Post Script

Okay... just wrote a whole post, and then it didn't publish - it disappeared into the shadows somewhere. Most days I love technology, at this moment I'm not so sure!

I was reading this and this, and they made me add a postscript to my thoughts from my previous post.

I mostly wanted to say that I really don't think it is an absolutely necessary thing to attend church like a robot, whether you want to or not on any given Sunday. However, I do think that church can be a beautiful, important, and life-giving part of the week.

I've been wounded by the church a great deal over the years, and I continually find myself asking why I go back? What, you ask, is my answer to that question? It's quite simple really. I keep attending church because I meet God there.

Now, let me be clear. Church is not the be-all and end-all. I meet God in the words of a beautiful song or poem, in a stunning novel (I met Him just yesterday in an obscure passage of Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis), in the beauty of nature that surrounds me (both in the city and out), in the words of a friend in crisis, in the tears that slip down my face when no one's looking, in my friends and family, on the bus, in the bathtub or shower (God has this odd habit of speaking to me in the shower!), in so many random and beautiful places. But, there is something beautiful about knowing that, by scheduling time for him (church) if I come with open hands and a willing heart, I will meet him in that time.

Should church attendance be mandated? No. Do I think it is important? Yes.

However, my thoughts continue to be muddled on this issue. My decision about church is just that - my decision. This is one of those issues that I think must be decided individually, between a person, and God.

Controversial Question?

As I was standing and waiting for the bus to arrive tonight, so I could head home from school, I was humming worship songs, and letting my mind wander through a variety of thoughts about school, about life, about God, about church. I'd been reading powerful material all day - stuff about the Puritans, some modern spiritual autobiographies, and a book on worship, and all of these left me with much to ruminate on.

So, I was standing there, and the thought occurred to me - I wonder if the "postmodern", "emerging church" has tricked something out of the importance of church in it's quest for something new? Now, this is not the first time I've had this thought, and I've certainly taken it in any number of directions in the past, but tonight, I was thinking specifically about church attendance.

I know so many people, who, in the midst of being "emerging" Christians, have dropped the priority of a weekly time of gathering from "essential" to "an option among many ways to spend an evening." So many of the people I know have the same background I do - conservative evangelical christian. We are all being told that the "spirit of religion" is a bad thing - and the people telling us that are not wrong. Instead, we're supposed to build "community" - again, an excellent, biblical concept.

My question is this - what if, in our quest to avoid the "spirit of religion" we have forgotten the very thing that community is really about? No, I don't think church should be some sort of mandated weekly activity. I want it to be a vital community - a place of freedom and safety, a place to meet God. But, how can we build community if our members are sketchy in their commitment at best?

If the purpose and stated goal of the community we're seeking is to share life in a way that goes beyond the two hour worship service where you engage as an individual, and then go home, how can we build that if those whom we are seeking to share life with, are only available for that sharing on an irregular basis?

Maybe I ask because I have been so blessed by the small measures of community that I have experienced in the past couple of years. I'm a pastor's kid - I grew up in a church where sharing the questions and troubles of my heart and life were dangerous at best. But, two years ago, I met this group of people, and they invited me to come and share life with them - on Tuesday nights at house church, and on Sunday nights when several house churches come together to worship, be taught, and to share life on a more corporate scale.

I have been blessed by the people whose lives have intersected with mine in this community. It was four people from there that nagged me until I telephoned a counsellor last week. It is people from there that I call on a bad day, or on a good day. It is friends from their that I go to the pub with, and shopping with, and for coffee with. I do these things with people from other places, but when done with the members of my church community, they are full of a rich sweetness born of shared life and purpose. I have had challenges in this community - the people who rub me the wrong way, and the ones it is infinitely hard to share life with.

I guess I ask about attendance because I see its value in my own life. A week where I miss our corporate gathering, or our house church is a week devoid of some meaningful bonds of friendship and love. It is the people who have attended regularly - the ones who know me, and whom I have come to know that challenge my faith, that pray for me, that I love to laugh and hang out with. And I just wonder, why would anyone choose to miss such rich relationships in order to go to bed earlier or to not be "religious"? Maybe a little religion - or better yet, the discipline of a weekly gathering is a positive thing, and we need to rethink the language we use in describing church attendance?

little victories and stones of remembrance

I spent most of the weekend thrilled with myself for making that phone call on Friday morning. I was delighted with the encouragement, and pride in me expressed by the friends who had so faithfully held me accountable to make that step. Bascially, I spent the whole weekend concentrating on that moment of victory - one of the few in the last several months.

