You Ask, I Answer, Take 4

That's right folks, it's time for another installment of You Ask, I Answer.  Today's question comes from Johanna again.  She asks:

Do you think it is important to be baptized in the Holy Spirit after you have given your life to Christ?

I'll be honest with you, and say that my answer is "I don't know."

My faith journey looks something like this:

• Raised in a fairly conservative evangelical culture, as a pastor's kid
• experienced a lot of good and a lot of bad that comes with Christianity as a result of being a pastor's kid
• introduced early to attack Christianity, at the age of 10, when the church dad was pastoring went through a brutal split, and he resigned and planted the church that he still pastors today
• struggled a lot with the feelings of pressure that came with being a pastor's kid
• transitioned into public school for jr. high after being homeschooled, and spent some pretty brutal years dealing with vicious girls in the youth group
• attended a Catholic high school, not sure at this point if I even believe in God, but compelled to defend my protestant beliefs in a myriad of intellectual lunchtime discussions, while really wanting nothing more than to escape faith and it's burdens
• got involved with Young Life in 12th grade - met a great friend in the woman who was my leader and felt seen and cared for for who I was and my own walk with God and not who my dad was and his role in the church for the first time in my life;  still totally wrestling with faith
• just before my 18th birthday, I was baptized.  It wasn't so much that I had answers, as it was that in my own logical evaluation, it would be more of a problem to drop everything I'd believed for 18 years, than it would be to simply subscribe to it.
• in the first years of University I got involved with a small church that was growing, mostly composed of students and twenty somethings and was exploring "Holy Spirit"
• I met people there who had something I'd never seen before.  These people really "knew" Jesus.
• I was struggling with severe depression, and also longing for this relationship that my new friends had with Jesus.  The combination led to some pretty rough years.
• While studying in university, I began to be fascinated by liturgical traditions of the church, studying them as part of my specialization in European church history, particularly in the Reformation and post-reformation periods.
• In my last year of university, sitting in a car, I encountered the Holy Spirit in a powerful, supernatural way, and my depression was healed.
• My life entered new kinds of turmoil and upheaval as my journey with God took some more crazy twists and turns, including a variety of experiences with prayer, dreams and visions, and other interesting encounters with the spiritual realm and it has stayed that way ever since that moment of healing almost six years ago.

So, these days I guess you could categorize me as a liturgy loving, evangelical, charismatic with a soft spot for the mystical and anything to do with prayer.

What, you ask, does that have to do with the baptism of the Holy Spirit?

Well, it's like this - my experiences and personal journey and experiences have shaped my beliefs.  I don't believe that there is something special - some unique baptism of the Spirit, per say.  I believe that the Spirit is present with all of us.  That said, if what you mean by baptism of the Holy Spirit is a particular moment or encounter when the Spirit goes from being the more traditionally evangelical silent member of the trinity, at most recognized as our conscience, to being a living and active part of our relationship and interaction with God, then yes, I do pray that all those who know Jesus will also experience this baptism of the Spirit that He sent to us as counselor, guide and comforter.  However, I don't believe that this looks the same for everyone, or that it happens at a specific time or moment.  For me, it happened the day I was healed, and it was about being in a place where I was desperate enough to surrender.  For friends of mine, it's looked totally different.  But I do pray that everyone will somehow experience, in the way unique to their own hearts and relationships with the Lord, an active relationship with the Spirit.

Thoughts?  I'm not interested in a big theological debate, but I'd love to hear your thoughts (keep them civil please), or to know if this has stirred more questions for you.  Like I keep saying, this feature will be around for as long as the questions come in, and I'm willing to talk about just about any topic you want to bring up here.

I Should Have Kept My Mouth Shut!

You know those moments, the ones where you realize just a few seconds too late, that it was definitely a bad idea to say that, whatever that is?  I had one recently.

Mine was the sort of epic fail that makes pastor's kids or other children of people in some sort of public life the world over cringe in sympathy. 

It involved a church lady.

Not just any church lady, but that one.  You know, the one who wears the skirt where the waist sits just a little bit too high, the skirt that reaches quite properly to just below the knee, with the button down blouse tucked into it.  She always has pantyhose on.  And pumps.  But she doesn't like the clicking noise that the pumps make on the wooden floor of the gym, so she kind of tiptoes around - sort of like she's creeping up on you.  (I do an excellent impression of this tiptoeing, and I'd be happy to share with you all in person sometime.)  She's the one who is very well meaning, but incredibly nosy.  The one who is an administrator (that's the nice "Christian" word for "control freak," right?)  The one that doesn't hear "no" very often, mostly because she's a fan of either guilt or "voluntelling" - whatever works.

There is one of these ladies in my life.  This particular one has made me cringe since, well, childhood, for all of the reasons listed above, magnified by the fact that my father is her pastor.

