Unravelling. Again.

I have been feeling unravelled again in terms of my beliefs. In fact yesterday I wrote this:

Hey God?
What’s with the unravelling? Was there a couple of dropped stitches? Do you have to undo the whole me and start all over again?

Honestly, I feel like a cosy old jumper that someone has picked up from an op shop. They have snipped one tiny piece and have begun to unravel me row by row by row. My faith (or was it?), my beliefs, my tidy predictable set of rules and principles are slowly piling up on the floor in a tangle stringy wobbly jumble.

I’m questioning various things that most people would consider fundamental (appropriate choice of word) to the Christian faith. I’m asking questions about God, His love, His justice, God as a father. Questions about salvation, and sin and the human condition. And big questions about eternity: How do our decisions now effect eternity? What about hell? Is hell real? Is hell consistent with a loving God? Wasn’t Jesus work big enough? Didn’t he say “It is finished?”

I’m just not happy with the inconsistencies in my theology. Some people say I think too much, but I’m just not willing to avoid the difficult questions! I can’t just ignore it and pretend everything is fine. I just want truth!

Our western mindset has made God so small. The gospel preached to me most of my life seems almost good, but not quite good enough. Not quite powerful enough. You see….the one problem with our gospel is that if a person doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t understand it, is afraid or hurt, or God help them they didn’t even get to hear it before they die, well then the love of God just isn’t quite big enough to save them. Gee..sorry. Tough luck. Eternal fire. Eternal separation from God (hmm….so God isn’t omnipresent? Or is He?)

Today I listened to this talk by Bruce Wauchope. There are several parts to it which undoes a whole lot of Greek philosophy that creates so much confusion around the Gospel. Talk about a mind smash. I’m going to listen to it again. He goes some of the way in addressing some of these inconsistencies.

Nil illegitimus carborundum

So, I am dealing with a painful situation that seems hopeless. It’s something that I want to fix, but it would take a lifetime of do-overs. It a complete mess. A tangle of mistakes and hurt, mistrust, disappointment, lies. Lots and lots of yucky stuff.  But I know there is nothing at all I can really do to make it right.

This situation, this relationship, this pain is completely outside my comprehension. I can’t explain it or reconcile it with my understanding of God or the world, or life and how it works. I just can’t process it. I don’t understand. I want to shake my head and say “no..it doesn’t fit”. It doesn’t fit with any belief. I have nothing to hold on to for this one.

It’s a big one. If anything is going to change it is going to take a miracle. Like an actual supernatural event.

Do I have the courage to believe for a miracle? To hope against hope. I feel like my heart is weak and afraid to believe. I would rather take the easy road of the status quo. But I KNOW I don’t want to let my life be ruled by fear. I KNOW that great things, great loves require great risk.

So. Pray. And hope.

Please God, do something.

And in the meantime:  Nil illegitimus carborundum…

“Don’t let the bastards get you down.”

(Don’t ask me why. I just saw that phrase in Latin and liked it. It made me laugh. And I reckon everyone should use a little Latin every now and then.)

 

Love. Jesus. Hope.

Whenever I think too much about the future, and how exactly I’m going to put flesh on these dreams of mine, I start to get a little overwhelmed. How? When? Who? So many details, so many obstacles. So many reasons that it’s all too optimistic, too unrealistic, too unlikely. And even too vague…What exactly do I want?

But recently I’ve been re-inspired by Mother Teresa. She achieved great things in her life, touched many lives and is known throughout the world. But her journey began in obscuirty. She was unknown and insignificant in the great scheme of things. But hearing God, and obeying His words in her life, she began to change the world. A quote of hers has given me great hope and has been going around in my head these past days :

“Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you.”

It is so simple. Not profound, but it brings my dreams down to their most basic form. Loving a person. Though there are lots of different things I hope for, it all starts with this most simple beginning. Loving people.

I’m so excited. It almost seems possible when I think like this. Just go. Just be. Just love. See the person in front of you. Grow.

And then today my heart was touched again. What a relief.

