There is an appointed time for everything, and a time for every affair under the heavens. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant. A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to tear down, and a time to build. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them; a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces. A time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away. A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent, and a time to speak. A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace
Today I apologize for being cryptic as I share the above quote from Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8. Right now I am working on my next post entitled: Faith and the Serpent, a daunting title, I know. I need the time and space to move ahead in tact, and had a very strong need to explain that. Think of it as my experience in the desert like Jesus did facing challenges and temptations. I may be quiet for a bit, but forging through whatever is necessary. A good thought or two my way would be good.
Then the LORD said, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will be passing by.” A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD – but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake – but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake there was fire – but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave. A voice said to him, “Elijah, why are you here?”
The above verse came to me the other night when I woke up just after 1 a.m. and I saw a light under my bedroom door, I thought “why is he still up?” I got up, went downstairs and I realized that Steve had already gone to bed, but this little lamp was left on…which literally hasn’t been on for more than two years. (I used it when Steve was confined to the living room after his accident, and I had to wake him up to give him medication and take care of the commode) When he got up the next morning I asked him about the lamp, and he said he didn’t touch it, it was completely dark when he went up to bed. Of course I wasn’t surprised in the least, given, well, everything lately…but anyway, I digress.
After working zealously for God, Elijah, in fear of his life and with the help of an angel, escaped into the desert and ended up in a cave. He felt alone and defeated especially after all he had accomplished for God, and that was the context of the above quote. Sometimes I think we only give credence to the large and flashy moments that grab our attention as proof there is something powerful and sacred going on, and that God works more powerfully in the miraculous and in the form of powerful humans. While those things certainly can be and are true, I was reminded in the dark, where I sat for a few moments after turning off that stupid lamp, and in quiet silence remembered the verse above. God was not in the wind, the earthquake and the fire, but in a gentle whisper requiring silence in order to hear God.
So, I sat in the dark and quiet and listened. As I become more untethered to form and convention of the world on this journey and the more solitary this road has become the loneliness I feel is becoming more and more palpable. Then my heavenly voice spoke to me and said, “Mary Frances, just be content with being a whisper and all will be well.” And like I do often these days, I cried. I spent so much of my life trying to be the wind, an earthquake or a scorching fire for God because I suppose it was what I thought I was supposed to be doing for God, when actually, all those “things” led me here, to be in a place where I am comfortable, for once, not being a movement or a force to be reckoned with (although don’t get me wrong, I am still and will always be a badass butterfly), I am content with being a whisper, sending out love and hope, in the form of words, prayers, art and simple actions.
A final caveat…during COVID, when my eldest got a job outside of Chicago, they sent me a link to a song from the 1975’s “You know the sound of my heart” They meant it as a loving gesture, thankful that someone on the planet knew their heart and they found great strength in that. I believe the same goes for all of you out there, I hope you know the sound of my heart, and that, in the rhythm of its small whisper brings you joy.
I changed my mind; I think this summer’s lessons will indeed kill me. I woke up last night at what I would swear was a less than gentle shove, and an overwhelming feeling of too many things at once, an emotional drowning, of sorts, like I could barely breath, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to a dream or something else. My first response was completely cranky, why now, why in the middle of the night? I’m tired of being so tired all the time. So, I do what I always do and got up and made some lavender tea and worked on a new painting I started. On ruminating on the said shove, my first thoughts were the weight we give human convention, or the kind of weight we give social matters or social rules of conduct, the kind that almost choke us to death. I think the overwhelming feeling I woke up with was how the weight of these human constructions we feel compelled to follow limit our ability to move and bring our gifts to the world, especially when we get so confused as to what the appropriate behavior we are supposed to adopt actually is as we make any movement forward. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against propriety, civilized culture needs structures to live by. I just struggle with the kind of constructs that never change and never evolve simply because that is the way things have always been done or are “supposed” to be done, as defined by God knows who. Just as human beings and culture evolve, so should our human conventions. Like a choreographed dance without love, human social conventions that restrict one’s innate gifts and trajectory into the world have to at some point be redefined too. If you get so stuck into shrouding yourself in a certain propriety just to become acceptable to society or behave in a way as a simple means to an end that you desire, you might just lose who you really were meant to be in the first place (you know those initial conditions I spoke about).
The challenge is balancing the tension that exists between the convention itself and whether it helps an individual, group, or state, evolve or completely inhibits necessary growth. Therein lies the problem, when do we put the convention before the individual, and simply make them toe the line? There are plenty of times in the New Testament where social conventions were thrown to the wind, because they no longer served a purpose in helping humans evolve, or were simply corrupted over time. It was one of the reasons the Scribes and Pharisees wanted Jesus out of the way so badly. Paul, too, when bringing the gospel of Jesus to the world, included the gentiles into the fold and didn’t limit his outreach to the Jewish community, which initially created quite the scandal. And yet there are also many examples of human conventions that help an individual evolve into their best selves, like taking care of the weakest of society, the demand Jesus made to not let individuals hide their light under a bushel basket, treating our neighbors how we want to be treated, letting love be the directive to guide you etc. I don’t have much of an issue anymore with antiquated social constructs or those constructs that are defined by groups of people who believe they are the arbiters of a civil society and whose only objective is power, but last night when I was jolted awake, I got a deep feeling that there are other’s that do, others along my trajectory that are struggling. I made a decision at the beginning of this journey of mine that I would no longer accept any human convention that inhibited my ability to live as I was called to live and love the way I am moved to love. If on anyone’s personal journey they have the strength to refuse limitations with arbitrary restrictions on a personal level but yet allow society to impose the same arbitrary kinds of restrictions on you, you still lose. Let love be your guide, we all need to have greater faith in the beautiful blueprint that God created us to be. Breaking down the artifices that you’ve surrounded yourself with that only exist to deem you acceptable to society is never easy, but a necessary part of the journey. There will be sacrifices. Society has a great pull with temptations that can lull anyone into toeing a false line, so just let your heart be your guide. To quote the Little Prince: “What is essential is invisible to the eye, it is only with the heart that one can see rightly”
There is no picture this time, because it is my belief that it would jinx the great possibilities of what is to come….so read on.
