Category: hope

Faith of a Mustard Seed

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.”

Hope and Women

I remember back in college during a theological seminar (was studying academic theology, the female equivalent of seminarian), a seminarian turned in frustration to me in a small group discussion about calls of the Holy Spirit and said quite loudly, “Why can’t you accept the fact that God only wants men to be priests!” And in my unequivocal way, I responded: “Oh, so you have a direct line to the Holy Spirit, do you?” He was disgusted and left the group. I tell this story because I have always felt it is important for girls/women to know that they should follow their calling wherever it takes them, regardless of the opposition others may have to that calling. I fear the tide is turning, though, toward greater opposition to this idea.

I also wrote a paper in graduate school about the obstacles women leaders face by attacks against their characters, often times sexual or intellectual as a mechanism to render their words, actions and relevance null and void. I remember how difficult the meeting with my professor was, not wanting to acknowledge what I thought was well documented paper. He believed it biased because I had way more women in my bibliography than men. I did question whether he compared the gender equality of all bibliographies, and he just got mad, which was stupid of me to say because he gave me a C. I don’t think he quite understood me, so he was surprised when I picked him for one of my panelists when defending my thesis. I won’t go into why, but afterward he went back and changed my grade from a C to an A. I believed, back then anyway, that if I could present something in more of a three dimensional way, perhaps a more female orientation then everyone’s perspective is broadened. In this case I believe I was successful. When I use the past tense in the aforementioned story when I say “back then”, it really means that more people than not used to be open to a greater truth, and new ways of seeing things. (of course many don’t, but there is nothing I can do about those kinds of people). Today, I don’t feel that way anymore.

Lets go back then. Late in his second term, Bill Clinton was impeached for an improper relationship with an intern. I think the outrage went across the aisle on this situation and he was rightly tried. Now, we have a president elect who, by a court of law, by a jury of his peers is found guilty of being a sexual predator (this was a civil, not criminal trial so he is not a sexual offender…legally anyway). Whether you believe it fair or not, his behavior like Clinton’s was established and proven legally. And yet, and these are the posts that gross me out most on social media, are the allegations that Kamala Harris slept her way to the top, which can be factually, on the record dispelled, but still believed because she was deemed not smart enough or qualified to get there on her own. It literally took me seconds to fact check the veracity of those allegations. The generalization here is that men get away with shit, even when they are actually guilty of it, and woman are metaphorically stoned or burned, even when they are not.

There are plenty of places in Christian Scripture where Jesus pushed back against the status quo when men test him on the treatment of women. One important time was when a mob brought a woman caught in adultery (so the mob says) to him in John 8: 3-11

Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and made her stand in the middle. They said to him, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery. Now in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say? “They said this to test him, so that they could have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and began to write on the ground with his finger. But when they continued asking him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he bent down and wrote on the ground. And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So he was left alone with the woman before him. Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you? She replied, “No one, sir.” Then Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, (and) from now on do not sin any more.”

The interesting thing in this dynamic is that the man involved in the adulterous situation is nowhere to be seen. I am fully aware of the law at that time, and that women were considered no more than chattel, or property. Jesus, however, did not see her or other women that way. As a matter of fact, time after time Jesus helped and stood for women even when, by all cultural and temple standards, he should not have.

So, here we are. I expect there will be more character assassinations of women, people of color and sexual orientation who will be vilified and have their character questioned whenever their voices, qualities and callings make people in the status quo uncomfortable. In an age where facts just don’t matter as much as self righteous indignation and moral finger pointing (and yes, I am aware it happens on both sides) it does become more difficult to duck stones that come flying at my head. The hope for me comes when the woman walks away from Jesus, free from her accusers condemnation and Jesus saying “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness but will have the light of life”

Hope and Rendering to Caesar

As I was praying yesterday, I was upset at the state of the world at present and this Scripture verse in the Christian New Testament came to mind:

Then the Pharisees went off and plotted how they might entrap him (Jesus) in speech. They sent their disciples to him, with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. And you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion, for you do not regard a person’s status. Tell us, then, what is your opinion: Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” Knowing their malice, Jesus said, “Why are you testing me, you hypocrites? Show me the coin that pays the census tax.” Then they handed him the Roman coin. He said to them, “Whose image is this and whose inscription?” They replied, “Caesar’s.” At that he said to them, “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” When they heard this they were amazed, and leaving him they went away. Matthew 22: 16-22

Further down in that chapter, they test him again:

When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them [a scholar of the law] tested him by asking, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments. Matthew: 22 34-40

Among the multitude of reasons I was upset about the election Tuesday, was the visceral reaction I had to many in our country that have skewed the line between what belongs to Caesar and what belongs to God. I too, like many, said my prayers about the election, but they were directed to God to help us provide a safe and fair one, and I felt glad that my prayers were answered. But thinking that God somehow answered a prayer by delivering the “appropriate” candidate is, in my mind anyway, the most gross hubris of all. I found all the posts, memes and words about answered prayers vulgar and idolatrous. I won’t apologize for that sentiment, because I said the same thing after the last election. Human beings elected a human being that more reflected what their personal desires represent, and not Gods. If you are under the misguided belief God delivered your candidate, and that somehow makes you a better American or person of God, then you are delusional and disavowing what Jesus claims are the two greatest commandments. And for the record? I love God as much as you do…and this country. Winning or losing an election doesn’t change that. We just have very different philosophies on how it should be run. Because I don’t like the president elect doesn’t make me your enemy, I am your neighbor and you are mine. I will never let one man’s hatred misdirect my love for God and neighbor, because love will always come first.

I also feel compelled to add another cavoite that underlined my frustration, with those who are so concerned about the economy and money as the reason they voted as they did. Jesus told his followers a parable about a rich man who compiled and hoarded his riches so he could eat, drink and be merry for years, but then God told the rich man that this night would be his last night, and what good would his riches be then. Jesus responded to the disciples:

Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God.” He said to (his) disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life and what you will eat, or about your body and what you will wear. For life is more than food and the body more than clothing. Notice the ravens: they do not sow or reap; they have neither storehouse nor barn, yet God feeds them. How much more important are you than birds! Can any of you by worrying add a moment to your lifespan? If even the smallest things are beyond your control, why are you anxious about the rest? Notice how the flowers grow. They do not toil or spin. But I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of them. If God so clothes the grass in the field that grows today and is thrown into the oven tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith? As for you, do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not worry anymore. All the nations of the world seek for these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these other things will be given you besides. Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your belongings and give alms. Provide money bags for yourselves that do not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven that no thief can reach nor moth destroy. For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be.

