Monday, December 29, 2008

Celebrating Hannakah

I celebrated Hannakah for the first time ever, on December 25. Yes, that is Christmas Day, and I have always celebrated it AS Christmas Day. This year, however, December 25 was different for me. I knew I wasn't going to have my children, and while I am blessed with many good folks in my life, any number of whom would have welcomed me into their celebration with their own family, I didn't want to spend the 25th doing "Christmas".

Instead, I spent the day with some very dear friends who are Jewish. What a neat opportunity to not only be with people I love, who helped ease the ache of not being with my daughters, but to also learn about another tradition. I heard how Hannakah came to be, as told by a child (one of the best kind of teachers!), helped light a minorah, and participated in singing traditional Hannakah songs.

I must confess however, that the absolute neatest part was getting to wear the fun Hannakah glasses! It was totally amazing! The glasses looked like the 3-D kind that you get from the movie theater, and once we all had them on, we turned out the lights and looked at the minorah candles. Where the lights were at the tip, gleamed with the Star of David! We walked to the front door and looked out upon the street, and all the lights were transformed into Stars. It was absolutely incredible. My friends are wonderful to have included me in their celebration. They even let me take a pair of the glasses home with me! I've enjoyed putting them on as I've looked for the Star of David in my home lights.

What if we could have special glasses for every day? What if we had the ability to use a special lense with which to see the light inside of others? What would we see? Would we see their "stars"? Would we see their abilities and their unique characteristics? What if we were privileged with the sight of their pain, their wounds, their fears? If we had that kind of insight, how would we treat one another? Would it make us more compassionate, more understanding, more forgiving?

As I sit here in the darkness, gazing at my own candlelight, miraculously observing the Star of David that has appeared, I am mindful of the lens with which Christ our Savior observes me. Christ can see into my soul. He sees my character. He sees who I am when no one else is looking. And amazingly, He loves me anyway! He takes away all my sin and my shame, and He sees what I may become. He sees the star power within me and He lights up my world.

My prayer for tonight is that He will touch my eyes, so that when I look at others, I will see past their outer being, see past the words that may hurt or the attitude that may hold others at arms length. May I look at them with eyes of love and compassion, and reflect to them the love of Christ.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Next Semester

I just finished my first semester at United and am looking forward to the next one! If you had asked me about that six weeks ago, my answer would probably have been different. I wasn’t sure that there would be a second semester. I loved United from day one, and everyone has been warm and welcoming. However, I felt scared and unsure, like I didn’t quite fit in. It’s been so long since I’ve sat in an actual classroom. Keeping up with the reading was a challenge, trying to take notes as fast as the professor spoke made my fingers cramp, and attempting to participate in the classroom discussions in a semi intelligent fashion was intimidating!

In the midst of the educational process, I also had to go back to court over divorce issues. Being a full-time, working, single parent is hard enough, then add going back to school and worrying about court… well I just felt really out of place and lonely… pretty much on emotional overload.
I didn’t even pick up the paperwork to register for the next semester of classes. I wasn’t sure I could afford it and felt on the fringe of things. I was having a good old pity party. One day, a classmate asked me during the break from our lecture what I was taking next semester. I made a lame excuse about not picking up the paperwork yet, still trying to make up my mind… yada yada yada… then headed on down the hall. Later, as we prepared to take notes again, he hands me a stack of papers. “Here,” he said, “I picked these up for you to fill out because we want you back here next semester.”

He had no way of knowing how lonely and isolated I’d been feeling, and yet God used him to remind me that I belonged. A few days later, I learned that I’d received scholarship money, so there went that excuse as well. It seems like God is looking out for me, even when I have doubts and fears and worries, even when I’m feeling stuck in an emotional quagmire. I placed my trust in Him quite a while back, but it’s like trying to stand one-legged in a yoga position… I can do it, but my own confidence gets shaky and I keep putting my foot down so I don’t fall over and look like a dork. I don’t always trust in yoga that I have the strength to do a move, and then I fall over. I’m like that with God too, not trusting in His strength to uphold me, so I fall over. However, unlike yoga, God doesn’t leave me laying on the ground. He picks me up, as many times as I fall, He picks me up. And despite my dorkiness, God loves me and reminds me that I’m included. I’m included in this wonderful United community, and I’m included in His kingdom as His precious daughter.

