Just a few short thoughts on children and fear that I posted on my ministry site.
Fear and Anxiety
Friday 28 December 2012
Thursday 27 December 2012
The Gift of a Sturdy Gospel
Well, I find myself here in the midst of the Christmas season confused, as usual. Sometimes I think that being confused is simply a bi-product of having a mind that is constantly trying to figure things out. As soon as I seem to come close to grasping one idea, I have to find others to wrestle with. And this Christmas has been, and continues to be, a time of wrestling for me.
Christmas seems to be a time for simple things. Simple things like friends, family, love, sharing, and a baby in a manger. And yet none of these things seem simple to me. When I listen to Christmas music or attend Christmas worship services I hear all kinds of words that I know. Words that I think I should understand, and yet I don't. I just don't. The meaning of friends, family, love and sharing are all things I wrestle with all the time, but at this time of year it's the baby in the manger that has me completely flummoxed.
I want to understand. I want it to all make sense. But I hear the words and I'm just baffled. What does it mean that God came to live on earth? What does it mean that God came as a baby? What does it mean for us to celebrate that fact? The messages I receive seem to tell me that this is easy, that I should rejoice, that I should understand and yet...
Perhaps if I had grown up in an Eastern tradition I would know what to do with the mystery. Because clearly this whole baby in a manger thing is mystery for me. I do sometimes notice that we mention mystery in the services I attend. But it's more mystery as awe, bowing down in wonder. Don't get me wrong, I love that kind of mystery. But rarely do I hear talk of mystery in terms of complete inability to comprehend on a cognitive or emotional level. And that's where I kind of find myself. I just can't seem to wrap my head around this Christ-child. I find myself wrestling, not rejoicing.
So the one thing that I have found most meaningful to me this Christmas is the gift of a sturdy gospel. By that I mean scriptures that have withstood the test of time. Scriptures that speak regardless of my ability to comprehend them. Scriptures that are not threatened or harmed by my wrestling. Scriptures that are not simple or straightforward. Scriptures that have been written by and for real people. Scriptures that are mystery.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that the Christian Bible really is mystery. So often in contemporary Christianity I hear scripture used as the answer key to the exam booklet of life. I go through life, a little problem comes up, I pray and read a verse, and the little problem goes away. Faith is simple. Faith is straightforward. The Bible is happiness packaged in flashy wrapping and tied with a neat bow. But I just haven't experienced the Bible or faith like that. And I haven't experienced life that way either. Life is messy. Far messier than a little exam booklet!
While sometimes I think it would be easier if the Bible was actually a book of answers, I know that in the end a Bible like that would be insufficient. It would not be sturdy. I need a sturdy gospel. Sturdiness does not develop out of simplicity and happiness. Sturdiness develops out of wrestling and struggle alongside profound joy. And I am endlessly grateful that the gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of wrestling not of pat answers. Because pat answers simply fall flat in the face of real life.
Christmas seems to be a time for simple things. Simple things like friends, family, love, sharing, and a baby in a manger. And yet none of these things seem simple to me. When I listen to Christmas music or attend Christmas worship services I hear all kinds of words that I know. Words that I think I should understand, and yet I don't. I just don't. The meaning of friends, family, love and sharing are all things I wrestle with all the time, but at this time of year it's the baby in the manger that has me completely flummoxed.
I want to understand. I want it to all make sense. But I hear the words and I'm just baffled. What does it mean that God came to live on earth? What does it mean that God came as a baby? What does it mean for us to celebrate that fact? The messages I receive seem to tell me that this is easy, that I should rejoice, that I should understand and yet...
Perhaps if I had grown up in an Eastern tradition I would know what to do with the mystery. Because clearly this whole baby in a manger thing is mystery for me. I do sometimes notice that we mention mystery in the services I attend. But it's more mystery as awe, bowing down in wonder. Don't get me wrong, I love that kind of mystery. But rarely do I hear talk of mystery in terms of complete inability to comprehend on a cognitive or emotional level. And that's where I kind of find myself. I just can't seem to wrap my head around this Christ-child. I find myself wrestling, not rejoicing.
So the one thing that I have found most meaningful to me this Christmas is the gift of a sturdy gospel. By that I mean scriptures that have withstood the test of time. Scriptures that speak regardless of my ability to comprehend them. Scriptures that are not threatened or harmed by my wrestling. Scriptures that are not simple or straightforward. Scriptures that have been written by and for real people. Scriptures that are mystery.
Sometimes I have to remind myself that the Christian Bible really is mystery. So often in contemporary Christianity I hear scripture used as the answer key to the exam booklet of life. I go through life, a little problem comes up, I pray and read a verse, and the little problem goes away. Faith is simple. Faith is straightforward. The Bible is happiness packaged in flashy wrapping and tied with a neat bow. But I just haven't experienced the Bible or faith like that. And I haven't experienced life that way either. Life is messy. Far messier than a little exam booklet!
While sometimes I think it would be easier if the Bible was actually a book of answers, I know that in the end a Bible like that would be insufficient. It would not be sturdy. I need a sturdy gospel. Sturdiness does not develop out of simplicity and happiness. Sturdiness develops out of wrestling and struggle alongside profound joy. And I am endlessly grateful that the gospel of Jesus Christ is a gospel of wrestling not of pat answers. Because pat answers simply fall flat in the face of real life.
Wednesday 19 December 2012
It may not be my House, but it is my Home
It is not uncommon, I have experienced, to hear people speak of the difference between a house and a home. A house being described more in terms of the physical structure, while a home denotes something more experiential or with more emotional value. For me, these two words have taken on significant meaning since as an adult, I have always rented the space in which I live. For me, a house is something you can own, it can be purchased, while a home can, and often must, be created anywhere.
I have now lived in 6 (or 8 depending how I count) different rental spaces in the past 18 years of my life. It has often been the case for me, that people ask me when I am going "home." I understand what they mean. They want to know when I will be returning to visit my parent's house. And sometimes I do think of that space as my home as well. Yet it is my home in terms of memory, it is my home in terms of my family of origin, it is not, however, my home in terms of the space in which I have settled, my sanctuary, where my being resides and lives. Renting space does not mean I have no home. Renting space means I don't own a house. There is a massive distinction it seems to me.
The people I have encountered over the years have understood this distinction to various degrees. Good friends who have visited our home (the homes Alicia and I have created) have certainly entered into those spaces with a sense of respect and honouring of the home we have created. Occasionally the owners of those spaces have also shown that respect. However, not all people have done so. To some, our space is just a temporary flop house of sorts. It's where we dump our stuff in between where we are now and the permanent life we might someday have. The space is not ours, it belongs to someone else, and thus it is not our house, and there is no home. It is simply space with stuff in it. This whole idea of not owning a house goes hand in hand with not being an adult. Adults, own houses, adults get married, adults are employed or raise children. Thus, I am not an adult, and I have no home. This is demeaning.
Alicia and I are both adults and we have a home. We have had 4 homes together. Each one has been a holy space. Each one has been created with intention, gently cared for (or not so gently depending on what was required!), laboured in, cried in, laughed in, prayed in. Each space has been one in which we have lived and grown. Each one has seen moments both holy and mundane. We delight in inviting people into our home, we delight in spending time together in our home, we delight in dreaming about what our home might look like in the future. And when others dismiss our home as simply a space that they own, or a space that doesn't matter because it is temporary, I feel saddened. Saddened because what we have worked so hard to create and the treasured life that has been embodied in the space has not been respected, but also saddened because those individuals have missed the gifts that are always available when you enter into a home.
I would love to someday own a house in which I can create a home. I feel this particularly keenly since I grew up on a farm and would love to have land on which to settle and grow things. Since this has not yet been possible, I have needed to learn to embrace the act of homemaking wherever I am. For many people, this is the only way they will ever have a home. It is unfair to equate having a home with owning a house. And if each one of us has to wait until we are fully settled in a house that we own, a house that we will remain in for decades, until we can have a home, then that leaves a whole lot of people "homeless." I could not have lived well over the past number of years if I had not embraced the space in which I found myself and learned to call it home.
I always wish I had something wise or witty to say at the end of these posts. But all I have is a reminder to respect the space in which people find themselves, the physical space, the life space, whatever. Please, especially this Christmas, as you meet up with people who may not fit the mould of married, employed, owner of property, raiser of children, please do not make the mistake of assuming that they are incomplete, that they don't have a meaningful life, that they don't have a home. Value them, hear their stories, receive the gifts that they have to offer. They are many.
I have now lived in 6 (or 8 depending how I count) different rental spaces in the past 18 years of my life. It has often been the case for me, that people ask me when I am going "home." I understand what they mean. They want to know when I will be returning to visit my parent's house. And sometimes I do think of that space as my home as well. Yet it is my home in terms of memory, it is my home in terms of my family of origin, it is not, however, my home in terms of the space in which I have settled, my sanctuary, where my being resides and lives. Renting space does not mean I have no home. Renting space means I don't own a house. There is a massive distinction it seems to me.
