the s-word

4 01 2012

Submission. or, the s-word as some Christian women call it- can raise feelings of anger, injustice, pain and resentment. For me, submission recently brought the word ‘gratitude’ to mind. As some of you may have seen from the picture I posted on Facebook, I inadvertently dyed my hair royal blue five days before Christmas.

 

"it looks cool, but this isn't Lollapalooza 1994" -my brother Matt's response to my blue hairdo.

As I was watching blue foam drip off of my head as I shampooed out what I thought was toner that would give me a more platinum blonde do’, I peeked out from behind the shower curtain to look in the mirror and saw myself in unexpected smurfette glory. I posted the picture online for my friends to laugh at because as I said then “better to laugh than cry, and even better to make your friends laugh than wallow in shame.”

I quickly called my salon, Crazy Mullets to see if my stylist could rectify my hair so I wouldn’t have a blue Christmas. My stylist being on vacation & unavailable that week I booked an appointment with another stylist.  In the back of my mind I was thinking- “this is going to cost $80-$100. We really don’t have extra money this month because of Christmas. Oh well, having cute hair is worth it.” I explained the situation to Dave when he got home amidst Reuben’s exclamations of “your hair  looks so pretty mommy!”  and that I had an appointment at the salon that afternoon.

You know those scenes in action movies where two characters who are about to fight just stare at each other while dramatic music plays in the background? It was a little like that as Dave and I faced off in the battle of “back to blonde.”

well, maybe not as bloody as the Kill Bill movies......

Dave presented two problems with my proposed scenario. 1. He had a lot of work to do that afternoon and didn’t have time for me to spend hours at the salon rectifying my beauty blunders.  2. Fixing my self-inflicted problem would cost $80-$100 we hadn’t budgeted for the month.  ”Where do you plan to have this money come from?” Dave calmly asked as I told him I was unwilling to cancel my appointment, had no idea how to dye my hair back, and that a professional should really be the one to fix my mistake. Before you judge me for what I said to him, take a quick look back at my blue hair. I had BLUE hair! There was no way I was going to have family Christmas pictures with BLUE hair.

“I thought we could use some of the money that we’ve saved for our 10-year anniversary trip.” I replied (not even a bit sheepishly- oh! what a jerk I can be). Dave looked at me, shook his head and sadly sighed- “now that’s just cold.” He had to ask me three times to cancel my appointment, to look up hair-dying accident remedies online, and to take responsibility for fixing my own hair. “you made one mistake today dying your hair blue, you can make a choice not to make a second mistake by being committed to our financial goals and not using money we don’t have.”

In the end I submitted to his wishes. I looked up home remedies for removing hair color and proceeded to wash my hair seven times with laundry detergent. I Mixed baking soda with dandruff shampoo and washed it another 5 times and still I had blue hair. After my numerous unsuccessful attempts to remove the color, we decided that I should check Sally Beauty supply for a more potent color remover. I ended up spending $20 instead of $100 and didn’t piss off my husband (for too long) in the process. And my hair is back to blond.

One of the most difficult scripture passages women and men have grappled with is Ephesians 5:22-33 where it talks about wives submitting to husbands and husbands loving wives.  As I thought about what this scripture meant in this particular context it seemed especially funny that Paul, the author of Ephesians wrote about a husband being the head of the wife, and a husband loving his wife as his own body. I’m sure he didn’t picture both spouses having blue hair. I chose to submit to Dave’s request that day because I love him. More importantly, I love Jesus and know he wants and has the best for me as I submit to him. In Paul’s instructions to spouses, I know I can trust Dave to love me sacrificially because Jesus leads his life.  Dave was loving me through remaining me of the financial goals we had made together to benefit our family.  He was loving me by asking me to take responsibility for my mistakes and not doing something stupid because I’m ridiculously vain (my words, not his) and didn’t want to have to explain my blue hair to people. I chose to submit because I know my husband wants the best for me, and I want him to know I listen to him and respect him.

I know I’ve been writing recently about marriage & relationships but as the subtitle of my blog says- it’s ordinary interactions like this that reveal what it means to follow Jesus, to submit to your husband and be loved as a wife. It’s times like this where our the feet of our theology hit the cold hard cement on the sidewalks of life. And it’s the ordinary interactions like this that reveal Jesus in extraordinary ways.


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wife points

28 12 2011

“you don’t get wife points for calling your husband a butt” our babysitter Nita guffawed after my derogitory derriere related remark directed at Dave while frantically racing around the kitchen trying to load the dishwasher with cereal bowls, put away the milk and get out the door to get some work done.

A few weeks before that I had been at Nita’s dorm room to pick up the kids after she and her roommate Rachel had kindly watched them so Dave and I could see a play (the perks of working with college students!).  Rachel, Nita and I have ongoing conversations about gender roles in society, the church and marriage- the fun things you talk about in college when you’re trying to figure out- “what does it actually mean to be a woman?” and “what sort of a woman am I/do I want to become?” “what sort of wife will I be?”