I haven’t talked to my own daughters in several days. They are away and I worry about them. When I don’t hear from them, my thoughts can torment me, and I remember things from my past. It’s times like these when I feel lonely, and the Accuser attempts to beguile me into joining that pity party again. I hear that old tape of hurtful words that scratches at the surface of old wounds. Even though logically I know better, it is at times like these when it seems like everyone else has it together when I don't. I am thankful for all the reading I had to do this semester. When I was preparing for my final paper, I read a book called Adam by Henri Nouwen. In it he says of Adam, a severely handicapped young man, “Adam was sent to bring Good News to the world. It was his mission, as it was the mission of Jesus. Adam was-very simply, quietly, and uniquely-there! He was a person, who by his very life announced the marvelous mystery of our God: I am precious, beloved, whole, and born of God. Adam bore silent witness to this mystery, which has nothing to do with whether or not he could speak, walk, or express himself, whether or not he made money, had a job, was fashionable, famous, married, or single. It had to do with his being. He was and is a beloved child of God. Life is a gift. Each one of us is unique, known by name, and loved by the One who fashioned us.”

Thank you United community for accepting me as one of your own, and thank you Jesus for loving me just as I am!

Monday, October 20, 2008

Poison Cheesecake

Freshman year of high school I was more interested in sports and studying than in fashion. Sophmore year, I started thinking about hair and clothes, but was still more focussed on my gradepoint and how fast I could run a 5K. Therefore, it seemed pretty amazing when one of the more popular boys in our class approached me in the hallway and asked if I wanted to go to the dance on Friday night. I was so surprised that I could barely stammer "Yes", however I managed to contain my excitement enough to be able to accept his invitation. Imagine my hurt and embarrassment when he said, "Well have fun then," and walked away laughing.

I thought I had the right answer, but apparently I hadn't really understood the question. That boy was playing a cruel joke, making fun of the "nerd/jock", tricking me into thinking he was asking me to the dance. It was one of those semantic nuances, not "Do you want to go to the dance WITH ME", rather just simply saying "Do you want to go to the dance." By answering affirmatively, I gave him a laugh and I experienced a pang of shame and foolishness. I wish I could tell my younger self to "chin up" and hold out the promise that I would have the strength to get through that situation, as well as many others, with strength and grace.

We don't have the capability to pass on messages through time though, and often we don't know if we can get through a trial until we've actually gone through that trial! Perhaps that is why the verse "For we walk by faith and not by sight" speaks to me so powerfully. It's like the famous "Footprints" poem, it is often in looking back that we are able to see how God carried us through.

I was reminded of this in the past week after I baked a cheesecake for my downstairs neighbors. We are usually quiet and respectful, however my daughters had an exciting sleepover and I was concerned that my neighbors had been bothered by our noise. A favorite thing of mine is baking desserts, so I made a chocolate, chocolate chip cheesecake. My own mouth was watering as it came out of the oven! I wrote a note of apology for our exhuberance of the previous night, and went down to knock on the neighbors' door. Their dog barked, and I heard them hush him, however after several minutes, they still hadn't come to the door. I decided to just leave it there for them.

An hour later, I headed to church for a meeting and noticed the cheesecake still hanging from its' bag on their doorknob. I debated with myself, and ended up deciding to leave the cake there while I headed to my meeting. Surely they would come out soon and find it.

Several hours later I returned from the meeting, and the cake was still there on the door! It seemed kind of late to be knocking again, so I went on upstairs. Once in my apartment, I began thinking, what if the cheesecake had spoiled by now, and the neighbors found it, ate it, and got sick? What if I had wanted to do something nice and ended up giving them a poison cheesecake?! After arguing with myself, I finally decided to sneak back downstairs and quietly remove that cheesecake from their doorknob. It would have been quite comical to observe the slow tiptoeing down to their door and the fast sprint back to my own!