The people I have encountered over the years have understood this distinction to various degrees. Good friends who have visited our home (the homes Alicia and I have created) have certainly entered into those spaces with a sense of respect and honouring of the home we have created. Occasionally the owners of those spaces have also shown that respect. However, not all people have done so. To some, our space is just a temporary flop house of sorts. It's where we dump our stuff in between where we are now and the permanent life we might someday have. The space is not ours, it belongs to someone else, and thus it is not our house, and there is no home. It is simply space with stuff in it. This whole idea of not owning a house goes hand in hand with not being an adult. Adults, own houses, adults get married, adults are employed or raise children. Thus, I am not an adult, and I have no home. This is demeaning.
Alicia and I are both adults and we have a home. We have had 4 homes together. Each one has been a holy space. Each one has been created with intention, gently cared for (or not so gently depending on what was required!), laboured in, cried in, laughed in, prayed in. Each space has been one in which we have lived and grown. Each one has seen moments both holy and mundane. We delight in inviting people into our home, we delight in spending time together in our home, we delight in dreaming about what our home might look like in the future. And when others dismiss our home as simply a space that they own, or a space that doesn't matter because it is temporary, I feel saddened. Saddened because what we have worked so hard to create and the treasured life that has been embodied in the space has not been respected, but also saddened because those individuals have missed the gifts that are always available when you enter into a home.
I would love to someday own a house in which I can create a home. I feel this particularly keenly since I grew up on a farm and would love to have land on which to settle and grow things. Since this has not yet been possible, I have needed to learn to embrace the act of homemaking wherever I am. For many people, this is the only way they will ever have a home. It is unfair to equate having a home with owning a house. And if each one of us has to wait until we are fully settled in a house that we own, a house that we will remain in for decades, until we can have a home, then that leaves a whole lot of people "homeless." I could not have lived well over the past number of years if I had not embraced the space in which I found myself and learned to call it home.
I always wish I had something wise or witty to say at the end of these posts. But all I have is a reminder to respect the space in which people find themselves, the physical space, the life space, whatever. Please, especially this Christmas, as you meet up with people who may not fit the mould of married, employed, owner of property, raiser of children, please do not make the mistake of assuming that they are incomplete, that they don't have a meaningful life, that they don't have a home. Value them, hear their stories, receive the gifts that they have to offer. They are many.
Thursday 13 December 2012
Getting to know you (I mean me!): Christmas Version
I saw this quiz on my cousin Pam's blog, so I thought I'd do it too! I don't know why, but I love these things.
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Neither, I sew cloth bags that we can reuse over and over again. They are festive, they are environmentally friendly and SO easy to clean up! Friends and family are welcome to keep them, or give them back to me to use over again.
2. Real tree or artificial? Artificial. I loved having a real tree growing up. The smell was awesome.But it was so messy and I always felt sorry that the tree didn't get to grow up. Hacked down in its prime. I also like that I don't get a rash on my arms when putting decorations on the artificial tree. My skin is adverse to pine.
3. When do you put up the tree? This year it was up before the end of November! This is not the norm for me at all. When the tree goes up has really fluctuated a lot over the years based on timing with school. My dream is to put it up on Christmas eve and then celebrate Christmas full out until Epiphany! I imagine things will evolve the more settled we become.
4. When do you take the tree down? Definitely after Epiphany. When I was a child my mom always had to take the tree down when I was at school because I would cry. Thankfully my mom isn't the kind of person to rip it down right away.
5. Do you like eggnog? Nope, never have. I think it's one of those love it or hate it things. Plus almost anyone who knows me is aware that I primarily drink water. 2. Real tree or artificial? Artificial. I loved having a real tree growing up. The smell was awesome.But it was so messy and I always felt sorry that the tree didn't get to grow up. Hacked down in its prime. I also like that I don't get a rash on my arms when putting decorations on the artificial tree. My skin is adverse to pine.
3. When do you put up the tree? This year it was up before the end of November! This is not the norm for me at all. When the tree goes up has really fluctuated a lot over the years based on timing with school. My dream is to put it up on Christmas eve and then celebrate Christmas full out until Epiphany! I imagine things will evolve the more settled we become.
4. When do you take the tree down? Definitely after Epiphany. When I was a child my mom always had to take the tree down when I was at school because I would cry. Thankfully my mom isn't the kind of person to rip it down right away.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Oh, my. I don't know. Maybe this sounds silly, but it's probably my bright pink skating bag. It had a top and bottom compartment so my skates and clothes could be separate. I desperately wanted a bag like that so I could be like everyone else at the rink. As an adult, my favourite gifts tend to come from my niece Aimee. She is an expert at listening and paying attention to what you enjoy, and then putting a comical twist on it.
7. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes. I have one larger set at my parent's house. I also have one in a snow globe, a tiny Peruvian one, and a wooden one for storytelling. I love the diversity of nativity scenes that they have at Ten Thousand Villages. I love seeing how people from other cultures interpret the birth of Christ.
8. Hardest person to buy for? Hmmm...my brother and sister-in-law
9. Easiest person to buy for? Alicia, hands down. She will always love anything I give her, just because it's from me.
10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Oh, this I remember clearly. My parents gave me a diary and I was so mad. It was just not what I wanted and I wrote in it angrily for a couple of weeks and then it went in a drawer. I am not a journaler even now. I blog, but journaling feels different.
11. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail I guess. I'm just not a card person. I've done letters sometimes and photo cards. But I always find cards that just have the people's signature in them to be a waste of good paper. I am not a person prone to give cards or gifts out of obligation. If you get something form me, it's probably not a card, and I probably love you a lot or felt moved by the Spirit.
9. Easiest person to buy for? Alicia, hands down. She will always love anything I give her, just because it's from me.
10. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Oh, this I remember clearly. My parents gave me a diary and I was so mad. It was just not what I wanted and I wrote in it angrily for a couple of weeks and then it went in a drawer. I am not a journaler even now. I blog, but journaling feels different.
11. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail I guess. I'm just not a card person. I've done letters sometimes and photo cards. But I always find cards that just have the people's signature in them to be a waste of good paper. I am not a person prone to give cards or gifts out of obligation. If you get something form me, it's probably not a card, and I probably love you a lot or felt moved by the Spirit.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie? White Christmas. I'm a sucker for musicals and Bing Crosby's voice has always made me feel happy.
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I don't really shop much. We draw names at my parent's place and at Alicia's parent's as well. So that's only two gifts. We also give gifts to my two nieces and Alicia's nephew. Most of my gifts are handmade or from Ten Thousand Villages. So I work on them during the fall, and hope people don't change too much before Christmas comes! This year Alicia and I are giving each other something that cannot cost more than $2 and it has to be meaningful this requires searching, but not much shopping in malls.
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I don't really shop much. We draw names at my parent's place and at Alicia's parent's as well. So that's only two gifts. We also give gifts to my two nieces and Alicia's nephew. Most of my gifts are handmade or from Ten Thousand Villages. So I work on them during the fall, and hope people don't change too much before Christmas comes! This year Alicia and I are giving each other something that cannot cost more than $2 and it has to be meaningful this requires searching, but not much shopping in malls.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Certainly. Most especially the 30 or so bars of Body Shop soap I got one year from various Sunday school children, skating children and clients at the hair shop where I worked. I can't use scented soap so they had to go somewhere!
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cranberry sauce? It's a bit harder now since I can't eat grains. I'm finding new things that I love, but some of the traditional things aren't options anymore. So this is certainly evolving. Maybe my mom's sticky chicken. We often have a meal of appetizers on Christmas eve and her sticky chicken is fabulous! Or her cranberry pork loin, that's really good too.
16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? I don't care. Just so long as the tree doesn't look like it came out of a catalogue or a show room. It has to have some character, some story.
17. Favorite Christmas song? This changes. I don't have one that's just been THE song for my whole life. Right now I really love stuff from Mary Chapin Carpenter or Kim Thiessen. I find it hard not to critique theology in some of the old favourites.
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Both, neither. It's weird. Since I've been a student I've come "home" for Christmas and always stayed for weeks. The expectation always seems to be that single people don't have homes, so they have to go home for holidays. I would love to actually spend some time in my own home at Christmas time. It's never really happened, maybe this year I'll get a day or two. We'll see.
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Ah, the only one that ever mattered was Rudolph. My dad's name is Rudolf, with an "f" which he is always quick to point out. But singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" just to annoy him is kind of a Christmas tradition.
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Star, it always seems a bit weird to shove part of a tree up the angel's...
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? My immediate family has always opened presents on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning was when my mom was busy getting the Turkey etc. ready for dinner at Grandma's (not anymore), so it was far too frantic at our house for things like gifts.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Stress and expectations. Sometimes I have a hard time digging through all the stuff that happens at this time of year to see the joy of salvation and deliverance from oppression that the birth of Christ signifies. There are moments, surely, yet so often it seems that we are never as enslaved as much as we are during the month of December.
