True Love

I love, love, love my Monday night group.  Monday night happened to be my birthday, which was shaping up to be quite crappy for awhile.  I ended up having to squeeze in a lot of running around and extra errands.  I was in a lot of pain with what is either a stress fracture or tendon damage in my left foot.  I was the only one in the office.  It was raining. But I went to group.  And there was a birthday cake and cards and presents and hugs and laughs there. 

Normally we meet at my friend Cathy's house, but we have switched it up for 12 weeks and agreed to do a study lead by one of her sister-friend's moms at her house for a change.  It is called "The Truth Project" and it is something put out by Focus on the Family.

Confession: I am not a fan of Focus on the Family.

But I am a big fan of my Monday night group.  Where they go, I go.  And I went into this venture as humbly and open-minded as I could.

Discussion time came after the video and I was really quiet.  I am NEVER quiet on Monday nights. I was quiet because I didn't want the dear, sweet lady leading to be offended.  And I didn't want to be negative.  And I thought I might need some time to process and sort out if I was knee-jerking and would regret what I said later.

Today, after praying and thinking and looking at scripture, at my core I still disagree with an opening statement the gentleman in the video said.

He stated that Jesus did not come into the world to redeem us.  He came to testify to the truth.

So if this were a geometry proof, then therefore (little 3 dot triangle) : the truth is not that Jesus came to redeem us?  The truth is something else?

Every world religion claims to have the truth.  Or at least be on the right path to seeking it.

No other world religion claims to have a Redeemer, who took our filthiness upon himself and took our punishment so that we could be free.  I think the proof goes this way: Jesus came into the world to redeem us: that is the truth.  If he didn't, what is the point in Christianity? 

Jesus' love is what sets him apart from other religious deity.  No other religion's god did what Jesus did.  If that's the truth, great, I'm with ya.  But do not say that Jesus did not come to redeem us.  He did. Luke 19:10 "The Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost." And this is not a reference to truth being lost.  This is a reference to a particular individual (in this case Zacchaeus) being lost. I am not denying that Jesus came to testify to the truth - but I cannot swallow that Jesus did not come to seek out individual souls.

The gentleman on the video gave a series of verses in John that were supposed to prove that Jesus came to tell the truth.  I read each one I managed to jot down, and they are all intricately linked with redemption.

John 1:17 - Grace (equal importance to truth here) and truth come through Jesus.  What is grace?  Jesus' redemptive action of taking our guilt on his shoulders, something we did not deserve.

John 14:6 - Jesus is the way, truth and life. Again, truth is not taking importance over way and life.  How does he offer us life? Redemption.  The way is through redemption.  The truth is that we couldn't come to the Father if he hadn't provided the way.

John 17:17  - This is Jesus' prayer as he is going to the cross! He is asking for our protection and redemption. The plea for guarding us in truth is surrounded by his plea for our redemption.

John 4:24 - This is in the middle of the story of Jesus speaking to the woman at the well -  a bold, defiant, status-quo-shattering act of Jesus that was nothing if not a demonstration of love.  The truth was that he had the water she needed to drink. He was what she was searching for.  Why? He loved her enough to die in her place.

John 8:32 - Jesus was just speaking about his upcoming death, which would redeem us.  He then promised that the truth would set us free.  What truth? That he redeemed our souls.

The redemption story, Jesus' love, is what stands out in a world of line-drawing and battling over who's right and wrong.

Proud Worrier

It is Monday morning.  You're welcome for the reminder.

It is what we call "easing in" week at our house.  The school-is-almost-here-so-we-better-practice-going-to-bed-earlier-but-more-importantly-waking-up-earlier week.  So up at 6 for me.  Or maybe 6:15ish.  It was definitely before 6:30.

I didn't get as much done as I hoped.  I did get a run in.  And an important phone call to my new boss.  And an e-mail I needed to send.  But up to this point there's been a lot of coffee and some playing with Anna on the Wii.  We snagged a new Miss Piggy Mii last night and I just had to see how fabulous she looked doing Kung-Fu.  For Feminism's sake.  `

I did, in spite of myself, manage to do a little morning meditation, devotion, quiet time, getting ready for the day, or whatever you want to call it. And the message in my Book of Awakenings was amazingly fitting. Today's title is "Live Your Worries Through."

