm not yet a doula as I'm still working on my certification. Although I'm attending births and seeing clients, I'm not officially a doula. I'm scared to claim a name that isn't rightfully mine. Technically we're missionaries, but I haven't been through training because I married in and we live in my hometown. As a stay-at-home mom, I don't have an official missionary-type task, I just talk to people. Mommy is a title that I can definitely claim, but I doubt that my efforts are good enough. There are an awful lot of mothers that do a much better job than me.
As a child, I absorbed the given name of "Not good enough". So I tried very hard, quickly earning the family title of "Responsible One". But I soon learned that "Responsible Child" is short for "One who is in Trouble Whenever Anything Goes Wrong". I really didn't like that name. Names like "Pretty", "Talented", "Funny" and "Smart" were names I aspired to, but my sister scooped up those titles and didn't let go. I tried desperately to be noticed, to be special, but that didn't work either. I tried for attention-getting names like "Anorexic", but my parents didn't notice when I stopped eating for 6 weeks. Eventually I lost heart, believing that "Not good enough" was my God-given name too. That's when I started trying on "Bad Girl". But "Bad Girl" didn't fit right either, although the process of trying it on brought significant and long-term consequences. Although that time is a significant piece of my story, I feel uncomfortable using the words "Bad Girl" because I was more of a wannabe. It was like wearing clothing outside of my comfort zone, that even though I looked good, I felt like everyone who looked at me could tell I was a fake or trying too hard. Being fake sucks.
This concept of a secret name, a new name, a God-given name excites me. I long to be special. The idea of having a special identity, one that is set apart, created for me before I was formed in the womb seems too good to be true. I want to have a good name, one that glorifies God. But almost more that than, I want it to be true. Not something fake or assumed, not something that I have to strive for, but something that fits just right like my favourite pair of jeans and SuperFriends t-shirt. I am both cautiously optimistic and desperately hoping to find my secret name and shed the old names that cling like sand to wet feet.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Radical Change?
Today I'm writing my post for the final chapter of Radical. Wow...I can't believe we're done already.
So I'm going to start by being very very honest. When I read this chapter, I don't feel very radical. In fact, I really don't want to be very radical. Some of the changes suggested just don't seem practical for me. However, I have made some of the changes suggested. I've started reading my Bible with intention of reading it all in one year. Rather than follow a plan, I've decided to read my Bible during bathroom breaks. So far I've made it to Numbers. Although I've done this several times before, it's been awhile since I've read through the Old Testament. There's a lot to ponder there.
Praying for the world intrigues me. After finishing up Radical, I signed up to get the Unreached Peoples emails. Each day, I receive an email introducing me to a different unreached people group and suggesting ways to pray for them. Today while reading Radical, I was reminded to pray that God would raise up workers to share the Gospel with the people groups that I'm praying for. I'm also praying for my community around me. As I see different people groups, I try to pray both that the individual will come to know Christ and that the people group will as well. Today I started praying for the Russian-Israeli population in Canada as members of that group are increasingly coming to comprise my social circle.
Sacrificing my money for a specific purpose is something that I want to do, but not yet. See, my best friend who lives far away just had a baby. So I'm saving my very limited personal spending money up for a plane ticket to visit her. My husband and I do give, but we have very little extra income. This is where I run into trouble with the Radical experiment, because although I do want to sacrifice for a specific purpose, I also really want to go visit my dear friend and her sweet baby. Is it wrong to wait to begin this step?
Up next is another troublesome challenge. Platt encourages us to spend our time in another context. As I mentioned previously, I would love to go overseas. But so far God has closed those doors. For this step, I guess I will have to rest knowing that if God allows me to serve in another context, I will gladly go. Is that enough?
I'm finding this really frustrating because I would love to say wholeheartedly that I'm in. But for a variety of reasons, I can't. Or won't. I'm not entirely sure if I'm just being too selfish or if I have good reasons for not fully committing to the experiment. In the fifth and final step, we are challenged to become a member of a multiplying faith community. Last year, this wouldn't have been a problem. After a very challenging year, my husband and I made the difficult decision to leave our church. It had ceased to be a safe and healthy place for our family. We had been hoping to return, but at this point I'm giving up on that hope. With that in mind, becoming a member of a multiplying faith community seems almost impossible. We are attending a new church, but unlike the previous church, it isn't in our neighbourhood which is important to us. Many of those we wish to reach don't have vehicles and public transportation doesn't run often on Sunday mornings. Our goal is to attend a church that those we minister to can easily attend. With this goal in mind, we most likely won't be staying longterm at the church we are currently attending, even though we really like it. We are still involved in a small group at our previous church though.