I think it was after my dad died in 2016 that my faith in what is to come shifted dramatically towards the negative. Curiously, I would call myself a Pollyanna by nature, but my father, however, used to say it was just naivete. Over time I realized while my optimism was a great gift, when blind and disregarding the glaringly obvious, it is ceased to be a gift and became a millstone around my neck. When I say blind, I have always had a tendency to superimpose my belief and hope in individuals over who they really were and are at any given moment. Seeing potential in someone, or a community or country and seeing who they really are, are two very different things…and it is a bit embarrassing to admit that in the past I had been pretty thick about who or what I believed about the people that surrounded me. The school of hard knocks woke me up to this fact in many blistering ways and I had to learn that as much as I am hard on myself, I had to learn to be hard on others too when they came up short and I was the one left wounded. I know plenty of others have had the same kind of experiences, but since these are my observations, I choose to let the wounds help me evolve, and looking back I am a very slow learner, it would seem. I am also fully aware that I don’t live in a vacuum, I am culpable as well, I’m sure there are those who are disappointed in me too, but what is a bit different for me is that I already walk in the world completely unfiltered, so what you see is what you get, flaws and all, so usually people are just disappointed in me right away. There are plenty of posts beginning with 2017 that deal with truth, lies, power etc. that show a progression of how I tried to move more objectively in the world while trying hard to remain optimistic as well as hold onto the faith I always had in my future path. While those were pretty dark days of the soul, I knew I had to rebuild the foundation in how I moved forward in the world, while often in companionable silence with others (I never talked about it much), I grew to know that my faith in what is to come is ultimately a solitary endeavor, I learned how to rely on myself, and reassess what that looked like for everyone else in my life and shift accordingly.
Which brings me to this moment. I think the years of building and learning hard lessons paved the way for me to walk with cautious optimism into my future. Don’t get me wrong, I think we are living in the biggest shit show of our time, where foundations of culture are rattling against the will of powerful men (not being sexist here, just look around) who just want to be King of the Hill at the expense of the less powerful. I am not blindly optimistic anymore. While I still see and recognize unlimited potential in myself and others, the proof of that is in how you actually walk in the world. I have let go of false limitations that hinder my movement and embrace the fact that while at any given moment, my trajectory may bring me to uncomfortable and scary moments, it may lead me to as many amazing and celebratory ones too. It is simply a consequence of living in a deeply flawed yet beautiful world. And I do trust that God has my back. This quote from Jeremiah 29:11-14 helps me move through the tough moments as well as those that make my heart happy:
For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the LORD, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope. When you call me, when you go to pray to me, I will listen to you. When you look for me, you will find me. Yes, when you seek me with all your heart you will find me with you, says the LORD, and I will change your lot.
I truly believe that God would not have called me to this life to be stymied by it, even when it was by my own flawed sight. But as I have said before, I am limited to four dimensions, but God is not. God’s sees the end of my trajectory, I cannot. I do however know that if my movements are fueled by the deep love in my heart that I can withstand any challenge before me. I do believe God listens, and when I look for Him, for love, I will find him. For the first time in my life, I think I can say with confidence that the older wiser version of my Pollyanna nature is spot on in believing we can have faith in what’s to come.
Put your thinking caps on, this post is a bit heady. So, in chaos theory, a chaotic, or nonlinear system like weather or a singular human’s progression are deeply dependent on the initial conditions of the system’s starting point. Its opposite would be linear systems whose movements are predictable based on limited initial conditions, like the throwing of a ball or movement from A to B in a straight line. A chaotic system is often hard to predict because even the simplest change in a condition when there are a multitude, known as the butterfly effect, can have a dramatic and often times large effect on a future pattern. Unlike its name, however, chaotic systems are not random and when graphed out mathematically like a fractal for instance, are beautiful depictions of beauty and order. It is continued faith in the chaos, that even out of a seemingly randomly placed trajectory merging with another, a sense of pattern and beauty can emerge. Often looking back in hindsight, I have recognized the beauty of a pattern I didn’t even know existed that made the journey so much more worthwhile. In the unfolding of one’s own life pathway, taking time to understand one’s beginning and then supporting those initial conditions (that I believe are gifts from God built into our DNA) regardless of how chaotic they seem at any given point is an important element in learning how to shape and direct them into the future. It is a chess game of sorts, full of careful planning when we begin to recognize patterns and then make moves accordingly. It is the most important work of personal evolution and at times the most difficult, and while we never, ever should assume that chaos by its very nature is bad, but a long-term trajectory of your own butterfly wings it is also true that there is also chaos created in this world whose sole purpose is to act as a weapon against the fruition of your trajectory (which is another way of saying someone is acting against God’s gift of every individual purpose). The chess part is learning to understand when and how chaos can help you and navigate around the crap that hurts you.
When I think about the initial conditions that comprised my journey as a human, there is one that set the tone and tenor of every movement forward for this particular butterfly. At my inception, I was the third child of five. My parents had a two-year-old boy, and an eleven-month-old boy on the day I showed up (also called Irish triplets). During my mother’s pregnancy, there were complications with the RH factor which made it even more stressful. Concerned and fearful my father went to church and offered God a deal. He said if his unborn child were to be born safe and healthy, that the baby would belong to Him. He then told me afterwards, when I was born healthy that I would scream bloody murder whenever he came near me for at least the first six months, a testament to how I felt about this particular arrangement? perhaps. He never told me this story until we were having a conversation about why I chose the career path I did. He sheepishly said that he might have something to do with it and told me the above story. While my dad was a great storyteller, he was a devout man and never suffered fools. For me anyway, at this point, it added some context to the trajectory of my life. Also note, I am not saying in anyway shape or form that I was chosen by God for anything different than anyone else…except to say my dad offered God a deal and once I climbed that mountain that particular initial condition had expanded its trajectory with my own acceptance of said deal. I am also aware that this butterfly had absolutely no idea where the weather would blow, so even in the face of all the naysayers, I just followed the tune in my head and tried to find the order in chaos.
One of the reason’s I think it is so important to contemplate the initial conditions of our individual lives is based on a line in scripture from the book of Jeremiah 1:5:
The word of the LORD came to me thus:
Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I dedicated you, a prophet to the nations I appointed you.
So, what does this mean? Simply, I think it means that God does indeed have a plan for us, that we are all born with all the necessary skills and the appropriate initial conditions to fulfill that plan. I will never say that our lives are predetermined, while there are some that do, I do not subscribe to that idea, because it renders null and void the freedom of choice: that we embraced in the story of Eden, that the reason Jesus came to earth was so we had the choice he presented to each individual, and for human beings to do incredible shitty things to each other. Our human world is flawed, complicated, beautiful and sinful all at the same time, which is why I so readily accept the fact that my limited perspective definitely needs a source of guidance and strength not of the human kind as well as the help of the human kind trajectories of other like-minded individuals on the same kind of journey that have come in contact with mine. It’s also the reason I’ve learned to become a pretty effective cosmic chess player in recognizing what kind of chaos is good and what kind is not.
