Over the past year or so I have been thinking about women, myself in particular, in relation to the church. When I was younger it was simple: I would love God and then eventually I would love my husband and my children and those would be my primary ministries. However, as I have continued to age as a single, childless person I started questioning what my role was within the church (both the church as a institution and as the larger body of believers). I imagine even women who do have a husband and/or children often end up with similar questions as well. The debate about women's role within the Christian contest is old and vast. I'd like to undertake this study not trying to answer those questions (as much as I can seperate myself from my culture and context). Rather, this is time and space for me to focus on where we see girls, women, and female imagery and personification in the Bible. I pray that I will be sensitive to the voice of God whatever it has to teach me at this time in my life and that it will be beneficial to others who read -both men and women.
Even with my attempts to not make this a series with the point of defining the role of women, I recognize that I am here writing this because of a variety of thoughts in my head and circumstances in my life. My contemplations on finding myself a single woman without the predictability of transitioning into the "plan" of a wife or mother, the thoughts from many others questioning the dominant cultural beliefs about women in the church, my own journey into a theological education as I prepare to begin seminary in the fall, and personal studies that are focusing on women of the Bible have all lead me to a desire to really study both the women and the feminine imagery in Scripture. Eve, Wisdom, Mary, the Church, the prostitute in Revelation. If there is a "she" or a "her" I want to take the time to examine it. I won't write about every instance. This is, obviously, a long and extensive undertaking. I'm hoping it will inspire me to write a bit more consistently here. (We'll see what happens when I'm in the midst of grad school and internships in the fall!) Look for these posts showing up here on a regular basis on Fridays! I've got my first entry in progress and am excited about it. Please feel free to suggest passages and stories you'd love to read about.
I look forward to being here a bit more!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Church, Culture, and Body Image
Rachel at Eat with Joy recently blogged with the question of what is missing from the Church in response to the photo-shopped culture and unattainable beauty ideals that surround us. I had recently drafted a post on my struggle with body image in relation to my Chistianity and that question prompted me to polish it off and post it here.
My venture into the world of a positive body-image, healthy habits, Health at Every Size, and the advocacy for body diversity began around 2006. It started off with my love of clothes, fashion, and creativity. (I'm not entirely sure where that came from as when I was a child and teenager a t-shirt and jeans were good for me. I once remember a friend imploring me wear something, anything, other than a solid colored t-shirt.) I found an online "fat fashion" community and it was my gateway drug to advocacy, oppression-awareness, questioning the dominant narrative, and being intentionally subversive to the dominant culture. I was definitely in the minority (at least of the vocal people) as a Christian in this community and I started questioning my own theology-based assumptions about size, health, and worth.
I marveled at the ways in which our culture of beauty, sex-appeal, and the "role of woman" as a baby-maker had influenced us even within the church. I listened closely to what was said in church about bodies and size and health and began to examine what I heard. I reflected on my formative years as a child and in the youth group.
I recalled various studies and lessons aimed at girls in which I was taught that I was to be pure and patient. The general impression was that we were daughters of the King and as such should act as a princess and wait on a gallant, daring, and warrior prince to arrive. In general, I can see this perspective and embraced and perpetuated it myself for years.
It is seen as positive, helpful, and empowering to call girls "princesses" and to implore them to live up to that standard. For, after all, don't all little girls want to be beautiful princesses who live happily ever after? I think the problem comes from the fact that we were told "be a daughter of King Jesus!" and there was rarely a caution to remind us that a daughter of King Jesus is not the same thing as Cinderella, or Belle, or Princess Di. The princesses of storybooks are largely passive, weak, and waiting. They earn praise (or envy) for their beauty and rarely for their character, strength, and use of their skills and gifts.
And then there is the question of beauty. By calling a girl a "princess" we insist that we are calling all girls "beautiful" and that that is a good thing, for don't all girls want to be beautiful? But, by doing that we reinforce the standards of this world that beauty is something of superior value to other things. And by the secular standards, very few of us are beautiful. No matter how many church retreats tells us we are, the images glaring at us from the covers of magazines and our television screens tells us we are not. Sometimes we get the instruction or comfort to be "beautiful on the inside." Any good teacher will make sure to emphasize inward beauty, but the world around us is a much stronger voice in insisting that it is otuward beauty that gains attention and priase most often. The church needs to stop using the "beautiful princess" story in how they teach girls to be women of God, there is too much cultural baggage tied to that image - especially considering we are never commanded to be outwardly beautiful, or a princess.
Various leaders and teachers in the church, on a few occasions, commented on efforts towards exercise and weight loss. It was always part of "honoring the temple" to be losing weight. The intentions and goals were pure and honorable I'm sure, but what I internalized as a fat child sitting in that pew and completely trusting that spiritual leader was that my fat body was wrong. That the body I lived in was not glorifying to God. That I needed to change me in order to serve God.
As a teenager I agreed with the theme of being a "princess" who waited patiently on God, learning to be pure, and hoping for my "prince." I would have absolutely told you it was all about inner beauty. I would have said something about how inward beauty is greater and God would make sure it shone brighter than my outward appearance. And yet, I cried and begged and pleaded for God to allow me to be thin. My motives were pure and honorable. I honestly thought that if I were thin, then more people would bother to notice me, and if people noticed me, then I could tell more people at Jesus. I asked to be thin so that I might serve God. I believed that my fatness was a stumbling block. I believed that for me to open my mouth about God was to take a risk that someone would associate my fat (and therefore less than, ugly, and unworthy self) with Christ. I didn't want that. I started and stopped a variety of exercise and diet routines. Nothing stuck. Nothing worked. I remained fat.