On their dorm wall a piece of notebook paper was taped with both of their names on it, and a series of tally marks.  ”What’s the chart for?” I asked, glancing at Rachel as I loaded Oswald into his carseat.  Nita’s face began to turn red and she started laughing as Rachel smiled and said- “that’s our wife training chart. We give each other points for doing things that will make us good wives someday.”  Knowing that neither Nita or Rachel, funny, smart, ambitious, hipster students came to college to get their M.R.S. degree, I curiously asked, “so what kinds of things do you get wife points for?” Inwardly I was thinking:  there has to be an off the charts wife point tally for having sex with your husband when you don’t feel like it but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to suggest adding that to the chart for two unmarried college students.

After regaling me and laughing together about their list of doing dishes, changing a diaper for the first time thanks to my 5-month old son, dressing stylish, and cooking/baking I drove home that night recalling doing something similar in college.  My roommates and I, trying to imagine what it would be like to be a wife someday dressed up in a bubble-gum pink Lawrence Welk-esque dress and took turns posing for pictures with a pan of meatlof ready to load into the oven. I’m away from home currently and don’t have access to the picture but the one above is pretty close to what we looked like (complete with heels).

Their wife points chart made me think about what I thought it would be like to be a wife when I was in college.  And then it made me reflect on what life has actually been like for nearly 10 years.  Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet; “there is always truth in jest” and though posing with pans of meatloaf and making tally marks for changing diapers  is an amusing way to try and envision what life as a spouse looks like, it points to a deeper fear of constrictive gender roles.  The questions lurking in the back of my mind all those years ago, and I suspect in Nita and Rachel’s ask “will I be able to be both feminine and powerful?” “Can I be both ambitious and loving?” “will I have a spouse that encourages me to pursue my dreams and gives me the freedom to do so?”

My list of “wife points” would be very different than when I made that proverbial list in college. The list would include things like:

  • Picking up pumpkin bagels for your husband just because he likes them. Wife points: 10
  • Forgiving your husband when he breaks a lamp while using it to illuminate a wall where installing an outlet instead of using a flashlight. Wife points: 15
  • Listening to stories about sports/kung-fu/hunting/electronics/star trek and being glad to hear about it because it’s something your husband loves and you want to care for him. Wife points: 25
  • Sampling your husbands home-brewed beer or other creations with believable enthusiasm (aka- I’m happy you have a hobby). Wife points: 40
  • Successfully navigating creating a three-month schedule of events, childcare responsibilities, and work travel while remaining kind and peaceful. Wife points: 50
  • Choosing to love your husband and bake him cookies for Valentines day even though you are still smarting from the hurtful things he has said the day before and not holding a grudge and actually being happy to see him. Wife points: 75
  • Respecting the committments you have both made to be financially prudent and stick with a budget, sucking it up and returning the killer ankle boots that were 70% off and resisting the mental sound track of “I deserve these.. he never lets me buy…he just bought a….I need these…” Wife points: 125
  • Having sex with your husband after a day of cleaning poop off of children, making dinner, cleaning the house, having a 2-hour conference call to plan an event, writing a talk that you have to give the next day and choosing to emotionally engage with each other while being intimate. Wife points: off. the. chart.

Being a wife is far harder than I ever imagined it to be. Actively forgiving is more difficult than scouring a pan crusted with burnt-on grease.  Choosing to love requires much more than the effort than putting on a pink chiffon dress and looking pretty. Believing you are each others advocates instead of enemies requires the kind of love Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13:4-  “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

For many those words have long been forgotten after they’ve been read by your second cousin who your mom required to do something in your wedding ceremony. Yet they become much more potent in the years after the honeymoon is over. Especially on the days where you call your husband a butt because you’re mad at him. So friends- my question to you is what would make your wife points list?  How is being a wife more difficult or better than you thought about before you got married?


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I’m not the girl I used to be

7 04 2011

Twigs + logs + matches + newspaper = fire. At least for a girl who spent the first 17 years of her life growing up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula where I’d wager that many kids learned the skill of how to build a fire amongst other skills like ice fishing, downhill & cross-country skiing and how to swim in Lake Superior just long enough until your toes feel numb.

Say yah to da U.P. eh!

Recently my friend and colleague Grace spent a weekend in a lovely log cabin, tucked in the back of a generous person’s property, overlooking a stream and surrounded by woods. Though the two of us usually run the gamut conversationally from what’s happening in our respective jobs as regional coordinators with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, to our kids, to what the latest celeb fashions are, to what we’re reading on blogs or in books, this weekend was set aside to spend some time in silent reflection, journaling, prayer and listening to what God might have to say to each of us. Bonus to not have to be woken up in the morning by our children and be able to enjoy coffee and omlets together!

When I saw that the cabin had a fireplace I envisioned sitting in the rocking chair, reading or journaling while letting my thoughts drift as I gazed into the dancing flames of a fire, I of course would successfully build.  Though it was a little damp that day, I gathered twigs for kindling, brought in logs from the stack outside the cabin to dry off a little and got the fire going in the late afternoon so we could enjoy it as the sun set.

yesss, perfect on a damp spring evening!