And there’s a bit of a back story I suppose. For the past few…um…months? longer? I have been uninterested in church stuff. It has felt irrelevant, uninspiring, shallow. It is possibly more an indication of what is going on in my life than a problem with the church…but there you have it. So when I heard that yet another ‘ministry’ was coming to town, it hardly even registered on my radar. I’ve hardly attended any of these meetings, and haven’t minded missing them. Most times I don’t understand what everyone is so excited about.

For a while I have felt uninterested in supernatural things….not feeling like I really wanted to bother with healings and miracles. It was an added extra, that I didn’t have the energy to bother with.

So…I didn’t go to the meeting on Monday night. I did consider it at the last minute, but had kids to consider and hadn’t planned ahead enough to get a babysitter…anyway…details! I stayed home. Hundreds of others went.

A friend told me I needed to hear it… she didn’t elaborate, but I trusted her. D always copies the audio files for me, so today I listened to the guy talk.

Oh my heart. He just told stories. Stories that I so needed to hear.

He told us about praying for a dead baby. Dead for 5 or 6 hours. Blue, grey dead. Then seeing the child gasp and cry and given back to it’s mother to nurse at the breast.

And he told us about the HIV/AIDS  infected mother and her baby. About praying for them. Hugging and kissing them and seeing them along with 40 others healed from AIDS.

Stories of remote villages. Healing of sicknesses. Dead being raised.

It sounded just like what Jesus went around doing.

And man. I cried. Because it IS Jesus’ heart. That it IS what I want too. I DO want to see these things, and do them. You see. Everybody knows that when a mother is holding a dead child in her arms, the only thing that she really wants  is to get her baby back.

And now: In love. And vulnerable. And shaken. Because I’m scared to believe again. I’m scared that it’s too good to be true. I’m scared someone is lying to me. Scared of people exagerating this stuff. Making it up.

I’m scared of disappointment. Scared of failure.

But there’s hope… and wanting to believe.

I don't even wanna talk about this one

Frick.

Last night on Queen St, D & I walked past a man begging for money. He held a sign saying he had no income, no place to stay. We walked on, but I wanted to give so we went back. Nice one. But damn, I only gave him one fricken dollar. I had more money. Larger denominations…$100, $20 I think. It is in those very moments, at that second when you open the wallet, that is the point at which the heart is tested. Its’ truth laid bare.

I was stingy at the time it really mattered. Again. This kind of thing has happened before. I’m disappointed. Imagine the joy of giving the guy $20 to go get himself a decent dinner. Or more…what would it take for me to actually give the whole fricken lot and change our evening’s plans??

Anyway, after this we walked on, (and even in that moment there was hesitation in my step) we watched a movie, bought ourselves dinner, and slept soundly in a nice hotel. I can’t believe it. Shitty shit shit.

It was Jesus, and I didn’t see Him.

I like people.

I am grateful.

Around December 2009 something lead me to a decision to let people into my life, my home, and my heart. I had been defensive and guarded for a long time. Forever maybe…not sure. (Although my experience being a mother shows me that babies are born with their hearts wide open.) Perhaps gradually along the way I changed. I guess we all do. But anyway, I’d had enough of being private, closed and unknown.

I knew I wanted to change this. And now, just over a year later, I find myself in a completely different situation.

Our home is busy and full of people. Coming and goings and with it lots of mess. And sometimes is crowded and sometimes I really really wanna be alone. Sometimes we all need space from each other. And sometimes it’s just inconvenient. But you know what? I’d sure as heck prefer having people than not.

I have some new friends. And some old friends now know me much better, as I find myself less afraid to be the real me. It’s still not always easy, to let the guard down. But I’m starting to realise that most people have the same insecurities that I do. And I’m still dealing with them. Some days I feel completely insecure and question my friendships, peoples’ motives and my own. I sometimes feel like people are just tolerating me. I sometimes feel like people are just being polite. Sometimes… no, often, I feel like an inconvenience. And sometimes feel like I’m less important to some who are very important to me. But I’m just going to keep putting myself out there and taking the risk. The risk of hurt and disappointment and looking like a fool, yes..because I have come to realise that it’s the way we are meant to be. Open. Like Children. They wear their hearts on their sleeves and love with all of themselves. It’s beautiful and vulnerable. It sucks to be guarded and afraid all the time.