I whole-heartedly believed that if I ever got married I would marry a man who loved my personality so much that he accepted my body. I never expected anyone to be attracted to me. I was told that non-Christian men just wanted sex (and I couldn't see any non-Christian man being attracted to my fat, so I just crossed that off the list of possibilities) and that Christian men wanted a "beautiful, pure, lovely princess to rescue." I figured I could at least try for innocent and pure. I embraced "princesses" as well as I could. (My first online username was something to the effect of a princess of God.) I was going to be pure and princessy enough to make up for the fat. I literally believed that my fat was so off-putting that any man who would even attempt to pursue me had to be so godly that he saw through my fat and saw God in me. I figured I'd end up with some super insightful and sensitive Christian who would "love the God in me" so much that he'd overlook the fat. There was no way some guy that wasn't a good guy would get that far. The fat would stop him. I believed this so much that I skipped out on the "preparing for marriage in the future" studies they did at church for teenagers. I wasn't going to have many options, and the one that did come along was going to be the right one for the aforementioned reasons. I don't recall ever voicing these thoughts beyond telling my friends I only planned to ever date just one guy. He'd be the right one. I'd know it. And, while my issues was weight, I've heard from others that had various similar stories that they were sure there was that one thing about them that was going dissuade the wrong men but be the strong enough inner-beauty that would attract the right man. In my perspective, that is perhaps the most dangerous part of this Christian sub-culture treatment of women and girls.
I say that because, do you know what all of that set me up for?
Not the potential for healthy relationship, that's for sure.
In college I met someone who was interested in me and we dated for a few years. I was elated! I fell quickly in love. It was rocky from about three months in.While I make no claims of relationship perfection, I tried endlessly to be pure and kind and gentle enough. To be all of the princess qualities that I could. I would not be the nagging woman that would lead a man to the corner of the rooftop. I would allow him his strength, I would praise him when he rescued me, I would defer to his opinions and his leadership. It was how I was taught to behave as a woman. It was what I was told would land me my prince. I had waited patiently, and at 20 someone said they loved me and that I was beautiful.
In a conversation we had a after breaking up - as I struggled to understand what I had done wrong, why I had not been enough - he told me about his new girlfriend. "She's stronger than you, and I need that kind of personality to balance me." What I heard was, "you're weak." Without going in details, I realize the relationship crumbling wasn't my fault. I may have had a doormat of a personality while we dated (and I don't today largely because of it) but I fully recognize that the fact that I sought gentleness and love does not excuse his misdeeds. I don't claim to have been perfect in the relationship, but I no longer own the "you were weak" as the reason for its end.
I'd like to think that if today a similar man tried to enter my life I'd be able to spot his faulty ways and depart immediately. At the time I was an innocent, gullible, and oh-so-hopeful "lady-in-waiting". (The title of a popular book during my adolescence which focused on "becoming God's best while waiting on Mr. Right.") I heard "princess" at church and got my cues for what that meant from the dominant culture.
The timing of my emergence from this toxic relationship coincided with my discovery of Health at Every Size and it's accompanying movements. I learned about the oppressed and the voice of the marginalized, I became a different person. Once, a couple years into this transition I talked with my ex and he told me I was different. That who I was that day was a better match for him than who I was before. That I was stronger. That I spoke my mind. That I knew what I wanted, and he liked that. Part of me felt the old flutterings of pleasure at his approval and recognition. The other part, mercifully the larger part, wanted to tell him I could care less what he thought about my new self. My well-bred instincts to be polite won out and I responded with something like, "Yeah. I have changed."
I have not shaken body-image issues completely. There are times when I still compare myself to the photo-shopped images I see all around me. Some days I have to constantly remind myself that I am making nutrition and activity choices in order to be healthy, not to achieve a body shape or size ideal. In a few months I will stand up with a friend as she marries the man of her dreams. The dress is sleeveless and knee length. I found myself googling "upper arm toning exercises" and "self tanning lotions" before I even realized what I was doing. Something about being on display before a crowd of people and having pictures made that will be in someone's treasured scrapbooks for years to come made me image obsessed. I'm still processing all of that and trying to find that line between "feeling good and healthy and confident" and "buying into what the world tells you is good and healthy and confident." But, in general, HAES is my instinct and I see the fat-bias, discrimination, and hatred in the media, culture, and even the church without even trying to see it. I can't not see it now.
I'd love to see the church embrace the "Health At Every Size" model and to banish "weight loss Bible studies" where women crowd church classrooms and their devotion to God that week is measured on a scale. (Search for them on amazon if you want, I can't bear to link them.) I'd love for youth group leaders to cover the breadth and depth of the female characters rather than highlighting Rebekah being "very attractive in appearance" and using it as a reminder to "care for our temple" as if that was the deciding factor that brought her into the family of Abraham. David was also described as attractive (and dancing around naked in his attractive body), but it's not the first thing I think of when talking about him.