23. What I love most about Christmas? Strangely enough, making or preparing gifts. I really enjoy reflecting on the people in my life and what I might be able to give them that would most help them to live fully as themselves or most bring them profound joy, as opposed to temporary happiness. I guess it's the resourcer in me!
Tuesday 11 December 2012
What should be...or what is
Well, it's almost Christmas.
The time is rapidly approaching.
And honestly, every year around this time I find myself in a whirlwind of emotional confusion. My heart, my body, my soul pulled in a million directions, and all because of one little word.
Should
This word is my nemesis at the best of times, but during the month of December I feel caught in the middle of a veritable blizzard of shoulds.
Between my family, my religious tradition, the institutions that trained me for ministry, my city, my broader culture, and my own quirky personality I feel completely overwhelmed by all the expectations of what should be...or should not be.
I should be happy...always
I should play games
I should eat Turkey...even though Turkey makes me gag
I should celebrate on a particular day
I should like everyone and want to spend time with them
I should be suitably reflective, after all, it is Advent, but not too reflective, that's heavy...just enough reflectivity to be thoughtful but not so much as to be overly serious
I should swoon over nativities, but not all of them since some of them insist on portraying Mary as meek and Jesus as Caucasian
I should sing heartily, but not Christmas songs until Christmas Eve, at least while at church, in other places its okay as long as other liturgical sorts are not around
I should buy presents to show my love
I should not buy presents because it's consumerist
I should buy fair trade presents only
I should give living gifts like micro loans and goats
I should give gifts to various people (teachers, pastors, nurses, firefighters, carwash attendants or pretty much anybody because surely they've done something for me once, and I should give them something in return, regardless of how useless it is)
I should be joyous because of the birth of my saviour, or Santa Claus, or pretty lights, or lovely music...
I should be mournful, because Christmas is not happy for everyone, and many of us are sad at Christmas (I feel a sarcastic comment coming here, so I'll move on quickly)
I should embrace the holiday spirit because that's what it's all about
I should not embrace the holiday spirit because it's a ploy to get me to go shopping
I should like shopping
I should be stressed out and busy
I should be serene
I should always have an appropriate response ready if someone asks me if I'm ready for Christmas
I should remember to celebrate all the different ways that the holidays are celebrated around the world and in my community by eating tons of food that I've never had before (and getting indigestion)
I should remember my Russian Mennonite heritage and eat Poppycock and play Crokinole while singing Leise Reselt der Schnee (and getting indigestion)
I'm sure you have your own list of shoulds, but this is just a small segment of mine. And all this is not to say that I don't actually like doing some of these things, or want to do them, or feel that they are important or meaningful. But it's that little word, should that wrecks it all. It layers the season with blankets of high hopes, expectations and even worse, appropriateness. I should do and be all of these things, regardless of how contradictory because it makes me appropriate. If I master all the shoulds then I will meet expectations and fit in. I will be exactly what I should be.
But I am not, and I cannot and I never do.
And recently, as I've been grading papers for an Introductory Bible class I was struck by the fact that Jesus was not, and could not and never did.
When you read 40 of the exact same reading reflections highlighting the main points in the intro to the Bible text book, you will eventually notice that Jesus did not meet expectations. The people of Israel were longing for a Messiah, the perfect Saviour to rescue them from their oppression beneath the thumb of foreign rulers. They wanted a king, a military leader who would come with great power and crush their enemies. And so they had all kinds of expectations about what the messiah should be. They wanted him to be wrapped in a particular shade of royal purple. They wanted him to come with the perfect accessories. They wanted him to affirm their menu and all their traditions.
And he didn't.
But it strikes me that Jesus didn't tell them to scrap it all either. It strikes me that what Jesus did was invite people to pay attention to what was before them and to live and love in the midst of it all. He invited people to take their eyes off of what should be and to look squarely into the eyes of what is. And I could belabour this point and struggle to give a dozen scriptural references (in context of course) to back up this statement, but I won't, because that's what I feel like I should do. And in this moment, what I sense is that I am being invited to sit with what is.
So that's my goal this Christmas. A pretty lofty goal, I admit. But I'm going to give it a whirl anyway. I'm going to try to lay aside the shoulds, and simply try to live in what is, whatever that may be.
The time is rapidly approaching.
And honestly, every year around this time I find myself in a whirlwind of emotional confusion. My heart, my body, my soul pulled in a million directions, and all because of one little word.
Should
This word is my nemesis at the best of times, but during the month of December I feel caught in the middle of a veritable blizzard of shoulds.
Between my family, my religious tradition, the institutions that trained me for ministry, my city, my broader culture, and my own quirky personality I feel completely overwhelmed by all the expectations of what should be...or should not be.
I should be happy...always
I should play games
I should eat Turkey...even though Turkey makes me gag
I should celebrate on a particular day
I should like everyone and want to spend time with them
I should be suitably reflective, after all, it is Advent, but not too reflective, that's heavy...just enough reflectivity to be thoughtful but not so much as to be overly serious
I should swoon over nativities, but not all of them since some of them insist on portraying Mary as meek and Jesus as Caucasian
I should sing heartily, but not Christmas songs until Christmas Eve, at least while at church, in other places its okay as long as other liturgical sorts are not around
I should buy presents to show my love
I should not buy presents because it's consumerist
I should buy fair trade presents only
I should give living gifts like micro loans and goats
I should give gifts to various people (teachers, pastors, nurses, firefighters, carwash attendants or pretty much anybody because surely they've done something for me once, and I should give them something in return, regardless of how useless it is)
I should be joyous because of the birth of my saviour, or Santa Claus, or pretty lights, or lovely music...
I should be mournful, because Christmas is not happy for everyone, and many of us are sad at Christmas (I feel a sarcastic comment coming here, so I'll move on quickly)
I should embrace the holiday spirit because that's what it's all about
I should not embrace the holiday spirit because it's a ploy to get me to go shopping
I should like shopping
I should be stressed out and busy
I should be serene
I should always have an appropriate response ready if someone asks me if I'm ready for Christmas
I should remember to celebrate all the different ways that the holidays are celebrated around the world and in my community by eating tons of food that I've never had before (and getting indigestion)
I should remember my Russian Mennonite heritage and eat Poppycock and play Crokinole while singing Leise Reselt der Schnee (and getting indigestion)
I'm sure you have your own list of shoulds, but this is just a small segment of mine. And all this is not to say that I don't actually like doing some of these things, or want to do them, or feel that they are important or meaningful. But it's that little word, should that wrecks it all. It layers the season with blankets of high hopes, expectations and even worse, appropriateness. I should do and be all of these things, regardless of how contradictory because it makes me appropriate. If I master all the shoulds then I will meet expectations and fit in. I will be exactly what I should be.
But I am not, and I cannot and I never do.
And recently, as I've been grading papers for an Introductory Bible class I was struck by the fact that Jesus was not, and could not and never did.
When you read 40 of the exact same reading reflections highlighting the main points in the intro to the Bible text book, you will eventually notice that Jesus did not meet expectations. The people of Israel were longing for a Messiah, the perfect Saviour to rescue them from their oppression beneath the thumb of foreign rulers. They wanted a king, a military leader who would come with great power and crush their enemies. And so they had all kinds of expectations about what the messiah should be. They wanted him to be wrapped in a particular shade of royal purple. They wanted him to come with the perfect accessories. They wanted him to affirm their menu and all their traditions.
And he didn't.
But it strikes me that Jesus didn't tell them to scrap it all either. It strikes me that what Jesus did was invite people to pay attention to what was before them and to live and love in the midst of it all. He invited people to take their eyes off of what should be and to look squarely into the eyes of what is. And I could belabour this point and struggle to give a dozen scriptural references (in context of course) to back up this statement, but I won't, because that's what I feel like I should do. And in this moment, what I sense is that I am being invited to sit with what is.
So that's my goal this Christmas. A pretty lofty goal, I admit. But I'm going to give it a whirl anyway. I'm going to try to lay aside the shoulds, and simply try to live in what is, whatever that may be.
Wednesday 28 November 2012
So, I'm 36
So yes, today is my birthday and I'm 36 years old today. I know sometimes people say "wow, I can't believe I'm 36 already, the years have just flown by." Or maybe they say, "oh my word, I'm only 36, I feel like I'm 80!" But honestly, I just feel 36.
For most of my life I have just wanted to be 4 years old. 4 was a very good year. I turned 4 in 1980, the start of a new decade and the start of a new stage of my life. 4 is when I started school. My birthday is in November, so I was nearing 5, but what I remember is being 4. Apparently Trudeau was Prime Minister, "O Canada" became our national anthem and Emanuel Sandhu was born. But what I remember is waiting for the bus in my plaid dress with my fancy school bag that my mom sewed for me. It had a felt appliqued apple, banana and orange on the front. I was so proud. Being 4 meant Kindergarten. Being 4 meant the story corner, and cut and paste in Mrs. Campbell's Kindergarten class at Elmwood Elementary school. Being 4 was grand. And all my life I have wanted to go back to being 4.