Every time I have a conversation with her (and these days, they're thankfully rare), I forget that it's probably not wise to be my usual bluntly honest self, and my mental filters kick in just a moment too late.

The last time it happened was about two weeks back.

It started innocuously.  I got the usual "It's so good to see you here, Lisa."  (I get that a lot when I visit my dad's church.  It's part of the deal when you're the pastor's kid.  It's an even bigger part of the deal when you're the only child of said pastor to have decided to find a spiritual home someplace other than the church your dad pastor's.)  Outloud I returned some sort of pleasantry.  In my head, I was reminding myself that this was not a guilt trip comment (even though it often feels like one).  I was telling myself that this lady was trying to be genuinely nice, and that I needed to receive it that way, whatever my issues were.

Perhaps I should stop having conversations with myself when busy having a conversation with people with whom many years of experience have taught the neccessity of careful filtering of all comments made aloud.

Because, you see, she wasn't done.  The "what are you doing now" nosyness had kicked in.

"Are you still living with your grandma?"

(for you to appreciate the full magnitude of what was to come, you should know that my grandma rather proudly attends this church, is sort of buddy-buddy with this particular person, and had, based on the number of questions I got from her buddies, clearly told all of her friends how delighted she was that I was moving into her basement, back when I was moving into her basement.)

"yes, I'm still living there."

"And do you like it?"

"No, I hate it."

Less than a second after those words came out of my mouth, that internal voice was screaming at me, not just chiding.  "Lisa Christine!  What did you just say??? And to who did you say it?  What were you thinking?  Look at her face!"

Her face was slightly stunned and then highly disappointed.

Her recovery was quick though, and prying, "Oh!  I thought it would be such a good arrangement!"

A pause.

A painful, life flashing before my eyes, I'm twelve again and going to get in trouble for this, pause.

"You just prefer living on your own?"

"Mmm..."

You see, my filters had kicked in.  Mono-syllables, no real words.  Always the best bet.

The worst part is, experience has taught me that this particular church lady is the sort who would quite possibly go straight to my parents with her disappointed concern.

And that left me only one option.

Confession.

To both of my parents, in various conversations through the afternoon.

Just in case some damage control needed to be done.

(I don't think it has, by the way).

My parents know the lady, and were sympathetic, and laughed at my description of my conversational gaffe.

But I have thought of it many times in the following weeks.

I prefer a policy of honesty, all the time, often a bit blunt.

In that case, though, it would have been so much better, for everyone involved, if I had just kept my mouth shut!

Leaving Church

Yesterday I linked to Donald Miller's article on leaving church.

Today, Pete Wilson is also talking about leaving church.

It's not an easy topic, and, as a pastor's kid, I've seen it from several angles.

I've seen the acrimonious church split from the inside.

I've seen the people come who are enthused, and then leave a few years later, because they've decided that something just won't do, and it's never their fault either.

It's never easy to watch someone you've cared about leave.  Especially as a pastor's kid in a small church when they're leaving because they're angry at something your dad did or didn't do.  How do you navigate your friendship with that person vs. their anger at someone dear to you?

And it's weird to negotiate those relationships later on, too.  I ran into someone recently who had been a youth leader when I was a young teenager.  She'd lived with our family for a time, as well.  My dad had conducted their wedding, and my brother was their ring-bearer.  And then, she and her husband left, angry at dad, over what I'm not even sure.  My dad worked to shield my brothers and I from some of that drama.  I've run into her from time to time over the years, and she's always been overly friendly.  An almost fake, over-compensating sort of friendly. (Or at least that's my perception of it.)  It's a weird thing - to negotiate this relationship that I consider quite damaged, and non-existent, while she's busy ignoring the history and the turmoil that she caused.  I saw her again just last weekend, and it was the same.  So odd.

I've left a church or two.

I've left the church that my dad pastors.  Twice. 

And I left a church that was home during a period of dramatic change and healing in my life.

I left dad's church the first time because I needed space - I was in the midst of a serious depression, and I needed to figure out this God thing without the incredible, watchful pressure that exists on a pastor's kid in a rather small congregation.  It's not easy to be watched, held up as "the example" when you're not even sure you believe anymore.  I needed to make that "do I actually believe this, or is it just because my parents told me so" journey.

I left the second time because, after returning for what was supposed to be a short stay, I'd stayed too long.  The move that was supposed to make it a short stay didn't materialize, and the smaller reasons I'd left in the first place - lack of peers, some theological disagreements, and the ongoing pastor's kid expectations, really hadn't changed.  It was also a season where I'd been deeply wounded by church and some close christian friends, and I needed a season of healing, away from prying eyes.