I'd love to see the church be a leader in ending weight/size-based discrimination. Learn how to make fat people comfortable in your church (think about the size and strength of your sanctuary seating). Do not judge their health, lifestyle, or activity level simply with a look. Have classes that deconstruct the marketing ploys of our culture. Put fat people on the stage to sing and talk and dance and act. Omit the sermon illustrations about being a certain weight. Learn to talk about health and nutrition and the life-giving benefit of exercise without insisting that we judge the effectiveness of these things simply with weight. Stick your hands in the air during worship if you feel like it, regardless of if your upper arm flab is gonna wave or not. Put on a swimsuit at the youth group pool outing and swim and have fun. Be modest, but don't shrink into the shade of a tree with a towel draped around you for fear of what others may think.
I've had the privilege to work with teenage girls the past few years. I've been blessed to overhear some of their conversations in which it seems they "get it" about body image and fat-shaming in regards to other people. But, sadly, when they direct their comments to their own bodies I often hear the standard negative comments. Their positivity about others gives me hope though - perhaps this generation will learn to love itself through loving others.
My venture into the world of a positive body-image, healthy habits, Health at Every Size, and the advocacy for body diversity began around 2006. It started off with my love of clothes, fashion, and creativity. (I'm not entirely sure where that came from as when I was a child and teenager a t-shirt and jeans were good for me. I once remember a friend imploring me wear something, anything, other than a solid colored t-shirt.) I found an online "fat fashion" community and it was my gateway drug to advocacy, oppression-awareness, questioning the dominant narrative, and being intentionally subversive to the dominant culture. I was definitely in the minority (at least of the vocal people) as a Christian in this community and I started questioning my own theology-based assumptions about size, health, and worth.
I marveled at the ways in which our culture of beauty, sex-appeal, and the "role of woman" as a baby-maker had influenced us even within the church. I listened closely to what was said in church about bodies and size and health and began to examine what I heard. I reflected on my formative years as a child and in the youth group.
I recalled various studies and lessons aimed at girls in which I was taught that I was to be pure and patient. The general impression was that we were daughters of the King and as such should act as a princess and wait on a gallant, daring, and warrior prince to arrive. In general, I can see this perspective and embraced and perpetuated it myself for years.
It is seen as positive, helpful, and empowering to call girls "princesses" and to implore them to live up to that standard. For, after all, don't all little girls want to be beautiful princesses who live happily ever after? I think the problem comes from the fact that we were told "be a daughter of King Jesus!" and there was rarely a caution to remind us that a daughter of King Jesus is not the same thing as Cinderella, or Belle, or Princess Di. The princesses of storybooks are largely passive, weak, and waiting. They earn praise (or envy) for their beauty and rarely for their character, strength, and use of their skills and gifts.
And then there is the question of beauty. By calling a girl a "princess" we insist that we are calling all girls "beautiful" and that that is a good thing, for don't all girls want to be beautiful? But, by doing that we reinforce the standards of this world that beauty is something of superior value to other things. And by the secular standards, very few of us are beautiful. No matter how many church retreats tells us we are, the images glaring at us from the covers of magazines and our television screens tells us we are not. Sometimes we get the instruction or comfort to be "beautiful on the inside." Any good teacher will make sure to emphasize inward beauty, but the world around us is a much stronger voice in insisting that it is otuward beauty that gains attention and priase most often. The church needs to stop using the "beautiful princess" story in how they teach girls to be women of God, there is too much cultural baggage tied to that image - especially considering we are never commanded to be outwardly beautiful, or a princess.
Various leaders and teachers in the church, on a few occasions, commented on efforts towards exercise and weight loss. It was always part of "honoring the temple" to be losing weight. The intentions and goals were pure and honorable I'm sure, but what I internalized as a fat child sitting in that pew and completely trusting that spiritual leader was that my fat body was wrong. That the body I lived in was not glorifying to God. That I needed to change me in order to serve God.
As a teenager I agreed with the theme of being a "princess" who waited patiently on God, learning to be pure, and hoping for my "prince." I would have absolutely told you it was all about inner beauty. I would have said something about how inward beauty is greater and God would make sure it shone brighter than my outward appearance. And yet, I cried and begged and pleaded for God to allow me to be thin. My motives were pure and honorable. I honestly thought that if I were thin, then more people would bother to notice me, and if people noticed me, then I could tell more people at Jesus. I asked to be thin so that I might serve God. I believed that my fatness was a stumbling block. I believed that for me to open my mouth about God was to take a risk that someone would associate my fat (and therefore less than, ugly, and unworthy self) with Christ. I didn't want that. I started and stopped a variety of exercise and diet routines. Nothing stuck. Nothing worked. I remained fat.
I whole-heartedly believed that if I ever got married I would marry a man who loved my personality so much that he accepted my body. I never expected anyone to be attracted to me. I was told that non-Christian men just wanted sex (and I couldn't see any non-Christian man being attracted to my fat, so I just crossed that off the list of possibilities) and that Christian men wanted a "beautiful, pure, lovely princess to rescue." I figured I could at least try for innocent and pure. I embraced "princesses" as well as I could. (My first online username was something to the effect of a princess of God.) I was going to be pure and princessy enough to make up for the fat. I literally believed that my fat was so off-putting that any man who would even attempt to pursue me had to be so godly that he saw through my fat and saw God in me. I figured I'd end up with some super insightful and sensitive Christian who would "love the God in me" so much that he'd overlook the fat. There was no way some guy that wasn't a good guy would get that far. The fat would stop him. I believed this so much that I skipped out on the "preparing for marriage in the future" studies they did at church for teenagers. I wasn't going to have many options, and the one that did come along was going to be the right one for the aforementioned reasons. I don't recall ever voicing these thoughts beyond telling my friends I only planned to ever date just one guy. He'd be the right one. I'd know it. And, while my issues was weight, I've heard from others that had various similar stories that they were sure there was that one thing about them that was going dissuade the wrong men but be the strong enough inner-beauty that would attract the right man. In my perspective, that is perhaps the most dangerous part of this Christian sub-culture treatment of women and girls.