While you can’t change the past or the initial conditions of who you were called to be, you can take a moment to look inside and figure out and understand what those conditions are and how you’ve helped or hindered your path forward. It is also totally fine, at any given moment to have no idea whatsoever, but please believe that God does. Simply breath, keep moving forward with love and have faith that they will guide you along your way.
Often times, for me anyway, revelation gives way to a feeling of heightened stress and awareness that my boundaries have shifted, and I am no longer comfortably contained. As uncomfortable as that awareness is, I’ve learned over the years to soldier through the discomfort as a natural component of evolution. Perhaps it is why my adrenals are shot, a result of being so constantly uncomfortable, whether it’s attributably a result of not appreciating limits or embracing fully the momentum of exciting movement and not wanting to stop. I guess to my credit I never think or worry about that part much. I have learned to trust, wholeheartedly, in this journey I’m on that wherever it takes me and never resting on my laurels is a necessary part of the process. A process which began, at least most clearly for me on that day in Colorado. It took me a minute to find the photo I took on top of the mountain…and here it is. Old photos don’t give it justice, but I can still see clearly its radiance in my head.
In all my adventures, I’ve learned to appreciate how the world’s imperfections can ultimately evolve into spectacular beauty. As an artist, I love the small imperfections that bring out the beauty in a face, the lopsided curve of a lip, the unusual lilt of an ear, an elongated neck, a scar or unusual eye etc (I have a bright yellow freckle in my left iris which sometimes makes the blue, look green). I’ve been working on pencil drawings of micro expressions on people’s faces that wouldn’t be possible with perfect symmetry, and I so often wish others would see these elements with the depth of beauty that I do. I can tell you this though, had I not evolved in the manner I have, I probably wouldn’t have been able to see them either. Let me tell you about the dream I had the other night that changed my discomfort with expanding my boundaries to complete comfort in not having the need for any at all (which does not mean anarchy by any shape of the imagination, just limitations) …also, if you’re uncomfortable with expletives, there are many, so apologies.
I was in a very crowded place, unfamiliar and with no one I recognized. As it happens in my dreams sometimes, I wasn’t wearing clothes. I wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, except for the notion that it’s not normal to be in a crowded area like I was with no clothes on. Of course, these strangers did notice, and their looks of scrutiny also made it clear that I was the only one sands dress. My response this time, however, was different. Usually, I just move ahead not worrying about it. This time, however, I returned the scrutiny after realizing how many layers and coverings everyone else had on, at least I was hiding nothing, and I suddenly knew that underneath all the subterfuge, they were just as naked and flawed too. I flipped off more than one person in the crowd thinking how stupid they looked and went to look for my car. By the time I got to the street where cars were parked, I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a butterfly on it. I couldn’t find my keys, and when I found my car (and it was a beauty), there was a woman in a black suit standing in front of it holding my keys in her outstretched arm with a very smug look on her face (no it wasn’t a shadow form of me, and although I didn’t recognize her I’ll bet I could point her out in a line up). What happened next, NEVER, happens in my dream state. I have never felt such rage in my life, and I stepped within inches of her face and screamed: “Give me back my mother-fucking keys you bitch! You have no idea who you are messing with”. I looked down at my t-shirt at the butterfly there, snatched my keys from her hands and continued to yell: “I’m a goddamned butterfly and though my wings are small, I will change the weather, hell I will move mountains so get out of my fucking way!” (usually, I am the epitome of appropriate, always trying to treat others how I wanted to be treated…which is all fine and good, but this version made me dance a little). Stunned she moved out of my way, and I got in my beautiful car, turned up the music and drove away. God’s honest truth? I thought the lessons of this summer had about broke me. Now? I see it was all worth it. Here’s why.
All my life, I have been compelled to learn, grow, evolve, bear fruit, and to always become a better version of myself. Whether it was due to heavenly guidance, or my own DNA, my small circle of those who have tamed me, or working through my own karma, I have been graced with amazing opportunities to do so. I use the word grace specifically, because it is because of my flawed nature that the gift of grace even has a place in my life to transform my flaws into something beautiful and unique. There is no room for grace in one who refuses to see their own imperfections. Most importantly, without a lifetime of experiences facing obstacles, challenges, and sometimes taking time away to transform in my own personal chrysalis, I never would have turned into the badass butterfly that I believe I am right now. It is in weakness and imperfection that we become strong, as Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12:9:
A thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.
So, my friends, I guess I would rather be naked, my flaws exposed than covered in layers of subterfuge that cloak imperfections keeping them from transforming into a bad ass butterfly. I guess it’s also one of the reasons I love art and artists so much, like a chrysalis, they transform flaws into something beautiful, where grace is sufficient, power is made perfect and can and will transform the world.
There is no point in believing you can have faith in God without love…The following verse from 1 Corinthians 13 is one that is embedded in my mind and soul. It as a directive for my daily living and am as emboldened by it as debilitated by it. I am measured by it and found wanting by it a lot, a simple and painful truth, but let’s just say that with what follows I’m keeping true to the promise I made at the beginning of this journey and because of the incessant broadcasting of my incomparable heavenly voice not letting me off the hook…again.
If I speak in human and angelic tongues but do not have love, I am a resounding gong or a clashing cymbal. And if I have the gift of prophecy and comprehend all mysteries and all knowledge; if I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I hand my body over so that I may boast but do not have love, I gain nothing
That pretty much sums it up. If you search this site, I have many posts about love, its substance, wielding it, how it will never be limited to expression or structure, and most importantly that while its essence remains constant, it is also a melody that is unique to each soul, guiding each person to choreograph their own unique dance to make it efficacious in the world spreading its light outward to halt the darkness. So, faith without love, for me anyway, is dancing a choreography that has no music to it whatsoever. It is simply an empty gesture that moves nothing and no one. I see a lot of empty choreography in the world right now, and the reasons why the music is on mute I’m sure are myriad, since I can’t say what mutes the music for anyone else, here’s what muted it for me. (I am completely verklempt right now, so taking a break)
First, let me explain the picture I chose for this post. I was just over two years old, and I was playing with my brothers and the neighbor boys and based on my expression was a bit peeved that I had to stop playing so my father could take the picture (he told me about it much later). I never cared about being proper, or getting messy, I just wanted to play…so it is this little girl who so easily danced to the music of her soul, that will help me focus through the rest of this post, so please be kind.
Dreams have always been important to me. I dream vividly and my unconscious world is a place of mysticism and magic where I encounter revelation, lessons, warnings, people I don’t know irl, and it is a sacred space for me. I had a powerful dream, in which my spirit guide handed me a black, oblong shaped rock and told me it would get me into hell. I was shocked and tried to give it back literally screaming “Why the hell would I want to go to hell?” I never did get an explanation but was shoved forward. Maybe I blocked it, or maybe I wasn’t ready to be conscious of it, but I don’t remember what happened next, until the lesson presented itself in real life.
