I feel a little bad for ranting a bit about my church yesterday. Because, the truth is, I did attend out of obligation - I'd promised someone else that I would pick them up (I've been driving anywhere from 1-5 other women who don't have access to vehicles for several months now.) And, quite honestly, I sat there, feeling mostly dead inside from my own exhaustion, and missing my close friends, who were travelling or couldn't make it out last night.
The worship time washed over me, and I relaxed a little. I could feel my emotions settling into the simple realization of my exhaustion, rather than the tumult they had been.
I chatted with a new friend and an old friend, and enjoyed it.
I listened to other people share what their holidays had been like, and was both happy and sad as was appropriate to the stories.
I ate cookies - we have the best cookies ever at house church.
And I had the opportunity to have a conversation about my friend in crisis. With someone else who she'd dropped her bombshell's on last week. And it was here that God encouraged me. Because the person I talked to was understanding. She took the time to simply listen to my exhaustion - because of my own journey lately, and because of my friend in crisis. And I so appreciated those minutes as we sat there. The chance to get some things off my chest. To know that I made some wise decisions in talking with my friend last night.
Our house church was smaller (less than half) than normal last night. And I appreciated it. Because people who don't normally share were able to speak out. Because it felt intimate instead of an extension of the more impersonal large gathering Sunday nights. And yes, I still missed my friends greatly, but I'm not sorry I dragged myself there out of obligation. Because it was good. And I was encouraged.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Sense of Obligation
I'm headed out tonight to house church. But more out of a sense of obligation than anything else. I'm really struggling with my church right now. Quite honestly, I haven't met God there in any kind of really significant way in a very long time - if ever.
I've met God through people I met there, but never in the context of a church gathering. And somehow, I think church should be challenging - and should be a place where you meet God. Now, I think this is maybe just my issue. And yes, I still enjoy the worship, the atmosphere, I'm just wrestling with some issues right now, and attending more out of obligation - because I think that church is important to the life of the believer than because I really want to be there, or because I receive from God when I attend.
And, the people who I consistently meet God with - well, a couple of them are out of town right now, and the others are considering or have already decided to move on from our church. And I'm struggling with that right now, because, well, I abhore change mostly, and I wonder if I'll see them as often, how our relationship will change as they make these decisions. And my temptation is to cling tightly to them, to be moody and childish about it, because these are the first true friends I've had in a very long time. And I find myself thinking about following them to wherever they end up. And then I criticize myself for failing to think independently - for being reliant and childish. I don't want to become a church-hopper. I know myself well enough to know that I would never find good relationships that way - it takes me time to build friendships. But, can time at a specific church be seasonal? Could it be that I need to reconsider my decision to stay? That I'm staying simply to avoid the discomfort of trying a new place - trying to figure out the rythyms and beliefs of a whole new set of people? And why am I thinking these things now - two years in, when I've finally stopped being an anonymous attender - when I know people. Someone who I would have not expected to know my name greeted me by name on Sunday night, and that gave me such a warm and accepted feeling that I've missed since leaving the church I grew up in - the one where everyone knew my name and (seemingly) everything about me.
And I wonder, as I sit there on Sunday and Tuesday nights, how many others are feeling the same dissatisfaction I'm feeling? But I'm still hesitating to speak up, to share my concerns and frustrations, because as a ten year old pastor's kid, I was one of the victims of a nasty, political church split. And I still carry wounds from that time. I hate dissension in a church. I think everyone should be equally happy or unhappy. Basically, I tend to think that everyone should think exactly like me. I have all these nice words, from my pastor's kid experience, about choosing to speak up and address concerns with the appropriate people, and I'm too much of a coward to do it. I keep telling myself I'm going to wait for a while. But I've been sitting on concerns for quite a while.
Uggh... Jesus, I would love for you to meet me tonight at house church. Yes, I'm going out of obligation. I'm serving as a taxi for someone who needs that fellowship and wouldn't be able to go if I didn't drive. I'm tired and resentful, and I confess that to you. I am yours. I once again stand with open hands before you. My life, my decisions, everything that is me - I give that to You.
I've met God through people I met there, but never in the context of a church gathering. And somehow, I think church should be challenging - and should be a place where you meet God. Now, I think this is maybe just my issue. And yes, I still enjoy the worship, the atmosphere, I'm just wrestling with some issues right now, and attending more out of obligation - because I think that church is important to the life of the believer than because I really want to be there, or because I receive from God when I attend.
