See-saw Self

For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it in patience.
Romans 8:24-25

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things left to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39

I need to be reminded right now of God's perfect love for me though I love imperfectly. I can never measure up to the expectations placed on me as clergy.

This role that I have taken on, which I see as merely being available to God and God's people 24/7, is full of expectations I cannot possibly meet.

First of all there is the above job description. After all, I have a hard time praying. I focus on things that don't matter. And sometimes I am blindsided to people's needs.

Secondly, I must keep reminding myself of the people God chose to speak his words. When I remember David, Paul, Thomas, Deborah, Mary, I feel better knowing that God doesn't choose perfect people to speak through, more like perfectly flawed people. Well there you have it again.....God chooses a perfectly flawed woman to speak through. And so I struggle with my imperfect nature.....difficult nature, sinful nature despite knowing that I am truly called.

Politicians always worry about their public image. Hah!! try worrying about your public/private/self/spiritual images all at once......I think I need a PR angel.

Paul must have understood all this. After all, why would God call him. He was an egotistical zealot who killed, blamed, and tortured others. So I love it that Paul comes up with the notion that in hope we were saved. And since God is the one who "saves" us......it must be God who does the hoping. Hoping that we'll get a clue. Hoping that we will be of some use to the hurting world.

And so it is important that we know that NOTHING separates us from the love of God. So God hopes I am open enough to be of use. That I don't block the Spirit by self-wallowing, self-pity, self-denial, self-deprecation, self-esteem, self-aggrandizement......as a matter of fact self-opinion interferes with listening and being open to the Spirit's guidance.

So it is a delicate balance between self-awareness so that I may improve my actions toward love. And self-less-ness so that God may enter in and heal myself, others, and the world.

I need to tip the scales a bit I think.

Stone heart, take heart

I will make you a new heart,
breathe new spirit into you.
I will remove your heart of stone,
give you back a heart of flesh.
(Remembering the Women, 300.)


It is my shame that I know what it is to live with a heart of stone.

A heart of stone comes with not living authentically, no honoring yourself or what you know. When you truly do not embrace your own spirit, your own inner core, you become deadened.

Perhaps you even really die in some ways.

Like a thousand birds pecking you over the years, not enough to kill you at once, in fact, often you never notice their tiny bites, after all they don't seem to hurt that bad. And then you realize, as you wonder why you can barely walk, the devestation they have caused over the years. Tiny indescribable and minor grievances that have pecked away at your soul.

And the only way to survive, to make peace, is to developed that hardened heart, or mind, or soul, or belief. After all it is a lot harder to peck away at stone. Stone doesn't live. Stone doesn't breathe, or move, or speak. It just exists.

In seminary, I kwew of many people whose hearts were awakened. Who received new hearts and new spirits. I am one of them. And yet I struggle.

Because those birds are still pecking. Silently. But I feel them more than ever. I want to kick them, to shoo them away. I can now. I am no longer stone. Praise God.

Life giving, stone turning, breath of presence
who inspires the kicking of flesh destroyers big and small,
You who have brought rhythm to rock
soft light to brokeness
Be the wind upon my face reminding me that I am
moving flesh, unbounded

Amen

Finding Sophia

Does not wisdom call,
and does not understanding raise her voice?
On the heights, beside the way,
at the crossroads she takes her stand;
beside the gates in front of the town,
at the entrance of the portals she cries out:
"To you, O people, I call,
and my cry is to all that live."

(Remembering the Women, 298)


I love that wisdom and understanding are feminine. But even more, I like that she stands at the crossroads, that she raises her voice, that she seems to be everywhere.

And her message, her message is for all who live.

I just graduated from Claremont School of Theology this past weekend. Graduation often calls us to reflect on the years past and how they have been shaped. One thing I can say that I most definitely learned from seminary is "my voice."

I learned it in all kinds of ways. I learned it from Carol--- who believes that you can speak things into becoming. I learned it from Karen--who taught me the beauty and deep meaning of words as powerful truths to be expressed with both determination and care. I learned it from Sally as she gently set her voice free.

And I heard my own voice reflected back to me from many, many, friends and colleagues, so that I could hear it for the first time.

So in seminary I finally heard my voice. It is powerful...it has a lot to say...but I can't really say that it is my voice alone. It is more like a powerful force of the Spirit moving through me, crafting words that never would normally come out of my mouth. It is a weird and wonderful thing.

I think her name is Sophia.

Mother's don't break hearts, do they?

A little sad today. At least it didn't really hit me till now.

Of course I don't know if it is related to my mom, tough words that I needed to say that my husband didn't want to hear, or all the friends I will miss from seminary. I don't know.

I do miss my mom. I thought about getting out her yearbook and recording her memories onto computer files so I could preserve them for my children. But, I never got around to it.

It's not that my day hasn't been busy. I am currently covering a 4 ft. paper lantern in blue and green tissue paper to represent the Earth. It is part of a decoration for the Baccalaureate service.

That's another thing. I don't really want to leave school. Because then, I have to face reality, and I'm not so sure I'm ready to do so. Seminary was like permission to take care of myself; to be number one for a change, instead of putting everyone elses needs first.

Guess that's the thing that maybe I'm sad about. My mother taught me to sacrifice myself at all costs, as if I what I wanted didn't matter. This is what she did. Of course, it did make her quite abusive, as soon as all that pent up rage was unleashed. So I have spent my childhood and much of my adulthood sacrificing my own desires for my mother.

Then I put my husband's needs above my own, and then my kids. I was always last. And it seems that at times I don't even know where to begin to claim my freedom back. It all seems overwhelming.

And yet, my soul has been crying for years to be free, through depression, through artistic expression, through desparately wanting to run away. At seminary I had true freedom, and I dread having to go back to hardly any.

I made it this way, so how do I unbreak it, without breaking hearts.

Just One More Reason

Just one more reason why our church should be open, affirming and accepting of the LGBTQ community.

I love medicine, so I frequently watch Discovery Health. I especially like the shows that depict live ER medicine. I guess I never quite left nursing in some ways.

On this show a woman was brought in who shot herself. She tried to commit suicide by shooting herself in the stomach. It didn't kill her, just brought her inward suffering to the surface. The bullet missed her aorta by centimeters.

Later in the show you see her family, and her priest praying over her. This is a young latina. And then the social worker asking her why she would try to kill herself. Her answer: She is a lesbian, a fact that her family cannot accept. Her family keeps hoping to pray this "SIN" away. The social worker does her best to convince the family that this is not possible. And I am left wondering how long this woman will suffer the angst of not being accepted as God created her.

I want to reach out to her and let her know that there are churches that believe that she is made in the image of God. That she is valued for the gifts she brings, as a woman, as a latina, as a lesbian. But I know that she suffers because these gifts seem like three strikes against her.
My shame is that the denomination that I belong to, that I minister with, cannot be a church I recommend where she will receive welcoming, healing, and acceptance.

I would personal embrace and defend this woman. I would accept her into my community and my church without condition.... .with the unconditional love God demands from us. She is me, I am her. One in the body of Christ. I am ashamed that my church cannot realize the oneness in Christ.