For a time I also wanted desperately to be 25. I still wanted to be 4, but in the absence of a time machine, I thought that if I could just be 25 then things would be the way I wanted them to be. For some reason 25 was the age I associated with being settled, with having my own home, with safety and security and belonging. But when I reached 25 and none of those things had really materialized, I decided what the heck! And I quit my job and moved to CMU to change the course of my life entirely.
And now, at 36 the only age I really want to be is...36. As much as there are things about this stage in life that I would like to change, there really is no other age that I want to be. I am just fine being me, I am just fine with my grey hair and my creaky knees (not that I don't do physio to ease the pain). I loved being 4, and I look back with fondness for the gifts I received at that age and at every stage in between. There were good experiences and not so good ones, but they made me who I am right now. And I look forward with anticipation to the growth that is yet to come in my life. I love that I know that some day I'll know more than I do now. I love that some day I'll be wiser, more settled internally, stronger in my core, my heart. I love that learning doesn't stop and growth doesn't stop. But I'm also just fine with where I am in my journey. I am not a broken project that needs to be fixed today, I'm just a growing person who needs to be nurtured over a lifetime. And I'm good with that.
So today, I'll spend a little time looking back, and a little time looking forward, and a whole lot of time just being in the present. Because it's a gift.
For most of my life I have just wanted to be 4 years old. 4 was a very good year. I turned 4 in 1980, the start of a new decade and the start of a new stage of my life. 4 is when I started school. My birthday is in November, so I was nearing 5, but what I remember is being 4. Apparently Trudeau was Prime Minister, "O Canada" became our national anthem and Emanuel Sandhu was born. But what I remember is waiting for the bus in my plaid dress with my fancy school bag that my mom sewed for me. It had a felt appliqued apple, banana and orange on the front. I was so proud. Being 4 meant Kindergarten. Being 4 meant the story corner, and cut and paste in Mrs. Campbell's Kindergarten class at Elmwood Elementary school. Being 4 was grand. And all my life I have wanted to go back to being 4.
For a time I also wanted desperately to be 25. I still wanted to be 4, but in the absence of a time machine, I thought that if I could just be 25 then things would be the way I wanted them to be. For some reason 25 was the age I associated with being settled, with having my own home, with safety and security and belonging. But when I reached 25 and none of those things had really materialized, I decided what the heck! And I quit my job and moved to CMU to change the course of my life entirely.
And now, at 36 the only age I really want to be is...36. As much as there are things about this stage in life that I would like to change, there really is no other age that I want to be. I am just fine being me, I am just fine with my grey hair and my creaky knees (not that I don't do physio to ease the pain). I loved being 4, and I look back with fondness for the gifts I received at that age and at every stage in between. There were good experiences and not so good ones, but they made me who I am right now. And I look forward with anticipation to the growth that is yet to come in my life. I love that I know that some day I'll know more than I do now. I love that some day I'll be wiser, more settled internally, stronger in my core, my heart. I love that learning doesn't stop and growth doesn't stop. But I'm also just fine with where I am in my journey. I am not a broken project that needs to be fixed today, I'm just a growing person who needs to be nurtured over a lifetime. And I'm good with that.
So today, I'll spend a little time looking back, and a little time looking forward, and a whole lot of time just being in the present. Because it's a gift.
Monday 26 November 2012
Almost a Year
Well, it's been almost a year back here in Canada. Some days it seems hard to believe that we've already been back here a year, on other days it feels like we never left Winnipeg at all, that AMBS was just a dream (with periodic nightmares!). Last year at this time I was immersed in putting together final lectures and grading work for students in the class I co-taught at AMBS. I was also setting up my last spiritual guidance sessions with my young directees, and finishing up my volunteer work at Belmont Mennonite Church. I was also busy packing with Alicia, figuring out where we would move, and how to make that happen. It was a rich, full, frantic, rewarding, frustrating time.
We knew that moving back to Winnipeg would be a challenge. We knew that it would likely be difficult to find ministry positions, especially given that our internships were primarily done in Indiana. That's where we made relationships and connections surrounding our gifts in ministry so we knew that returning to Winnipeg would be starting over in a sense. Yet we had a clear sense that Winnipeg was the place that we needed to be. So we decided to give ourselves 6 months of sabbatical, of grace before beginning to really work at finding ministry work. That's not to say that we weren't keeping our eyes open, or looking for other employment, but that we knew it would take time and we wanted to make sure that we gave ourselves that time, rather than panicking the entire time.
Well, 6 months came and went. And now 11 months.
And it is difficult some days. I have very much enjoyed the time that I have had to be able to rest, to preach in various congregations, to do more random things that I might not have had time to do if I was employed full time. I have especially loved the opportunities to resource others either in person, or online as well as my time volunteering at the MC Canada Resource Centre. But it has been a time of mixed feelings, of wondering, of wrestling with questions of my calling and purpose. I would love to be able to just do ministry and never worry about income, but that's not really reality. It's hard to make ends meet on honorariums and I have been endlessly thankful for the help my parents have provided in that regard, as well as for the income Alicia has had through her job in administrative work. And it is not easy to fight the feelings of guilt that arise from being unemployed. I look at job postings and have applied for some, but realistically I am trained for ministry, not administration or sales. I don't know how to use the computer programs they require, I don't have the short course from the community college that is a prerequisite, and it's dishonest to leave off my resume that I have a Master's degree. So I sit in the odd space of being completely unqualified, and yet overqualified at the same time.
And I find myself getting antsy and looking forward. But forward to what? I am completely unsure. Of late I have sensed that I am to pray for my eyes to be opened to the bizarre and the audacious. That God's plans for me are yet to be revealed, and may in fact take shapes that I have never even imagined. And at times I feel filled to overflowing with hope, and at other times I just despair of ever being able to minister in ways that truly use my gifts.
After a year in Winnipeg, I confess to feeling far more confused than when I left Indiana.
So I wait with hope, and with eyes and heart open to the bizarre, whatever that may be.
We knew that moving back to Winnipeg would be a challenge. We knew that it would likely be difficult to find ministry positions, especially given that our internships were primarily done in Indiana. That's where we made relationships and connections surrounding our gifts in ministry so we knew that returning to Winnipeg would be starting over in a sense. Yet we had a clear sense that Winnipeg was the place that we needed to be. So we decided to give ourselves 6 months of sabbatical, of grace before beginning to really work at finding ministry work. That's not to say that we weren't keeping our eyes open, or looking for other employment, but that we knew it would take time and we wanted to make sure that we gave ourselves that time, rather than panicking the entire time.
Well, 6 months came and went. And now 11 months.
And it is difficult some days. I have very much enjoyed the time that I have had to be able to rest, to preach in various congregations, to do more random things that I might not have had time to do if I was employed full time. I have especially loved the opportunities to resource others either in person, or online as well as my time volunteering at the MC Canada Resource Centre. But it has been a time of mixed feelings, of wondering, of wrestling with questions of my calling and purpose. I would love to be able to just do ministry and never worry about income, but that's not really reality. It's hard to make ends meet on honorariums and I have been endlessly thankful for the help my parents have provided in that regard, as well as for the income Alicia has had through her job in administrative work. And it is not easy to fight the feelings of guilt that arise from being unemployed. I look at job postings and have applied for some, but realistically I am trained for ministry, not administration or sales. I don't know how to use the computer programs they require, I don't have the short course from the community college that is a prerequisite, and it's dishonest to leave off my resume that I have a Master's degree. So I sit in the odd space of being completely unqualified, and yet overqualified at the same time.
And I find myself getting antsy and looking forward. But forward to what? I am completely unsure. Of late I have sensed that I am to pray for my eyes to be opened to the bizarre and the audacious. That God's plans for me are yet to be revealed, and may in fact take shapes that I have never even imagined. And at times I feel filled to overflowing with hope, and at other times I just despair of ever being able to minister in ways that truly use my gifts.
After a year in Winnipeg, I confess to feeling far more confused than when I left Indiana.
So I wait with hope, and with eyes and heart open to the bizarre, whatever that may be.
Friday 9 November 2012
To my young friends at Belmont Mennonite Church
Today I am very sad. And I am hurting. Our friend Isaac is sick again and that really stinks. There are no words to describe how awful this is. Sometimes when I feel sad and just awful I don't know what to do, maybe it's the same for you?
Today I remembered that I had a little book on my shelf called "When Someone you Love has Cancer" and I thought I would read it to remind me of some important things, and to share some of those things with you too.
1. When someone we love is sick, it's not our fault. "People get sick, and that's just the way things are sometimes. Know that you did nothing to bring this on."