Worry is a palpable feeling in our house this week.  My little one did not have such a great last school year, and as this one approaches: worry.  I have not worked every day, 5 days a week outside of my house where I have to dress up and be somewhere at a scheduled morning hour for years: worry. My husband's first day with students is this morning and when he got on the computer this morning, his university's entire network was down.  And he's a freshman advisor.  You're tired of my list already.  So am I.

The author pointed out that worry is when we start running a track in our mind of all the bad things we imagine could happen.  I am not a pro at a lot of things, but I am a PRO at this.  You want to know all the possible things that can go wrong in a situation - come to me.  I can rattle off a cool list of 20.  So the invitation to live in the moment is one I often find myself longing to respond to and yet find so difficult to actually do.

Living in the moment is the only real safe place, Nepo says, because it is the place we can actually reach out for those who nurture us.  This is a nice thought, and feminists would like to remind us that we women have each other to reach out to when we are feeling anxious about our new work demands, or helpless as a mother, or inadequate about the things we long to do.  I like that thought too.

After the writing, Nepo always offers a little exercise. This morning, it was to open your hands until you feel the worry leave, then dwell on that feeling.  This brought back to me something from The Celebration of Discipline (it's better than it sounds), when the author talked about lifting something up in prayer, physically with your hands, then with your hands, setting it down. Our associate pastor delivered a lovely message yesterday entitled "How do you hear God?" She suggested that God is often speaking and we, for several reasons, don't hear.  For me, I think it's because I am so busy worrying and trying to work out the solutions to all the scary "What ifs" I've mentally conjured.

We need each other.  We even need to figure out solutions to our problems.  But sometimes, we just need to breathe deeply and let it go.  But we think it's so important - we can't just let it go. Only Jesus makes this offer to exhausted worriers:

Matthew 11:28 ''Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens and I will give you rest." 

So I know it's not Spiritual Wednesday; sometimes you need the Holy Ghost to get you through Monday.

And to reiterate the point: I Peter 5:8 "Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about what happens to you." Though I think the preceding verse, at least in my case, is the key. "So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and in his good time he will honor you."

What does most of my worry stem from? What do I worry about? Isn't pride the eye of many of my worry storms? Do I not hear God because I haven't humbled myself to acknowledge his power (and my powerlessness)? If I wasn't so concerned for my precious hide, or maybe more accurately, my ego, I venture to say I would worry a lot less. 

We may all have different things to release. Before I hand over the worry, I need to let go of the pride.    I hope you can find a way to get some rest today, even though it's Monday.

Benefit of the Doubt

This is another Paul post.  You might be thoroughly sick to death of them.  I am working out some issues here, and maybe this is not the right place.

So I made it through 1 Corinthians and am onto II Corinthians and now realize I have always lumped the 2 together in my mind.  But in the second chapter of second Corinthians something intriguing happens: Paul says it was agonizing having to write the letter that was I Corinthians.  (Any Bible scholars out there probably knew this already).  I have pictured him holier-than-thou about it, not heartbroken and reluctant.

Fascinated, I skimmed through the rest of II Corinthians, and noted that it has a bit of a different tone.  Or tries to.  Toward the end of this letter, it becomes apparent that Paul has a difficult relationship with the Corinthians.  He brings up his first letter to them again, and admits that he has seen that its affect on them has caused repentance.  And then there's this weird stuff about them thinking Paul scammed them and he's defending himself.

 This is a better place than I've been in for awhile with Paul's writings.  I seriously, for years, have pretty much concentrated any Bible reading on non-Paul writings of the New Testament.  Maybe exploring this from a different angle has been the key.

Not that this is a new concept.  It is, in fact, standard advice in reading scripture.  Or studying anything.  In different points of my life I have had different ideas about God and faith.  Doubt and exploration has been something I thought was unacceptable.  Now I think doubt in some form accompanies authentic faith, and that people with all the answers haven't thought of all the questions.  It means you're thinking, exploring, and trying.  Struggle is an indication of the presence of life.

The Corinthians had a complicated relationship with Paul too.  They are kind of the pariahs of the New Testament, but do they look that different than a lot of us American church goers?  Somehow, it made me feel better than other Christians (even if they were "bad" ones), didn't think Paul was the bees knees either.