I’m finding that the vast majority of the time, the outcome of making myself real or vulnerable is a good one. Most people are NOT out to judge me. In fact I have found that when I have been honest with people, and they get to know my messed up side, they feel safe with me too, and a friendship can grow.

And with this whole opening up thing, I am becoming less afraid and more confident. I love meeting new people. I want people to come visit me. I want to visit people. I don’t care so much what people think of me or the state of the house, because I’m finding that most of the time they are more worried about what I think of them. Aren’t we ridiculous.

We have a stranger coming to stay in a couple of weeks. He was hitchhiking on Boxing Day and we picked him up. (This is also amazing for me because for a while I wouldn’t want to even give someone a ride because it would necessitate actually speaking to someone..oh God. I sound mentally ill.) Anyway, we gave him our details and yep, he’s coming to stay with us before he leaves the country. And I’m so excited, I can’t wait to get to know him. Like I said, I love people.

 

 

 

Book Review: Bono on Bono

Bono on Bono: Conversations with Michka Assayas – by Bono and Michka Assayas

I don’t like fame. I don’t like idols and the way people get all excited about a person. They are just a person after all. Flesh and blood like the rest of us. But if I had to choose one famous person I’d like to meet it would be Bono.

I find him inspiring and interesting. The kind of person I’d like to have a long chat with over dinner. He’s someone who people are always trying to define, and yet he seems to enjoy defying people’s categories and labels.

Anyway, this book was recommended to me and I’m so glad I read it. I was completely inspired…to see what a person can do, how influential and creative and unique a person can be when they are free to be themselves. He doesn’t fit in with most people’s idea of what a Christian is, and yet his faith is so evident, and in many ways his life more Christlike than the vast majority of Christians I know (including myself).

I loved reading Bono’s comments about faith. I could resonate with a whole lot about what he said on the subject of religion versus faith. If there is one quote to sum up what I took away from the book, it is this one:

“Religion can be the enemy of God. It`s often what happens when God, like Elvis, has left the building. A list of instructions where there was once conviction; dogma where once people just did it; a congregation led by a man where once they were led by the Holy Spirit. Discipline replacing discipleship.”

Highly recommended.

2:51am

I cannot sleep. I am tired. Irritating.

I’m too hot.

In my dozing I have been dreaming about my friends. Or maybe it’s thinking about them. I’m not sure if it’s thinking or dreaming because it feels somewhere between sleep and awake. Why can’t I get this out of my mind?

Baby wakes and feeds. I lay him back down…so sleepy that I clumsily bundle him back into his bed. It occurred to me while still half asleep, that I might have dropped him.

Then he wakes again and cries loudly about not being tucked up in the middle of our bed. I’m cross now and get up and out of my room. Which brings me now to 2:57am. And here I still am.

It was a great day really. I felt more alive than I have for a long time. And I buzzed and chattered as I do when I’m really happy. My husband always knows when I’m happy because I talk. And talk.

Happy why?

Today I visited the city mission, a drop in centre for homeless and needy people in our city. I went to help out with sorting donations of Christmas gifts.

We walked into the reception and I found myself in a confusion of people. It was noisy with voices, and I wasn’t expecting the chaotic feeling. So conspicuous in my white skin, I felt watched as we found someone in the melee who was apparently working there.

“We’re here to volunteer.” we said. The woman told us to wait. Instead of standing out we found a bench among the people waiting. They were waiting for their turn to be seen…some by a doctor, some I think queuing for food parcels, and a few gifts for their children for Christmas. As I sat I felt the press of humanity. I’ve felt it before, but not in this rich city, not in my home country. I smelled unwashed bodies and saw the despair of poverty on faces.

And it felt like heaven.