I say that because, do you know what all of that set me up for?
Not the potential for healthy relationship, that's for sure.
In college I met someone who was interested in me and we dated for a few years. I was elated! I fell quickly in love. It was rocky from about three months in.While I make no claims of relationship perfection, I tried endlessly to be pure and kind and gentle enough. To be all of the princess qualities that I could. I would not be the nagging woman that would lead a man to the corner of the rooftop. I would allow him his strength, I would praise him when he rescued me, I would defer to his opinions and his leadership. It was how I was taught to behave as a woman. It was what I was told would land me my prince. I had waited patiently, and at 20 someone said they loved me and that I was beautiful.
In a conversation we had a after breaking up - as I struggled to understand what I had done wrong, why I had not been enough - he told me about his new girlfriend. "She's stronger than you, and I need that kind of personality to balance me." What I heard was, "you're weak." Without going in details, I realize the relationship crumbling wasn't my fault. I may have had a doormat of a personality while we dated (and I don't today largely because of it) but I fully recognize that the fact that I sought gentleness and love does not excuse his misdeeds. I don't claim to have been perfect in the relationship, but I no longer own the "you were weak" as the reason for its end.
I'd like to think that if today a similar man tried to enter my life I'd be able to spot his faulty ways and depart immediately. At the time I was an innocent, gullible, and oh-so-hopeful "lady-in-waiting". (The title of a popular book during my adolescence which focused on "becoming God's best while waiting on Mr. Right.") I heard "princess" at church and got my cues for what that meant from the dominant culture.
The timing of my emergence from this toxic relationship coincided with my discovery of Health at Every Size and it's accompanying movements. I learned about the oppressed and the voice of the marginalized, I became a different person. Once, a couple years into this transition I talked with my ex and he told me I was different. That who I was that day was a better match for him than who I was before. That I was stronger. That I spoke my mind. That I knew what I wanted, and he liked that. Part of me felt the old flutterings of pleasure at his approval and recognition. The other part, mercifully the larger part, wanted to tell him I could care less what he thought about my new self. My well-bred instincts to be polite won out and I responded with something like, "Yeah. I have changed."
I have not shaken body-image issues completely. There are times when I still compare myself to the photo-shopped images I see all around me. Some days I have to constantly remind myself that I am making nutrition and activity choices in order to be healthy, not to achieve a body shape or size ideal. In a few months I will stand up with a friend as she marries the man of her dreams. The dress is sleeveless and knee length. I found myself googling "upper arm toning exercises" and "self tanning lotions" before I even realized what I was doing. Something about being on display before a crowd of people and having pictures made that will be in someone's treasured scrapbooks for years to come made me image obsessed. I'm still processing all of that and trying to find that line between "feeling good and healthy and confident" and "buying into what the world tells you is good and healthy and confident." But, in general, HAES is my instinct and I see the fat-bias, discrimination, and hatred in the media, culture, and even the church without even trying to see it. I can't not see it now.
I'd love to see the church embrace the "Health At Every Size" model and to banish "weight loss Bible studies" where women crowd church classrooms and their devotion to God that week is measured on a scale. (Search for them on amazon if you want, I can't bear to link them.) I'd love for youth group leaders to cover the breadth and depth of the female characters rather than highlighting Rebekah being "very attractive in appearance" and using it as a reminder to "care for our temple" as if that was the deciding factor that brought her into the family of Abraham. David was also described as attractive (and dancing around naked in his attractive body), but it's not the first thing I think of when talking about him.
I'd love to see the church be a leader in ending weight/size-based discrimination. Learn how to make fat people comfortable in your church (think about the size and strength of your sanctuary seating). Do not judge their health, lifestyle, or activity level simply with a look. Have classes that deconstruct the marketing ploys of our culture. Put fat people on the stage to sing and talk and dance and act. Omit the sermon illustrations about being a certain weight. Learn to talk about health and nutrition and the life-giving benefit of exercise without insisting that we judge the effectiveness of these things simply with weight. Stick your hands in the air during worship if you feel like it, regardless of if your upper arm flab is gonna wave or not. Put on a swimsuit at the youth group pool outing and swim and have fun. Be modest, but don't shrink into the shade of a tree with a towel draped around you for fear of what others may think.
I've had the privilege to work with teenage girls the past few years. I've been blessed to overhear some of their conversations in which it seems they "get it" about body image and fat-shaming in regards to other people. But, sadly, when they direct their comments to their own bodies I often hear the standard negative comments. Their positivity about others gives me hope though - perhaps this generation will learn to love itself through loving others.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Actually, it is religion.
Recently, I was asked for my view on religion. There was a time when my evangelical upbringing would have conditioned me to resond first with, "It's not religion, it's a relationship!" I would have thought myself insightful, if not clever. However, as much I still firmly believe that the concept of religion as a relationship with the Christian context still has value and importance in spiritual formation and growth, I also believe that it leaves so much out.