Forgiving Paul

Some of you might be staying far away from these posts for fear that the lightening headed my way might have the ability to travel via the web.

In two different conversations with good friends, one via written correspondence, we have talked about the way we try to hard to meet up to our own unrealistic expectations that we construct partly from comparison with others.  This chapter of I Corinthians is powerful, and makes me want to linger here for awhile.  It makes me realize that if I really understood what love was - how to love and how God loves - the significance of achievement and whatever else we strive for would fall away.  Paul introduces chapter 13's theme as better than all else.  For this, perhaps I can work with him.  I invite you to let the following words sink into your spirit and help focus your day. This translation is less poetic and melodious, but lends a fresh and modern perspective.

If I could speak in any language in heaven or on earth but didn't love others, I would only be making meaningless noise like a loud gong or clanging symbol.  If I had the gift of prophecy, and if I knew all the mysteries of the future and knew everything about everything, but didn't love others, what good  would it be? And if I had the gift of faith so that I could speak to a mountain and make it move, without love, it would be no good to anybody. If I gave everything I have to the poor and even sacrificed my body, I could boast about it, but if I didn't love others, I would be of no value whatsoever.


Love is patient and kind.  Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.


Love will last forever, but prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge will all disappear. Now we know only a little, and even the gift of prophecy reveals little! But when the end comes, these special gifts will all disappear. 


It's like this: When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child does.  But when I grew up, I put away childish things. Now we see things imperfectly, as in a poor mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.  All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me now. 


There are three things that will endure--faith, hope and love--and the greatest of these is love. 

My Sincerest Apologies to Paul

Some of you have heard me make the very Un-Christian remark that I do not think I would have liked the Apostle Paul.

Wow, that looks almost blasphemous in type.  Really, though.  He seems kind of arrogant and grating. He is harsh on certain subjects that Jesus gave no recorded time to. I have wondered if he had something personal against women.  If I were given an opportunity to meet someone in the Bible, Paul would be far down on my list. 

It seems like kind of a big thing to not like the guy who wrote half of the New Testament. In an effort to attempt to get over this, I decided I would start re-reading Paul's writings. I started with the happy ones like Philippians that I like.  Recently, I took a deep breath and started in on 1 Corinthians.

I generally stay away from Corinthians because it feels like that irritating Paul is standing over my shoulder reading me a list of rules.  While I might need this just as much as the Corinthians did, it is not the kind of thing that inspires one to read at 6:00 a.m. 

In an effort to avoid laundry and ironing, I picked up 1 Corinthians 7 to see the heading "Instructions on Marriage." Oh, fabulous.  But laundry is really unappealing, so I read, conjuring as many feminist articles from the recesses of my mind as I did, expecting a "wives obey" message.

Nope.  It is a really a balanced message to both husbands and wives, with Paul first of all admitting that most of what he is saying is not a direct word from God.  That's kind of stand-out, in my reading of the Bible.  Secondly, he urges agreement and mutual giving. Obligations are equal.  Standing for both parties, equal.  

Not surprisingly, there was the rhetoric about it being better not to marry (though he explicitly said it was fine to marry).  On closer examination of this, I was surprised to see it as revolutionary in the way I didn't think Paul could be where women were concerned.


A lot of the first wave feminists' complaints were that women were expected to marry.  A woman in many ancient (and even in some of today's) cultures, a woman was supposed to be either socially defined by her husband or father. First wave feminists spend a lot of time writing that a woman is capable of things beyond housekeeping and child-rearing.  Paul specifically tells women, just as he specifically told men, that if they can morally restrain themselves, they can do a lot more work for God.  I'm not a Bible scholar by any stretch of any imagination, but I think he was being pretty straightforward.


I'm not clearing all my beefs with Paul, but I feel as if I do owe him a public apology for not seeing this before. Apostle Paul, maybe you were not a misogynist after all.  I am sorry. 


I am, however, still not ready to re-read Romans yet. 

Oh, How I Love Jesus

Last week, as Easter approached, my small group and I read the account in Luke of Jesus’ crucifixion, His burial, the discovery of His rising. And who was there? Women. Women witnessed the crucifixion. Women prepared spices to tenderly care for his dead body. They left at the earliest moment they could, after observing their Sabbath, and ran to his tomb. As Dorothy Sayers states in one of the essays included in her book Are Women Human?, it’s no wonder that women loved Jesus the way they did. He treated them as no man ever had. With highest value.