I got to work crumbling newspaper, building a web of twigs under the logs and strategically lighting the newspaper so that everything would catch, which it eventually did flaring up into yellow flames.  And then it flickered out. Repeat newspaper, twig web, log shifting. At least four more times. As I’m hunkering down sticking my head into the fireplace to try and help the back of the fire catch, I mumble an apology to Gracee for how loud I’ve been building the fire as she’s been silently journaling. With a slightly concerned look on her face, she simply remarks, “uh, no problem, it’s actually kind of fascinating watching you do this.”

At last the fire seems to catch. “Success!” I exclaim as I settle into the rocker with my book and mug of tea. “I’m impressed” Gracee nods as she looks up from her journal. “White girl skills!” I reply to my bi-racial friend who grew up in Detroit and once told me that she thought werewolves were simply a breed of wolves.

The logs burn for awhile, but all the time I’m thinking- “this fire looks like it’s about to go out any minute. Mother of pearl, I just want to sit here and enjoy it and now it looks like I’m going to have to get up every 10 minutes to stick in some more twigs, shift the logs and basically keep this thing going.”  And because it’s a silent prayer retreat I start asking, “Is there some deeper meaning here Lord, like, it takes continual effort to follow you or something like that?” Because when you’re on a silent retreat, you start wondering if there’s meaning in a splenda packet because you go expecting to hear from God. So when the fire starts to fizzle after about 20 minutes, burning the log only in one place I decided to concede, just let it go and look at those stupid ashes in the hearth reminding me of what a failure I’ve become at building fires. I eventually moved to another couch so I wouldn’t have to look at the charred logs.

stupid half-burned log.

Though in high school or even awhile into college I could successfully blaze it up with the right tools those skills seem long gone.  On our drive to the cabin, Grace and I talked about how when you get reconnected with someone or something from your past it can spark nostalgia and even an urgency to want to reconnect with who you once were or the things you once did.  In my fire fail, it made me think about all of the skills I’ve left behind in becoming who I am today. While there might be some sadness that I’m not a wilderness mom, I’ve traded those fire building skills by choosing to focus on a lot of other areas in my life that I’d rather see bursting into sparks and igniting into flames.

It’s thrilling to see a light dawn on a student who begins to realize how much God loves them and begins a relationship with Jesus. It’s amazing to see the spark of an idea of helping to raise awareness about and money for human trafficking on the college campus turn blaze across InterVarsity nationally to help students live out and speak about their faith in holistic ways.  It warms me to see my son’s eyes squinched up as he prays before meals, “God bless the food, bless the people in Japan whose houses got washed away and cars got washed away” after seeing video footage of the destruction in Japan.

Have you had any of those nostalgia moments recently? Where you wonder- how the heck did I change so much? Why the heck can’t I do these things I once was good at any more? How did you respond?

Next time I'm getting a duraflame log. Or just bringing my woodsy husband along.


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melts in your mouth, not in your hand.

29 03 2011

Though the chocolate may melt in my mouth, I still have blood on my hands. A few weeks ago I was supposed to give a talk at Oakland University on Everyday Justice drawing from themes from Julie Clawson’s book by the same name.

As I did research, read her book and scoured online articles and websites I thought about themes on everyday justice that would connect most with students living in the affluent suburbs that border derelict Detroit; While cars and clothing might have been good choices for a school where students sport coach tennis shoes & drive Escalades but chocolate seemed like an easier thing to tackle in a 30 minute talk on why following Jesus means we should care about justice issues.

Check out Julie's book and website at: http://julieclawson.com/everyday-justice/

I started to dig a little to find out how purchasing one of my favorite sweet treats can be a choice for everyday justice.  I felt like Neo being sucked into the Matrix for the first time, without the creepy plug being inserted into the back of my neck- “you think you see the world correctly? Well, let me show you what’s actually going on…” I started to learn some things like:

  • 43% of the world’s chocolate comes from the West African country of Ivory Coast.  Most of the cocoa beans are harvested by young boys between 12 and 16, some as young as 9.  These boys have been sold or tricked into slavery with the promise of a better life and supporting their family.  Stories like Brahima and Siaka’s are common:  ”Dote Coulibaly was waiting in Korhogo. He needed two boys to work on his cocoa and coffee farm. Coulibaly (COO-lee-baa-lee) said he bought Brahima and Siaka for $28 each, but the boys said he paid that much for both of them. Whatever the price, two days later they found themselves on his farm. ”When we arrived, he had not told us the whole story,” said Brahima. “He told us we would work only in the cocoa and coffee fields. But there were also cotton, yam, corn and rice fields. When you finish one field, you go to another and another.” Nearly half of the world’s cocoa beans come from Ivory Coast farms, some of which use boys like Brahima and Siaka who were sold or tricked into slavery to do the harvesting.”

Often boys are beaten if they can't carry the bags or spill cocoa beans.