2. It's okay to cry. "It's OK to be sad, and it's OK to cry. Crying doesn't mean you're not strong. It's just a way for your body to show you are sad." It's totally OK to cry if you feel like it. And if you don't feel like crying, that's OK too.
3. It's OK to be mad or afraid. "Even if you know something about it, cancer can still be scary...Being mad or afraid doesn't mean you're being a baby. It just means that there are things going on that are hard to understand, and that's scary for everyone - even grown-ups. Remember, you can always tell them that you are mad or afraid."
4. It's OK to be happy. "There is much to be sad, mad, and afraid about when someone you love has cancer. But there are still things to be happy about, and it's good to remember that too!"
5. Talking helps. "When there are so many different feelings happening around you, it's good to talk to someone to help understand them all better...there are many people who want to hear how you feel: parents, teachers, ministers, relatives."
6. Do something nice. "No one likes to feel bad, and no amount of ice cream can help that. But it helps when people do nice things to show they care...You can help your loved one feel better by doing something nice for him."
7. Say a prayer. "Prayer is asking God to give us, and the people we love, the things we need most...God listens to all prayer, so you can pray in your own way."
Sometimes I have trouble praying with words when I am very sad. I am so glad that there are other ways to pray like lighting a candle for the person who is sick, sitting quietly with God and crying if I need to, holding a stuffed animal, praying in colour (doodling prayer), using my body to show God how I feel, or dancing to let go of all of the sadness that is all in knots inside of me. Maybe some of these things might be helpful for you too or maybe you have other ways of praying.
Today I am praying for Isaac and his family, and I am also praying for all of you at Belmont who are their friends.
Today I remembered that I had a little book on my shelf called "When Someone you Love has Cancer" and I thought I would read it to remind me of some important things, and to share some of those things with you too.
1. When someone we love is sick, it's not our fault. "People get sick, and that's just the way things are sometimes. Know that you did nothing to bring this on."
2. It's okay to cry. "It's OK to be sad, and it's OK to cry. Crying doesn't mean you're not strong. It's just a way for your body to show you are sad." It's totally OK to cry if you feel like it. And if you don't feel like crying, that's OK too.
3. It's OK to be mad or afraid. "Even if you know something about it, cancer can still be scary...Being mad or afraid doesn't mean you're being a baby. It just means that there are things going on that are hard to understand, and that's scary for everyone - even grown-ups. Remember, you can always tell them that you are mad or afraid."
4. It's OK to be happy. "There is much to be sad, mad, and afraid about when someone you love has cancer. But there are still things to be happy about, and it's good to remember that too!"
5. Talking helps. "When there are so many different feelings happening around you, it's good to talk to someone to help understand them all better...there are many people who want to hear how you feel: parents, teachers, ministers, relatives."
6. Do something nice. "No one likes to feel bad, and no amount of ice cream can help that. But it helps when people do nice things to show they care...You can help your loved one feel better by doing something nice for him."
7. Say a prayer. "Prayer is asking God to give us, and the people we love, the things we need most...God listens to all prayer, so you can pray in your own way."
Sometimes I have trouble praying with words when I am very sad. I am so glad that there are other ways to pray like lighting a candle for the person who is sick, sitting quietly with God and crying if I need to, holding a stuffed animal, praying in colour (doodling prayer), using my body to show God how I feel, or dancing to let go of all of the sadness that is all in knots inside of me. Maybe some of these things might be helpful for you too or maybe you have other ways of praying.
Today I am praying for Isaac and his family, and I am also praying for all of you at Belmont who are their friends.
Tuesday 30 October 2012
The Value of Grey?
Black and White
Left and Right
Right and Wrong
Us and Them
This or That
Dichotomous thinking. One of the most popular ways to teach children it seems. And probably the single most unhelpful thing that I have encountered in working with younger and older adults. Nothing shuts down learning and dialogue like being told that the idea being presented is simply wrong because they didn't learn it when they were little. Because if they were told when they were five that the Bible is exactly "this way" and they are supposed to stand firm and not be shaken then by golly they will, regardless of whether or not they retain a five-year old faith for the rest of their lives.
This is indeed a rant.
And I am angry.
I'm angry that we teach young children that there is one answer to most of life's problems or questions.
I'm angry that we teach children that "this way" is right but "that way" is wrong, meaning we are right and they are wrong.
I'm angry that we present the Bible to children in boxes (in a parochial sense).
I'm angry that we forget that children need to learn how to think, not just what to think.
Because that's how they grow.
Dichotomous thinking stunts their growth!
I meet so many people who struggle with engaging the Bible in new ways, with stretching themselves, with accepting new ideas, or even knowing how to challenge and critique new ideas (and I am one of them!). And when I meet these people I don't feel angry at them, I feel angry at their childhood Sunday school teachers, their devotional materials "Christian" songs, their Bible storybooks and all the other people that told them all the answers instead of challenging them to imagine all the possibilities and to discern wisely, remaining open to change when new information comes along.
Yes, children need safety and security, they need to know that it is not a good idea to put the grilled cheese sandwich in the VCR (yes I'm that old), they need to know that pulling out their brother's hair is wrong, they need to know that swallowing poison is going to hurt them. And they need to know some things with a degree of certainty. But what is life if everything is certain? How do we grow if everything that we learn is certain, and not open to change?
How do we experience God as mystery if the mystery has been solved?
What does it mean for the Spirit to move when we read scripture if there is only one way to interpret the Bible?
How small does God become if everything we know about God can be fully understood and explained when we are five years old?
How boring are those stories if I can only learn one lesson from them?
Sometimes people look at me like I'm nuts when I say stuff like this. They think I'm crazy to make so much of what and how we teach our children because after all, real learning comes later. But in my experience (and that of other learned people thankfully), that's simply not the case. We do learn later, but the way we learn, our worldview, our concepts of how to interpret information, and how we understand God are shaped very early on. And each time I'm in a group discussing atonement, each time I'm in a group discussing sexuality, each time I mark a paper discussing the Bible, people will bring up what they learned when they were little. Each and every time. And that learning has a lot of power. Even when faced with direct evidence to the contrary (informational or experiential), it is very hard to change those childhood perspectives.
So if it's hard to change the perspectives we learn when we are children, then what happens when the perspective we learn is dichotomous or parochial thought?
What happens when a child's worldview involves only certainty and no mystery?
What happens when we teach a child that the Bible is absolutely true (in an historically accurate factual way) and then they are confronted with the impossibility of that "fact"?
What happens when we teach children that Jesus loves "good" children (Jesus loves me when I'm good, when I do the things I should), and then they do something "bad"?
What happens when a child's only concept of God is of a bearded white haired man and then they are raped by a man just like that?
Conversely,
What happens when we teach children to listen in the Spirit as we discern together?
What happens when we wonder together and are honest when we really don't know the answer, or that perhaps there is not one?
What happens when we invite children into the biblical story and help them to see themselves as part of that story?
What happens when we teach children that they are loved unconditionally and are valued for who they are as part of God's diverse family?
What happens when we present children with many images for God so they are able to encounter God in many faces and places?
And now, because my rant has become very long as usual I will close with a quote from Picasso (I rarely quote Picasso!):
"There is only one way to see things,
until someone shows us how to look at them
with different eyes"
Let us keep that in mind as we live and learn together with our children.
Left and Right
Right and Wrong
Us and Them
This or That
Dichotomous thinking. One of the most popular ways to teach children it seems. And probably the single most unhelpful thing that I have encountered in working with younger and older adults. Nothing shuts down learning and dialogue like being told that the idea being presented is simply wrong because they didn't learn it when they were little. Because if they were told when they were five that the Bible is exactly "this way" and they are supposed to stand firm and not be shaken then by golly they will, regardless of whether or not they retain a five-year old faith for the rest of their lives.
This is indeed a rant.
And I am angry.
I'm angry that we teach young children that there is one answer to most of life's problems or questions.
I'm angry that we teach children that "this way" is right but "that way" is wrong, meaning we are right and they are wrong.
I'm angry that we present the Bible to children in boxes (in a parochial sense).
I'm angry that we forget that children need to learn how to think, not just what to think.
Because that's how they grow.
Dichotomous thinking stunts their growth!
I meet so many people who struggle with engaging the Bible in new ways, with stretching themselves, with accepting new ideas, or even knowing how to challenge and critique new ideas (and I am one of them!). And when I meet these people I don't feel angry at them, I feel angry at their childhood Sunday school teachers, their devotional materials "Christian" songs, their Bible storybooks and all the other people that told them all the answers instead of challenging them to imagine all the possibilities and to discern wisely, remaining open to change when new information comes along.
Yes, children need safety and security, they need to know that it is not a good idea to put the grilled cheese sandwich in the VCR (yes I'm that old), they need to know that pulling out their brother's hair is wrong, they need to know that swallowing poison is going to hurt them. And they need to know some things with a degree of certainty. But what is life if everything is certain? How do we grow if everything that we learn is certain, and not open to change?
How do we experience God as mystery if the mystery has been solved?
