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."