 

  • Americans spent $13 billion a year on chocolate- yet most of us, including myself had no idea where it came from or how it was produced (uhhh, I bought the twix at Walmart…?)
  • Though the U.S. and international governments have been working to establish slave-free chocolate through initiatives created in 2001 like the Harkin-Engel protocol, little has been done in companies like Nestle, Hershey or Mars to actually comply with these protocols and eliminate slave-produced chocolates in their goal of doing so by 2005.

While over the past six years I have worked with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship staff and students to raise awareness about and funds to eliminate child sex slavery- I’ve realized the issue doesn’t stop there. Especially now as a mom I am horrified and angered to think that the bunnies and eggs I am stuffing my sons easter basket were produced by someone’s son or brother who was forced into slavery. The chocolate may melt in my mouth, but I still have blood on my hands.

As a Christian, I care about this issue and ending human trafficking at large because Christ’s love compels me to love my neighbor.  Thinking about the injustice and sacrifice of others makes me think about how to appropriately celebrate Easter this year, both commercially and spiritually.  The scripture in 2 Corinthians 5:11-21 especially hits home in thinking about both of these issues; “For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died.  And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again“

I seriously could not believe this was one of the images that came up when I searched "snickers" in google images.

Because God made a way to demonstrate love and freedom for me through Jesus, how can I do anything but demonstrate this same love for others?

Practically one of the ways you can live out everyday justice regardless of your spirituality or motivations is to use your cash.  There are great companies that provide fair-trade chocolates especially for Easter.  Since I really am a sucker for advertising, I was thrilled to realize many products are also cute & kid-friendly.

I thought this was a cute twist on the traditional basket.

 

The Natural Candy store, a mom & sister store has a lot of cute items for Easter that are fair-trade, organic and in many cases allergen-free, including the cute item pictured above.

Divine chocolate is co-owned by cocoa farmers and uses fair-trade practices.

Divine Chocolate also has some fun Easter themed candies, like one of my personal faves- the crunchy speckled eggs that you can order through their website or purchase at Whole Foods.  Divine has a cool story & their website is worth checking out to see some of the great things that are being done to change the chocolate industry.  Though it may be something small like spending less on Easter Candy at Target, it really does feel great to know you can be part of changing the chocolate industry, savor the chocolate as it melts in your mouth, and know that you are creating a better future for others.


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weekend to remember

24 03 2011

Most of us don’t wait until the transmission of our car blows up before we take it to the shop, so why do so many of us wait until our marriage looks like a rust-bucket spewing smelly gray clouds into the atmosphere as we try just to make it from here to there?

I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a rabbit in a hat, and a 64' Impala

While I wouldn’t say my marriage to Dave is lookin’ like a broke-a** hoopde, we certainly aren’t crusing thorugh life in a shiny new rolls either. I don’t think we would have considered going to the Family LIfe Weekend To Remember conference had it not been for some of our kind donors who bought vouchers for each of the missionary couples they support.  Though we didn’t have to pay to attend the conference, could choose anywhere in the country to go, I was still a little hesitant.  Would this be some weird touchy-feely thing where we had to share our deep, dark marriage sins in small groups?  Would it be some uber-conservative “men go kill meat to bring it to your wife while she stays home making sure your cave is spotless and your spawn are fed?” Would there be things that made me realize that things were a lot worse in our relationship than I had thought?

Despite these fears, we decided to go and with a little help from friends, the kindness of grandparents to watch Reuben we were able to get away for the weekend.  I figured, if it was lame at least we would still have space to be together & we could just make fun of the things we didn’t like about the conference.

I am so glad we went. Weekend to Remember exceeded my expectations, challenged me and surprised me with how thoughtful, funny and moving the content was.  No weird small groups, just time for you & your spouse to talk, pray and work through the “projects” you’re assigned for the weekend to discuss how your relationship is going mentally, emotionally, physically & spiritually. Life is so full that to have space to reflect individually and one another was one of the most valuable parts of the conference, in addition to it being hosted in the beautiful, historic Renaissance Marriott in Cleveland.

"the arcade" one of Cleveland's grand old malls of the golden days of the city.

While I won’t go into detail about all of the content of the weekend, I will say we felt affirmed in areas in our marriage that we’re doing pretty good at.  Though it was scary to bring up some areas that aren’t doing so great, we were able to do so while enjoying coffee from Erie Island Coffee, over a hearty breakfast at the Brownstone Inn in Cleveland, or while walking through Little Italy on our way to dinner at La Dolce Vita- without interruptions from our 4-year old, scooting out to send a late email, or getting wrapped up in folding just one more basket of clothes.

the front door of the wonderful Brownstone Inn


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out of the boat living

1 03 2011

While I’d rather be like Andy Samburg sporting a nautical themed pashmina afghan on a boat, life has felt much more like the disciple Peter- half-sinking, half-having faith that Jesus is able to grasp ahold of me and keep me from drowning.

where would you rather be?