What does it mean for the Spirit to move when we read scripture if there is only one way to interpret the Bible?
How small does God become if everything we know about God can be fully understood and explained when we are five years old?
How boring are those stories if I can only learn one lesson from them?
Sometimes people look at me like I'm nuts when I say stuff like this. They think I'm crazy to make so much of what and how we teach our children because after all, real learning comes later. But in my experience (and that of other learned people thankfully), that's simply not the case. We do learn later, but the way we learn, our worldview, our concepts of how to interpret information, and how we understand God are shaped very early on. And each time I'm in a group discussing atonement, each time I'm in a group discussing sexuality, each time I mark a paper discussing the Bible, people will bring up what they learned when they were little. Each and every time. And that learning has a lot of power. Even when faced with direct evidence to the contrary (informational or experiential), it is very hard to change those childhood perspectives.
So if it's hard to change the perspectives we learn when we are children, then what happens when the perspective we learn is dichotomous or parochial thought?
What happens when a child's worldview involves only certainty and no mystery?
What happens when we teach a child that the Bible is absolutely true (in an historically accurate factual way) and then they are confronted with the impossibility of that "fact"?
What happens when we teach children that Jesus loves "good" children (Jesus loves me when I'm good, when I do the things I should), and then they do something "bad"?
What happens when a child's only concept of God is of a bearded white haired man and then they are raped by a man just like that?
Conversely,
What happens when we teach children to listen in the Spirit as we discern together?
What happens when we wonder together and are honest when we really don't know the answer, or that perhaps there is not one?
What happens when we invite children into the biblical story and help them to see themselves as part of that story?
What happens when we teach children that they are loved unconditionally and are valued for who they are as part of God's diverse family?
What happens when we present children with many images for God so they are able to encounter God in many faces and places?
And now, because my rant has become very long as usual I will close with a quote from Picasso (I rarely quote Picasso!):
"There is only one way to see things,
until someone shows us how to look at them
with different eyes"
Let us keep that in mind as we live and learn together with our children.
Wednesday 10 October 2012
Sacrifices
I have particular, and sometimes peculiar, convictions. Some of these convictions have developed throughout my life, others I have come to in adulthood. Some are based on what I believe it means to live as an Anabaptist Christian, others have developed out of my sense of who God is calling me, in particular, to be in the world. Some of my convictions are easily held because they are rarely challenged, others are challenged to various degrees through circumstance or through direct confrontation from others (and those challenges can be a very good thing!). All of them require some degree of sacrifice as do all choices. There are pros and cons, degrees of faithfulness and unfaithfulness, health and brokenness in all decisions that we make.
So I find it amusing that when individuals actually challenge me about some of my convictions they immediately try to force me to consider what I am giving up or ask "what if..." questions (as if I had not already done so) , without acknowledging that their choices have also required sacrifices. This is most often the case when my choice is seen as counter cultural.
An aside: I'd like to point out that I have almost never been challenged on how well I'm actually living out my convictions or whether or not my conviction is bearing fruit, and people certainly could challenge me on those things. I am not perfect. It's easy for me not to go to war but mighty hard to be loving to people that drive me nuts. The challenges I do receive are usually on the choice itself.
My conviction that being a follower of Jesus means that we are to work for peace and justice in active, yet non-violent ways is rarely challenged directly since I am not being forced to make the decision of whether or not to enlist, as was the case for many of my ancestors. Yet periodically I do get the inevitable "what if someone broke into your home and tried to harm your family?" question. There are many ways to engage that question, and I will not go into them here. However, what always confuses me when thinking about violence is the absence of consideration for what might happen to me and to the other if I did engage in violence. We, as a culture, usually assume that we would be sacrificing our own safety, our possessions, our well-being, if we did not respond with violence. Yet I rarely hear us considering what we are sacrificing when we do engage in violence, the damage that happens to self and other. It is painfully obvious when hearing stories of soldiers with PTSD, that inflicting violence and witnessing violence does not simply end the pain and suffering, it creates a whole new kind of brokenness that then has to be dealt with. There are sacrifices on both sides.
My conviction to attempt to live simply and to consider carefully the ways in which I use technology are challenged somewhat more frequently, but usually in a more gently mocking tone. I don't have a cell phone and I have a relatively small TV (though I do have one!), and I spend far too much time on the internet for someone who has strong convictions about such things. I think, however, the small TV has been the most commented on and bewilders most sports fanatics. I apparently, don't know what I'm missing! Well...I think I know some of what I'm missing. I'm missing a TV as the ultimate focal point in my apartment (we already think ours is too central, but can't relocate it due to wiring). I'm missing damaged eye sight from sitting way too close to an incredibly large screen. I'm missing seeing every pore on every TV personality's face. I'm missing increased noise. I'm missing copious amounts of time wasted in front of a TV which would be necessary in order to justify a purchase of that size (and I already watch too much TV). There's a ton that I'm missing; that I'm sacrificing, but are they not giving up some things as well?
But of all of my convictions, the one that is challenged the most often and the most passively aggressively, is my decision to remain single and not have children. I say passive aggressively because this is rarely an honest face-to-face conversation in which I am invited to tell my story, or to share why I feel called to singleness at this point in my life or how I understand the impact that my decision has on others. Most often I hear little jokes, small back-handed comments (often well-intentioned, but back-handed nonetheless), or stories about how so and so let herself "sit on the shelf" or "go to seed" or whatever.
I always find these conversations both amusing and frustrating. It's not like I'm 18 and I suddenly decided to enter a convent. I'm almost 36 years old. In many ways my singleness has simply been part of my life circumstance. I am not against the institution of marriage, I am not against people having children, though I certainly wish more people would think carefully about their decisions to get married and have children, it might reduce the divorce rate and child abuse (not all people are suited to marriage and child rearing). I simply choose to recognize the gifts that my singleness brings instead of pining away for what I do not have, and going "hunting" regularly.
Another quick aside: Most people who make comments to me also tend not to recognize that I am not "single" in the way that many people are single. For more on this see an earlier post.
At the heart of all of the comments that I receive, from both men and women, young and old is that I don't know what I'm giving up. Why would I want to sacrifice the joy of marriage and children (which, quite frankly, does not appear to be the norm) for a life of loneliness? Here is where the amusing part comes in. This is, it seems to me, the fundamental misunderstanding of both marriage and singleness that comes through in almost all the comments that I hear; the assumption that marriage and children = happiness, and singleness = loneliness. That single people simply sacrifice all the joys in life while married people sacrifice nothing! Hah! Perhaps this is the problem with marriages, the assumption that there is no sacrifice, only gain. Perhaps marriages would last longer if couples received repeated concerned guidance from all far and wide that they should carefully consider what they are giving up in order to live in relationship, to form a household, to make a covenant (if that is part of their plan). Or if a couple wanting to have a baby had to sit and make lists of all the things that they would have to sacrifice for the rest of their lives before they attempt to procreate, perhaps parenting would grow in its intentionality. I say this with 1/2 sarcasm, and 1/2 seriousness.
Convictions, all convictions require sacrifice. Whether we are following traditional or mainstream customs, making counter cultural choices or anything in between, there are things that we have to let go of. And just as it's hard for others to sometimes see the beauty and gifts that come with some of my convictions, it is hard for me to see the same in theirs. It seems to be the default to assume that we have the corner on what is right and good, that in order for our decisions or convictions to be "right" they must be universal. However, I wonder what growth might happen for all of us, myself included, if instead of making back-handed critiques to one another's convictions we chose to sit down together and honestly share and receive one another's stories, to hear about the gifts that their convictions might bring, instead of only hearing our own assumptions.
So I find it amusing that when individuals actually challenge me about some of my convictions they immediately try to force me to consider what I am giving up or ask "what if..." questions (as if I had not already done so) , without acknowledging that their choices have also required sacrifices. This is most often the case when my choice is seen as counter cultural.
An aside: I'd like to point out that I have almost never been challenged on how well I'm actually living out my convictions or whether or not my conviction is bearing fruit, and people certainly could challenge me on those things. I am not perfect. It's easy for me not to go to war but mighty hard to be loving to people that drive me nuts. The challenges I do receive are usually on the choice itself.
My conviction that being a follower of Jesus means that we are to work for peace and justice in active, yet non-violent ways is rarely challenged directly since I am not being forced to make the decision of whether or not to enlist, as was the case for many of my ancestors. Yet periodically I do get the inevitable "what if someone broke into your home and tried to harm your family?" question. There are many ways to engage that question, and I will not go into them here. However, what always confuses me when thinking about violence is the absence of consideration for what might happen to me and to the other if I did engage in violence. We, as a culture, usually assume that we would be sacrificing our own safety, our possessions, our well-being, if we did not respond with violence. Yet I rarely hear us considering what we are sacrificing when we do engage in violence, the damage that happens to self and other. It is painfully obvious when hearing stories of soldiers with PTSD, that inflicting violence and witnessing violence does not simply end the pain and suffering, it creates a whole new kind of brokenness that then has to be dealt with. There are sacrifices on both sides.