The funniest part is that my neighbors never knew about this behind the scenes drama. They never complained about any noise, and they never learned about the delicious cheesecake I had waiting for them. My daughters kid me because I seem to find "God moments" in the everyday, absurdities of life, and this class I'm taking has me wondering if I should be relating to God more in an intellectual sense. However, God doesn't seem to sit on a desolate mountaintop to me. He seems to be in the everyday things, like the crazy "poison" cheesecake on my neighbors door. How often does He do incredible things for us? How many times is something waiting beyond the "door", but we just don't take the time to open it, to answer His knock? Sometimes we are afraid of what is behind the door. We don't know if we have the strength to walk out into our day. And yet, our God is not a God of cautious love, He loves us extravagantly. He loves us with "chocolate, chocolate chip cheesecake" love! May we have the courage to open the door.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Stand Up, Chucklehead

Introduction to Philosophy deals with such lofty questions as "If a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one there to hear it, does it still make a sound?", while Introduction to Theology is more like "If a theology student hits herself in the forehead with her textbook, and there is no one around to hear her say 'ouch', does it still hurt?"

Well, not quite, I suppose. So far theology hasn't involved any physical pain, unless you count the blurred vision after hours of reading and the mild headaches as I strain my cerebral cortex in an attempt to understand all these new terms and ideas! Actually, this week I didn't feel quite as disconnected from the rest of my classmates. I'm getting to know the other folks in class and feeling as if we are all fellow sojourners on this faith journey. It seems as if I might not be alone in my struggles to understand.

There was a collective, sympathetic laugh when I shared with the class that I must be an Existentialist. We are studying the plethora of trends in theological development. In my limited understanding, it seems that Existentialists believed that the human condition is one of "angst". They thought that we existed within two types of anxiety; the first being worry about making a choice, and the second being worry that once we make a choice (we worry) that it's the wrong one. Therefore, I stated in class that I must be an Existentialist because it seems as if I live in a constant state of worry! Often I think I'm the only one in a room choking with anxiety, however, being that much of the class chuckled, I may not be the total oddball this time.

Although I felt some relief in class this week, the rest of my time the past seven days has been overshadowed with anxiety and depression. I have felt like a failure in my various roles as pastor, mother, and friend. Logically I know that some of this has stemmed from a seemingly relentless stream of medical bills from my recent surgery, fear about providing for my children (it oftentimes seems like expenses outweigh income and all the trips to court from my divorce process haven't helped any), outright fatigue from being a single mom trying to juggle all my various "balls", and then the prospect of yet another return to court. However, while theology is the study of "knowing" God through logic, I often find that I have very little connection with logic!

I've become quite adept at climbing the ladder of anxiety, and rather than stopping off at one of the lower rungs, I keep on going and wind up jumping off the top! That's how a few unpaid bills sitting on my kitchen table, along with a the judge's ruling from the courthouse, had my imagination taking me to bankruptcy and jail. I tried to comfort myself with the thought that if I somehow ever end up in jail, then God must have prison ministry in mind for me. Then I ended up crying (like a bad imitation of Lucille Ball in an "I Love Lucy" episode), "But God I don't wanna go to jail... waaaaaa".

Amazing things happened to me this week. First, on Monday, while those bills were laying on my table, sending out subliminal rays to induce panic, a card arrived in my mail. I thought it was a note of encouragement from a friend. It turned out to be that and so much more. Inside was a check providing help toward meeting some of those medical bills. Then, several days later, an email message arrived in my inbox, informing me that some incredible folks from my congregation were helping me to pay for my Theology course. Another group, that came together to make meals for their own families, prepared some extra casseroles for my family!

The blessings just poured in this week, amazingly, abundantly, and what did I do? I couldn't take it all in... I was like the guy laying by the healing waters of Bethesda for so many years, just rolling around in the muck, feeling stuck and helpless, and unworthy. I had trouble accepting that folks wanted to do such incredible things for me. I don't like taking from anyone. I'm much more comfortable giving than I am at receiving. And this week, I was stuck. I felt so unworthy. I mean, why does anyone want to do something for me? Why are people being so awesomely generous and loving me so much? I have been stuck in some old, bad memories, and they have really been weighing me down. Who could love me? Well, duh, obviously a lot of people do, and they are reminding me of something my theology professor said on the first day of class. It's in my notes. He said that while theology is the study of God, God is not an object to study or dissect. We cannot dissect something that is alive. God is alive and I am constantly meeting Him! When I am stuck in that old mud that is my past, He is the one reaching out His hand and asking me the question, "Do you want to stay stuck? Or do you want to be well and whole?" If I choose wholeness, then He tells me to stand, "Arise, take up your mat and go!"