The first two definitions of "religion" from dictionary.com are:
1.a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
2.a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
When I say I am a Christian, I am saying more than that I simply have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ as if were some novel idea or I was doing this solo - just me and God. I am saying that I ascribe to a set of beliefs that has been around for thousands upon thousands of years and that I am a part of a community of people who have held those same foundational beliefs for centuries.
Embracing religion, with all of it's implicatoins, allows me to see the beauty in the traditons, the history, the scripture, and the weight of what it is I believe. When I embrace religion rather than something wholly personal, I am more willing to own up to the egregious behaviors and failings of the global church - to admit imperfections and our need for ongoing sanctification rather than just simply dismissing these errors as the result of someone whose personal relationship wasn't strong enough.
When it was just a relationship, it was only about me. It was about making sure that I loved Jesus and remembering that he loved me. The rest of the world could blur, or grow strangely dim as the song says, when all I was doing was cultivating a love relationship with Jesus. While I can never recall being taught to ignore the rest of the world (especially its suffering), it was easy to simply assimilate that into my life of focusing only on "the relationship." If a concern had nothing to do with me, with my community, with my denomination - it was easy to dismiss it as someone else's problem. As long as I prayed every day and read my Bible and worked on that relationship, I was good.
But, as much as I do believe that God so Loved Nicole that he sent his son to die for me, the Bible says that God so loved the world. The world is old, and broken, and vast. Twelve years ago, I sat on the front row of St. Paul's Cathedral in London and watched with skepticism the rituals and the ceremony of the Anglican service. I was angry sitting there. I was in London on a mission's trip, and here I was being forced to listen to ritual prayers, boring songs, and I'm pretty certain they had real wine in the communion cup! This was not how I worshipped. It was different and strange and uncomfortable. I was not a fan.
By the grace of God, there in St. Paul's began my journey to embracing Religion as the quiet whisper of the spirit reminded me that he is the God of more than me. It took me a while to hear it through my arrogance and indignation, but the whisper was persistent. It whispered that in a world full of humans, no one gets it exactly right. Whispers reminded me that he promises to be found by those that seek him; through centuries he has proved himself true across nations, denominations, ages, and racial lines. It was a slow progression as I learned to let go of cultural baggage on what a relationship with Jesus is supposed to look like, and be willing to accept that it looks different for different people.
I now understand that I am indeed a part of a religion, a follower of God, and recognize that it's not just about my relationship with him. There exists such a depth and breadth to the history of the church and the wisdom, encouragement, and conviction I can glean across denominational and other boundaries is extensive. With this understanding I am willing to listen and to learn. I open my eyes and heart and I realize that there is more than one faith experience with the Christian religion. There are people who dance wildly in praise, those who whisper words they've repeated over and over as they count beads, and people who cry in grief and weep and lament and they are all a part of it. They are all a part of seeking the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and searching for truth.
As I let go of some incorrect and limiting beliefs, my restless curiosity for the stories, viewpoints,and perspectives of others only increased. For years I was ashamed of my widened eyes and opened ears in regards to my faith. I was certain that if I did not lean in to my views with a strong footing and sturdy supports, that I was just weak, apathetic, and easily swayed. It's just been within the past year or so that I've begun to realize: I am not apathetic. For reasons I don't fully know, God has given me a questioning heart. It is with immense gratitude and humility that I praise him for also blessing me with the gift of faith so that in my questioning, he has always been the center, the grounding force. So now I seek to embrace the questions and to seek my God who answers prayers prayed in silent whispers, exuberant dancing, and tearful laments. Who shows up in ornate cathedrals, bare-bones slightly-refurbed old warehouses, sprawling suburban mega churches, and small living rooms in tiny city apartments.
I eagerly anticipate the day when I am able to stand around the throne with brothers and sisters from every nation and age and sing Hallelujah to the Lamb. Maybe I'll run into Terri, the lady who took me to St. Paul's that summer, and tell her thank you.
The first two definitions of "religion" from dictionary.com are:
1.a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs.
2.a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects: the Christian religion; the Buddhist religion.
When I say I am a Christian, I am saying more than that I simply have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ as if were some novel idea or I was doing this solo - just me and God. I am saying that I ascribe to a set of beliefs that has been around for thousands upon thousands of years and that I am a part of a community of people who have held those same foundational beliefs for centuries.
Embracing religion, with all of it's implicatoins, allows me to see the beauty in the traditons, the history, the scripture, and the weight of what it is I believe. When I embrace religion rather than something wholly personal, I am more willing to own up to the egregious behaviors and failings of the global church - to admit imperfections and our need for ongoing sanctification rather than just simply dismissing these errors as the result of someone whose personal relationship wasn't strong enough.
When it was just a relationship, it was only about me. It was about making sure that I loved Jesus and remembering that he loved me. The rest of the world could blur, or grow strangely dim as the song says, when all I was doing was cultivating a love relationship with Jesus. While I can never recall being taught to ignore the rest of the world (especially its suffering), it was easy to simply assimilate that into my life of focusing only on "the relationship." If a concern had nothing to do with me, with my community, with my denomination - it was easy to dismiss it as someone else's problem. As long as I prayed every day and read my Bible and worked on that relationship, I was good.