Remember the story in the last post about the telephone pole? Well, that is only part of the story. The context was a leadership retreat I was on, where we had to do different team building activities, like obstacle courses high up in the trees and fear challenging activities like the telephone pole, etc. all to build trust in our team. Feeling proud that I had mastered them all pretty easily, I should have remembered my prayer about never becoming an asshole, because the last challenge, one that was unique to each individual helped me understand the hell dream I had. Context is important here, so let me just say that music and dance are built into my DNA. I wasn’t allowed to learn dance, but I was allowed to study classical piano which I did for 12 years. Of course, I danced anyway whenever I could, whether at clubs, classes I paid for, and even teaching dance aerobics classes. These two activities were, for me anyway, impossible to put on mute, my soul itself was on display. For piano, I developed a debilitating stage fright that made recitals and competitions almost impossible. Dance, if it was on my own terms was doable, but considering all my other pursuits, it often fell to the background and with the exception of my classes, never in front of an audience, and now structurally it is hard on my body (but I still crush it in my head). So, enter my last challenge on the retreat. (Ok, I’m taking another break and going to work out).
No one ever told me why this challenge was given to me, but with dread I accepted it and hardened myself to the increasingly common response I would have to something that terrified me…the “I’ll show you response” The challenge I was presented was a dance I had to create and present to my team to the music of a Joe Cocker song “You can keep your hat on”. I had two hours to prepare and get the necessary supplies (one being a visit to Victoria’s Secret). I kept more than my hat on, but not much. I had to decide whether to fake it or make it. I chose the latter and merged my soul with the dance I created and by the end there were plenty of responses including and not limited to the level of discomfort and lack of eye contact (everyone was in a circle around me) and a number of increased hand clasping in front of their crotches (I desperately tried to find more genteel language…but decided “fuck it” there was no delicate way to say it). I didn’t die but I didn’t feel good about it either, and I still don’t. You know why? None of them ever looked at me the same way after that, which I hated, and even upon leaving that night I heard a few of them telling Steve, who had come to pick me up and who I was just dating at the time, that he was a very lucky man. It was his look that made the whole experience worthwhile for me. He never asked why but simply looked at them with an expression of “duh, I already know that” and it suddenly dawned on me that he saw me in my entirety and no contrived dance would change that.
I couldn’t understand the challenge of my dream, until I ventured into the dark recesses of my unconscious, my own personal hell. I discovered that I could never comfortably dance my dance in the world if I thought it would have to be embraced, appreciated, or always understood by others. I left ministry as a profession forever a few months later and became a stripper (JUST KIDDING!!!!) I really did leave ministry as my profession though, and accepted Steve’s marriage proposal and moved to Wisconsin where I started a whole new path less travelled. I simply realized that the choreography imposed by church structures became incompatible to the music of my soul. I’m not speaking of black or white here, all things are on a spectrum, but as I’ve said before, if the structure of the choreography that you have chosen for whatever reason inhibits the melody of your soul, in whatever situation, be it professional or relationships, then I think it’s time to visit your own personal hell and figure out how to repair the balance. In my case any real balance seemed untenable, so I moved on.
In conclusion, what propels me in this moment is a commitment to love, to never be a clanging symbol. The world needs every melody, every movement. Our world is filled with experts in choreography, whose dance falls flat and empty. Somehow the void needs to be filled by those of us who have the courage to let our melodies sound. My dance is far from perfect, and I admit I am a lot for people to deal with. I am not an easy person period, but I truly believe that God intended me to be this way and as long as I am committed to visiting hell once in a while and make sure the music of my soul rings clear, the sound of my melody gets stronger.
Since I posted the unfinished portrait of an artist in the last post, here is the finished piece. Not mystical by any shape of the imagination, but it did crack open my soul a little bit.
I rarely speak of this dimension of my faith, because I am by nature, more prone to root my foundation in doctrines and practices of behavior that fall under things that I can see and touch. Prayer is easy for me because it doesn’t feel as mystical as just singing a soul song while moving in and out of all the minutia of my life, and at this age hindsight is my best personal proof that it works. The more metaphysical aspects, which I do believe in hook, line and sinker, still freak me the hell out. I have had plenty of experiences in my life when the unexplainable, a synchronicity of events, or a stupendous moment of wonder and even a couple of times an experience of unmitigated evil, send my adrenals into fight or flight (which these days seem to be all the time). The thing that comes with an awareness of the mystical and embracing it and allowing it to change and alter one’s perspective over time, is that what you see and hear, become aware of, is demonstrably more acute than what most people are aware of, and it isn’t because they can’t, but because they won’t. I know I am walking into a territory that is akin to walking in a mine field, but here goes.
The Gospels aren’t just filled with stories about rules of behavior, rewards and punishment, ritual, or eternal life. They are also filled with miracles, mystical experiences, Jesus’ prescient knowledge of what is really on people’s minds, of walking on water, and the raising of the dead just to name a remarkable few. Those were the things originally that were the most difficult for me to embrace. As a young woman, I climbed my first mountain at 17 (I had just graduated high school and turned 18 the next day). It was Mt Yale, one of the collegiate peaks in Colorado. We were dropped off at the summit, and after four or five grueling hours with a lot of swearing on my part (like I have said before, I do not share the normal characteristics and affinities of a religious person) my heart pounding and a moment of petulant crying, I made it to the top. It was a religious experience looking out over the Continental divide, and, but for the wind, the silence was deafening and truly amazing. It was truly a rocky mountain high, but what followed was the moment my life would never be the same. As clear as day, I heard a voice say “you are mine now” I turned around in hopes to see the boy I had a crush on, and there was no one there. Knowing I wasn’t prone to auditory hallucinations, I tossed it up to oxygen deprivation and gave a chuckle, only to hear the voice again “you heard me right”. My soul cracked and I knew with perfect clarity I would never be the same again. The trip down the mountain only took an hour or so and was completely terrifying how easily it would be to tumble like Wylee Coyote down the steep slope. I threw up twice, of course both times in front of said cute boy and never said a word to anyone about what I had heard.