I remember being at the pool when I was a kid, and getting knocked off the side of the pool. Into the water I crashed, only to surface flailing my arms, panicked. Water surged up my nostrils and into my mouth, my lungs ached. I remember opening my burning eyes, and looking around frantically for help, only to have another nearby kid shout condesendingly at me to stand up! Stand up, you chucklehead... it wasn't even over my head! All I needed was for someone to tell me to stand.

This week, I just needed someone to tell me I could stand. I guess God was speaking all week, but as usual I had a hard time listening. Must have been some water in my ears! I heard Him tonight though, loud and clear. We did a healing service, and it was exquiste. The Spirit was alive and present! I almost missed seeing and feeling Him though. I was feeling anxious about having a leadership role in a type of service that I've never led, and as my senior pastor and I walked to the altar, all I could think about was how hard my heart was pounding, and the nervous sweat flooding around my feet, making my shoes feel slippery. (Why in the world did I wear those particular heels? I was berating myself.) Then I totally forgot to lead the Psalter reading responsively and ended up doing it all myself! (Thankfully I have a very gracious and understanding senior pastor!)

I ended up getting myself sufficiently together, and the service was going smoothly. I was feeling moved and filled with love for the people of our congregation. The Presence of the Spirit was electric as folks came forward to be annointed with oil. All had been annointed, when one more walked up. I smiled as she approached and prepared to place the oil on her forehead when she grasped my hand and said, "No, I came for you." She then proceeded to pray for me, and as the tears washed my cheeks, those words echoed in the deepest places of my heart. It was as if Jesus Himself spoke them to me. "I came for you."

I am in awe of the great love I have been given, from Jesus, expressed through the hands and feet and heart of so many. My professor said that theology is not merely an intellectual excursion, it's a journey to God. That's good because many days, my intellectual excursion gets stopped before it has even begun, but always I am on a journey WITH God. I give thanks for the many who help me to stand when I don't feel able, and for the Savior who sees me laying there, covered with filth and shame, and yet says, "I came for you."

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Intro to Theology is like...

Intro to Theology is like riding a bike uphill, in the wrong gear, feeling as if I am pedaling and pedaling and hardly moving.

Intro to Theology is like being at a backyard barbeque talking to a really cute guy, thinking he is about to ask me out, only for him to ask me if I realized I have Doritoes stuck in my front teeth.

Intro to Theology is like driving somewhere, anywhere, for the first time and realizing that I have lost my way... AGAIN.

All of these are true experiences. I have a such a track record for getting lost that my dad had to put a GPS system on my phone for me... not when I was learning how to drive, but seriously last month!

When I was in college (the first time, working on my undergrad degree), I refereed basketball both for community leagues as well as high school girls and boys varsity. I had a game out in Ann Arbor for varsity boys. It was a championship game between rival teams and it was quite intense. I decided that I needed to go home and bake chocolate chip cookies to counteract all the stress from the game. As I was driving, I was thinking more about which Meijer I should stop at for the chips and less about which exit I should take, and I "woke up" to find myself in Brighton, 20 minutes out of my way!

Intro to Theology at this moment is reminding me of being in Brighton, minus my comfort food, chocolate chips.

If you've ever seen the movie "The Absent Minded Professor", or "Flubber", (different films and actors, same concept), that describes the way my brain sometimes operates. Sometimes I will get so caught up in a thought, an idea for a program, a brainstorm for a sermon; it's as if I'm lost to some of the things around me, like shifting my gears, or flossing my teeth, or turning down the street. It can be annoying, (especially when I burn the four dozen cookies I was trying to bake for my daughters' school party), however it's fairly normal. So, I don't usually get to upset about that kind of "flub". I know I can be absent minded.

However, today I've been struggling with this Intro to Theology reading, and it's worse than my normal absent mindedness. It's the realization that I'm not absent minded, but rather "thick" minded. I'm having trouble getting these concepts. I've been stuck on how Theology seems more about "Knowing about God" and less about "Knowing God". I have been wondering and worrying that if I can't catch on and learn to study "knowing about God", maybe I won't be able to help folks to "know God".

I went out for an hour bike ride to mull this over, because when I exercise, my mind can wander more in the "absent minded" direction, and that's when I get some of my best insights. As I pedaled, I realized that I am feeling insecure about this class that seems like it's for intellectuals, and even though I have always received good grades, I don't know that I consider myself an intellectual. And I'm worrying that although my professor is highly entertaining and passionate about this subject, that he will see the panic on my face when he asks us a question and I can't rattle off an immediate answer. And although my classmates all seem friendly and welcoming, what if one of them suddenly whispers, "Well she's not the brightest crayon in the box!"