Somehow, I convinced myself that my battle with fear was over - that it would all be uphill from here. Until, that is, I got a return phone call. I missed the call, picked up the voicemail, and that all too familiar, pit of my stomach reaction returned. Right, I haven't defeated fear, I have simply taken back some ground in my life.

I have to laugh - I put off returning the phone call - for several hours this time, instead of several months, but the fear was there just the same. I am still afraid of these things in my life. I am still afraid of making the tiny steps towards healing.

I returned the phone call - it was a tiny bit easier this time. I left another message. Eventually, I'll talk to the person I'm trying to reach. But, in the meantime, I needed that reminder that while my breakthrough experience of last week was just that, there are still many battles to be fought. There is still much healing to be done.

With that said, I'm going to switch topics somewhat...
I have become a believer in erecting stones of remembrance at the places in my life where God meets me, where victory, however small, occurs. Maybe I do it simply for the reminder - those places of meeting God and experiencing victory have been few and far between the last couple of years, and I cling to them - to their reminders - in the moments when it seems God has become more distant.

Sometimes my stones of rembrance are merely mental markers, but oftentimes I try to tie something physical to that remembrance too - something I can hold, or read, or listen to, or look at in the moments that I need that reminder of God's intervention in my life. So, on Saturday morning, I went shopping with a friend to purchase a "stone of remembrance".

This time I settled on two CDs. Both are by David Crowder, and both are fantastic. There are two songs, in particular, on the Illuminate album that symbolize this moment to me - that symbolize the moment of victory - the step of obedience that I am seeking to burn into my memory.

Only You

Take my heart, I lay it down

At the feet of You who's crowned

Take my life, I'm letting go

I lift it up to You who's throned

And I will worship You, Lord

Only You, Lord

And I will bow down before You

Only You, Lord

Take my fret, take my fear

All I have I'm leaving here

Be all my hopes, be all my dreams

Be all my delights, be my everything

Deliver Me

Deliver me out of the sadness

Deliver me from all of the madness

Deliver me courage to guide me

Deliver me Your strength inside me

All of my lfie

I've been in hiding

Wishing there was someone just like You

Now that You're here

Now that I've found You

I know that You're the one to pull me through

Deliver me loving and caring

Deliver me giving and sharing

Deliver me this cross that I'm bearing

Oh, deliver me

Jesus, Jesus how I trust You

How I've proved You o'er and o'er

Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus

Deliver me

Come and pull me through

Come pull me through

Stream of Consciousness

Note: I've been reading too many spiritual autobiographies lately, and too many of a friend's stream of consciousness blog entries. I rarely write in that style, preferring a more structured form, but on Thursday night, September 22, 2005, I lay in my bed, picked up my journal, and this is what came, from my own consciousness, and from God... (I wrote the majority of this Thursday night, with the exception of the postscript, which I added today.)


About two weeks ago at house church, not the one we just had two days ago, but the previous one, I was talking with a friend, and asked him a question. It strikes me as funny, now, that I can't remember the question - I think it might have been about some dreams I'd been having, and a random theory I developed that my bedroom was causing my nightmares because a girlfriend had spent two nights on my floor, and had weird dreams both nights too.

Anyway, the question doesn't really matter, it was his response that stuck with me. He paused, and then prayed, asking God what he could say - odd, yes, but I expect odd from this friend - that's why I take him all my odd questions! He paused, looked at me, and said, "He wants to be Lord in your life." Such simple words, communicated gently, caringly. "I don't think He's Lord right now, is He?"

What do you say in response? I think I stumbled through a "probably not" type of answer - feeling truth that was only beginning to surface.

We had talked that night as a smaller group of our house church about some passages in Philippians, and I admitted to that small group that I've been choosing disobedience by ignoring a directive from God for the last several months. I remember thinking afterwards, when my friend asked me if "he was Lord" that it was a stupid question - I'd just finished telling them that I was choosing disobedience. How could He be Lord in my disobedience?