That was the summer before college and could not dismiss the voice that would accompany me throughout the rest of my life. I needed to know more and it was that moment I decided to study theology (much to my parent’s chagrin who had hopes of using my big brain to make some big bucks). Usually, I hear the voice at pivotal points in my life to help me focus and redirect my path necessarily, but not enough to lead me to believe that I had succumbed to schizophrenia or mental illness in any form, I’m way too practical and objective for that (seriously, I’m not an idiot… I know how far fetched this sounds). I still never told anyone about those auditory messages, because they are for no one else’s benefit but my own. But I do pay attention to the words I hear and adjust accordingly, because I have come to believe it truly is a knowledge beyond me that is assisting me, because I can be pretty clueless when it comes to reading a situation or am as stubborn as a mule when moving into territory I just don’t want to go (like right fucking now). Importantly, I think my heavenly help is truly for me alone, so I don’t get in my own way. I am never going to be one of those people who tells others the reason they are behaving in such a way is because God told them to…which truly is just an excuse to use God as leverage to justify their behavior. For me, it comes in the form of a smack on my head when I’m being obtuse, or a loving message of comfort when I’m falling apart, it is simply one of those mystical things that I can’t explain but shouldn’t feel the need to hide from, even though I still do, a bit.
If I can believe that a Savior can die for my sins, and offers me heavenly help whenever, in goodness, I ask for it, I guess the occasional message that only I can hear is part of my package. I also guess I can’t talk about faith without mentioning the dimension of it I can’t rationally explain. I am limited to four dimensions however, God is not. So, moving ahead, perhaps you will understand me and what motivates me more clearly…or write me off as delusional, which would make me sad, but it is what it is.
Before I begin, I should have realized that doing a video would open me up to…questions? scrutiny? a bunch of crap? So a few clarifications…I do not publish comments on this site ever, because, well, I don’t want to. I find the process vainglorious and often disingenuous, at least for people I don’t know personally (to those I do know that have commented, I have read them but as a general rule I don’t publish or respond to them as a matter of course but they do make me smile). I turn off “likes” and “counters” to the best of my ability because I think they are the heroin of the internet…and because, well, I just don’t care. I never did this for adulation, validation or criticism…I started this blog to record and share my ordinary observations and just send them out in the most ordinary way possible, and it is my belief that it reaches anyone who could benefit without strings, end of story.
Second clarification…I do my own art, with my own hands, period. Never took a class EVER. The story of learning to draw and paint during COVID is 100% accurate. Why or how I never knew I could do this is a story for another time and place and I’m really, really, irritated that I felt I needed to post something unfinished just to to prove authenticity and am equally as irritated at myself for caring whether or not anybody thinks I’m a fraud, but clarity is important to me so there you have it. To get juvenile for a moment…some people are a bunch of poop heads…tantrum over.
Now to the subject at hand, which I think goes well with the snark from above. When I think of power, ultimately what defines it is the source, the means by which it is propelled or moved forward. For me, there is a distinct difference from an external power, like a wind or a weapon, and an internal power like fear or love. Of course, power like any energy is on a spectrum. There have always been ways culture has created or structured ways to protect or insulate oneself from external powers, be it weather or war, which have, throughout history, have had varied degrees of success, but that is an issue for another time. My focus today, regardless of what external powers you face in your life, is what internal power moves you, strengthens you, centers you, keeps you on solid footing even when the world is not and you face a power or force that wants to move you in a direction you don’t want to go. It is then, in those moments, where you to need to decide what kind of internal power you put your faith in. I deeply distrust or have no faith in anyone who believes that they are somehow by divine placement, popularity, or ancestry, inherently blessed with greater power than anyone else. Appearances are deceptive, from those that hold great worldly power to those that hold none, we are of the same substance. While external power may favor the few, it is the internal power of love that will strengthen the multitudes. One of my favorite New Testament verses comes from Paul’s letter to the Philippians, 4:11-13 (the last line of which you may be familiar because a lot of athletes have tattoos of this)
Not that I say this because of need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I find myself, to be self-sufficient. I know indeed how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with abundance. In every circumstance and in all things I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of living in abundance and of being in need. I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me.
In my lifetime, I have become measurably stronger, by heaven’s standards anyway, because I am aware of and have chosen to have faith in the God of love that moves me, stills me, strengthens me in whatever situation that comes my way, whether in need or abundance (even on the internet 😉 ). I also know in this spinning world, the determinative factor in not allowing it to spin out of control are those of us who stand in strength, regardless of where, or who we are from the lowest places to the highest sourced by the God of love who empowers us.
The above photo was the first painting I did, inspired by my youngest son Riley (the picture following), the context of which is important in understanding the title of this post. In true transparency, I deplore weakness…which in fact, ironically, is one of my greatest weaknesses. The truth of the matter is that we all experience weakness at some point, and I think I’ve been blessed with my fair share…again, no plea for sympathy, it is just a fact, and one that became a blessing for me. I was diagnosed with a spondylolisthesis in my late 20’s (where the facet joints break off, so my L-5 vertebra is free floating). While I opted not to get surgery (because I was told it was only a 50% chance of improvement with 100% promise of future surgeries) I just kept fit, and received regular Chiropractic adjustments. (plus it doesn’t hurt that I fell in love with a chiropractor who also has a doctorate in sports injury). Anyway, along with a genetic autoimmune disease (adrenal/stomach) which caused dietary and digestive issues and bell’s palsy a facial paralysis three different times, my life has been focused on keeping a good diet, managing stress and structural strength, which I managed fairly well…until COVID.
Back in March of 2020, two days before our country shut down, while dancing with abandon at my nieces’ wedding, I shredded the labrum in my right hip (probably overtaxed by my back), which literally halted my ability to move and function normally, and since the country was shut down, there was nothing I could do to address the situation. I knew I needed a hip replacement but was forced to wait a year and a half. While trying to make the best of walking like a peg-legged pirate and being the administrator at our clinic which was dramatically altered and weakened by the pandemic and being cut off from people and unable to release my stress through movement, I really knew my mental health was at a fragile point like many others around the world. One day, my son Riley (both of my children were forced to move back home, which was also interesting…) gave me a picture he had taken the summer prior climbing Mt M at Montana State University where my oldest child got their computer engineering degree. He said simply, “Mom, you should paint this.” So I ordered a simple watercolor set and paper online and did just that. Not thinking whether or not I could do it or to what or where it would lead, I just did it, to put my energy somewhere positive amidst all the doom and gloom that surrounded me. The result has led me to a place that in hindsight, saved me. A gentle leap, the faith the size of a mustard seed has led me down another road less travelled, one more solitary and calm but vibrant nonetheless, even though it has forced me to adapt in ways I never thought possible.
I am by nature a mover. My earlier years were full of world travel that included cultural excursions, mountain/glacier/cliff climbing/hiking/biking, rafting down rivers, snorkeling, sailing etc., I also held multiple jobs beside my main gig in ministry to pay for said adventures that included aerobics instruction, cycling classes, writing curriculum, selling books and clothes (which were a wash because I seemed to use my paycheck to pay for all the good stuff I got at a great discount.;). While I’m glad I did so much when I was young, I also knew that adapting to my changing circumstances was inevitable. All was well, for a long time, until it wasn’t, when chronic pain (which I’ve spoken about before) was more in the forefront than in the background. I remember sobbing in the shower one day, when I couldn’t lift my leg up to the bench to shave my leg because of my hip issue and prayed that I could find a way around these horrible circumstances…and then Riley gave me that picture and said: “Mom, I think you should paint this.”