Our move to Cleveland was in many ways been an experience of stepping out of our own comfortable nautical vessel- being near family, having a secure funding network in a job that requires us to raise 100% of our support (Grand Rapids consistently ranks high among charitible giving across U.S. cities), and all the other comforts that living in one place for 10 years affords.  It took us two years of praying about moving to Cleveland to finally pack up the u-haul, or what was actually a trade show trailer from a deer farm (thanks C.J. & Adrian!) and get our butts to the shores of Lake Erie.

As we consistently sensed Jesus inviting us to trust him that Cleveland was the land he wanted us to go to-  we started joking that we shouldn’t imagine Cleveland as the promised land. We joked that just because Jesus was inviting us to put down roots, buy a house, make some more babies and get involved in the community didn’t mean it would be without challenges.  I know the worlds “cleveland” and “promised land” seem like oxymorons, but to us trusting and believing that God wants good things for us even if they seem strange was a risk we wanted to take. Funny that we should use those words “promised land” because in some ways it has felt more like being an desert-wandering Israelite.

are we there yet?

Ironically, Velocity- the  church we’ve gotten involved with has been studying the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt, their wandering in the desert and the scouting out of the promised land.  As our small group studied Numbers 13 recently  I was struck that though the Israelites they had seen the good things God had for them when they reached the promised land- the amazingly beautiful and fertile land, the giant clusters of grapes and lush pomegranates, (which must have looked really good after eating manna in the desert for 40 years) that there were only two people who thought they could actually enter it. Joshua and Caleb were the only leaders who believed that though they would have to fight for the land, it was worth it because God was with them. I don’t know if the other Israelites thought they’d waltz in, plop down some pink lawn flamingos and be sipping mai tai’s but when they realized that taking possession of the land and promises of God would actually be difficult and cost them something- their lives, their comfort, the work of cultivating the land they freaked out and spent many more years wandering in the desert.

Though we had called Cleveland “the promised land”, our fears about what this move would cost us have been real. Difficulty renting/selling our MI house, lack of relational networks and losing funding were all huge barriers that we weighed whether we should move. And all of those fears have been realized and all have been really difficult and scary.  There are days when the stress of the bills for paying for two mortgages and for the cost to get our MI house rent-ready amount to pity parties about the things I don’t have, anger about why things are more difficult than I thought they’d be, and depression that there doesn’t really seem like a clear end in sight.

why do so many of us think that this is what following Jesus will be like?

Somehow in the midst of this when I do spend time in scripture being reminded of who God says he is, what he is able to do and that he’s with me through all of these things. I remember that when I feel like I’m drowning in worry, the $600 bill of our furnace in MI breaking, or just missing my friends, Jesus extends his hand to me to lead, guide and reassure me that he is present. Out of the boat living feels crazy because it’s made us need to trust Jesus in new ways to provide for, to be present in our lives and to trust that he really has us here for the good things he promises to all his people.


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Merry Freegan Christmas!

27 11 2010

Do other parents feel guilty and sad that they too won’t have the same elated faces on their children’s faces when they present an XBox 360, complete Thomas the Tank engine set (with newest Misty Island Rescue attachments), or any other toy that said child would enjoy on Christmas morning? Have you noticed how even McDonald’s is equating personal fulfillment with food ordered and consumed from their menu this holiday season?

I recently received a coupon like this in the mail and thought "wow, that's so nice McD's sent me a holiday coupon!" and then I realized what I was thinking and that it wasn't a neighborly gesture on behalf of my local golden arches.

Though Dave and I are typically content with the lifestyle we’ve chosen of glamorous non-profit student ministry, are creative with our resources and try to live simply, there are times I just am sad or pissed off we don’t make more money.  This usually corresponds with what I feel like I should be doing to care for others than what is actually expected of me or desired around the Holiday season.  This Christmas we’re facing the tough reality of being addled with two mortgages because our renters moved out this past month, trying to sell our other car to still be a one car family and managing to buy Christmas presents this year.  Yesterday when I was carefully selecting some Thomas trains for Reuben for Christmas because of an amazing buy one get one sale (sometimes I do like black friday!) I was feeling like such a bad parent because I wanted to get him some of the play sets to go with the trains but it would have been irresponsible this month.

Now before you think I’m going to whip out my violin and tell you the sad tale of the boy who only had 15 trains to play with, this isn’t a pity post or some sort of crazy hippie rant about “the man”- homey don’t play that (at least publicly in my blog).  When I came back from shopping, I was checking facebook and noticed my friend Scott Bessenecker’s status update: “We’re calling it a “freeganecker Christmas” No new stuff for gifts. We’re attempting to break free of consumerism this year” Wow, I thought, I haven’t seen a message like that anywhere.  Granted Scott writes books like this one:

check out this book and a few of Scott's other gems at www.ivp.com!

“In The New Friars Scott Bessenecker profiles young Christians who have voluntarily removed themselves from the status quo in order to seek justice and mercy with the poorest of the world’s poor. These new friars are carrying on the work of the monastic tradition, the spirit of Francis and Clare of Assisi, St. Patrick and St. Brigid, the Jesuits and Nestorians and Moravians. The New Friars will show you that with God all things—even uncommon acts of courageous faith—are possible.” Check it out people- good stuff!