This is hard. It's hard to write this post. I want to be Radical, I really really do. I want to live differently, to be sold-out for Christ, to impact my community and my world for Christ. But I often wonder if this is possible, if God can possibly use me to make an impact. I may not be able to do all of the components of the Radical experiment right now, but I'm going to make accomplishing all of them my goal, even if they don't happen concurrently. It will be interesting to see what this experiment accomplishes. I'm frustrated that I can't do all of these things right now, but reading Radical has definitely started a change in me.
So I'm going to start by being very very honest. When I read this chapter, I don't feel very radical. In fact, I really don't want to be very radical. Some of the changes suggested just don't seem practical for me. However, I have made some of the changes suggested. I've started reading my Bible with intention of reading it all in one year. Rather than follow a plan, I've decided to read my Bible during bathroom breaks. So far I've made it to Numbers. Although I've done this several times before, it's been awhile since I've read through the Old Testament. There's a lot to ponder there.
Praying for the world intrigues me. After finishing up Radical, I signed up to get the Unreached Peoples emails. Each day, I receive an email introducing me to a different unreached people group and suggesting ways to pray for them. Today while reading Radical, I was reminded to pray that God would raise up workers to share the Gospel with the people groups that I'm praying for. I'm also praying for my community around me. As I see different people groups, I try to pray both that the individual will come to know Christ and that the people group will as well. Today I started praying for the Russian-Israeli population in Canada as members of that group are increasingly coming to comprise my social circle.
Sacrificing my money for a specific purpose is something that I want to do, but not yet. See, my best friend who lives far away just had a baby. So I'm saving my very limited personal spending money up for a plane ticket to visit her. My husband and I do give, but we have very little extra income. This is where I run into trouble with the Radical experiment, because although I do want to sacrifice for a specific purpose, I also really want to go visit my dear friend and her sweet baby. Is it wrong to wait to begin this step?
Up next is another troublesome challenge. Platt encourages us to spend our time in another context. As I mentioned previously, I would love to go overseas. But so far God has closed those doors. For this step, I guess I will have to rest knowing that if God allows me to serve in another context, I will gladly go. Is that enough?
I'm finding this really frustrating because I would love to say wholeheartedly that I'm in. But for a variety of reasons, I can't. Or won't. I'm not entirely sure if I'm just being too selfish or if I have good reasons for not fully committing to the experiment. In the fifth and final step, we are challenged to become a member of a multiplying faith community. Last year, this wouldn't have been a problem. After a very challenging year, my husband and I made the difficult decision to leave our church. It had ceased to be a safe and healthy place for our family. We had been hoping to return, but at this point I'm giving up on that hope. With that in mind, becoming a member of a multiplying faith community seems almost impossible. We are attending a new church, but unlike the previous church, it isn't in our neighbourhood which is important to us. Many of those we wish to reach don't have vehicles and public transportation doesn't run often on Sunday mornings. Our goal is to attend a church that those we minister to can easily attend. With this goal in mind, we most likely won't be staying longterm at the church we are currently attending, even though we really like it. We are still involved in a small group at our previous church though.
This is hard. It's hard to write this post. I want to be Radical, I really really do. I want to live differently, to be sold-out for Christ, to impact my community and my world for Christ. But I often wonder if this is possible, if God can possibly use me to make an impact. I may not be able to do all of the components of the Radical experiment right now, but I'm going to make accomplishing all of them my goal, even if they don't happen concurrently. It will be interesting to see what this experiment accomplishes. I'm frustrated that I can't do all of these things right now, but reading Radical has definitely started a change in me.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Dying to Self
Once again, I'm joining with Marla for chapter 8 of the Radical Read-along. Chapter 8 is entitled "Living When Dying is Gain: The risk and reward of the radical life." This may be a very brief post as my hand is very sore and numb tonight.
Living when dying is gain. Huh. Those are some very big words, but not ones I like, although this is a concept that I can currently grasp well. Lately, death looks much better than life. But this sentiment comes more from a desire to escape current struggles than it does from meditation on being finally in God's presence, in our forever home. Far too often, this life, with its worldly comforts, is where I want to stay.
Dr. Platt's main focus was on those who left everything, sacrificed their comforts, safety and in some cases their lives for the greater glory of God. I certainly don't want to make light of their sacrifices, but sometimes leaving it all and experiencing physical death seems, I don't know, easier than walking through other forms of dying for Christ. Dying to self can be much harder when it means remaining in the culture, in the same social circles, but choosing a life that leads to ostracism. After facing rejection and ridicule by friends, family and the Church, being eaten by cannibals sounds appealing. At least it would be over much quicker.