The reason for exposing all this personal stuff, which I am loath to do and literally makes me sick to my stomach sharing, is because I truly believe that in the depths of our sorrows, maladies, fears, disappointments, loneliness and the harsh reality of the weight of human limitation lies an opportunity that only takes the faith the size of a mustard seed in the God of love and possibility to find a glimmer of hope for a new path. To all who are weary, He will bring you rest. Part of adapting to a new reality for me means I can’t be embarrassed when my faith is stretched thin and I am weak, it happens to all of us. Faith is neither black or white…but I find comfort in believing that even a small amount of faith, when that is all I can muster allows me to take a deep breath and move forward, especially since I’m back to walking bit like a pirate again, as my other hip needs replacing. All will be well, though. I will dance the mother/son dance when Riley gets married in November, of that I am sure of.
Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”
When I was pregnant with my first child, I remember reflecting on Jesus words when he said that the kingdom of heaven belonged to the likes of children. I am also a strong proponent of the butterfly effect in chaos theory whereby the subtle flutter of a butterflies wings can affect a weather system a thousand miles away…its the subtle small things often overlooked that are so important in a child’s development. I believe it was and still is my job, then, to create an environment for my children that would help them develop their true potential (I really did think that way…the world in my head is exhausting). As any parent knows, raising a child is a daunting job in the best of times, often rife with unexpected obstacles along the way. While truly delightful, my oldest, an unconventional, extraverted, highly intelligent free spirit wasn’t always easy to guide along their path, considering the world we live in often doesn’t appreciate the unconventional and tries to pigeon hole children into certain restrictive molds…and mine would have none of that. My second child, in personality was nothing like his sibling. Anything I thought I could use with my first in raising my second was tossed out the window. He was introverted and cautious, never felt the need to talk much (of course he could hardly get a word in edgewise at our house), was single minded, an adept athlete, an animal lover with a sharp sense of humor and deep sense of empathy. In a highly competitive world where bluster often is represented as talent, he quietly forged his own way on his own merits.
While the initial conditions of each child were demonstrably different…I did desire my little butterflies to shape their own path, keeping their inner spirits as intact as possible. In a household full of testosterone, it was always a challenge for me to navigate the polarities on the masculinity spectrum. The odd one out, I often struggled to understand that particular language…I failed a lot of the time. But I do know this, if anyone or anything tried to harm them in any way, this is was where I would step in (and my husband too, don’t want to forget him). While I am a pacifist…there is no question in my mind that if anyone tried to harm either of my children I could exert a great deal of pain, especially with my velociraptor like rhetoric (never underestimate the power of words, especially spoken low and slow without blinking…the nuns taught me that). I am small, just over 5 feet, and both my children are 6 feet and above and can certainly hold their own, but at 30 and 28…they are just beginning to shape the weather in the world and I am still driven by the innocence they were born with, and have faith that it still remains intact deep within them and will fight to the death to protect it.
I chose a painting I did of a little Hispanic girl because I think we forget about the beauty that lies within all children. The Kingdom of God belongs to her as much as mine, and her little butterfly wings are so very fragile that I hope they aren’t crushed by the rampant racism, and fear that comes with having a different color skin before she is able to shape the future weather of our world. I’m sure her parents would do whatever it took to bring her to a safe place too. Let this be a gentle reminder then, having faith in a child’s needs means helping to keep in tact the innocence and beauty they were born with.
Throughout this journey of mine, focusing in on yearly themes: Clarity, Bearing Good fruit, Truth, Love, Joy, Leadership, Seeing and Hearing, Power, Hope, and now Faith, the path forward for me has become so much more clear and open than when I began, and yet my movement forward, while seemingly unobstructed, is with an even greater amount of trepidation. I think the more I’ve observed, learned, and pondered the more I realize the limits of my ability to do anything about what I’ve learned. The painful reality of stripping away the illusions that I’ve embraced over a life time, is the vulnerable smallness of what is left. I am aware of my limited power and capacity as a microscopic and seemingly insignificant part of the body of humanity to have any impact on what appears to be pathological spiral toward extinction, all the while dragging me along for the ride. I believe one of the greatest illusions of our time is to think that we are not significantly connected to every other living being on our planet, and to believe that: 1) the choices we make have no impact on or create consequences for anyone else, or 2) we are aware that our choices do impact and have consequences for others but justify the degree to which any given choice is acceptable by embracing multiple ideologies available out there as a defense or justification. All that being said, I also know, even subtly, that my actions send out ripples that can be life affirming or not, and even if I am just a cell in a larger body, I will hold myself responsible for the life force I’ve been given to play my part in keeping the body healthy and moving forward.
Yes, I am fully aware that this is a post about faith in each other, in which I still have the greatest confidence, so I will shift from the negative to something more positive. My confidence lies, predominantly anyway, in the other simple cells like me who are trying their best to play their part in keeping the body healthy. I don’t want anyone to think that one cell is unimportant in the scope of things because we all know the havoc one cancerous cell can do to a body, eventually. I also want to wake up those small parts of the body who have been chained to the belief that they have nothing to offer, because you do, we all do. We need every gift, every light if we are to survive. One never knows how one’s innate gifts will affect the body of humanity’s ability to thrive. I think the greatest source of evil and darkness in this world are the people who encourage the condemnation and extraction of parts of the body of humanity that have been determined unworthy. There are plenty of loud voices in power clearly determining who the lesser parts of this body are and that they don’t matter. God says otherwise though, that every person is of consequence. Every creation, every gift, every light sends out ripples that can influence and help another part of the body thrive. Every individual has a gift unique to them, a beautiful blueprint that should be celebrated. We have to stop undermining these simple blessings of goodness that make the world go round
This body of humanity still holds and reflects such incredible beauty, some of which I have tried to capture in my art, and has become a powerful fuel for kindling my faith in moving forward. One of my greatest transformations is that once I learned to see and recognize beauty in its multiple forms, I see it so much more clearly, readily and often, (even amidst the all the subterfuge or being co-opted for nefarious purposes). I think the result of recognizing and developing one’s own unique gift, or ones light…and then using it, you begin to have a greater impact and create stronger ripples into the world, bringing that positive energy into someone else’s line of sight, thus influencing them to do the same with their own gifts. The last painting I did (up above) was something completely different, unassociated with anything I know of personally. Somewhere on the other side of the world, I was able to capture an image of a character in a story seeing something beautiful. I don’t think that assessment is a personal invention, because where I have it displayed at our clinic, or at a one of my shows, others stare at it and feel the same way. One person said to me they felt “calmly encouraged” That will be my mechanism for future work. There is just so much beauty I want to capture out there, that I want everyone to feel calmly encouraged.