Scott’s status update was refreshing because it was a reminder of the hype that surrounds Christmas and how easily I buy (literally) into it.  i.e. see McDonald’s coupon example from above. It was a reminder of that though I often love stuff (I am a boot fiend when winter rolls around), stuff doesn’t love me back.  The boots get scuffed, the Thomas trains grow tiresome, the wrapping paper gets recycled or thrown away.  It’s funny that as a Jesus follower, the holiday meant to celebrate his birth is actually one of the most difficult for me to celebrate because it is more easy to be influenced by holiday commercials than Christmas carols which profess beautiful truth like:

“long lay the world, in sin and error pining, then he appeared and the world knew it’s worth, a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices for yonder breaks a new and glorious dawn! Fall on your knees, oh hear the angels voices, oh night divine, the night when Christ was born!”

I’m thankful for Scott’s reminder that my worth isn’t found as a mom in the kinds of toys I buy for Reuben. It isn’t found in how cute I look in the lovely new boots my in-laws purchased for me of Christmas.  It isn’t found in the glorious gifts I’ve carefully chosen for people I love in my life.  It’s found in the thrill of hope that Jesus affords me in my life every single day, in his love and purpose for me that only grows more precious over the years, the kindness and acceptance he demonstrates thought there is much error and sin in my life. Man, I’m getting teared up as I type this post simply thinking about the different kind of gift Jesus is than the kind I usually pine for.

So this year, Dave and I are going to join Scott in his “Freeganecker” celebration by trying to live simply, kindly and responsibly by following some of his suggestions:

  • If our kids need something, we should get it (some are in great need of clothes). But let’s get it when they need it. The idea is to dial down the association between consumerism on steriods and Jesus’ birth. Yes, Jesus was an amazing gift and it’s nice to celebrate by giving someone a gift, but this thing has gotten waaaay out of control!
  • Freecycle is a place we can look for gifts for one another. Let’s rescue something a family member might need from the landfill (this may require some repair). (check www.freecycle.com for local listings near you!)
  • Of course home made gifts is alright.
  • Buy a goat or chicken in the name of a family member through one of the many charities that do that sort of thing.

    goats! check out the world vision gift catalogue for more great ideas!

  • Service gifts always welcome. (hellooooo backrubs!)
  • Psychologically prepare for a Christmas morning that will not be about trying out all the new stuff. This may be a challenge for the kids. We’ll need to satisfy ourselves with hanging out in our PJ’s, eating and playing games on Christmas day (the thrill of new stuff is pretty short lived anyway).
  • We watched “The Story of Stuff” together on Thanksgiving and chose to buy nothing on Friday.

Admittedly I wouldn’t even be thinking about doing this because of my own moral convictions this holiday season if it had not been for our lean pocketbooks. Yet I’m glad for even small reminders that I can choose to focus on celebrating and gift giving this year that doesn’t make me feel guilty or put us in debt.  I’d love to hear some of your ideas on how you’ve celebrated Christmas simply, tried to dial down consumerism and still managed to have a great time during the holidays.


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Categories : inner world, jesus, spirituality

the church of my imagination

21 10 2010

Choirs of unicorns singing gospel hymns, humorous sermons by Stephen Colbert and joyful potlucks with BBQ ribs afterwards comprise the church of my imagingation. Well, not actually, but it’s fun to picture right? Unicorns, Colbert, ribs- sounds like a divine trifecta to me.

dude, just how many hallelujahs are there in the hallelujah chorus?

Dave and I have been looking for a church here in Cleveland and I’ve been reflecting on what we value in a church, how we go about evaluating those values, the dissonance that occurs between what I picture as an ideal church and what we experience in reality.  Recently I took a class with Rick Richardson (aka Slick Rick) at Wheaton Graduate School on various models of evangelism and church. I was easily inspired and going to places like Lawndale Community church where the church has helped to provide health services, a low cost fitness center, a dental clinic and arts cafe in Lawndale, a struggling community just outside of Chicago.

my friend Francie and I outside of Lawndale Community Church's "Firehouse Arts Center" where they have a hip hop church!

Especially exciting is that they look to the leadership of people who are in the community for the answers to the problems that they face rather than coming in with their own ideas of cleaning up trash from the streets or painting houses to make superficial changes. Churches like Lawndale are truly bringing the kingdom of God here on earth as it is in heaven.

The phrase “church shopping” has come into the vocabulary of evangelicals in recent years, I believe in large part because so many churches have structured their services around a consumer Christian experience- “do I like the worship? What kinds of programs does the church offer for me? Did I “get fed” from the sermon?” When did Christians become so lazy that they need someone to spoon-feed them spirituality instead of experiencing growth as a daily part of life? In the last year I’ve had a growing discontent with various models of church and have felt like moving to Cleveland offers a great fresh start for finding and investing in a community that we can be part of to live life and serve Jesus together.