But, as much as I do believe that God so Loved Nicole that he sent his son to die for me, the Bible says that God so loved the world. The world is old, and broken, and vast. Twelve years ago, I sat on the front row of St. Paul's Cathedral in London and watched with skepticism the rituals and the ceremony of the Anglican service. I was angry sitting there. I was in London on a mission's trip, and here I was being forced to listen to ritual prayers, boring songs, and I'm pretty certain they had real wine in the communion cup! This was not how I worshipped. It was different and strange and uncomfortable. I was not a fan.
By the grace of God, there in St. Paul's began my journey to embracing Religion as the quiet whisper of the spirit reminded me that he is the God of more than me. It took me a while to hear it through my arrogance and indignation, but the whisper was persistent. It whispered that in a world full of humans, no one gets it exactly right. Whispers reminded me that he promises to be found by those that seek him; through centuries he has proved himself true across nations, denominations, ages, and racial lines. It was a slow progression as I learned to let go of cultural baggage on what a relationship with Jesus is supposed to look like, and be willing to accept that it looks different for different people.
I now understand that I am indeed a part of a religion, a follower of God, and recognize that it's not just about my relationship with him. There exists such a depth and breadth to the history of the church and the wisdom, encouragement, and conviction I can glean across denominational and other boundaries is extensive. With this understanding I am willing to listen and to learn. I open my eyes and heart and I realize that there is more than one faith experience with the Christian religion. There are people who dance wildly in praise, those who whisper words they've repeated over and over as they count beads, and people who cry in grief and weep and lament and they are all a part of it. They are all a part of seeking the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and searching for truth.
As I let go of some incorrect and limiting beliefs, my restless curiosity for the stories, viewpoints,and perspectives of others only increased. For years I was ashamed of my widened eyes and opened ears in regards to my faith. I was certain that if I did not lean in to my views with a strong footing and sturdy supports, that I was just weak, apathetic, and easily swayed. It's just been within the past year or so that I've begun to realize: I am not apathetic. For reasons I don't fully know, God has given me a questioning heart. It is with immense gratitude and humility that I praise him for also blessing me with the gift of faith so that in my questioning, he has always been the center, the grounding force. So now I seek to embrace the questions and to seek my God who answers prayers prayed in silent whispers, exuberant dancing, and tearful laments. Who shows up in ornate cathedrals, bare-bones slightly-refurbed old warehouses, sprawling suburban mega churches, and small living rooms in tiny city apartments.
I eagerly anticipate the day when I am able to stand around the throne with brothers and sisters from every nation and age and sing Hallelujah to the Lamb. Maybe I'll run into Terri, the lady who took me to St. Paul's that summer, and tell her thank you.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Bags and Habits
Here are my goals/resolutions for 2012. I'm 15 days in to the new year and it's not a bust yet - so I figured I could publicize them to the world!
1. 52 Bags. I'm getting rid of 52 bags of stuff in 2012. They can be any size bag. So far they've been pretty big - but I'm sure that will change as time goes on - or, who knows, maybe they'll get bigger. The hope is that by the time I get well into this project I'm really evaluating my materialism and consumerism and taking a hard look at the extravegance in my life and finding ways to bless others in the process. So far, I'm on track.
Bag One: Random things - mostly the stuff that's been sitting in a "get rid of" pile for a while - I just sorted through it and bagged it up. I'll be doing trips to donate these things once a month, so at the moment the bag is still sitting in my room.
Bag Two: Books. I sorted through my books to get rid of the ones that either I've had for years and never read or the ones that I've read but have no desire to read again. Anything that was currently going for more than $1 I put on half.com to sell and the rest I dropped off in a "books for charity" box that's near my house. The charity supports adult literacy and I had a number of Christian living books in the donation - so I hope they bless someone somewhere! I'm going to put the money that I get from selling anything in my "52 bags" project aside for now and am praying about what God will have me do with it. It may go towards my goal of paying off debt, but more than likely I feel he will show me some need that I can meet that represents the antithesis to my life of "stuff" - I'm just keeping my eyes and heart open. Just a few dollars in there right now from the book sales - but hopefully it will grow!
Bag Three: That would be this week - the plans are to go through my closet and get rid of those thngs that I say I like, but I never wear. There are very few things in my closet that I just don't like. I'll try to sell some of them - I can pretty reliably sell my used clothing for a pretty good price - so that should hopefully add to the account mentioned above. Things that don't sell will be donated to a local thrift store that provids vouchers for women in crisis to shop. But, I could end up with a different bag of stuff this week!
2. 12 Habits. One new habit a month - striving to make 2012 a very intentional year and inspired by my friend Cynthia over at Hippie Housewife. The goal here is to simply implement new routines, habits, into my life. Big or small. Life-altering or just things that might make me ponder some of the simpler things in life.
January: Initially the habit was to implement a regular yoga routine. My younger brother got me the book MegaYoga for Christmas - and I read through it and started the routines and tried to program the routine in the book into an iPad yoga app - but the combination of bending my body into odd shapes wile simultaneously reading a book and watching a screen to figure out the next pose has proved problematic - - so the MegaYoga DVD is on my to-buy list and it will be February's habit. This month - the habit took me by surprise - it's something I realized I was doing different and then I started becoming intentional about making it a priority. It's going to sound silly - but the habit is making my bed.
As silly as it sounds - I can already see that it's changing the tone and focus of my day. That simple act says so much - - it speaks of order and beauty and purpose. It's a physical act that ends the time of sleep and begins the time of activity. And, at the end of the day, pulling back smooth covers to climb in between the sheets is satisfying. With my bed made - my small living space feels more conducive to doing other things - I gather the throw pillows that have been tossed about my desk space and arrange them on my bed - and suddenly my desk is free to be used to write a note to someone or to work on my finances or to do my Bible study.