I felt close tears in the back of my eyes, but inexplicably a great joy, and it was hard to keep the smile from my face. Unbidden, the words sprang from my heart “I’ve found my place. I love it here. I will be back.” It had only taken a matter of seconds to know that this is something I loved. This is where I was meant to be. And I got the distinct impression that this is the exact kind of place Jesus would love to hang out.

We waited only a few minutes before being taken to a room full of gifts to be sorted according to age and gender. In those few minutes sitting on the edge of a bench among the crowd, I wanted to change my appearance. I wanted to change my skin and my clothes and blend in. To sit quietly and unnoticed among them. I don’t know what my persona said to them, but I wanted to say:

“Please don’t label me. I’m doing my best not to make assumptions about your need. I could be you. You could be me. Everyone has a story. Will you share your story with me? Can I share my story with you?

Could we one day laugh together?”

 

 

 

 

Large and loving hearts

“The best training for a soldier of Christ is not merely a theological college. They always seem to turn out sausages of varying lengths, tied at each end, without the glorious freedom a Christian ought to abound and rejoice in. You see, when in hand-to-hand conflict with the world and the devil, neat little biblical confectionery is like shooting lions with a pea-shooter: one needs a man who will let himself go and deliver blows right and left as hard as he can hit, trusting in the Holy Ghost. It’s experience, not preaching that hurts the devil and confounds the world. The training is not that of the schools but of the market: it’s the hot, free heart and not the balanced head that knocks the devil out. Nothing but forked-lightning Christians will count. A lost reputation is the best degree for Christ’s service. It is not so much the degree of arts that is needed, but that of hearts, loyal and true, that love not their lives to the death: large and loving hearts which seek to save the lost multitudes, rather than guard the ninety-nine well-fed sheep in the British pen.” – C. T. Studd

A friend blogged this the other day and it really rang true for me. But it got me to thinking about my heart, and it struck me that it is not large and loving, but small and atrophied from lack of use. That I talk a lot about what is right; that I’m vocal about the oprhans and the poor, but do very little about it. A casual reading here will show that I’m feeling it’s time to DO something. To get over my fear, and do something I believe in. I think that’s going to change things for me…like the whole Kingdom thing that everyone is going on about will make more sense ‘out there’ for me because it sure as heck doesn’t seem to make sense in church.

Also…it’s so easy to romanticise the care of orphans and helping the poor. Sounds so noble. Yet when I think about it, it requires great sacrifice and definitely won’t be easy. It is sometimes hard enough to love my own children when they’re being unlovely…and they are my own flesh and blood. What makes me think it will be all serene and tender to love an abandoned child? They may be unlovely at times, most likely troubled, needy, angry, hungry, sick, tired, grumpy, difficult.

I know for sure I need a bigger heart. I find myself complaining about small discomforts. I am concerned that I don’t do anything that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t do anything that is selfless. I’m greedy with my time, my space, and God help me! my money. I like to talk about generous giving, but actually…not if it’s my own housekeeping money…I want to put my family first….Selfish.

I have asked God to fill my shrivelled, selfish little heart with His love, and to lead me to what is next.

In the meantime, there’s a whole lot I can do close to home, which will get me out of my own freaking introspection and rubbing shoulders with some real people.

 

Stuff on my mind

There’s been a few things floating round in my head…

What do I do with stuff like this? (Aljazeera report on forced abortion of 8 month old baby – China) I saw this yesterday and now that I know about it, I don’t know what the heck to do with it. Sometimes I think it’d be easier to just bury my head in sand and enjoy ignorant bliss. Yes, it would be easier, but I know I wouldn’t really want to do that…but still….damn.

Also, you know how you become gradually desensitised if you watch a lot of violence on TV or whatever? Well…I reckon I’ve been re-sensitised. I burst into tears twice in two days at the dairy because of reading headlines of the paper. One was about the Pike River miners and the other about a bus accident.

And I’m reading a novel about the unwanted girl-child in India. Although it’s a fiction book, sadly the issue is far from fiction. And there is a similar problem developing in China because of the One Child policy. This leads me to think about adoption. I’ve thought a bit about adoption over the years…and I’m not sure international adoptions are the best model, though of course it’s a whole million times better than having no family at all.