I fully understand how hard times are right now, as a health clinic who fought their way through COVID only to struggle again because of Steve’s accident, and health challenges of my own, I live with struggles everyday enough to empathize with all those whose struggles weigh them down too, and often are far weightier than mine. However, in hindsight, just like Jesus taught, I do make it through one day at a time, and are so very thankful my treasures lie in family (biological and created), friends and patients who exercise love for neighbor every day and a God who augments my fragile human heart in every breath.

I don’t mean to infer that we simply twiddle our thumbs and allow the world to just roll on. I won’t do that. I will continue to demand, in my own way, that the whole American body of which I am a small part be served, and that laws, and structures of this great American experiment continue to ensure that this country evolves as we approach the future, and that the pursuit of freedom and happiness continues for all.

Hope and Blame

God I’m tired of it…all the lies, and the blame. In Jesus’ time it was the lepers, the prostitutes, the poor, all of them deemed “unclean”. Today, the list of those targeted as unclean is even longer because our access to information is so much more widespread, and with that comes an even deeper vitriol, because we can hate them from afar in perfect anonymity. It appears that as people of faith we have not yet mastered the basic tenets of behavior required of us. “Judge not, lest ye be judged”, Jesus said, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother or sister’s eye, but do not perceive the beam in your own eye” he said. “Amen I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me” he said. “I will tell you, on the day of judgement people will render an account for every careless word they speak. By your words you will be acquitted and by your words you will be condemned” he said. And most importantly? Jesus said: “you shall love your neighbor as yourself” And when asked who our neighbor is, he told them the parable of the good Samaritan, which briefly is a story about a victim of a robbery who is passed by those who hold high rank and esteem in society, and yet it is one of the unclean of the time who helps him. When asked who the “neighbor” was in this story, Jesus replied, “the one who treated him with mercy”

So I think there is a pretty clear expectation of how we are supposed to respond to each other as people of faith in this time. More importantly, the behavior I described above is foundational for anyone in a leadership role, and not just in a religious sense. Empathy, careful choice of words, discerning judgement, objectivity and most importantly mercy is what I am looking for in my future leaders…not those who lie and blame others for our difficulties. The quality of character should be forefront in moving forward in choosing who to lead. Checking the veracity of the plethora of nasty tropes out there isn’t that hard, even a child can google. And if you choose to stay in your bubble or go down a rabbit hole because it appeases your bias, your own personal algorithm that is your choice. But, and this is a big one for people of faith…the one thing highlighted and despised by the most of the religions of the world….HYPOCRISY. Read Matthew 23 in the Christian gospel just to see how much Jesus despised it

I would think this would be obvious to people, but the level of growing rage against those who are different, or lesser than, renders me speechless. The hope moving forward, for me anyway, lies in letting go of blame, and embracing those who better emulate those qualities taught to me, mercy, compassion, truth and loving my neighbor.

Hope in Hand

More than ever, we live in a time where we have limited or no control over how people ingest information. Also more than ever, we have so many unknown sources whose soul purpose is to confuse, conflate and corrupt information for nefarious purposes. I know I sound paranoid, but as a daughter of an English teacher who demanded that when writing a research paper, I had better have at least three or four credible sources in my bibliography to support a quote or text, or I COULD NOT include it into my paper. I remember being on the end of his chastisement when I tried to sneak some things into a paper I wrote on Moby Dick, (and as a sophomore, I felt I should of at least had acknowledgement that I read the damn book when everyone else read the cliff notes). I still hear him in my head when I digest all that is going on in the world, but that is just me. I realize not a lot of people think like I do.

So then, where do we go? I have decided to continue to move forward with hope in hand, and spread the joy of that hope outward. I may not be able to change one single mind, and I guess I am coming to peace with that. However, I will continue to press forward for truth, accuracy and celebrate the good people I interact with every day. I will continue to send out good ripples, whether it is through art, kindness or the myriad of ways I interact with people everyday, and if I am judged, or misconstrued, I will be content that I have no control over that, but it is with joy that I put things out into the world.

I am calmer than I have been in a long time because I have left the burden of trying to explain, justify, or convince someone of my motivation, especially for those who either don’t really know me, or don’t really want to…its just too hard. So I move forward, checking my sources and my own motivation and breathe so much more calmly than I have lately and feel greater hope expressed in the world.

Living in Hope

Already there is a frenzy of media activity after yesterday’s tragic assassination attempt of Mr. Trump. I was, as in any violent attempt on a life, horrified, saddened and oh so very tired of it all. To say we are simply a divided country is probably the biggest understatement of, well, ever. I have already heard cries of vilification of the left as a mechanism of evil that justifies blame and hatred, (as I also heard vilification of the right, when Mr. Pelosi was attacked in his home). I have heard claims of God singly protecting Mr. Trump as validation of why he should win the presidency. What does it say to those who have fallen victim to gun violence and not survived? Does God love them any less because they did not survive and a murderer was successful? Are you really saying that God circumvented our free will in this one instance? So I offer a word of caution and care as we move forward in such troubled times. I am aware of callous comments made in other gun violence situations, for example, Sandy Hook elementary and Margery Stoneman Douglas Highschool being called a hoax, or a mechanism to impede second amendment rights, or the difficulty the Uvalde school community finding answers when that tragedy happened. There are too many examples of tragic deaths by guns to count. Violence is never good, why can’t we all at simply agree on that. We are a country with a rage problem. And, especially my fellow Americans, it is never someone else’s problem, especially if further rhetoric is used as a mechanism to root ourselves deeper into personal bias…then we do share the blame. Gun violence has become too prevalent lately as an expression of the deep anger, blame and hatred of the “other” in our lives, and it is with courage and strength of character that we must move forward, together to face the great divide that exists between all of us . We have to be able to talk reasonably about the violence issue in this country.