About halfway through the park, while I'm feeling panicky and wondering if I should call my therapist and ask her to up my meds because I think my anxiety issues are marching off to a higher level, it strikes me. I have learned two things already from this class. One was about the creation of the Apostles Creed. Someone in the Disciple Class last year was really struggling with where the creed came from and why. Last year, I didn't have a clue let alone an answer. After my reading last week, I did! I know when it was written, what it was a response to (issues from that time), and I can and did actually explain to my friend.

The other thing I've learned from Intro to Theology was a quote from my professor, that "There is no faith without doubt." I was able to share that this week with my Bible Study class, filled with folks who are grieving over a recent death of a much loved member of our congregation. A young woman with three children, who died much too painfully, far too soon. Folks are wrestling with pain and doubt, and how that effects faith. This week, I actually felt better equipped to respond to their struggle.

Perhaps Intro to Theology is like struggling to get to the top of the hill with my bike, while recognizing that I can actually get there. I may move slow, I may even have to hop off and walk the bike. However, I can still reach the top. Even the night I got lost on the way home from the b-ball game, I eventually found my way to a Meijers, bought those chips, and enjoyed warm freshly baked cookies by bedtime!

And maybe I end up with food caught in my teeth, or chocolate on my chin, but I guess you could say that's because I really enjoy eating! What better thing to "eat" than the Word of God. We are told to "taste and eat" and see that it is good. So I will keep tasting from these different theology books, and hopefully hit on a recipe that fits for me by the end of the course.

Bon Apetit!

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

My first day at United

My daughters and I love to watch Monk. He's a homicide detective with OCD. He's brilliant and funny, and reminds me of some of my family members! On one show, Monk wrestles with a quote he's been told, "Leap and a net will appear." He has an incredible number of phobias and fears, and Monk finds it difficult to trust. That's why he has such a problem with the saying. He doesn't believe a net will actually be there.

Approaching my first day at United Theological Seminary, I felt like Adrian Monk. I have an incredible number of fears. I'm a divorced single parent, who works full-time. I have sole custody of my children. I was a student at Asbury Seminary, taking classes online. I stopped for nearly two years because between the divorce and my finances, school seemed impossible. However, I have felt such a pull to continue my studies, and felt led to continue them at United. Someone told me that in light of my divorced status, especially since I'd been a student at Asbury, that I wouldn't fit in at United. (She was actually responsible for prompting me to request the application at United, I don't like to be told that I can't do something!)

Merely filling out the application to United felt like a leap, a leap of faith. How will I be able to afford this, and be the mother my children deserve, the pastor my congregation needs, and the student I have always been proud to be? I think I cried half way home from the Orientation Weekend, thinking "what have I done?" I kept thinking of Monk. I was surely leaping. Was the net going to appear?

The day of my first class, I arrived half an hour early. (Actually the only reason I was early was because I thought my class began at 12:30. If that had been the case, I would have been walking in just as class began!) Since I had time, I decided to browse around Cokesbury and look for the textbook I was missing. I had a knot in my stomach because I hadn't been able to read the first assignment. I felt like I was getting off on the wrong foot. Maybe I wasn't going to fit in after all. Standing in the doorway of the store, I recognized the friendly Admissions Officer from Orientation. He came towards me with a warm smile, and between him and the kind Cokesbury employee, I felt welcome.

Then something happened that confirmed I was in the right place after all. The man from Admissions backed into a carton of eggs that someone had set on a chair arm! He stood there with broken eggs all over his jacket and pants, and yet was as gracious as if I'd stepped through the door of his home. I was worried about fitting in, worried that I wouldn't belong, worried that I had leapt into this new situation and folks might find me too broken to be part of their community. The laughter that we all shared over those broken eggs eased the tension that I had been carrying. My net HAD appeared and I could relax.

That day was different than Orientation because I did not cry on the way home. Thinking about the broken eggs dripping down the chair and those pants reminded me of how Christ is able to take all my brokenness, hurts and fears upon Himself. He welcomes me no matter what condition I am in and I know that I am welcome in His house. Thank you United for making me feel welcome in your community as well!