Wisdom, My Help
Tales are told of rites of passage, liminal experiences where males are tested and tried and transformed. Young males, alone in the wilderness, armed with nothing but the barest of tools and all their earthly knowledge, carry the hopes of their people who trust they leave as boys and will return as men. However, relying on one’s memory and strength and skill is only part of the process. A boy-man must learn to trust himself and the Great Mystery. He must learn to listen to the silence and let the songs of his invisible ancestors be his guide. The harrowing experience is both a physical and spiritual, soul-transforming journey, ushering in a new way of seeing and being in the world. The wilderness is both a welcome and necessary part of life even if it is hard. For those who survive the wilderness, it becomes for them a symbol of celebration and source of pride.
For many years, I was involved in an expression of faith that considered the wilderness a god-forsaken place best avoided. But, if avoidance was not an option and you found yourself alone in the place where evil lurks and shadows creep, the best way out was fast! Figure out what got you there in the first place, fix it, and voila! released from the wild. Additionally, jubilation of one’s escape was best accompanied by journaling in order to record the experience, leaving a physical reminder not to make the same mistake again.
As such, whenever I found myself in a “spiritual desert” or a trying time, I felt surely that I had disappointed God and was being punished or ignored for some reason. What had I done wrong to land me in this desolate place? What sins needed purging so that I might be back in the land of promise, back in God’s good graces again? It was a cycle I repeated over and over in my seeking to be unified with the Divine. My journal can attest to this wandering again and again, trying to figure out the secret to living a “blessed life.”
In her book Help, Thanks, Wow, Ann Lamott wrote, “‘Figure it out’ is not a good slogan.” And, I don’t know how it happened, but some years ago, I slowly stopped seeking certainty and started chasing mystery. I stopped trying to figure it all out. The wilderness ceased being a state of discipline and Divine absence and, instead, became a place where the Divine impregnates every shadow, every crevasse, every arid plain with presence. I was unmoored and simultaneously held. Like the boy-man alone, discerning in his environment both seen and unseen elements that would shape his future, the eyes of my soul began to see God where previously I thought God absent. I began to sense Divinity in both the silence and the sounds, and I could, perhaps for the first time, attest to words of the psalmist who said that there is no place God is not:
“If I ascend into heaven, You are there; If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the morning, And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, Even there Your hand shall lead me, And your right hand shall hold me. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall fall on me,’ Even the night shall be light about me; Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You, But the night shines as the day; The darkness and the light are both alike to You.” (Psalm 139:7-12, NKJV)
I did not seek out a wilderness for my faith transformation. I did not have a community that led me blindfolded to an isolated location, waiting in prayerful expectation for my transformative return. Instead, I looked around me one day to find myself in an unknown place, and when I sought the reassurance and help of those around me, they were silent, afraid, and even hostile. Alone and untethered, I quieted myself and attuned my senses to the wilderness around me. My vision expanded and my senses awakened. I located the God within and the God without.
It was then I discovered that Wisdom had always been guiding me on my journey, and I understood I was already home.
Monday Motivation
You’ve finally reached the place where you know yourself.
You know what you care about. You know what gives you meaning and purpose. You know the sound of your own voice.
It’s time to show up as yourself, for yourself.
Don’t minimize; don’t apologize; don’t rationalize yourself out of places and spaces and conversations you’ve worked hard to be in.
Find where you belong.
That spot is waiting for you to come fill it; the world is made better when you show up in it!
(And if you’re not quite there yet, give yourself grace—your soul will quietly and gently lead the way.)
Open Up the Communion Table
Do not deny anyone communion.
Ever.
Communion is not a reward. It is not a privilege for the righteous. It is an invitation to step toward God’s table where everyone has enough and everyone a place.
Remember: Jesus fed Judas
~ Benjamin Perry
I have been in wonderful services where the ministers preached messages of hospitality, inclusion, and grace only to conclude with closed communion. And even though I might have had the credentials to partake, I chose to remain seated in an act of solidarity with those who were excluded, to whom the invitation was denied.
My silent protest might have gone unrecognized and unseen, but my conscience would not allow me to share in the “blessing” that was so obviously conditional.
I believe that Jesus taught and modeled an absolutely radical hospitality that welcomed even enemies to come, taste and see. His hospitality puts so many of our efforts to shame. To put boundaries on who is in and who is out, who is worthy and who is not, who gets the bread and wine and who goes hungry, is antithetical to all Christ did and all he was about. Of that I will not join in and will gladly abstain.
Communion is nothing if it’s not for everyone.
How We View The Divine Matters
If my overarching paradigm of The Divine is that of love, and that I have the opportunity to respond to The Divine and this world in kind, then my aim will be one of love.