My conviction to attempt to live simply and to consider carefully the ways in which I use technology are challenged somewhat more frequently, but usually in a more gently mocking tone. I don't have a cell phone and I have a relatively small TV (though I do have one!), and I spend far too much time on the internet for someone who has strong convictions about such things. I think, however, the small TV has been the most commented on and bewilders most sports fanatics. I apparently, don't know what I'm missing! Well...I think I know some of what I'm missing. I'm missing a TV as the ultimate focal point in my apartment (we already think ours is too central, but can't relocate it due to wiring). I'm missing damaged eye sight from sitting way too close to an incredibly large screen. I'm missing seeing every pore on every TV personality's face. I'm missing increased noise. I'm missing copious amounts of time wasted in front of a TV which would be necessary in order to justify a purchase of that size (and I already watch too much TV). There's a ton that I'm missing; that I'm sacrificing, but are they not giving up some things as well?
But of all of my convictions, the one that is challenged the most often and the most passively aggressively, is my decision to remain single and not have children. I say passive aggressively because this is rarely an honest face-to-face conversation in which I am invited to tell my story, or to share why I feel called to singleness at this point in my life or how I understand the impact that my decision has on others. Most often I hear little jokes, small back-handed comments (often well-intentioned, but back-handed nonetheless), or stories about how so and so let herself "sit on the shelf" or "go to seed" or whatever.
I always find these conversations both amusing and frustrating. It's not like I'm 18 and I suddenly decided to enter a convent. I'm almost 36 years old. In many ways my singleness has simply been part of my life circumstance. I am not against the institution of marriage, I am not against people having children, though I certainly wish more people would think carefully about their decisions to get married and have children, it might reduce the divorce rate and child abuse (not all people are suited to marriage and child rearing). I simply choose to recognize the gifts that my singleness brings instead of pining away for what I do not have, and going "hunting" regularly.
Another quick aside: Most people who make comments to me also tend not to recognize that I am not "single" in the way that many people are single. For more on this see an earlier post.
At the heart of all of the comments that I receive, from both men and women, young and old is that I don't know what I'm giving up. Why would I want to sacrifice the joy of marriage and children (which, quite frankly, does not appear to be the norm) for a life of loneliness? Here is where the amusing part comes in. This is, it seems to me, the fundamental misunderstanding of both marriage and singleness that comes through in almost all the comments that I hear; the assumption that marriage and children = happiness, and singleness = loneliness. That single people simply sacrifice all the joys in life while married people sacrifice nothing! Hah! Perhaps this is the problem with marriages, the assumption that there is no sacrifice, only gain. Perhaps marriages would last longer if couples received repeated concerned guidance from all far and wide that they should carefully consider what they are giving up in order to live in relationship, to form a household, to make a covenant (if that is part of their plan). Or if a couple wanting to have a baby had to sit and make lists of all the things that they would have to sacrifice for the rest of their lives before they attempt to procreate, perhaps parenting would grow in its intentionality. I say this with 1/2 sarcasm, and 1/2 seriousness.
Convictions, all convictions require sacrifice. Whether we are following traditional or mainstream customs, making counter cultural choices or anything in between, there are things that we have to let go of. And just as it's hard for others to sometimes see the beauty and gifts that come with some of my convictions, it is hard for me to see the same in theirs. It seems to be the default to assume that we have the corner on what is right and good, that in order for our decisions or convictions to be "right" they must be universal. However, I wonder what growth might happen for all of us, myself included, if instead of making back-handed critiques to one another's convictions we chose to sit down together and honestly share and receive one another's stories, to hear about the gifts that their convictions might bring, instead of only hearing our own assumptions.
Thursday 27 September 2012
The Benefits of Counseling
One of the greatest gifts in my life has been good counselors. I would certainly not be the person I am today if I had not sought out help in navigating my relationship with myself and with others.
And I am not "mentally ill".
I have not been diagnosed with any mental disorder.
I have simply experienced life.
Life has ups and downs. For some people those ups and downs include mild to severe mental disorders, which may or may not require medication. But for many people life is simply life. There are times when anxiety seems to be getting the better of us, or the world feels heavy, or we aren't sure how to grieve, or we have trouble trusting our own intuition, or we have trouble asking for help, or we have a pessimistic worldview that has been passed on from generation to generation, or we just aren't sure which end is up or how to make decisions, or we aren't sure how to be of most help to others we are in relationship with.
Life can be difficult. It can be frustrating. It can be hard to see our way through whatever lies before us, and so we find ourselves trying to go around...and around...and around. We become addicted to coffee, alcohol, tv, drugs, shopping, technology, home renovations and the list goes on. Human beings will find coping mechanisms of all kinds when we can't bring ourselves to deal with a situation. Dealing with our crap is hard work. It requires vulnerability. And when we are ready to deal with it, it requires a companion.
I could not have faced my issues on my own. I needed help. I did not need someone else to tell me what to do. I needed someone to help me to learn to listen to what was actually going on within and around me. I needed someone to ask me good questions and invite me to consider different ways of thinking and being in the world.
My experience is that "therapy" still has a really negative interpretation for a lot of people. Therapy is for finicky movie stars who are completely self-absorbed. Therapy is for addicts, drug addicts, not coffee addicts. Therapy is for people who are messed up. Therapy is for sick people. Therapy is for those people.
Well, I disagree. Therapy is for people who choose to love themselves enough to work on their own healing. When I become more healthy, those around me are also strengthened. When I refuse to work on my own healing, when I choose to avoid my problems and distract myself with shopping (or whatever), the problems don't go away. They get worse and they spill over onto other people and they get passed on generation to generation.
I get that going to a counselor is expensive. But I decided it was far better stewardship than spending money on drugs, alcohol or the myriad other diversions that are advertised to me daily. At least therapy doesn't add to the landfill and it actually improves my quality of life long term.
I have been incredibly blessed with two amazing counselors to walk alongside me over the past number of years. However, I should say that not all counselors are good counselors. I know this first hand. I went to one counselor, who within about 30 min. of listening to me share about my struggles with anxiety in public speaking, suggested medication. In some instances medication can be of benefit, but not for mild anxiety! We as a culture tend to over-medicate I believe, making it very difficult to see when people actually do need medication, and when other life changes would be of more benefit.
In my work with children I am often frustrated to see very young people who are not receiving the skills they need to deal with the ups and downs of life. They are being taught to deal with their anger, frustration, and anxiety through bribes and distractions and yes...shopping. If I am sad, I should have ice cream. If I am scared, I should ignore my fear and push through it and I'll get a sucker. If I am anxious about something I should go shopping. I shouldn't listen to my fear, and ask why I'm afraid. Because surely dealing with the issue head on will be far more traumatic than nursing the fear for 40 years until I can't ignore it anymore and the medication is no longer effectively numbing me out (yes I am being sarcastic here).
I know that counseling is not for everyone. I know that for some people Spiritual Direction is all that they need, and for others there might be other types of healing that better suit their situation. But, regardless of what mode of healing is right for you, I think it's time that North Americans in general stop trying to numb out and avoid our problems because that is yet another way that we don't make a better world for our children.
And I am not "mentally ill".
I have not been diagnosed with any mental disorder.
I have simply experienced life.
Life has ups and downs. For some people those ups and downs include mild to severe mental disorders, which may or may not require medication. But for many people life is simply life. There are times when anxiety seems to be getting the better of us, or the world feels heavy, or we aren't sure how to grieve, or we have trouble trusting our own intuition, or we have trouble asking for help, or we have a pessimistic worldview that has been passed on from generation to generation, or we just aren't sure which end is up or how to make decisions, or we aren't sure how to be of most help to others we are in relationship with.
Life can be difficult. It can be frustrating. It can be hard to see our way through whatever lies before us, and so we find ourselves trying to go around...and around...and around. We become addicted to coffee, alcohol, tv, drugs, shopping, technology, home renovations and the list goes on. Human beings will find coping mechanisms of all kinds when we can't bring ourselves to deal with a situation. Dealing with our crap is hard work. It requires vulnerability. And when we are ready to deal with it, it requires a companion.
I could not have faced my issues on my own. I needed help. I did not need someone else to tell me what to do. I needed someone to help me to learn to listen to what was actually going on within and around me. I needed someone to ask me good questions and invite me to consider different ways of thinking and being in the world.
My experience is that "therapy" still has a really negative interpretation for a lot of people. Therapy is for finicky movie stars who are completely self-absorbed. Therapy is for addicts, drug addicts, not coffee addicts. Therapy is for people who are messed up. Therapy is for sick people. Therapy is for those people.
Well, I disagree. Therapy is for people who choose to love themselves enough to work on their own healing. When I become more healthy, those around me are also strengthened. When I refuse to work on my own healing, when I choose to avoid my problems and distract myself with shopping (or whatever), the problems don't go away. They get worse and they spill over onto other people and they get passed on generation to generation.