And, the people who I consistently meet God with - well, a couple of them are out of town right now, and the others are considering or have already decided to move on from our church. And I'm struggling with that right now, because, well, I abhore change mostly, and I wonder if I'll see them as often, how our relationship will change as they make these decisions. And my temptation is to cling tightly to them, to be moody and childish about it, because these are the first true friends I've had in a very long time. And I find myself thinking about following them to wherever they end up. And then I criticize myself for failing to think independently - for being reliant and childish. I don't want to become a church-hopper. I know myself well enough to know that I would never find good relationships that way - it takes me time to build friendships. But, can time at a specific church be seasonal? Could it be that I need to reconsider my decision to stay? That I'm staying simply to avoid the discomfort of trying a new place - trying to figure out the rythyms and beliefs of a whole new set of people? And why am I thinking these things now - two years in, when I've finally stopped being an anonymous attender - when I know people. Someone who I would have not expected to know my name greeted me by name on Sunday night, and that gave me such a warm and accepted feeling that I've missed since leaving the church I grew up in - the one where everyone knew my name and (seemingly) everything about me.
And I wonder, as I sit there on Sunday and Tuesday nights, how many others are feeling the same dissatisfaction I'm feeling? But I'm still hesitating to speak up, to share my concerns and frustrations, because as a ten year old pastor's kid, I was one of the victims of a nasty, political church split. And I still carry wounds from that time. I hate dissension in a church. I think everyone should be equally happy or unhappy. Basically, I tend to think that everyone should think exactly like me. I have all these nice words, from my pastor's kid experience, about choosing to speak up and address concerns with the appropriate people, and I'm too much of a coward to do it. I keep telling myself I'm going to wait for a while. But I've been sitting on concerns for quite a while.
Uggh... Jesus, I would love for you to meet me tonight at house church. Yes, I'm going out of obligation. I'm serving as a taxi for someone who needs that fellowship and wouldn't be able to go if I didn't drive. I'm tired and resentful, and I confess that to you. I am yours. I once again stand with open hands before you. My life, my decisions, everything that is me - I give that to You.
Narnia Rumors
The following appeared on the Relevant Magazine website today:
With The Lion, the Witch and Wardrobe already earning more than half a billion dollars internationally, Walt Disney is moving forward on the next chapter in The Chronicles of Narnia. According to Variety rumors, the script for Prince Caspian is currently in the works, and the finished film may be ready for release in late 2007 .
That's kind of exciting, I guess. A lot of people I know have been hoping that they'll go ahead and make the rest of the Narnia series into movies.
With The Lion, the Witch and Wardrobe already earning more than half a billion dollars internationally, Walt Disney is moving forward on the next chapter in The Chronicles of Narnia. According to Variety rumors, the script for Prince Caspian is currently in the works, and the finished film may be ready for release in late 2007 .
That's kind of exciting, I guess. A lot of people I know have been hoping that they'll go ahead and make the rest of the Narnia series into movies.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Timely Words
I got my daily email from the Henri Nouwen society today. As usual, it had a snippet of Nouwen's writings. I received this one sometime shortly after I posted this morning, and was struck by how closely it applied to what I had written. So, here it is, for all of you to enjoy too.
Enough Light for the Next Step
Often we want to be able to see into the future. We say, "How will next year be for me? Where will I be five or ten years from now?" There are no answers to these questions. Mostly we have just enough light to see the next step: what we have to do in the coming hour or the following day. The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let's rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away.
Enough Light for the Next Step
Often we want to be able to see into the future. We say, "How will next year be for me? Where will I be five or ten years from now?" There are no answers to these questions. Mostly we have just enough light to see the next step: what we have to do in the coming hour or the following day. The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let's rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away.
Tiny Moments and Hallelujahs
I'm stuck on a theme of "tiny" at the moment. The tiny things I'm grateful for took up my last post. Today I'm thinking about doing life in "tiny moments."
I was sitting at church last night, and a friend popped over to chat with me. Around us, people were praying, but we were just catching up. What had been going on in our lives? What was God doing? Why was it a good/bad day? I like low key conversations like that. And Nolan asks good questions. Plus, he's a very intense listener, and that makes him a good conversational partner when you don't just want to make small talk.
So I was chatting with him, and sharing a little bit of my frustrations of the last week. How I've felt isolated in the middle of handling fairly major crises. How I'm tired because of the lack of sleep I've had the last while thanks to odd dreams and restless tossing and turning (usually induced by odd dreams).
And then I had one of those moments I usually only have when I'm writing. An "epiphany" type moment. Where I say something (or write it) and am then struck by the truth of it for that moment in my life. I heard myself say, "I'm breaking this into little moments. I can be on call 24/7 for today. And then tomorrow, I'll get up and I'll be able to do it again for that day." I talked about the fact that I tend to be a somewhat organized, control freak. I like to make my plans a week or two or more in advance. But right now, I could make plans for Thursday, and if a crisis came up, my plans would change. I have no choice but to exist primarily in the present moment.
The thing is, I'm pretty sure that God is calling me to some kind of formal ministry as a career. Not that I'm surprised, because we've been battling over that issue for years. But here's the deal, if I start thinking about the fact that the life I'm living in this moment could be a long term pattern for my life, I get overwhelmed. Fast. But, if I approach this in the tiny moment way that hit me last night, if I say "I can be on call for the next 24 hours," or "I can drop everything to care for you today," and then tomorrow, I get up and say the same thing, it's not quite so frightening. It's breaking a huge thing into tiny, manageable chunks, and I can do that. Yes, it requires me to surrender, to set aside my need to control my schedule, but I can do that for a day at a time. I'm still making longer-term plans, but I'm more willing to see them change if necessary.