If you’ve ever been to a wedding or any variety, it’s likely that you may have heard 1 Corinthians 13 read by someone’s cousin, friend or uncle- “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” The earlier part of this passage talks about how there can be many impressive things present in a church; generosity to the poor, speaking eloquently about God, faith that can move mountains- yet without love it amounts to nothing. Nothing.

This has become the main factor for me in determining whether I want to join a church community or not: does it seem like a place where the love of Jesus is present? Are there people there who through the love that Jesus are seeing to always trust, persevere, hope and rejoice together? Are they the type of people who will judge me when I inevitably hurt, offend or slight someone? Or will they forgive? Do people seem proud of themselves because of what they’ve accomplished? For how big the church is or how edgy they can be? I’ve realized I can listen to great sermons online, buy a worship cd for world-class praise music or even call up friends who live far away that I can pray with.

dear God, let church be more than a building!

The thing I can’t replace is people. And that’s what church is all about- the mess, glory and joy of being with people who are in the process of being transformed into the divine creatures that are agents or peace, love and hope because of Jesus. It’s hard, there are hurt feelings, horrible conflicts. Yet in my imagination I see a community that is overflowing with the love of Jesus- where they’re able to have ridiculous amounts of fun together, pray like God is really listening, cry with one another in the midst of suffering and serve the needs around them without needing a church program to tell them that’s a good thing. That even when the hard, horrible things happen, they’re able to look to Jesus as their source of forgiveness and hope to heal the wounds we inflict and that are inflicted upon us. I hope that the church in my imagination can become more and more of a reality here in my neighborhood and community as we become involved in the lives of people seeking to follow Jesus here in Cleveland.


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Categories : church, grad school, inner world, jesus, spirituality

how open minded are you?

22 09 2010

We all like to think of ourselves as open-minded people, tolerant of others who look different than us or have different beliefs. We want to be more enlightened thank many of the close-minded who have gone before us. Yet most of us have histories that shape the way we view people and people groups that leave lingering feelings of resentment, suspicion or judgement.  Sometimes this can be warranted- someone breaks trust by doing or saying something really hurtful which makes us likely to not trust the next person who comes along who is also a member of the intergalactic cat-lovers society or the Girl Scouts.

I’ve chosen to associate myself group of people that has been earned a particularly bad rep in society; evangelical Christians.  There has been actual data done on what jerks we are and have been.  In the book UnChristian

David Kinnaman's and Gabe Lyon's helpful, depressing and insightful book.

David Kinnaman details the common perceptions of Christians in society today found in the in depth research he did with the Barna group.  The chapter headings detail the bulk of the findings; Christians are: Hypocritical, judgmental, too political, anti-homosexual, sheltered, and too concerned with getting people’s souls saved.  Sadly, I have to agree with many of his findings and even more sadly am guilty of some of these things.

This was why my conversations with Alex at Burning Man were so significant.  When you’re part of a group that has earned a bad rep people typically assume that “you’re just like the rest of them.” I can’t tell you how many times my gut squirms when I tell people what I do.  It’s not because I’m embarrassed or ashamed to be a “consultant for college students in Christian leadership development” (evangelist or even campus pastor seems to weird people out waaaaay too much). It’s because that it has been all too common for me to see people’s eyes glaze over, stop talking to me or make passive aggressive jokes along the lines of “you’re not going to preach at me now/thump me over the head with your bible/tell me I’m going to hell? are you?” And say this all within the first two minutes that we’re talking to each other.  It sucks to have people stereotype you. And sucks even more that evangelical Christians have brought this warranted judgement on themselves.

Alex, a friend of Nicole’s who had come on the trip wasn’t one of these people whose eyes glazed over, shut down or made jokes about jerky Christians.  Over a cup of dusty coffee outside of our RV, Alex dressed in low-key burning man garb- a tank-top, khakis and a simple yellow flower hanging on a cord around his neck talked with me about significant areas of our lives- families, work, dreams for our future-he without being suspicious I would bust out some bible verses and me without any sort of agenda other than making a new friend and learning about his life.

Cool guys have beards. Check out Alex's work as a documentary film maker: http://www.strangerthanfilms.com/

Towards the end of our conversation he shared about how suspicious he had been of Christians. “I thought that anything nice they would do was because they were trying to convert me or lure me into their religion” Alex mused, taking a swig of his now cold coffee.  ”I realize how wrong it’s been of me to stereotype Christians.” I let that sink in a little. I have never, ever heard a person who isn’t a Christian apologize for the ways they have wrongly stereotyped us. I was also filled with gratitude because that was part of the whole reason we went to Burning Man- to help dispel stereotypes of what Christians are about and who Jesus is.