Being hopeful does not mean that one side only deserves to “win”, whether its an argument or an election, it can’t. Living in hope, means that we first put to practice the tenets of what this country is founded upon, that ALL PEOPLE are created equal and deserve a life of liberty and happiness. Secondly, as people of faith, or simply as a representation of thousands of years of developed civilized behavior, we must live according to those principles and work out our differences without the incivility, judgement and corruption that plagues us. As an ordinary woman, I may not make much of a ripple, but I do know when I act in a way that works against my principles, I am to blame for the wave of energy that moves outward and feel horrible for it. That isn’t to say that we can’t be angry about what is going on in our world, but it is the “how” we put that energy into action that counts. Living in hope means that even amidst all the turmoil we can all radiate hope for a greater future. We all have the necessary skills to do so, it just takes discipline and commitment to move forward together, and also believe in and fight for justice and the greater good, while still holding those accountable for actions taken against those principles. America has risen up from division before, and I will live in the hope we can do it again.

Hope and the Movie in my Head

A priest once told me that the movie in my head was better than the real thing and I was setting myself up for disappointment. I was decidedly angry about that and was set for a long time on proving him wrong…who was he to insult my imagination and desire for world change? I worked really hard throughout my lifetime and career to bring the movie in my head to fruition. Looking back, I am amazed at some of the things I attempted and all of the things I learned along the way. While I will always be thankful to my younger self’s energy, enthusiasm and commitment to a better world, change is hard, so if I’m being honest I was and still am disappointed in reality much of the time. But I still lean on the movie in my head as a mechanism to push for a better world, even if it’s scaled down quite a bit.

It’s humbling, as I got older, to realize that I was never going to be the mover and shaker I had always envisioned myself to be, but I still try to embrace the hope in a brighter future that motivated my every action when I was younger when the whole world was at my feet. And, while most of my disappointments were the result of my own failures, there was still quite a chunk of it that was the result of running up against those along the way who were more apt to be threatened by the movie in my head, which more resembled the necessity of a kaleidoscope of people and personalities (without prestige or power) that make the world a better place. I don’t care much for people in authority who feel entitled to force their “movie” onto everyone else, simply because somehow a public office, a pulpit or media forum made us think them superior because their presence saturates the airwaves we are exposed to. Repeating a message over and over so people know it by heart doesn’t make it a true or good one. But the affects of repeating a message over and over does effect how we live out the movie in our own heads, especially for those who claim a higher authority for said message, regardless if it a good one or not.

The sheer volume of information, stories, movies etc. out there demand that care must be taken before we allow another’s movie or vision to change and alter our own. I question the veracity of everything now, having fallen victim to those whom have tried to limit or thrash the movie in my head for their own selfish purposes. I would never want to do that to another person, which is why I am committed to continue to make hope the central theme for the movie in my head. Jesus once told his disciples that the Kingdom of Heaven is within…I take him at his word and it is where my hope lies…inside my head.

When Hope Wavers

I’d be a liar to say I’m hopeful all of the time, or even most of the time, these days. Even Jesus, though, felt hope wavering at times, whether it’s trying to explain something difficult to his disciples or just before his arrest in the garden begging his friends to stay awake with him, or when Judas betrayed him, his trial, and then his crucifixion. It’s weird to take solace in that, but it helps me. How does the world take something or someone inherently good and flip reality on its head to turn it into something bad? I don’t know, but I see it happen every day…and its getting harder to understand why. More impactfully, I am saying out loud that many people don’t really want to see the truth of a thing at all, especially if it would include the admission that they were completely wrong in their assumptions, that the real truth of something is beyond their limited comprehension (which truthfully, is a kind way of saying they are at best lazy and in the least just stupid), and the shift that they would have to make moving forward is just too hard and uncomfortable.

Understanding truth as multidimensional concept means that since I have a singular perspective, I cannot possibly comprehend it fully without help. I think that is why Jesus said that we will be judged by the same measure we judge others. In hindsight, I have learned in so many situations that just when I think I see something clearly, something else will occur to show me that I really don’t, that truth is more complicated and expansive than what I think I know in the moment. And that is a good thing, it is the way I want, no I need my continued evolution and appreciation for truth to be. For while evolution is one thing, arrogance is quite another. When it comes to truth, I think being evolved and arrogant cancel each other out. The most hopeless moments I’ve had recently is encountering persons who are so rooted in a one or two dimensional assessment of a person, an idea, or an event that could be easily broadened, clarified or even dispelled by the easiest of effort to more fully understand but won’t because it feels too good to be on the “right” side of things whatever that means.

And I know this will offend many, but I understand those moments of despair Jesus must have felt at his betrayal in the end, the obvious truths stamped down because those in power feared him, because there is some rush in being part of a angry mob, an excuse to remove the Son of Man who demanded a more loving, truthful and graceful way of life. Exponentially the “graceful way of life” freely given as a result of his sacrifice to any and all who ask, even the flawed humans who put him to death. But its the next phase forward that has dashed much of my hope these days…its the people who say they have embraced the grace of that sacrifice and name themselves as “Christians” but do not treat the least of those of us as if they were Christ, or do not use actions instead of words to let the world know they are Christian by how they love on another, or do not celebrate the talents and gifts of all God’s creation (and as explained in letter to Corinthians, the gifts of the Spirit, are all different) to become a fully functioning body of Christ. There is no less corruption of power, hierarchy , exclusivity within the church today, than there was two thousand years ago.

So, has the world we know really shifted as a result of the resurrection? I only know for sure that my world has transformed…I am who I am because of my faith, and I have been graced by gifts of the Spirit of that faith. And yet, my hope still wains sometimes, what do I do? In the simplest imperfect way, become a point of grace and hope for another, and embrace those who do the same for me.

Hope in things that are

Sometimes its easy for me to get caught up in the hope of things to come, pushing energy into future dreams, prayers, desires, that I forget to stop and remember that in order to move successfully into a hopeful future, I have to recognize the hope that exists in the present, if I take the effort to look for it. It’s been a tough time for me, as it has been for many. Looking back, though, my path forward would have looked very different had I succumbed to the difficulties life seems to present on a daily basis, (the death of a thousand cuts, as I call it). I don’t get hung up on comparing woes with anyone, mine are distinctly that, mine…but I do offer some simple advice to those in the throes of difficulty: take a moment each day to highlight the hopeful moments that occur, and some of the weight falls away. I think its part of creating necessary pathways in the brain to create a more positive perspective on what ever appears to be challenging at the time.