It's been crazy, this season. Learning to focus on someone else. To let their needs come first. I have been learning over the past six or eight months what a selfish, inwardly focused person that I've become. The longer I was depressed, the more focused on myself and my own problems I became. And now, my time is consumed many days with someone else. Because she needs me right now. My thoughts and prayers are more often about her, and less often about railing at God for my depression, my hurts. And it has required tiny moments, because they are all that is certain.
And one last thing. I am continuing to learn "hallelujah". I am learning what it means to pray "glory to God" in the midst of some of the messiest situations I have ever encountered. The first time I heard God say to me "pray hallelujah" I just about fell over, because it seemed to be the least reasonable thing to pray for that situation. I actually asked a friend if I could possibly be hearing God correctly - only a single word, and it was "hallelujah"? But God kept saying it, and I am trying to be obedient. Last night at church, the chorus or bridge or something (can you tell I'm not a musician?) to one of the songs was simply the word "hallelujah". And my heart leapt. And I sat there and soaked. Because it was so true. "Glory to God."
Glory to God in the mess that is the life of my friend right now. Glory to God in the wounds that I am facing in these days. Glory to God in the changes I see in my life. Glory to God in the lives of the others I am lifting before Him. Glory to God in my frustrations with my family. Glory to God in the lives of my coworkers and friends. Glory to God in my writing. Glory to God in the decisions I need to make about my future. Glory to God in illness and in health. Glory to God in the tiny moments and in the long term plans. Hallelujah.
I was sitting at church last night, and a friend popped over to chat with me. Around us, people were praying, but we were just catching up. What had been going on in our lives? What was God doing? Why was it a good/bad day? I like low key conversations like that. And Nolan asks good questions. Plus, he's a very intense listener, and that makes him a good conversational partner when you don't just want to make small talk.
So I was chatting with him, and sharing a little bit of my frustrations of the last week. How I've felt isolated in the middle of handling fairly major crises. How I'm tired because of the lack of sleep I've had the last while thanks to odd dreams and restless tossing and turning (usually induced by odd dreams).
And then I had one of those moments I usually only have when I'm writing. An "epiphany" type moment. Where I say something (or write it) and am then struck by the truth of it for that moment in my life. I heard myself say, "I'm breaking this into little moments. I can be on call 24/7 for today. And then tomorrow, I'll get up and I'll be able to do it again for that day." I talked about the fact that I tend to be a somewhat organized, control freak. I like to make my plans a week or two or more in advance. But right now, I could make plans for Thursday, and if a crisis came up, my plans would change. I have no choice but to exist primarily in the present moment.
The thing is, I'm pretty sure that God is calling me to some kind of formal ministry as a career. Not that I'm surprised, because we've been battling over that issue for years. But here's the deal, if I start thinking about the fact that the life I'm living in this moment could be a long term pattern for my life, I get overwhelmed. Fast. But, if I approach this in the tiny moment way that hit me last night, if I say "I can be on call for the next 24 hours," or "I can drop everything to care for you today," and then tomorrow, I get up and say the same thing, it's not quite so frightening. It's breaking a huge thing into tiny, manageable chunks, and I can do that. Yes, it requires me to surrender, to set aside my need to control my schedule, but I can do that for a day at a time. I'm still making longer-term plans, but I'm more willing to see them change if necessary.
It's been crazy, this season. Learning to focus on someone else. To let their needs come first. I have been learning over the past six or eight months what a selfish, inwardly focused person that I've become. The longer I was depressed, the more focused on myself and my own problems I became. And now, my time is consumed many days with someone else. Because she needs me right now. My thoughts and prayers are more often about her, and less often about railing at God for my depression, my hurts. And it has required tiny moments, because they are all that is certain.
And one last thing. I am continuing to learn "hallelujah". I am learning what it means to pray "glory to God" in the midst of some of the messiest situations I have ever encountered. The first time I heard God say to me "pray hallelujah" I just about fell over, because it seemed to be the least reasonable thing to pray for that situation. I actually asked a friend if I could possibly be hearing God correctly - only a single word, and it was "hallelujah"? But God kept saying it, and I am trying to be obedient. Last night at church, the chorus or bridge or something (can you tell I'm not a musician?) to one of the songs was simply the word "hallelujah". And my heart leapt. And I sat there and soaked. Because it was so true. "Glory to God."
Glory to God in the mess that is the life of my friend right now. Glory to God in the wounds that I am facing in these days. Glory to God in the changes I see in my life. Glory to God in the lives of the others I am lifting before Him. Glory to God in my frustrations with my family. Glory to God in the lives of my coworkers and friends. Glory to God in my writing. Glory to God in the decisions I need to make about my future. Glory to God in illness and in health. Glory to God in the tiny moments and in the long term plans. Hallelujah.
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