If my overarching paradigm of The Divine is that of justice, and that I have the opportunity to respond to The Divine and this world in kind, then my aim will be one of judgement and (supposed) fairness.
If my overarching paradigm of The Divine is that of victory, and that I have the opportunity to respond to The Divine and this world in kind, then my aim will be one of winning.
If my overarching paradigm of The Divine is that of jealousy, and that I have the opportunity to respond to The Divine and this world in kind, then my aim will be one of fear and/or control.
Etc.
How we view The Divine shapes our hearts and minds and has real, lived-out consequences for our actions in the world.
Not all views are created equal.
Pre/Post Election 2024 Prayer
On the eve of the election, I was intentionally trying to be hopeful, but I had heard some poll numbers that showed my candidate of choice was not doing as well as hoped. In light of what had been a contentious campaign season and with dread in my heart of what the future might hold, regardless of who might win, I shared this prayer.
Two weeks out, it is still my prayer. It is also my daily reminder of how I want to show up in the world. The hardest work of my life has been and will continue to be loving people that I find it difficult to even like. I will keep at it, and perhaps love will be as natural to me as breathing.
Until then, may this prayer be an encouragement to you.
No matter how tightly we might hold to our convictions, may we hold even more tightly to love
So tightly that we open our hearts and hands to others in compassion, generosity, trust, and kindness as our first act of connection
May we not hold tight to a false idea of love that rejects others out of fear, greed, self-righteousness, or judgement
May we not delude ourselves that love is best earned or doled out in pieces, but is, instead, extravagant, inclusive, and liberal (abundant)
For perfect love casts out fear
May we all set ourselves to making this world better through care, compassion, and kindness even as we fight against those who side with exclusion, oppression, dominance, and control
May we work toward the kind of liberation that elevates and empowers all creation toward a more beautiful, unified future even if it calls for personal sacrifice
No matter who gets elected (sits in the seats of power), may we remember that we are all but only human, and though we might be prone to error, we have the capacity to create a sublime future when we call forth and recognize the good that lies within each of us
May we set ourselves to calling forth what is good and beautiful, and may what we create together be good
God help us all!
god Is Not a Man
God is not a physical, material being. Sow when we use physical, material, human-like characteristics to describe The Divine, we are anthropomorphizing. The Bible is chock full of anthropomorphic language, but that doesn’t mean it is factual. God is not a lion. God is not a hen. God is not a wall. God is not a man. god doesn’t have hands, fingers, eyelashes, pubic hair, breath (stinky, fresh, or otherwise).
As such, it is as theologically accurate to use gendered terms as it is non-gendered terms and any spectrum of the sort in between or beyond. It may not be historically or culturally consistent to use feminine or neuter pronouns and it may “offend” our WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) conditioning, but it is not wrong to do so.
Instead, using different words to describe The Divine may help to break the tight boundaries that are inherently contradictory to a great, expansive, beyond-linguistic Ultimate Mystery.
This binary unbinding might not only affect how faith practitioners come to approach The Divine, but it can have positive impacts toward acceptance of those who do not fit squarely and easily within binary gendering as well.
*A number of years ago, Gungor came out with a song titled “God Is Not a White Man” (watch the official video by clicking the link) that presses on humanity’s inclinations to stereotype God according to our biases and preferences, showing the absurdity of such ideas. It echoes my thoughts here; maybe give it a listen; enjoy.
“What Are You For?”
This blog post originally appeared as a contribution to the Nomad* podcast blog page on April 1, 2021. You can read it in its original form here. It was an honor to contribute to a space and its community that has been so instrumental in my own faith journey.
It was a beautiful fall day, and I was riding passenger seat in my new friend’s car. We had been spending the day getting to know each other and it seemed extra special, for making new friends as an adult doesn’t seem to happen that often, at least not in my life.
A couple of months previous, I was speaking at the women’s retreat she was attending and we were lunching at the same table. The conversation we struck up found us sharing ministry stories and exchanging phone numbers, for we realized we only lived a short 45 min. drive from one another and had determined that this first conversation would not be our last.
But on this day, as we were driving, still in the early stages of our friendship, she asked me a question that would ultimately help redirect my current course. Perhaps put a different way, this question would shape the next leg of my journey. I didn’t know it at the time, even as I felt the shift inside me, but it would be instrumental in starting the reconstruction of my personal deconstruction of faith.
She was a pastor’s wife and worship leader on her own journey, asking her own questions, and trying to maintain all the expectations and equilibrium that her roles conferred upon her with grace. On this day, we had gone deep, fast; bypassing all the regular get-to-know-you chit chat that usually accompanies budding relationships. Instead we had spent our hours talking about the nitty-gritty of ministry—the hurts, pains, and disappointments over the years; the internal changes we were experiencing and the questions we wanted to ask but felt we couldn’t, especially because we were in ministry; the struggles as women in the male dominated world of church leadership; and the cruelty of people that compounds pain when following God is hard enough on its own. Sure, we had moments of levity and had shared some gut busting laughter, but we were two women that needed someone else who could identify with life in ministry and with whom we could unload it all, and we found that in each other. That deep-dive solidified our friendship.