Much to my dismay, last autumn, I discovered what obedience to God could cost me. I obeyed and lost much. I lost my reputation, my ministry, my friends, my health and now my church. Sometimes I wonder if I've lost my sanity too. During this time, obedience seems far too costly. But what if I look at this through the filter of Jim Elliot's quote that he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose? Then my journey takes on a different hue. Losing all of these things, especially my reputation and friends has been immensely difficult. But I would much rather have lost all this then stand before the Father and be revealed disobedient.
Recently I have been angry with God. I've been angry over the cost of discipleship and obedience. When I'm looking the right way, I see what God is doing through this both in my life and in the lives of others. Without the events of last fall, I would not have started writing my blogs. Both the outlet and the community I've found here have been blessings. Without the loss of my friendships and church community, I wouldn't have started building deep friendships within my neighbourhood and school community. These have both been a blessing and my mission ground. As of yet, no one has come to Christ but we have planted seeds which we continue to water and search for more fertile ground in which to sow more seeds. My marriage has grown significantly during this time of trial, as have several of my remaining friendships. I have a lot more understanding of what it means to suffer.
But there are other times when I don't see the rainbow, just the storm. When I view my current struggles through the lenses of our cultural Christianity, I wonder why God is rejecting me. In that respect, this chapter has been a much needed wake-up call. Contrary to the North American version of Christianity, this isn't for wimps. We aren't called to be blessed and coddled, to be rewarded materially whenever we obey. We are called to a war, where people die and are injured as they seek to liberate captives and destroy strongholds. I don't want to be a solider that quits, that whines over the realities of war and ends up either destroyed, taken captive or fighting for the other side. Instead I'd much rather live a life of crazy obedience to my Commanding Officer, one that may earn me reprimands but will ultimately bring glory to Him. Will my name ever end up on a list of heroes of the faith? I doubt it. But I hope to live a life of such obedience that when I finally do die, I can stand before the Throne knowing that I did not hold back, I did not waver, but that I lived a life that brought Him glory.
I guess this means I have to quit whining. :)
Living when dying is gain. Huh. Those are some very big words, but not ones I like, although this is a concept that I can currently grasp well. Lately, death looks much better than life. But this sentiment comes more from a desire to escape current struggles than it does from meditation on being finally in God's presence, in our forever home. Far too often, this life, with its worldly comforts, is where I want to stay.
Dr. Platt's main focus was on those who left everything, sacrificed their comforts, safety and in some cases their lives for the greater glory of God. I certainly don't want to make light of their sacrifices, but sometimes leaving it all and experiencing physical death seems, I don't know, easier than walking through other forms of dying for Christ. Dying to self can be much harder when it means remaining in the culture, in the same social circles, but choosing a life that leads to ostracism. After facing rejection and ridicule by friends, family and the Church, being eaten by cannibals sounds appealing. At least it would be over much quicker.
Much to my dismay, last autumn, I discovered what obedience to God could cost me. I obeyed and lost much. I lost my reputation, my ministry, my friends, my health and now my church. Sometimes I wonder if I've lost my sanity too. During this time, obedience seems far too costly. But what if I look at this through the filter of Jim Elliot's quote that he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose? Then my journey takes on a different hue. Losing all of these things, especially my reputation and friends has been immensely difficult. But I would much rather have lost all this then stand before the Father and be revealed disobedient.
Recently I have been angry with God. I've been angry over the cost of discipleship and obedience. When I'm looking the right way, I see what God is doing through this both in my life and in the lives of others. Without the events of last fall, I would not have started writing my blogs. Both the outlet and the community I've found here have been blessings. Without the loss of my friendships and church community, I wouldn't have started building deep friendships within my neighbourhood and school community. These have both been a blessing and my mission ground. As of yet, no one has come to Christ but we have planted seeds which we continue to water and search for more fertile ground in which to sow more seeds. My marriage has grown significantly during this time of trial, as have several of my remaining friendships. I have a lot more understanding of what it means to suffer.
But there are other times when I don't see the rainbow, just the storm. When I view my current struggles through the lenses of our cultural Christianity, I wonder why God is rejecting me. In that respect, this chapter has been a much needed wake-up call. Contrary to the North American version of Christianity, this isn't for wimps. We aren't called to be blessed and coddled, to be rewarded materially whenever we obey. We are called to a war, where people die and are injured as they seek to liberate captives and destroy strongholds. I don't want to be a solider that quits, that whines over the realities of war and ends up either destroyed, taken captive or fighting for the other side. Instead I'd much rather live a life of crazy obedience to my Commanding Officer, one that may earn me reprimands but will ultimately bring glory to Him. Will my name ever end up on a list of heroes of the faith? I doubt it. But I hope to live a life of such obedience that when I finally do die, I can stand before the Throne knowing that I did not hold back, I did not waver, but that I lived a life that brought Him glory.
I guess this means I have to quit whining. :)
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