For maybe the first time, I really considered what it meant that women were the first to see the risen Lord.  How, when they rushed back to tell the apostles, they would be greeted with doubt and disbelief.

Beth Moore, in her Bible study, Jesus, the One and Only, wrote about it in a way that made me want to cheer:

Luke 24:11 records that the apostles "did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense."

Sisters, don't be insulted by this scene in Luke 24:11. Rather, be blessed that God was up to something awesome even in this seemingly insignificant detail. You see, "the witness of women was not [even] acceptable in that day." They couldn't testify as witnesses.

Now isn't this just like my Jesus! He threatened the status quo in countless ways, not the least of which concerned women. He invited them into Bible class (see Luke 10:39) after they had spent centuries learning what little Scripture they could from their husbands. He honored their service during a time in which men were the only ones who ministered publicly (see Mark 15:41). He healed, forgave, delivered, and made whole the very ones society shunned. Women of ill repute.

Appointing these women as the first to share the news of Jesus' resurrection was a definite "custom shaker." Jesus knew the apostles wouldn't believe them but perhaps He felt that the pending discovery of their authenticity would breed a fresh respect. After all, look at the first roll call we have in the post ascension New Testament church, and you'll see who comprised the first New Testament cell group (see Acts 1:13-14).

For centuries the synagogue kept men and women separate. Suddenly they would be working, praying, and worshiping shoulder-to-shoulder. Christ built His church on a foundation of mutual respect. Don't misunderstand. Christ wasn't prioritizing women over men. He simply took the ladder down to the basement where society had lowered women. With His nail-scarred hands, He lifted them to a place of respect and credibility.

Jesus gets a bad rap for things that “church” does and has done. But Jesus never treated women with anything other than respect. It’s no wonder I love Him the way I do.

Basking in Forgiveness

I'm a United Methodist now.  To review: I was baptized a Roman Catholic in my infancy, later baptized in a Baptist church, spent a good chunk of time in Evangelical churches, and am now a member of a United Methodist Church.  I like being United Methodist for several reasons.  For a bit of background, our beloved pastor is being moved to another congregation by the Bishop & Co.  (The removal of our pastor is my most un-favorite thing about being a United Methodist). BUT, his replacement was announced this Sunday and SHE is an African American woman.  I like the way my United Methodist identity coexists so nicely with my feminist one.

Secondly, United Methodists follow the church calendar.  I am a seasonal person.  It's how I can be a Northerner.  Snow has to come in the winter, followed by flowery and rainy spring, followed by summers with fresh produce and swimming in lakes, followed by colorful foliage and crisp air in fall.  I like that rhythm in the church calendar as well.  Times for celebration and times for reflection.  We are in Lent right now.  I like being given a time of year to change pace, slow down, and pay attention.  It is a time to think about what we have been given, and what that cost.

Inevitably, we find our weakness in this season.  Human beings can't do soul-searching and not find weakness.  Even if we have not technically cheated on our Lent sacrifices, we realize our capacity for weakness.  Even if we do not participate in Lent and make sacrifices, it takes one reminder of some off-handed remark we made that wreaked havoc, or one harsh word to our children, or one covert purchase receipt to throw in our faces that the thing we are most capable of is messing up.

The ultimate purpose of the Sacrifice we celebrate is forgiveness.  Forgiveness.  Let that word wash over you and loosen the goo sticking to the corners of your soul. We are good at beating ourselves up; we are not good at accepting forgiveness.  We're sure we need to pay more penance, flog ourselves a bit more.  We swallow guilt continually, and make vows to try harder.  New Year's resolutions are kissin' cousins to Lent give-ups.

We are Americans, gosh darn it.  We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and propel forward on our ingenuity and gumption.  We do not want to do things like accept help or acknowledge stuff we can't do.  But, we can't be perfect.  We have bad days.  We might do really well on one thing we're working on only to discover we have completely neglected something (or someone) else.

In both the women's movement and in Christian living we exhaust ourselves trying to get everything right.  Sometimes, we just need to stop, slow down, and soak up forgiveness like a Northerner on Spring Break soaks up sun on a beach in Florida.  I could use a little of both right now - how about you?