I left the church that had been home in between those stays at dad's church with many tears. I loved that place and the people there, but I felt cornered and unheard.  My concerns seemed to be dismissed.  I prayed and stayed, offering my voice wherever possible, but there came a time when God made it clear that it was time, now, to move on.  I left hoping that I could maintain some relationships that meant a lot there.  A few lasted, most did not.

It's not an easy topic, but I've appreciated the words of both Donald Miller and Pete Wilson on the topic these last couple days, and the various thoughts they've both stirred within me.

No Grid

I've been at a conference the last three nights.

If you ask, I'd probably tell you that I was getting my crazy charismatic fix for the next while.  I don't have a lot of opportunities to be in a more wildly charismatic environment in person these days, so I get my fill where I can.

But some of the evenings of the conference were even outside of my grid for processing.

I'm still laughing over last night's crazy worship party.  Though mostly because it turns out that the speakers, Georgian and Winnie Banov, were some of the people behind classic kids songs like "Bullfrogs and Butterflies" and "The Music Machine" and "Agapeland" kids tapes.  I loved those tapes as a kid, but let me tell you, the rather conservative church I grew up in, that sanctioned those tapes, had clearly never seen Georgian and Winnie live and in person.  Ever.  Because it was off the hook crazy.

And I've been laughing all day as I think about those lovely little kids tapes that were so sedate, and taught the fruits of the spirit (does anyone else remember that song about the snail, "Have patience, have patience, don't be in such a hurry..."), and then in my head I picture the scene from last night and start laughing all over again.  I'd shared the funny conflicting images with a friend of mine by email when I got home last night, knowing she'd likely remember the kids songs too, and find the image as funny as I did, and I laughed aloud when I read the following line in a reply from her this morning, "inwardly giggles...and hopes Lisa doesn't drink anything while Mr. Music Machine is bopping all over the stage because if something strikes her funny then laughing with a mouth full of water could get messy ;-) hee, hee"

(Just for your information, I didn't drink any water during worship at this morning's session, but I did laugh to myself a few times remembering your comment LP/CA !)

So, that's been my last few days.  Lots of experiences, basically all good, that I'm greatly amused by, and not quite certain how to absorb and process.

Maybe it'll help?

I did something tonight that I swore, growing up as a pastor's kid, that I'd never do. I'm not going to tell you what it was (though if you email and ask nicely I might). I'm just going to say that I became a person I never wanted to be. That my level of desperation was high enough to toss pride out the window and hope that this will help. That it'll bring some peace and freedom and relief.

Here's hoping.

Tired and other Sunday Afternoon Thoughts

I don't exactly understand how I can be nearing the end of three days in a row off of work, three days in which I cared for myself first, three days in which I rested and tried to restore my soul, and still be exhausted. I just don't get it. I even took a nap for an hour or so this afternoon on the couch. I never take naps if I can help it.

I'm going out in a hour or so to hear my brother's choir one last time for the year. They're performing at a church - a nice, big, anonymous church, where I can slip in for the service, sit by myself, and then meet my brother afterwards to get a ride home. It'll be an added bonus if I meet with Jesus in that time. I'd really like to meet with Jesus today. It seems, in some ways, that it has been a long time since I've managed to find myself in the presence of Jesus. It's not exactly true, but I'd like to meet with him to receive simply for me, rather than talking with him about the myriad of others for a bit.

There was a line in a novel I read this afternoon, "you artist types need to stop and refill the well sometimes." I feel like that today. I need Jesus to refill my energy and strength. I'm missing some dear friends, wishing for community nearby, and could just generally use an encounter with the Lord and his peace and rest tonight.

I taught Sunday school this morning. A lesson on Judas' betrayal, and Peter's denial. I'm not sure if my students found the questions the lesson posed to be challenging, but I certainly did, in light of things I've experienced and have been thinking about lately.

I'm actually really tired of teaching, and am counting the number of lessons left before summer, when I'm going to take a break from teaching and from church for a bit. However, I arrived at church this morning to discover that my dad's sermon was on "sexuality" and was extremely glad to be teaching. I've sat through the awkwardness of these sorts of sermons at least once in the past, and have sworn to never sit through my father speaking on said subject again. There are some things you just shouldn't have to endure as a pastor's kid, and listening to your father preach about sex is one of them. (Plus, because I sit with all of the youth kids, I not only have to endure my dad talking about sex, but the stares of all the youth, who are checking to see how awkward and embarrassed I'm feeling at the various comments.)

I'm trying to sort out my calendar for the next while. There are some friends I want to visit, and some commitments I'd like to be involved in. I'm still trying to figure out if I have the mental and emotional energy to be anything other than a hermit who sees only a select few people.

And with that, I'm going back to watching golf on television, to find some supper, and get ready to head out to hear my brother sing.