The question came not as an indictment or inquisition of judgment but as a sincere quest for understanding. It came from an interest in trying to better understand this stranger in her car. It came in response to her own processing, thinking maybe I could help her answer a bit of the question for herself. It came as a nudge from the Divine asking me to take stock.
I had spent a good portion of that day expressing my disdain for things about faith, church, and Christian leadership I could no longer stomach. I had talked about the conflation of nationalism and evangelicalism and how parts of it reminded me of Nazi Germany. I talked about the ease of attending seeker sensitive churches, but how it was so exhausting to keep it all going from the inside. I questioned the on-going decline of church membership in the global west and the majority of church leaders to double-down on what was obviously not working already. And on and on it had gone until, she asked me, “So, what are you for?”
You can be sure I was quick with a response even if it was pithy and lacked sincerity. I had learned well the verse, “be prepared, in season and out, to always give an answer for the hope that you have,” and from all my talking earlier, I was not about to fall silent on this question. However, this question was different. This question had hooks, and it was lodged inside me; it wouldn’t let me go. I had been in a major deconstruction period for a number of years, even though I wouldn’t know that was happening or have language to describe it for another year or so. I was seriously dissecting my faith and my on-going role in religious life. I questioned my theological training, the role of Scripture, the reality of God, the activity of prayer, the Christian narrative I inherited, heaven and hell, the historicity of Christ, and whatever else struck this Enneagram 5 brain of mine. I not only took it all apart, but I inspected every piece, turning each one over and over again, looking for flaws, seeking understanding, and coming up with alternatives and/or solutions to the things that didn’t fit. My desire for authenticity, honesty, and continuity between thought and expression is what made me a good minister, but it would’ve made me a good lawyer, too, because that’s what I had been doing. I had been holding cultural Christianity up to the light and asking it to account for itself—it wasn’t faring well.
And now, here I was, being asked to give account by a friend who was, just hours earlier, a near stranger. I had spent so much time expressing what I was against; now I was being charged to say what I was for. What was I for? Why did I still care? Why not just throw in the towel and walk away? What kept me believing? Why was I still preaching even in the midst of my doubt and uncertainty? What was I for?
That was years ago, now, and I’ve thought about that question many times since. It has become a sort of litmus for where I am in co-creating with God a world that looks more like heaven than hell. This is because there is a real danger in getting stuck in a cycle of negativity, a cycle that is focused on the failures of the system and what it isn’t rather than the possibilities of a better way forward and what could be. Having experienced my own deconstruction and in talking with others about their deconstruction journeys, while also seeing the cultural shift taking place at this unique time in history, I have no doubt that identifying and naming and speaking out about what a person is against is a normal part of the deconstruction process. But, I will not pretend that it concerns me, as someone who is for Christianity (as it can/could be), that many are stuck deconstructing and when they are finished, with nothing left to take apart, they will have no one to ask them, “What are you for?”
It is in focusing on what is redemptive and good and noble and kind and beautiful and honest and better that we turn the corner from deconstructing to reconstructing. It is, perhaps, when we make peace with the past, being able to find the treasures among the trash that we find ourselves closer to the promised land rather than the place that at one time we felt constrained. The wilderness of the process becomes a place of seeing more clearly what is worth hanging onto, even if the treasures are a bit battered and marred from the journey.
So today, here are some things I’m for, which give me hope and motivate me to keep moving forward. I’m for:
Jesus
Holding things and people and ideas loosely
Prayer, the silent, abiding kind
Embracing the many names and ways people refer to the Divine Mystery that I happen to most often refer to as God
A non-literal, historical, literary reading of Scripture
Midrash
Finding Church outside of the church
Grace
The with-ness of God
How to think, not necessarily what to think
Embracing the wisdom and practices of other faith traditions that bring us into contact with God and others
Asking better questions
Honoring all the emotions that come with being human
Seeing God in the dark and the light
Mystery
Doubt, uncertainty, and not knowing
By no means is this a comprehensive list, but these are things that shape my days in the present. I expect that this list will be written and rewritten many times over, and I’m here for it. Many of these things are a departure from my Christian upbringing and stand in contrast to my theological training, but I am thankful for those things that gave me a context from which to grow and change and evolve. And, I’m so very thankful for a friend that asked me a simple question, not knowing the profound impact it would have on me.
Wherever you’ve been… Wherever you are... Wherever you might find yourself in the future… What are you for?