I figure if one doesn’t have any faith in themselves, they lack the substance necessary to have a deep faith in anything else. Perhaps that is the true reason the world is going to hell in a handbasket. I have a deep sadness in my soul sharing that conclusion, because every day I cross paths with people who may smile and present an image that they have it altogether, but whose eyes project something entirely different. There is a benefit to walking in the world as an invisible speck unobserved without recognition, and let me tell you I observe and hear more than most. It’s as if there is a great drought and no one is getting the nourishment they need to flourish. I’m not talking about flashy personas and surface glamour that social media has helped perfect these days, the kind that fabricates an image, ideal or presence that may have nothing at all to do with the real person inside. Being bombarded with so many expectations of “who”, “what”, or “how” we should be, it becomes understandable then, why so many haven’t been able to build a faith in that personalized essence and potential we were born with. Trying to develop our giftedness on our own in such a turbulent world just seems untenable to me. There has to be a careful balance between a self love necessary to grow, and and surrounding oneself with the kind of individuals and institutions that will truly support your efforts.
There are two passages in scripture that I think highlight the importance of faith in oneself, In one, Jesus tells a parable about a master handing out gifts to his servants as he goes on a journey. Most take the gifts they are given and work hard to increase and expand them, while one, out of fear buries it in the ground. When the master returns, he rewards those whom have expanded the gifts they were given, but to the one who buried it out of fear, he takes the gift away and gives it to the others. That story always terrified me because I always thought I was incapable of pleasing anyone regardless of what I’d been given and was beholden to their expectations. I know many people who never received encouragement probably feel the same way. As a mature adult, I grieve all the things I could have accomplished earlier had I just had the necessary faith in myself to follow those gifts I was innately passionate about, and not define myself according to who others thought I should be. I know for many who know me personally, as the feisty girl who fought for just causes might be a bit surprised by my declaration, but unfortunately my courage fighting for others really didn’t include fighting for myself, That statement is not to enlist any pity whatsoever, I’m quite objective about it, I just didn’t see things as clearly as I do now.
The second example of how important faith in oneself is, is the parable of building a house on solid rock, to withstand the tribulations that come in life verses building something on a flimsy substance like sand, which can collapse easily. The driving force of my faith is to create that kind of enduring foundation that will help me succeed in bringing the best of my gifts to the world. And I also think with a strong foundation, I, and you too, have a better sense of who those necessary people are in our lives to walk with us on our journey. I’m tired of the emotional exhaustion of standing on solid ground thinking its my responsibility to keep others from sinking into the sand. I know that sounds mean, but think about it…if I spend all my time trying to hold others up who have made the choice to live in fear and bury their gifts in the ground and expect someone else to do the heavy lifting, then I lose too. That doesn’t mean we don’t reach out and help our neighbor, it just means it can’t be at the expense of our own development.
I spent a large part of my life holding up others as a pretense to cover up my own fears and insecurities and the results wrecked havoc on my own self image. Being good at helping others at the expense of ones own growth is like building a foundation on sand. I figured it out on my own timeline, but still struggle with those old thought patterns on a daily basis, regardless of how my gifts begin to shine, which is also why I can’t imagine being on this journey without the foundation in stone my faith brings and those in my life who have tamed me and I’ve tamed back. (See reference to the story of the wood fox in the Little Prince). My little house on the rock may not be of great significance in the whole scheme of things, but it’s what I’ve been given and I need to have faith in that gift and the gentle ripples it can send out to encourage others establish their place with firm footing too.
1: having, involving, or displaying special skill or knowledge derived from training or experience
There seems to be a lot of conversation about what constitutes expertise in the world today, and who or what can lay claim to mastery of a particular subject matter, and how one earns that mastery. I included the definition of the word, because it is as good a place to start at any. Note the words: special skill or knowledge, displaying a qualified skill DERIVED from training or experience. Here is where is gets really sticky for me. The availability of information out there, claiming knowledge, mastery, special skill is just mind boggling…and often times not based in someone who has a special skill, knowledge or practical proof of its application in the real world, i.e. just because you have a website, watched a bunch of videos or podcasts, or took a training course, or are part of whatever group that bestows a title like the wizard of OZ… it does not necessarily make you an expert.
So what does? Well I personally believe it must include a shit ton of hard work. The actual work, whether it is in an academic setting, an apprenticeship, real life experience of climbing up a ladder that includes rigorous study, and experiencing different aspects of a chosen field of expertise that is rooted in hard work, trial and error. And in particular, learning from failure. Failure is an essential quality of becoming an expert at something. If you haven’t failed, and then learned from that failure, and still claim to be an expert, then you are full of shit. I say that harshly, because I am sick of people who skip the hard middle unglamorous part and jump to the end without fault, failure, or effort and claim mastery of a skill, especially without listening to or learning from other experts. its just not realistic. I, in particular, have failed a lot, and I learned from those failures a lot. Thankfully, I was raised to believe that failure could be my greatest tool for advancement if I took responsibility and learned from it, and my teachers always appreciated my diving in whole hog and not giving up even when I landed on my face, and I did…a lot. As a result, I have mastered several skills, and the result? While I know I have performed well in all of them, one of my greatest insights is that the more I know, the more I become aware of how much more I don’t know. And while humbling, it doesn’t render null and void what I have learned, it just means that developing expertise never ends. As my dad used to say, faith in anything unchallenged is dead.
So now that I have decried all the fake experts out there, I also want to take a moment to decry all those true experts out there who have twisted the mastery of their skill as a weapon against those who have put their trust in them. I don’t mean those who have without malice led someone astray, but who have done so because they could exploit their ignorance, manipulate their weaknesses and profit off a desire for power, money, fame or whatever for their own gain. I think that is also a reason why people have a mistrust for those who claim to have their best interest, and have suffered harm as a result.