He continued to share as I listened intently, leaning forward in the cheap red folding camp chair, watching the dust storm swirl behind him in the distance. “I don’t need to be afraid to be friends with people who have a different system of belief.  If I don’t want to convert, then I don’t have to think that being friends with them will somehow force me into believing what they do.”  At this point I was elated both for the opportunity to hang out with a really cool person, to have the space to talk about significant things and that he was willing to be so vulnerable with me about his negative past with Christians.  I thanked Alex for sharing with me and how meaningful his apology was.  It was one of the highlights of my time at Burning Man and made me want to go back again because I felt so included in who I am and what I bring into the crazy mix there.

"at burning man, you'll never be the weirdest kid in the class!"

I asked Alex if I could blog about our conversation & he blessed me with this encouragement “of course you have my permission and blessing to spread the good word of connection understanding reconciliation and tolerance! So yeah, go ahead and let people know there are some good atheist/agnostics/pagan/hippies out there, and I’ll let my people know there are good Christians!” Thank you Alex for making Burning Man a place even “an evangelical” can be accepted an invited to participate and offer my gifts of faith to the community :)

Back in non-burning man world, conversations with Alex compel me not to go to church, but to be the church.  It’s easy to leave the church or Christianity because you’re so pissed that so many people or institutions do fulfill these stereotypes. Most recently, Ann Rice got fed up and left.  There have been many times in my adult life that I’ve wanted to walk away from all of it, sat in church angry and jaded, depressed and sad that a book like UnChristian can even be written.  However I have to believe that it (church, Christians, evangelicalism) can change, needs to change and will change through a crazy, radical lifestyle of love that comes from Jesus when his people get down to living out this life rather than just talking about it and judging others.


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Larry Saves- the spirituality of burning man

10 09 2010

While some people go to Burning Man looking for drug-fueled hook ups in the desert, there are plenty who aren’t.  One of the reasons my friends and I went to Black Rock City is that we believe it to be a spiritually rich place, a place where people haven’t given up on exploring life, experiencing something transcendent or being freed  shame in their lives and doing that in community.

As my friend and mentor Rick Richardson put it, Burning Man “smells like spirituality” there is a quality about the festival makes people open up about their lives, give space to rethink their preconceptions or explore new ideas.  The daily grind of sleep/work/food/kids/car/cleaning/ isn’t present and it just gives mental space to reflect and ask questions.  Here are some of the highlights of the week for me regarding spirituality and how it was expressed through the artwork at the festival.

the temple at Burning Man

pain, regret, hurt, shame, remembrances, memorials to people, pets and self.

There is an actual temple at Burning Man where people can go and reflect, write a prayer, poem or memorial.  Rather than the loud bawdiness of the rest of Burning Man it’s a quiet reflective place. I saw a lot of people crying as the posted pictures of lost loved ones, dogs or cats.  It is heartbreaking to read some of the things people write. I was filled with both sadness and compassion for the people there with so many wounds in their lives.  I thought about how Jesus was present even though the name “Jesus” or “Christian” has so much baggage for so many people.  I wondered how so many people deal with so much pain in their lives.  At other times reading prayers was comforting- to know others are struggling in life and that you aren’t alone.  I think that’s a key reason people are drawn to the temple. Prayer isn’t done in private- it’s shared with the community. Some are simple prayers or memorials- a sharpie scrawled with a message of forgiveness to a hateful father.   Some memorials are elaborate:

a memorial at the temple.

The temple is one of the key aspects of the festival- perhaps it’s because it fills a need. Where do you go to church, if…you don’t go to church? There were even a few weddings during the week at the temple for people who met at Burning Man or see it as a big part of their lives. Though people may say that the place you worship doesn’t matter, I do believe there are spiritually significant spaces and that many of us long for those spaces that aren’t filled with the noise of advertisements, overheard cellphone conversations or the barrenness of cubicle-land. Even the journey to the temple, which is set in the distance on the playa (pronounced ply-a as in try-a). At the end of the festival they burn the temple.  I was really sad that we couldn’t stay for this part of the week, but I’m hoping in future years to be there for the event.  On saturday night, the sculpture of the man is burned. It’s a crazy party with everyone yelling and screaming.  I’ve been told by many burners that the burning of the temple is the opposite- thousands of people and it’s dead quiet and solemn.  I’m curious to know why it’s quiet- out of respect? sadness? fear? hope? catharsis? I suppose I’ll only know if I go and talk to people about their experiences. Why do you think people would be silent?

While Burning Man is essentially a neo-pagan event there is still a tremendous longing to connect spiritually. Some artistic statements are profound:

"when you call my name, it's like a little prayer!"

In reference to Larry Harvey, founder of Burning Man

from the global community photo project- "why do you do what you do?" http://www.wdydwyd.com/

To the more profane:

I have no idea how to even caption this one- this was the name of someone's camp.

To the silly:

We actually "passed the peace" as done in more liturgical churches- "the peace of God be with you" answer: "and also with you!"

Since learning about and experiencing the spirituality of Burning Man was a key reason why I attended the festival, I have a lot more to write about. My next post will be about the people we interacted with, prayed for, talked with and learned from. There are some sweet stories of how people encountered Jesus and how I experienced his presence, so stay tuned bloggy-bloggertons!


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