I’ve been reading this blog. Paul Myhill says:

OK, so I’m quoted in Christianity Today (online and print versions) regarding the orphan crisis in Haiti and how it relates to adoption and orphanages. It’s a good article, but I need to offer a couple of clarifications:

First, I’m an adoptive parent myself (a little girl from China) and so I certainly understand that international adoption is part of the solution. I just don’t think it’s the main part. We must primarily strive to keep children in their countries of birth . . . in families. Second, the in-country solution should do just that – keep/put children in families, not institutions. If an institutional orphanage becomes the default position for children, it would be far better for those children to be adopted out internationally instead. When a “group home” is mentioned in my quote below, I’m referring to a small, family-style home of 10 or so children, raised by domestic foster/adoptive parent(s).

Ultimately, God wants to place the “lonely in families.”

We should settle for nothing less than that.

I’ve been thinking about the idea of local churches taking a bigger role in orphan care. You see…that’s what religion is supposed to be all about. . I like the idea of churches in rich countries supporting local churches in poorer nations who can care for the orphans. In Haiti, they have a working model where the local pastor organises long term care in homes for children orphaned by the earthquake. Partner churches in the US are giving financially to help this kind of work. (All the posts about Haiti orphan care are here)

There’s other completely unrelated stuff on my mind…how women dress and why, and the value of sex. Might write about them some other time. It’s 2am. I should sleep now.

 

Thinking out loud

I’m listening to preaching and am not impacted. I am not hungry for supernatural things. I’m not sure if it’s an indication of the state of my heart, or what? I feel like we are perpetually waiting for something.

It’s a new day.

We’re coming to a new season.

We’re crossing over.

God has something new for us.

I’ve been hearing these phrases all of my christian life. I’m tired of being on the brink of something. I think I’m just down right cynical. Or is that skeptical? I’m not sure which. Maybe both.

There are some people in town, speaking at meetings in a conference. I’m not there. I don’t want to be there. I don’t really get it. I used to get it. I used to go to these things eager to learn. But now I don’t want to spend my life in meetings. I don’t even like the word. Meetings.

I have a friend who moved overseas earlier this year… in response to God. They’ve had a really tough year. And I was chatting to her the other night and she said something that made me really stop and think. What she said is less important than how she said it. She had learned something. And she knew it with conviction. I don’t think she could have learned this through any amount of preaching. It was a lesson learned that showed me dramatic growth and maturity in her faith. And it came through experience. Through living life in all of its messy, painful imperfection and finding God in the midst of it.

I on the other hand feel like I’m not really living. Not growing in my faith. Yet I don’t think the answer for me is to listen to more preaching. I need to start practicing what I believe. I need to press into God for His life. I need to know His presence for myself in my everyday life. I want to have stories to tell of His goodness. I want to see His provision in my life. I want to hear what He’s saying. I want to know His goodness and experience His promises in my life.

I guess what I’m saying is that a meeting is an unreal situation. It’s not real life. It’s a pause. And that’s ok. But there are so many meetings! I want to know God and see God move in my life in the real bits.

Like in the ugly moments like when our marriage is creaking and straining and hurting. In the hard moments, like when my child is angry too often and we don’t know why. When my time is not enough to meet all the needs and I feel stretched this way and that and completely inadequate to the task of loving, nurturing, and teaching these children. I want to know God’s grace and peace and provision THEN.

When I am overwhelmed and sleep deprived and can’t think straight. When the funds seem too little and the needs seem too many. When I doubt that my life will count. When I fear that my dreams will come to nothing. When I want to take control of everything. In those times I want to learn to trust Him.

I want to see Him in the times when my eyes are stinging with tears and rage at the corruption of a little girl, crippled and twisted in her wheel chair watching her friend play on a slide. And there’s nothing I can do. And I know I can pray but I’m so scared He won’t do anything and I can’t bring myself to speak. Then she cries as they gently lift her out of her chair to ride on the train because she’s terrified and vulnerable without her chair. And still all I can do is sit there and break. I want to know God THEN.