The way around dealing with the failure of some experts is not, however, to decry them all, or pretend that anybody can do anything they want under the guise of expertise because they think they can do a better job. I think many skills are not transferable. You would never use a plumber to do an appendectomy, or a CPA to teach first grade (and for any of you out there who think teaching is something anyone can do…I hope you have the experience of that…they will rightly eat you alive). In particular for me, I get super pissed at people who dismiss a college education as a mechanism of indoctrination. That is such bullshit. I experienced the exact opposite of that in my many degrees (and if you think I’m simply bragging, fuck off, I earned four) The experts I learned from challenged me on material that first appeared either impossible or berated me on a conclusion on a something I thought obvious rather than research different angles of the issue. As a result of practice, research, and learning and mentoring with those who had already done the work of becoming an expert, I became one myself, with my own unique approach. I didn’t just earn high marks for regurgitating material…I used my own mind, thought processes, and input from actual experts to hone my skill. So excuse me if I get pissed off when someone who either never went to college, or had an aversion to being challenged comes to a conclusion like that just because it didn’t work for them. I would expect the same derision from someone who is an expert in a trade, or non academic skill, if someone judged their training because they didn’t want to do the hard middle part of honing a skill, or even worse yet, didn’t even believe it WAS a skill. I’d want to say fuck off to them too.
Lastly, and it must be said…making the most money at something does not make you a greater, smarter or skilled expert than anybody else. Money isn’t necessarily proof that you are better skilled than someone else (unless perhaps the skill is making money, and even that can be bypassed if, well, you’re a criminal). Some of the least skilled experts I know have made more money than some of the most skilled experts I know (and it works vis versa too, but in this day and age, having money and power are too often mistaken for expertise).
So what do we do? We pay attention to the effort someone has put into their expertise and its application in the real world. We take the time to see if we are just being fed what we want, or what we really need from an expert for our benefit as much as theirs. We have to look at the fruits of their labor. I know that’s a pretty vague answer, but it is a place to start. We have to have faith in the journey and the work that it takes to have a skill, and not cut corners just to proclaim to the world you’ve won the prize.
Sometimes sharing my faith journey is uncomfortable to me, not because I’m embarrassed, but more because I tend to keep my deepest feelings close to the vest. Catholicism was the faith I was raised in, and while its study came easy, I didn’t always appreciate the explanations I got from the adults I was surrounded by (for example, I once had to crawl around the school on my hands and knees for messing up my first confession…but really how the hell was I supposed to know the lights went out in the confessional the minute you kneeled down?). So much of my schooling was fear based and negative, while the scripture I listened to in church, really wasn’t that way at all. I also didn’t always find the clergy very good representatives of those stories either…mostly because they didn’t seem all that happy, positive or peaceful. I remember expressing my dilemma in my childhood diary and came to this conclusion: what do I know, I’m only a kid. I’m not sure when I stopped giving adults so much deference for their instruction, but I knew there had to be another way to breath faith into my daily life.
When that did happen, and I made my own personal commitment to Christ, I felt sick to my stomach and a bit depressed. While I knew I was never an easy kid, I did take things like commitments very seriously. I knew I would be in this for the long haul, and that, if it were to mean anything at all, it would mean a deep material change to my life and how I walked in it. That’s personally terrifying for someone who felt ineffectual, lacking in social cues and graces, and didn’t particularly share an affinity for religious people. (I still feel a great deal of guilt for believing at the time, that they were too saccharine and a bit overbearing and touchy). When I found groups of faith filled people who were more like me, I was more celebratory about it, but didn’t always see how we were any different from any other young person. I also learned real quickly, as in any group, there are assholes everywhere.
My journey became much more internal, especially as I embraced theology as my major as an undergrad. The struggle was always taking all that I learned and somehow superimposing it on how I walked in the world. I also don’t naturally carry the disposition that Jesus walked in the world with, so I struggled, but still believed that it was my path to continue into the future, wherever it took me. The integrity of that commitment meant that any endeavor I made had to be a reflection of what I believed. I worked in Ministry in some shape or form for decades, and it was clinging to my integrity that brought me to the point in my life where I decided that I no longer comfortably believed that the whole is greater that the summary of its parts. This is not a denigration of churches out there who supply breath and life to faith for a lot of people. There are wonderful places out there. But if I’m honest, and that is the core of integrity, there are too many who hide under the banner of faith and never feel overly compelled to live and breathe the commandments of the Gospel. Again, perhaps I am off base, but much of the judgmental, fear and anger based vitriol I’ve experienced from religion reminds me more of the clergy of my youth than a mechanism to bring forth the Kingdom of God. Religion has become more of a mechanism for justifying intolerance and judgement than mercy and love.
I miss it sometimes, but I haven’t forgotten that what I’ve learned and understand about faith is contained in some very simple axioms…of which this is primary: to treat even the lowest as if they were Christ, and the understanding that others will know who his disciples are by how they love one another. That kind of living doesn’t depend on a structure…but the simple integrity of living according to the choice I made.
As the book of Hebrews says in the New Testament: “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen”. I’ve always thought that was a bit of a conundrum, especially since we live in an age where people seem to believe in a ton of “stuff” without ever having seen or have evidence for it period. It seems you can make up anything these days, remain unaccountable for it and still convince a whole lot of people out there to believe it hook, line and sinker. For those of us who believe in God, then, it becomes a whole lot more complicated. For me as a Christian, I wonder, can anyone know what it all really means? While I take no issue with all the different Christian denominations out there, I do take issue with those that seem to contort the essence of the Christian message into one that serves a deeply nefarious purpose…not that anyone should just take my word for it. They should, however, note that every element in the gospels support some simple axioms…many of which have been circumvented by a human desire to use God as a mechanism for power, control and material wealth, i.e. world domination.
Faith can also be complicated, because of the alarming amount of bullshit that I’ve heard some say is part of Scripture’s message when its not. I’ve listened to preachers insist they know the mind of God when it comes to condemning the least among us as righteous, Christian behavior. I’ve listened to another who claimed expertise in eschatology (study of the end times) stating they were a Greek scholar and mangled basic syntax and pronunciation so badly, I couldn’t focus on anything else. I’m frustrated, because it appears, that anyone can claim expertise on God’s word, just because they decided they could. I mean, anyone can become a minister online, for the sake of being an officiant at a wedding, and anyone can start a church. I find that the greatest hubris of our time, especially when I worked my ass off studying theology, and working in ministry and education for years. While I am proud of my academic achievements and efforts in answering what I believe is God’s call, and that faith would lead me down the appropriate road, I also know that I’ve made plenty of wrong turns along the way, enough for me to never tell another human being that they are not what God intended, because we are all gifted with unique talents, and it is up to the individual to figure out how to develop and use them. What I absolutely do know is this: none of us know the mind of God…but based on the expectations that Jesus laid down specifically in his teachings, we should clearly know what action is required of us moving forward.
So. This is my year of faith. And I would venture to say that it is smaller than a mustard seed right now, and according to Jesus that is enough of a start to move a mountain, a hearty goal, but one I embrace nonetheless.