There are other goals for the year - starting grad school, building up my emergency savings, reading more non-fiction books (something I can never seem to discipline myself to do with any regularity.) But mostly - it's a year about little steps and little things being a big deal in the end.
I hope everyone else is having a good start to 2012. I pray that it is a year that reminds you in countless ways that there is a Sovereign and Holy God.
1. 52 Bags. I'm getting rid of 52 bags of stuff in 2012. They can be any size bag. So far they've been pretty big - but I'm sure that will change as time goes on - or, who knows, maybe they'll get bigger. The hope is that by the time I get well into this project I'm really evaluating my materialism and consumerism and taking a hard look at the extravegance in my life and finding ways to bless others in the process. So far, I'm on track.
Bag One: Random things - mostly the stuff that's been sitting in a "get rid of" pile for a while - I just sorted through it and bagged it up. I'll be doing trips to donate these things once a month, so at the moment the bag is still sitting in my room.
Bag Two: Books. I sorted through my books to get rid of the ones that either I've had for years and never read or the ones that I've read but have no desire to read again. Anything that was currently going for more than $1 I put on half.com to sell and the rest I dropped off in a "books for charity" box that's near my house. The charity supports adult literacy and I had a number of Christian living books in the donation - so I hope they bless someone somewhere! I'm going to put the money that I get from selling anything in my "52 bags" project aside for now and am praying about what God will have me do with it. It may go towards my goal of paying off debt, but more than likely I feel he will show me some need that I can meet that represents the antithesis to my life of "stuff" - I'm just keeping my eyes and heart open. Just a few dollars in there right now from the book sales - but hopefully it will grow!
Bag Three: That would be this week - the plans are to go through my closet and get rid of those thngs that I say I like, but I never wear. There are very few things in my closet that I just don't like. I'll try to sell some of them - I can pretty reliably sell my used clothing for a pretty good price - so that should hopefully add to the account mentioned above. Things that don't sell will be donated to a local thrift store that provids vouchers for women in crisis to shop. But, I could end up with a different bag of stuff this week!
2. 12 Habits. One new habit a month - striving to make 2012 a very intentional year and inspired by my friend Cynthia over at Hippie Housewife. The goal here is to simply implement new routines, habits, into my life. Big or small. Life-altering or just things that might make me ponder some of the simpler things in life.
January: Initially the habit was to implement a regular yoga routine. My younger brother got me the book MegaYoga for Christmas - and I read through it and started the routines and tried to program the routine in the book into an iPad yoga app - but the combination of bending my body into odd shapes wile simultaneously reading a book and watching a screen to figure out the next pose has proved problematic - - so the MegaYoga DVD is on my to-buy list and it will be February's habit. This month - the habit took me by surprise - it's something I realized I was doing different and then I started becoming intentional about making it a priority. It's going to sound silly - but the habit is making my bed.
As silly as it sounds - I can already see that it's changing the tone and focus of my day. That simple act says so much - - it speaks of order and beauty and purpose. It's a physical act that ends the time of sleep and begins the time of activity. And, at the end of the day, pulling back smooth covers to climb in between the sheets is satisfying. With my bed made - my small living space feels more conducive to doing other things - I gather the throw pillows that have been tossed about my desk space and arrange them on my bed - and suddenly my desk is free to be used to write a note to someone or to work on my finances or to do my Bible study.
There are other goals for the year - starting grad school, building up my emergency savings, reading more non-fiction books (something I can never seem to discipline myself to do with any regularity.) But mostly - it's a year about little steps and little things being a big deal in the end.
I hope everyone else is having a good start to 2012. I pray that it is a year that reminds you in countless ways that there is a Sovereign and Holy God.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Hello World
One of these days I'll be a dedicated blogger who posts insightful, timely, and creative things for the world at large to peruse at leisure.
Until then, You'll just get my sporadic updates and I'll pretend like you've been waiting with baited-breath for them.
The summer was busy as summers tend to be. The end of summer was a highlight as I was able to visit Georgia and celebrate with my older brother and his wife on their marriage, and my younger brother and his wife at a baby shower. (My nephew has since made his debut into the world. I was blessed to be able to "be there" via the wonders of video chat, but am so excited for Christmas when I get to meet him in person.) It was also great to spend time with friends. I miss the people in Georgia and have a fondness for certain aspects of the South and its culture that you can't find in the Midwest - but I'll be shocked if I ever end up living in the South again.
Chicago has enjoyed an actual fall: beautiful blue skies with a bright warm sun and a cool breeze. Streets and yards were full of fall colors. I've relished the days of jeans and boots and lightweight cardigans. We had our first snow last week - nothing stuck - but for a few moments at a couple times throughout the day - you saw a swirl of white flakes making their way down. It is with guarded anticipation that I look forward to that beauty and magic of snow while knowing that it's also going to bring a slushy mess. It will be my third Chicago winter, but the the giddy excitement about that first blanket of white is still there.
Enough about the weather!
I've been doing a Bible Study the past number of weeks with some ladies from church. We are reading through Nancy Guthrie's The Promised One. It is part of a series she is writing on seeing Jesus in the Old Testament.