I get that going to a counselor is expensive. But I decided it was far better stewardship than spending money on drugs, alcohol or the myriad other diversions that are advertised to me daily. At least therapy doesn't add to the landfill and it actually improves my quality of life long term.
I have been incredibly blessed with two amazing counselors to walk alongside me over the past number of years. However, I should say that not all counselors are good counselors. I know this first hand. I went to one counselor, who within about 30 min. of listening to me share about my struggles with anxiety in public speaking, suggested medication. In some instances medication can be of benefit, but not for mild anxiety! We as a culture tend to over-medicate I believe, making it very difficult to see when people actually do need medication, and when other life changes would be of more benefit.
In my work with children I am often frustrated to see very young people who are not receiving the skills they need to deal with the ups and downs of life. They are being taught to deal with their anger, frustration, and anxiety through bribes and distractions and yes...shopping. If I am sad, I should have ice cream. If I am scared, I should ignore my fear and push through it and I'll get a sucker. If I am anxious about something I should go shopping. I shouldn't listen to my fear, and ask why I'm afraid. Because surely dealing with the issue head on will be far more traumatic than nursing the fear for 40 years until I can't ignore it anymore and the medication is no longer effectively numbing me out (yes I am being sarcastic here).
I know that counseling is not for everyone. I know that for some people Spiritual Direction is all that they need, and for others there might be other types of healing that better suit their situation. But, regardless of what mode of healing is right for you, I think it's time that North Americans in general stop trying to numb out and avoid our problems because that is yet another way that we don't make a better world for our children.
Friday 21 September 2012
Searching for Laughter
I have a confession to make.
I take Life Seriously.
Very. Very. Seriously.
And I almost always have I think, though perhaps never more so than in the past few years. I'm a serious person by nature (6 on the Enneagram so always working to maintain control and navigate fear), but also by nurture and circumstance.
As a child and an adolescent I was often teased for being shy, or more often for being grumpy. I was both, and yet neither. I was, and am, simply introverted. I love to talk (a lot!), but in new situations and large groups I tend to be somewhat withdrawn. Because I'm trying to figure out my new environment, I'm usually quiet, because I'm quiet, I'm often seen as aloof, or grumpy. Being told I'm grumpy, makes me...grumpy and thus I become even quieter. People who know me really well and spend time with me one-on-one know that I am often very loud and very ungrumpy. As a child I learned that being seen as serious or studious could become a laudable substitute for introversion. Scholars can get away with appearing grumpy at times. I also learned that being studious brought approval and awards, things I knew I would not be getting for my athleticism or striking good looks!
When I was 17 I graduated from high school and moved to Winnipeg to attend Scientific Marvel School of Hairstyling and Esthetics (quite a mouthful!). And I learned to laugh more there, but to become even more serious in other areas of my life in order to defend my decision to use my straight-A transcript to construct pin-curls, an endeavour I also learned to take very seriously!. More than once I was told that I was wasting my mind.
For most of my childhood and adult life (until just recently) I was involved in Figure Skating. First as a skater (though not a good one) and then as a judge. Here again, I learned to laugh, but also to become more serious and FAR more critical. I often felt I had to defend my decision to spend so many hours at the rink simply because I loved the sport. Many of my peers could not see the point since it was clear I wasn't going to achieve greatness. Judging, as the term implies, brought with it a whole new realm of critical thinking. And seriousness became crucial as I tried desperately to find all the errors in skaters' programs and to judge with as much integrity and perfection on my part as I was expecting on theirs. Being several years younger than the other judges also led me to greater seriousness in order to prove to myself that I belonged in their company.
Ministry with children, you would imagine, would be filled with laughter and humour. But in many ways I have often taken that too seriously as well. My undergrad and graduate studies instilled in me an incredibly critical eye so that I could guide others more effectively, taking care to help them avoid the pitfalls of bad theology, sloppy practice, and slippery ethics (so much more could be said here!). All good things, but for someone who already took things far too seriously a little levity and emphasis on the fact that all these things were not just up to me, would have been of great benefit. I also allowed my academic studies to reinforce my need to be studious in order to deal with my introversion, to receive approval and awards, and to defend my decision to abandon my career in hairstyling, to leave behind judging figure skating in favour of academics and ministry with no certainty of employment or financial security.
My ministry with children has also been grounded in my own experiences of anxiety as a child, and the experiences of anxiety and depression of my younger sister. In many ways my calling to children is a calling to my sister and to all the young children in our middle-class congregations who are suffering in ways that are not always easily seen. This is a calling that I take very seriously.
So I think I have, perhaps, come by my seriousness quiet honestly. But regardless of how I came by it, all this seriousness has made my life feel pretty heavy at times. I'm not very good at laughing and having fun. I have a hard time shutting down my hypercritical mind, or at least dialing it back a few notches. Even when I'm enjoying sewing, I can't help but consider the environmental impact that my project might have, or whether or not I am practicing good stewardship. I'm glad that I can look at a cell phone and ask good questions about what impact it, and other forms of technology, might have on my life and the lives of those around me (thanks Andy Brubacher Kaethler and Arthur Boers). I'm glad that I can look at story Bibles, media, and societal practices and identify where there are unjust gender and racial stereotypes being reinforced (thanks Gayle Gerber-Koontz), as well as for the many other areas in which I have learned to critically engage my world. Yet I find myself feeling a lack of joy. I find myself far from the laughter and humour that I often encounter in God when I pray.
I have a sense that laughter is my work. That I have come to a point in my life where I might need to step back and trust that things will not fall apart if I stop analyzing them, and indeed they might come together in new and fuller ways if they are filled with more silliness. I have often seen myself as a rather silly person, but as my roommate Alicia has said, I usually only show that side of myself at home. So if you come across me in the next few months and find I am behaving rather oddly, then I invite you to join me. If you come across me being overly serious, I invite you to remind me that God created laughter and it is very good.
Tuesday 18 September 2012
Thoughts on Storybook Bibles
Storybook Bibles can be a good way to introduce children to
the biblical story using age appropriate language and colourful illustrations,
yet not all storybook Bibles are made equal. When I’m looking for a good Storybook Bible I have several
criteria handy for evaluating what each one has to offer as well as what might
be lacking.
Some things I look for are:
- What stories are included and which are left out. Does the book include stories or poetry drawn from the Psalms, the prophets (more than Jonah), and from the letters to the early church? These are parts of scripture that are often left out.
- How are characters portrayed in illustrations? Is everyone Caucasian? Are only “enemies” or slaves portrayed as persons of colour? Some Storybook Bibles reinforce racist stereotypes of particular ethnic groups as lesser than, or simply violent. I look for illustrations that help children to identify with characters, see the beautiful diversity in God’s creation, recognize the cultural context of the biblical story, and to understand people as fully human and complex.
- How is God portrayed? Are there both masculine and feminine images of God as we see in the Bible? Do we receive a broad understanding of God demonstrating gentleness, wisdom, love, justice, compassion, protection, mercy, power, intimacy, holiness?
- How are women and children represented? The world of the biblical story was patriarchal, but we know that women and children were certainly present and a part of the story. Has there been an attempt made to bring forth the experiences of women and children in the biblical story both through stories and illustrations?
- Is inclusive language used when referring to people?
- How is violence portrayed? Are violent acts something that people are to undertake, is violence glorified as the “right” way to solve problems, or are we to strive to live in peace? While the words in a storybook Bible may not glorify violence, the illustrations often do.
- What is the understanding given of humanity in Genesis? Are women and men equals, partners in the task of caring for creation? Is there still goodness in us and are we still loved even after Adam and Eve leave the garden, or have we become completely “bad”? Most often the understanding of humanity in Genesis provides the theological understanding for human relationships, and for the human/God relationship in the rest of the story, so I find Genesis a good place to start.
- What is the understanding of sin and reconciliation that comes through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus? Is that understanding in alignment with what I believe the Bible tells us, and are these stories told using age appropriate images and language? Many storybook Bibles implicitly or explicitly attempt to create feelings of guilt in children in order to coerce conversion. I pay careful attention to how themes of salvation are dealt with.
- Are gender stereotypes in our own culture being reinforced? Will a young girl who adores adventure and regularly gets her knees scraped up while riding her bike feel uncomfortable with God’s story because it’s packaged in vibrant pink with princess crowns on it? Will a thoughtful boy who loves to read and is inclined toward music feel uncomfortable because his “Bible” teaches him that he needs to be a muscular superhero? These are especially good questions to ask when giving Bibles out in church, whether they are storybook Bibles or a complete translation.
While
it is almost impossible for a given storybook Bible to fulfill all of these
criteria I have found several
books that I believe fit many of the criteria and have a variety of gifts
to offer families. Having several different storybook Bibles or visual
interpretations of scripture for children is also of great importance in
helping them to embrace the vibrancy of God’s Story.
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