In hindsight, sometimes the greatest difficulties present great opportunities, the struggles of COVID became an opportunity for me to become an artist, an ability I never knew I had. My limiting biomechanics became an opportunity to be still and embrace the more contemplative side I craved as a young woman. Going down those paths, help keep me focused on the possibilities of future paths, if I keep focusing on the hope that exists in the present.

Hope

Again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astonished and said, “Who then can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For human beings this is impossible, but for God all things are possible.”

This is one of the phrases of scripture that many “Christians” don’t pay enough attention to. I put the word in quotes because in many ways I don’t even recognize the essence of Jesus in many churches who claim him as their guiding principle in today’s world. Traditional power structures such as wealth, control and authoritarianism that has corrupted many “religious structures” often weighs me down until I realize the “saving” power they offer their flock is like the camel squeezing through the eye of a needle, because it is rooted in human frailty of elitism, comfort and wealth not God. They are no better than carnival barkers who offer the perfect cure with little effort on the part of one who consumes it, except the belief that somehow by being a part of an elitist club, (where only “they” are correct and righteous) that they have secured their space in heaven. They should spend more time listening to the gospel message, itself, especially when the above story concludes with:


And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.

So my focus this year isn’t a condemnation of the rich, or too many indulgences at Christmas time or the prestige that comes along with being connected to the perfect church. party or demagog…it is the hope that for God, all things are possible, and that all prayers, asked in goodness and faith will be answered. Moving forward with faith, hope and love is my greatest power. Even in today’s challenging circumstances, I pray today that the power of hope guides and encourages you in this year’s journey around the sun.

Joy…to the World

This is my last post of the year… without declaring what next year’s theme will be. I haven’t really tapped into any insight of what the next year will entail, so for now I will be silent about that. Anyway, to state that this “year of Joy” was anything but joyful is not definitive proof that I am a sadist or one who is incapable of experiencing joy. With all things I’ve asked of God, however, the truth of ” the themes” is always multidimensional. Also, not being one who is ever satisfied with a flimsy or shallow understanding of said “theme” (like a house built on sand) the effort to understand the deeper meaning of joy has taken greater energy and focus than anything else I’ve tackled on this journey. First, because I feel at its core the concept of joy is deeply misunderstood; second, because of my own imperfections and limitations; thirdly, because the concept of joy is so intimately intertwined into my particular belief system that it has been necessary for me to strip away what has been illusory and what is real about the joy that my faith brings. Boom. Head explodes.

The greatest fallacy I’ve discovered regarding joy is that it somehow comes from a place of sublime and almost ignorant happiness, that with axioms and idioms, joy becomes real, a fact. What this year has shown me is that true joy cannot be fabricated and is often most predicated on difficulty. Whether it comes from sadness, stupidity, pierced illusion, betrayal, embarking on a strenuous challenge, obstacles of every sort or simply boredom…Joy is that very thing that colors and transforms difficult or challenging moments when I choose to embrace them as seeds of possibility, nurturing them and seeing something blossom that turns into a beautiful and succulent fruit that comes with being rooted in faith, truth and love. Yes, I can see this as heady nonsense, so let me explain.

When the year began, I had already started to dabble in some arts and crafts (what I would call it) and then at the beginning of my year of joy, I consciously chose it as a mechanism to react to, and express the struggle I was having with understanding its true meaning. By that time my faith in reason, religious structures, leadership and later the countries response to a pandemic was already at a lifetime low. So I taught myself to draw (with the help of YouTube and an amazing artist and family member), to paint, to create jewelry that took all that negative energy and made it into something else, something that I felt joy from. The result was something that I didn’t foresee…I was actually good at it, and my own surprise that I was good at it was a revelation in itself that made me pause. I tried to take inherently joyful moments and ideas that existed outside myself and put myself into them: my son climbing a mountain, a butterfly, and exquisite stones and then created art including the blue laughing woman at the top of this post. I understood my surprise in this hidden talent was rooted in the second reason this journey of discovering joy was so difficult. Because, regardless of proof otherwise, at my core I fight against the belief that I truly am one of the least among us that Jesus spoke so poignantly about. No, this is not a pity party or cry for approval, it is simply recognizing and stating a belief that I’ve struggled the hardest to get rid of my entire life. Curiously, this year I found more success by learning to see this weakness as a future gift. And by choosing to see myself as one of the least among us, I’ve also become able to distinguish who the sheep and goats are in my life. So those of you who have chosen to treat me unlike Jesus would, I say good riddance, because even though you may think it is of little effect for a lowly one as me to treat any of you who righteously believe you are superior to me, as Jesus would, it offers me clarity of who really understands what those words truly mean. Your behavior toward “the least” is a measurement of how much you truly understand the gospel message. The gift that comes from thinking I am among the least, is that there is no compunction to create any falsehoods about who I am or hold onto any sense of superiority. I don’t have to pretend I’m better than anyone else because I already know I’m not. And those of you who do, are becoming so much more obvious about your true nature. Being “better than” is never and has never been part of what true joy really is…but kindness is, and mercy, and truth, and love, love, love is. Joy is also not synonymous with happiness, because some of my truest moments of joy this year, like the woman above, were colored in blue, in grief, and the sadness that comes from seeing things in a new light.

So when I say these words, in this season of light: “Joy to the World,” it is not only my wish that all of you discover the joy that comes through when we transform any moment into a future fruit, but that it is done by preparing room in our hearts for it, and seeing it through eyes of love, faith and truth.

Joy and …..

This post was originally titled something else. I tried to live within the theme of joy, but given the current situation in our country and world, the message seemed inappropriate, because truthfully,…it felt trite, disingenuous, disrespectful, entitled, and simply unfair to be talking about joy right now. So, if you would indulge a bit of diversion this is my “not joy” insight. If joy is feelings of great pleasure, happiness and contentment, then we should all take a quick hiatus for a moment. There are times when given the gravity of the violence happening in my home town, when a discussion of joy is reserved for a later date. There may be a time to talk of joy amidst crisis, but that moment is not now.