Accountability is a beautiful but painful thing. The members of that little cluster - the four of them - all on my case about this for the past two weeks.

All those words, percolating through my head. Thinking and having conversations about why this is such a difficult step of obediece - to call a counsellor and get some help. Working through stuff, trying to answer the question of why this step is so terrifyingly difficult fro me.

Two weeks of this, and I climbed on the bus tonight to head home after my evening class. I finished the only novel in my bad this morning. I couldn't bring myself to crack open a textbook and do assigned reading after being at school for nearly twelve hours today. Tetris on my cell phone only held my interest for five minutes (unusual since I love that stupid little game). I had a seat to myself - that doesn't usually happen. I opened my bag, rummaging for something to fill the 45 minute journey home. The Bible caught my eye - the little one I leave in my school bag, the one with the leather binding that protects the pages from being mashed during my daily commute.

Inspiration. I'll read... Philippians. Ignore the guilt that this is the first time I've opened Scripture in weeks. Just start reading. There should be enough time to read Philippians start to finish. It'll be good for me.

Reading. Reading. Stop. "being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (1:6) A good work? It hasn't felt like a "good" work for a very long time. I needed that reminder - that it's good. "...Carry it on to completion" - this will, one day be finished. I'm not neglected or forgotten. Thanks, God.

Okay, keep reading. Reading. Reading. Reading. Stop. "...continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose." (2:12b-13) It is God who works in me. Hmmm. I am not self-sufficient. But I've worked really hard to be self-sufficient. You can't expect God to intervene when you won't admit your need. But I admit my need - haven't you heard me pray? You say you need, but you don't let go. Oh, good point. Why is that?

Well, those father wounds you've been feeling lately - the ones you've been talking to me about? The ones you've been trying to ignore? This is one of them. Your dad always said think for yourself, learn to do it yourself - remember the lawn mowing incident, and the checking and adding oil to the car, and hanging pictures - the list goes on. You're trying so hard to be independent and self-sufficient that you forgot to rely on ME - the heavenly Father, the one you need to please. This is why it's so hard for you to make that phone call - You can't admit the failure - that you need help to pull your life together.

Jesus, thank you for revelations like these. Protect them in my heart. I'm sorry for leaving you out. I need You. I need Your help and Your healing. I'm going to obey You. I'm going to make that phone call. Soon. I love these moments. I hope for more of them to come. Your daughter, on her way home, Lisa.


p.s. I woke up on Friday morning (after sleeping solidly through the night for the first time in weeks) and tried to busy myself with other pursuits - reading, emails, but nothing worked. Everything I did felt like prolonging the inevitable. I had peace, and I had courage and strength that were not of me. I made the phone call!

"Quadruplets and Accomplices"

I will never be a "good" Christian commentator on the "big issues" - abortion, homosexuality, etc. I see too many gray areas, and I feel too much pain for the people who find themselves in situations where abortion seems to be the only option, or who find themselves mocked and rejected because of their sexual orientation. Yes, I happen to believe that Scripture teaches about the sanctity of life, and that sexual relations between anyone other than a man or woman are wrong.

But even that last sentence feels too absolute. I am a victim in some ways of a society that has introduced a lack of absolutes. I do believe that there are absolutes, I'm just not sure that I want to be the one responsible for stating them. For example, "do not murder" is seemingly an excellent absolute, until one begins to define murder. What about abortion? What about capital punishment? Can a person be anti-abortion and pro capital punishment? I know an awful lot of Christians who are. What about the case where continuing the pregnancy risks the life of the mother?

All of these questions confound me, but I found a very insightful article today. We've been talking on Sunday nights in our large gathering and on Tuesdays at house church about what it really means to see people. My argument is this - to really see people, we are suddenly introduced to a world of gray areas, especially if the people are in precarious or hurtful or crises situations. This article deals with some of the questions surrounding the idea of abortion and "selective reduction" and attempts to bring a different perspective, from someone in the midst of a crisis surrounding this issue. You can find it here. Then come back and tell me what you're thinking.