I am learning so much. I feel as if I'm seeing scripture as one large continuous picture as I never have before. The way in which God has orchestrated the events and lives of people recorded in the Bible from the beginning of time as prophecies and illustrations of the life and purpose of Jesus is just astounding. It reminds me of my favorite descriptor of God - the great Poet God. For anyone who knows good poetry knows that often when a poem is good - it may appear disjointed at a first glance - but some study, and some attention to both the form and content will reveal a master craftsman whose woven a beautiful image.
If I had to pull only one lesson from the study thus far though it would be this: The Bible is not about me.
So often I open the Bible or sit to listen to a message waiting for what I have to learn - how it will change my life, what directions it will give me, what questions that plague my mind will be answered.
And, these are not bad desires. I'd even say they are good and admirable desires that are most often from pure hearts.
Let me see if I can explain where I am beginning to see the problem with a focus on self (even when it's about learning) when approaching the scripture:
Last week we studied the story of Abraham and Isaac. It is a story that makes me uncomfortable. It seems barbaric, arbitrary, completely unnecessary. But, it's there - and it seems that God honored this obedience from Abraham. And, if I want to follow this God - I want to be honored as well. At times in my life I've taken on almost martyr-like dedication to the idea of sacrifice - claiming Abraham as my model for godly obedience.
Abraham IS a model of godly obedience and faith - - but what has hit me while doing this study about this and many other stories throughout Genesis is this: The point of the story of Abraham and Isaac "is not to convince or convict you that you must be willing to sacrifice to God what is most precious to you. It is that God was willing to sacrifice for you what was most precious to Him." (Nancy Guthrie)
I think I've spent far too much of my life searching for what I must sacrifice in order to achieve the blessing of God's promise in my life - while never understanding and fully embracing the idea that the sacrifice has been made and the promised land has been claimed. Jesus fulfilled this story - he provided the Lamb to be slain and he won the promised land of an eternity in Heaven. That is the point - not for us to spend our lives wondering if we're being as obedient as Abraham - but to praise the One who was.
O, praise the One who paid my debt, and raised this life up from the dead.
Until then, You'll just get my sporadic updates and I'll pretend like you've been waiting with baited-breath for them.
The summer was busy as summers tend to be. The end of summer was a highlight as I was able to visit Georgia and celebrate with my older brother and his wife on their marriage, and my younger brother and his wife at a baby shower. (My nephew has since made his debut into the world. I was blessed to be able to "be there" via the wonders of video chat, but am so excited for Christmas when I get to meet him in person.) It was also great to spend time with friends. I miss the people in Georgia and have a fondness for certain aspects of the South and its culture that you can't find in the Midwest - but I'll be shocked if I ever end up living in the South again.
Chicago has enjoyed an actual fall: beautiful blue skies with a bright warm sun and a cool breeze. Streets and yards were full of fall colors. I've relished the days of jeans and boots and lightweight cardigans. We had our first snow last week - nothing stuck - but for a few moments at a couple times throughout the day - you saw a swirl of white flakes making their way down. It is with guarded anticipation that I look forward to that beauty and magic of snow while knowing that it's also going to bring a slushy mess. It will be my third Chicago winter, but the the giddy excitement about that first blanket of white is still there.
Enough about the weather!
I've been doing a Bible Study the past number of weeks with some ladies from church. We are reading through Nancy Guthrie's The Promised One. It is part of a series she is writing on seeing Jesus in the Old Testament.
I am learning so much. I feel as if I'm seeing scripture as one large continuous picture as I never have before. The way in which God has orchestrated the events and lives of people recorded in the Bible from the beginning of time as prophecies and illustrations of the life and purpose of Jesus is just astounding. It reminds me of my favorite descriptor of God - the great Poet God. For anyone who knows good poetry knows that often when a poem is good - it may appear disjointed at a first glance - but some study, and some attention to both the form and content will reveal a master craftsman whose woven a beautiful image.
If I had to pull only one lesson from the study thus far though it would be this: The Bible is not about me.
So often I open the Bible or sit to listen to a message waiting for what I have to learn - how it will change my life, what directions it will give me, what questions that plague my mind will be answered.
And, these are not bad desires. I'd even say they are good and admirable desires that are most often from pure hearts.
Let me see if I can explain where I am beginning to see the problem with a focus on self (even when it's about learning) when approaching the scripture:
Last week we studied the story of Abraham and Isaac. It is a story that makes me uncomfortable. It seems barbaric, arbitrary, completely unnecessary. But, it's there - and it seems that God honored this obedience from Abraham. And, if I want to follow this God - I want to be honored as well. At times in my life I've taken on almost martyr-like dedication to the idea of sacrifice - claiming Abraham as my model for godly obedience.
Abraham IS a model of godly obedience and faith - - but what has hit me while doing this study about this and many other stories throughout Genesis is this: The point of the story of Abraham and Isaac "is not to convince or convict you that you must be willing to sacrifice to God what is most precious to you. It is that God was willing to sacrifice for you what was most precious to Him." (Nancy Guthrie)
I think I've spent far too much of my life searching for what I must sacrifice in order to achieve the blessing of God's promise in my life - while never understanding and fully embracing the idea that the sacrifice has been made and the promised land has been claimed. Jesus fulfilled this story - he provided the Lamb to be slain and he won the promised land of an eternity in Heaven. That is the point - not for us to spend our lives wondering if we're being as obedient as Abraham - but to praise the One who was.
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