I have only one single perspective. If I stand alone and demand that the only value is in what I see, and hear and dismiss any other vantage point because it is contrary or different than my perspective then it is antithetical to my personal evolution and contrary to my faith. If I try to move around to see things from different angles and ask for and listen to the perspective of those who may see things vastly different than I do, I think that not only helps me evolve and fulfills what Jesus requires of us, but is the only necessary place from which good solutions are to follow. I think its essential to take a moment and walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. Looking at things from a variety of perspectives, asking and listening to others doesn’t mean that I have to buy in to any one perspective, but it is required if we are to love our neighbor as ourselves, and love the least among us as if they were Christ. What seeing from a variety of perspectives does for me is to create a sense of empathy, understanding and a greater truth beyond my own limited perspective. Then I get to re clarify and move beyond my limitations.

We have some difficult steps to take now and into the future. It can’t happen without a dialogue, one that is sure to be charged with emotions and opinions. But, if we truly want to get beyond this crisis of the pandemic, racial inequity and the resulting violence and bring together the people of this country, then confronting the uncomfortable and learning to address these problems with civility and respect is a necessary requirement. Before any of us stand in polarity for or against any issue, remember these words that Jesus spoke:

I tell you, on the day of judgment people will render an account for every careless word they speak. By your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.

There will be a variety of perspectives on all the worlds ills in the weeks to come, especially before our elections…let reason, love, truth and the golden rule of treating others as we would treat ourselves reign. I won’t tolerate bullying, but I am open for dialogue. I am praying all the time, for us all.

More prayers for you on my Birthday

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Today, I celebrate the anniversary of the day I arrived on this planet. Today I feel joy because: I am surrounded by a loving family, I am empowered by a loving God, I choose love as my focus and energy, and I embrace truth. justice and the American way 🙂 So here goes…

  1. I pray you be kind in thought, word and deed…the world is in desperate need of your kindness, make it your superpower.
  2. I pray for you to stand for truth in all that you do, especially when it may appear to be against your own interest, watch how it can transform that moment. In truth there is always greater freedom. Lies deteriorate God’s Kingdom in this world and we have the power to stop it.
  3. I pray you come to realize how important you are to the fabric of this world. Your golden thread holds many other threads in place to show and become an even greater beauty. Never underestimate God’s blueprint, every thread is counted.
  4.  I pray that you release fear in your life. It is a source of animosity and judgment, and inhibits your ability to be all that God intends for you to be. Find comfort in knowing that when God is for you, nothing will come between you and God’s power.
  5. I pray your eyes are open to the wonder of God’s creation and that you can take precious moments to let the beauty of our world sink in and nourish your soul and  in so doing you recognize your own beauty.
  6. I pray you see clearly the impact you have on those around you and that your love, hope, faith, kindness and truth do influence and affect them. I pray that you’re open to receiving the same from them. I know sometimes its easier to give all those things out than receive them.
  7. I pray that you can ask for forgiveness as well as forgive others for any intended or unintended  hurts. Most importantly I pray that you forgive yourself. We are all imperfect and our journey on this earth isn’t about being perfect but growth.
  8. I pray that you find happiness and contentment in all you do, and if what you do doesn’t make you happy, I pray for the strength to find what does and do that.
  9. I pray that you find a way to laugh everyday, it will do your brain good!
  10. I pray that this next year we all find ways to rise above all the negativity and work together to build the Kingdom of God. And I pray we remember every day that all things are possible through God

Escort to Eternity

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In this season of light it is at the darkest moments that we must pause, breathe and enfold ourselves in the promise that this time offers: the birth of a savior, the rebirth of the sun, the transformation of night by a heavenly star. It is that very promise that can escort us to a place that soothes the sorrow that feels all encompassing in the moment. My family suffered a loss on Christmas this year, my brother-in-law passed, and the emotional punch was raw, surprising, humbling, and of course very, very sad. Yet it offers an opportunity to draw together, to comfort one another and find gratitude in the safety net of family and to celebrate a wonderful man.

David was many wonderful things, but I believe his greatest gift was kindness. In the most unsung yet powerful way, he extended that gift to those who lost loved ones as a funeral director. He was the mechanism behind the final farewell. He escorted the departed on their final journey toward salvation with kindness, gentleness, calm and grace. He took the lead and held countless families by the hand to find comfort and resolution in those final moments of life’s journey. It was a job many could never do and David was so very good at it.

Regardless of the physical challenges he faced in his last few years, he was still always kind. His needs were simple and he loved his children and grandchildren, mother and siblings, nieces and nephews and I believe was comforted that a little part of him would continue on in this world, whether it was through lineage or just a good story. I don’t know if he ever realized the deep impact he had on the lives of those he served and loved in life, but I know he is aware of it now. He is no longer broken, he is healed and alive in the best sense of the word and is still shining his light and kindness to all. I can picture him on the heavenly side escorting those who are finishing one journey and beginning another into the gates of heaven with joy and comfort. Rest in Peace David, rest in peace.

Getting your Hands Dirty

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Bearing good fruit into the world demands that we get our hands dirty. Creating something from nothing, or building on something to make it better, paving a new road, establishing a novel idea, are never easy or smooth…because life isn’t supposed to be easy or smooth. The dirt under our nails, whether it is metaphorical or actual grime, is a testament to what we are willing to sacrifice to bring something to fruition. When ministry became my chosen profession, God gifted me with many opportunities to get my hands dirty in ways that were humbling and well, sometimes even gross, like unwanted interaction with bodily fluids. Serving Christ demanded I roll up my sleeves and get messy. More than anything, I learned that bearing fruit in a sterile environment is impossible.

I know I’ve said this before in different ways, but you can’t skip the middle of cultivating any dream by bypassing the dirty work. Too much of the final product is predicated on the will, imagination and effort necessary to struggle through mire in order to achieve success. While frustrating, it is perfectly normal for people who are in the middle of any pursuit to wonder if the difficulty will ever end, if it is worth it, if the fruits of labor match the effort and expectation. The road yet traveled can be a daunting proposition. For me, that is why faith is so important to the process. We don’t have to be alone in our pursuits. God is the ultimate safety net, and is ever present even in the muck. And, it is often amidst the muckiest of muck where true revelation lies. Always keeping your hands clean, or the process sterile, kills growth and can mean you miss the best lessons life has to show you. The best fertilizer for the greatest fruit is sometimes noxious. It’s a testament to God’s great sense of humor that shit is one of the greatest ingredients for growth…both literally and figuratively.

So, I say, life is not sterile. Some of the greatest fruits come from mud, even seeing more clearly.

John 9:1-11

“As he passed by he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him. We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes, and said to him, “Go wash in the Pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed, and came back able to see. His neighbors and those who had seen him earlier as a beggar said, “Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is,” but others said, “No, he just looks like him.” He said, “I am.” So they said to him, “(So) how were your eyes opened?” He replied, “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went there and washed and was able to see.”

Blessed are the Merciful, for they shall be shown Mercy.

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I’ve been quiet. I’ve been busy. I’ve been stretched. I’ve been focused. I have lingered on this beatitude for awhile. Mercy: I have yearned for it, received it, exercised it, celebrated it, and embraced the hope it brings. I have also, at times, stood with an aching sadness at the lack of it in the world in both small and large ways. Mercy was at the heart of my spiritual awakening and is the sustenance for my soul. And it is mercy both in its effort and absorption that keeps my house clean when I am tempted to throw it by the wayside and rage against the lies and cruelty and ignorance and ego and judgement and entitlement and fear. In desperate moments I remember Jesus in the garden sweating blood because his fear and anxiety was so deep yet was still willing to give his Godly heart for my flawed human one. My life transformed because he augmented my broken heart with his heart. And it was then that I became his fruit, a viable product of his extraordinary life and sacrifice, a means by which the power of mercy can live and stay palpable in our often sad and desperate world. When I allow his heart to be my heart, mercy is air, it is breath, it is life, it is everything.

1988

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My second trip to Russia was through Canada. We flew on the Soviet airline Aeroflot, a night and day difference from our commercial airlines. Cautious, I felt this would be a good thing, Russia from the perspective of the people. That hope didn’t last long. Beyond the clear evidence of what materially was not available to purchase in their home country, each citizen had bags and bags of stuff they purchased in Canada.

It is clearly evident that I am an American on a Soviet Airline. I feel like I’m on a 1950’s grey hound bus. All around me I hear incomprehensible Russian, full of enthusiasm to share the spoils of their trip with their loved ones at home. People have bags and boxes stacked on their laps and under their seats, unwilling to let go of the proximity needed to put them in the upper bins. Their “stuff” includes electronics, Reeboks, and blue jeans. I forget sometimes how accessible material things are to me (even if I can’t afford them). The air in the plane smells Soviet-a mixture of perspiration, musty air and an ointment like smell. It makes me feel like a prima dona because I’m more concerned about brushing my teeth and taking a shower. I helped a woman squeezed into the seat next to mine who looked at me suddenly panicked and I knew she was going to vomit. I grabbed the barf bag in the pocket of my seat and put it in front of her face just in time. I felt so bad for her because I know how awful it is to get sick in a crowded place (like I did last time I was in Russia). It is so easy to love when one who is so vulnerably helpless is forced to lower their guard and let someone help. I didn’t need to speak the language, only sit and be present with my hand on her back and give her a Kleenex when she needed it. She smiled and tried to communicate for the rest of the trip.

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I have always loved Leningrad, now St Petersburg. The Summer palaces, the Hermitage museum and churches are exquisite. Plagued by citizens trying to swap, poach, buy drugs was unsettling. I did not feel safe as a young woman there and wore my glasses most of the time, like it would make a difference (remember that I was young and a bit naive) I had such high hopes for a newer, fresher Russia. I expected a sense of moving with the times, but what I began to understand is that this was a country that wanted the benefits of a western society, but either didn’t want to do the work, or was ill equipped to handle the transition. And they worked so hard to create a smoke screen to make it appear that they would still be equal to or superior to America. It wasn’t a very good one though.

We’re in Leningrad-and it is the white nights. At 2:30 in the morning it looked like the afternoon. I met Leonard Bernstein in a shop. I was completely star struck. It was phenomenal, and he was surrounded by people here too.We went to tour the Hermitage Museum, such amazing beauty and art A young man came up to me and wanted to trade, which isn’t unusual, but then he wanted to know if I smoked or did coke and stared exclusively at my chest. I said “no” forcefully. It felt good, but I was mad that the only people who speak to me here-want something-money exchange or other stuff.

There were people we met with who really wanted to make a difference, but I never got a sense that they had much power or backing to really do anything about it. We met with a few peace summits, as they were called but there were always less than a dozen people present. You could hardly call them a summit. I give these people credit, though, they were working hard to make a better life for the people.

009   010

I had a wonderful conversation with a man named Demetrius at our peace committee meeting. It was refreshing to talk to someone young who is educated and open. He gave me his address and said they would invite me to visit again. Maybe, someday. I also went to the ballet it was wonderful, of course-I’ve been lucky enough to see the Bolshoi Ballet in the States. We went to the tea room afterwards, simple and relaxing. No one to bother us. One thing I’ve noticed this tour, is that there are no visits to war memorials, last time we were inundated. The talk of war is almost minimal except for a breed of hatred for Stalin.

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Landed in Kiev on another greyhound type plane. It is much more relaxed than last time. I stayed in the same hotel, and this time had no less than three marriage proposals. Must not be a good place to plan a future. The peace meeting here, too, was just like last time-all party line.

012     011

My time in Crimea was wonderful and awful. I had never been, which I now see for what it was, sexually assaulted before. I am thankful that I was surrounded by people and members of my group to support me, and empowered by my own willingness to punch his lights out. The picture it painted for me was that I thought there was a license to treat women in a way that was unacceptable in Russia, and I unfairly blamed them for a long time. When I returned home and the growing awareness of sexual violence that continued to permeate my own culture, and more personal experiences on a much smaller and subtle level, I had to come to grips when the fact that it wasn’t exclusive to a reforming communist country. Yet, I’m glad that I only wrote about the wonderful and kind people I met there in my journal. When I saw the news that Crimea was annexed by Russia, I knew why. It is the crown jewel of the Black Sea, of the Ukraine, and like Russia seems to always do…it takes what it wants.

We are in Yalta, the vacation paradise of Russia. The hotel is magnificent, the beach crowded with people, families unconcerned about body image, just happy to be on the beach, work first, though. We went to a pioneer village, a youth camp and we only met one official, which was quite disappointing.One distinction beyond the same universal educational curriculum for the last 10 years, rock music is no longer suppressed, and some pictorial art.

Back relaxing in the pool, a very attractive man swam up and tried to sell me lacquer boxes. I splashed him off and then felt bad. I saw him that night in the disco and danced with him and nearly punched his lights out when he started to mall me. Whatever decorum was present last time is not present this time. It is very disturbing.

me and Diana    1988 gala dinner

Back in Moscow at the Hotel Rus (*which is now an office building…original built in 1894) and there were cockroaches. Someone stole a pair of my shoes from my room. I am ready to go home.The city tour was OK, it is dirty now.

That was all I wrote about Moscow the second time, except for one funny ditty I wrote in my journal “Hotel Rus, 6000 rooms with 6000 unused bidets”. We did have gala dinner to conclude our trip and I remember it as lovely, but full of other tourists. I couldn’t wait to go home. The only memory of my return trip was that I had to convince so many on the plane when we stopped over in Ireland not to spend all their money in the duty free shop there. It was hard to convince them that Canada would have everything they needed. Going through customs took forever, one of our party got in trouble for trying to smuggle in caviar. I missed my connecting flight and stayed in Montreal at a new friends family home. My sadness returning home would have been oppressive, but I was ready to start my new teaching job. I didn’t journal for months, so I can hardly recall what my feelings were. I did pack up all my Russia books and materials and put them into storage…which speaks volumes.

Both trips to Russia were an instrumental gift in my life. How it presented and continues to present itself in my life may seem blurred at times. I do know that my devotion to truth and cutting through political subterfuge is a result of those journeys, and is the number one reason I am so pained by what is happening in the world right now. I have paid a price for it, but one that I accept readily. Jesus says the truth will set you free…I walk in that belief and understanding every day.

1984

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I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my visits to Russia, once when it was the USSR, and once after it dissolved. I was reading through my journals about the trip the other day, and I thought I would honor that young girl by first sharing some of her insights about the trip. I was the youngest member of a delegation of the National Council of Churches, being only 24. I had to study extensively before hand as well as attend briefings for days at Columbia University in New York City before we left. It was 1984, and there was still a cold war, but I believed that this opportunity was a God-given one that I couldn’t pass up. There are so many more stories that I can’t print here, but I want to offer some of the insights that shaped my future thoughts

Notes during our briefings

Like America, there seems to be a big difference between the people and those in power. The big difference is the sense of futility of the Soviet people feel in overtly doing anything about the injustice they are forced to live with. I was also amazed at the structured and networked way people work around the system. I’ve always believed things are not always what they seem to be, that we live in a time of Olympic level charades-the feeling that things are not what they appear to be. In the USSR it must be overpowering. Again, the difference between the two countries is not just ideology but one of survival. All the bullshit in America is who can get ahead-who can accumulate the most. The feelings in Russia are to survive, to beat an unfair system-yet Hedrick Smith says they’re very generous people-they love to share gifts with people. We are not allowed to bring any denim and the woman have to wear skirts or dresses. Clothes of the west are a hot commodity. They asked us to bring pins to share, I am completely unprepared.

about the Olympic boycott

I’ve just heard about the boycott of the Russians to our Olympics. I’m sad that our two countries keep egging each other on.What will this do to my trip? I’m beginning to realize the seriousness of what I’m about to do. I’m nervous because I don’t know what to expect, but don’t want to push any preconceived ideas into my thinking.

On the the trip    the-children      russia-friends

After our city tour, we went to a small village church. The pastor’s name was Basil and I know what will have been the highlight of my trip was the children, it was wonderful! There is no way I can explain it in words…just freedom. Fr Basil took us to his “home” where we had another “gala” dinner-we made many toasts (too much vodka). During one of the toasts by Fr Innocent (irony of the year) I started to cry, partly because I’m tired, but mostly because of the double speak, the secret language of the heart and the language of the mouth, or party line, which I’ve had pretty much enough of by now. My eye contact with people has become quite piercing…and they don’t like it, not at all. But you see, you have to look so deeply for the truth and when they deceive and you’re looking deep into their eyes, they can’t hold your gaze. It started having a bad effect on people…not speaking but just forcing eye contact. I hoped my eyes say “I see YOU”. It was when we visited the collective farm I wanted to scream “Do you really think we’re that stupid?” It doesn’t matter to me that you’re trying to impress me, what I want is the truth…a rare commodity here. I’m tired of the press, people taking our pictures and the presence of the KGB. Do they think I can’t tell the difference between a real seminarian and a Soviet officer, especially the way they look me up and down?

Zagorsk    zagorsk-2  zagorsk-3   zagorsk-4

Celebrating the high holiday for Russian Orthodox-Pentecost, at Zagorsk, which is their equivalent of Rome was beyond words. When our many buses drove into the monastery, there were thousands waiting to greet us. Walking through all those people just staring at us made me realize that we were definitely on display. The whole experience was beautiful and breathtaking and yet completely freaked me out.

The cantata at the Baptist Church   cantata

There was quite a bit of excitement at the Baptist Church. They had prepared a special cantata for us and it was really beautiful. But after the music was over, some people held banners over the balcony claiming in English that many pastors of Baptist Churches were being imprisoned. I was astounded, everything had been so “perfect” until this point. Our leaders avoided it and we were basically told from everyone, what you saw, you didn’t see. Afterwards, I could see one of the wives giving an interview with journalists. I am impressed by her determination and guts and will pray for her protection.

Gala Dinner Menu (one of many)          gala-dinner

Cocktail/Salad: rolled ham stuffed with eggs, stuffed hard boiled egg with tomato, salmon and white fish, tomatoes, and breads with caviar. This served with vodka, also for toasting.

First course: crepes and black caviar. Served with red wine.

Second course: Chicken Kiev, with vegetables and rice in a puffed pastry. Served with white wine.

Dessert: Ice cream and filled cake. Served with Champagne.

Coffee: biscuits,cheeses. Served with cognac.

Dancing, and most were a bit drunk…Cheers to my Irish tolerance (and I did toastes with water, not vodka)

Leaving the USSR  propaganda   soldiers

I’m in the Moscow airport ready to board the plane for Amsterdam. My feelings are mixed. I’m sad to leave because I feel like I haven’t seen enough-but the tension of this society is so oppressive that I can’t breathe. I’ve also felt disillusioned about this trip. It seemed to be so much media hype for our Leader—– I don’t like to be part of diplomatic niceties which I feel most of this trip was, especially near the end. There were times when I felt like I was on the mountain being tempted by the Devil with all the fanfare, pampering and “gala” dinners. Everything. was. just. too. nice. It makes me wonder what the results of our trip will really be. Will all the frosting hide justice? i.e.the women at the baptist church.

Amsterdam     amsterdam

The lay over in Amsterdam was a needed break. My wild side came out, and I’m sure a bit of repressed anger too. I waltzed some of the ministers down to the red light district..he he. Their faces as they looked at the prostitutes in the store fronts doing their best come hither, is something I will never forget.

Home     breifing

They said everything was a perfect success. I began to panic because I knew I had to tell people about my experience-that was part of the deal. While going to the USSR was a dream, I had to borrow against my next year salary to do this, with the little I make working with the church it was such a risk. I thought I would be making a real difference, and now I wonder. One of the youth group members committed suicide just as I was arriving home. Physically her life was nice, like our peace mission. Nice isn’t enough, it just can’t be. Christianity can’t always be nice. Peace should be defined by more than nice. It means pain, sacrifice, being vulnerable, being scared and letting go in the face of it. I didn’t get that from the leadership of either country. I felt those things personally and I’m angry that those feelings were never supported by a group speaking in my name too.

We Americans and the Soviets are different, I accept that. I accept protocol and diplomacy are very important. We depended too much on behaving “appropriate” and not enough on being Christians. Our connection was our mutual faith. The Church’s route just has to be different than a political one, it has to be. Politics is rooted in a struggle for power, Christianity is rooted in the spread of the gospel and love. Human beings have proven through history that they are incapable of bringing about lasting peace by their own initiative. It doesn’t matter how good and noble the intentions are if they become egocentric somehow.

Because I am young, the youngest that went by far, my insight and intuition isn’t quite as keen as it will be some day. God has blessed me with much potential, though. So I will listen to how deeply disturbed I feel. There was so much going on in the Soviet Union on a completely different level. I could tell by eye contact, body language, atmosphere-the shadow language. It was all very subtle, but clear enough to demand attention, because when added to the whole picture, my impressions were radically altered. My struggle will be to create an honest picture without embellishment.

Afterwards, I was relieved when a journalist called to get my opinion of the trip. Excited to tell my truth, we talked for a long while. When the article came out in a national paper, not only wasn’t I mentioned, but it “nice.” In my mind, I had been censored and rendered insignificant. I became depressed and disillusioned after that. I spoke three times about my trip, the bare minimum and I continued to worry and pray about the baptist ministers wife and what the truth really was….so I went back, four years later……

Seeing Colors

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Christmas time, a season of wonder, full of hope…but what should it mean to people of faith? There are plenty of people out there who appreciate this season for a host of reasons…those of us who claim to be Christians should be on a whole different page. We should always live with a sense of wonder and hope, even if, in times of trouble, it is buried deep. The funny thing, is that given the current climate, most people (and I’m talking about Christians here) don’t live that way. They live in fear of others who are different from them, or think differently than them, or embrace such righteousness that they, like the religious elite that Jesus despised, think that everyone else is beneath them, and take pleasure in condemnation or scapegoating others. Those are the distinctions for me that are proof they don’t get it, they can’t see all the glorious colors that faith, hope and love brings. There will be plenty who read this who will have a visceral reaction…who does she think she is? except in more in more salacious terms. I don’t care. There is too much at stake. If you see yourself in any of the descriptions I’ve negatively laid out, then read a bit of the Gospel and CHANGE. Bullshit doesn’t work anymore. If you want to be a change-maker, a true disciple, then you believe what Jesus taught. Walk on water, do the things he did, show the world you are truly a disciple by how you love one another…AND DON’T WORRY ABOUT BEING SEEN, OR GETTING CREDIT, OR ANYTHING BUT LIVING JOYFULLY IN THE COLORS BROUGHT TO SIGHT BY THE FAITH, HOPE AND LOVE THAT YOU SUPPOSEDLY LIVE AND LOVE BY. For those of you who aren’t necessarily religious, per say, and are tired of me proselytizing, try and read between the lines to at least embrace the simple challenge of living beyond fear.

That is my commitment for next year. I want to meet and know people who see in color. I want to help bring that goodness to the forefront.

On Seeing the Glass Half Full

half-full-glassIt’s been awhile, and the reason is simple: life happens and sometimes life is hard. Events occur and people we love grow ill and the future teeters in a precarious balance that seems beyond everything but hope and prayer. The world is fraught with crisis and to weigh in demands I make a choice. Will I be a glass half empty person or a glass half full person. I choose to stand on the side of the half fullers. For me its not a Pollyanna thing but a hard stance in the face of negativity and dare you to defy my hope kind of thing. Ultimately, it is a requirement of my faith…for without it, I am just a seed on rocky ground. This world is so good, and so full of great things happening every day, and not the apocalyptic nightmare purported over the many means of media.

It’s also a science thing for me…in a quantum situation, i.e. light can exist as a particle or a wave depending on how its observed (note, prior to this double slit experiment, it had to be one or the other, light could not exist as both). Life can be good or bad, I as the observer determine which…and that determination matters more than anything. I can affect an outcome through faith, hope and love. Words matter, telling the truth matters, prayer matters, looking to the future no matter how daunting with God, in whatever form, augmenting our weakness with deep abiding love and strength matters. It ultimately distinguishes who gets up and moves forward.

For you glass half empties…I offer you my prayer to learn to see with hopeful eyes