This morning, I headed to my old high school where I now work as an AVID tutor. If you are interested in cool public education programs, research AVID more. Basically, it is a class that would be first-generation college students take all 4 years of high school that teaches them how to take notes, stay organized, ask questions to further their learning, and work as a group to arrive at answers together. Each week, the students have to come to tutorials, armed with two upper-level questions having to do with something they are learning in one of their classes. The tutors split up these questions (written down on forms called TRFs) by subject, then lead the tutorials that are really supposed to be run by the students working together to arrive at the answers. It's truly a good program, and I'm glad to be a part of it.
Usually, when we (the tutors) divide the TRFs, I take the math group. I am licensed to teach middle school math... I wanted to get this religious equation figured out before I began teaching (since it's all consuming, especially in the dreaded first year) and work on some other things, but anyway, I have the background to help students understand math concepts, so I usually volunteer to be in the math group.
For whatever reason, this morning, I said, "I'll do history!" There was another math nerd tutor around, so he was glad to get math.
Because most of the students in my group were studying the time just before the Renaissance, religion was a common theme in the questions they asked. There was the posting of Luther's 95 Thesis, the fighting between Protestants and Catholics, the selling of indulgences...
After getting through a couple of questions relating more to government and philosophy, one girl (side note- this girl has the coolest hand-writing I've ever seen. It's unreal) stood up, walked to the white board, and wrote her question out of the group to copy: What would it be like if everyone in the world was either Christian [she meant Protestant- we corrected this together] or Catholic? Which would you be and why?
When I read that last part, I decided it would be best to just dodge that. We started out with a discussion on the difference in beliefs between Protestants and Catholics. We got a little side-tracked on the issue of marrying someone of another belief system (I explained the Biblical concept of "equally yoked" and another tutor jumped in and explained how if you wish to be married by a priest, both the husband and the wife need to be confirmed Catholics). We discussed baptism and salvation. We then got to imagining what the world would be like if everyone was Christian.
It became apparent to me that in the group of six students, one was Catholic, two were Protestant, one (the presenter) was not religious, and two were pretty quiet about their beliefs. You could just see these kids having to think twice about why they were labeled the way they were- Catholic, Baptist... what they had to do with coming to those labels.
Interesting questions/ comments brought up during the discussion:
"Do people ever change religions, or get rid of their religions?"
"What if your dad was a Protestant minister and you really wanted to marry a Catholic. You'd have to become Catholic, but wouldn't you feel bad?"
"I was baptized as a baby, and I understand that, but it's not like I made that decision myself. My parents chose my religion for me."
"So, if you don't get baptized, what happens to you? I mean, where do you go?"
"How do you think poor people who couldn't afford indulgences felt?"
My favorite comment came in written form on the reflection each student has to fill out at the end of the class. The girl who asked the question (which, of course, wasn't really answered as much as discussed) wrote "I just wonder why religions have to exist at all." One can view them as absolute truth, another a strange human phenomenon that just divides people. I sat in a group of 14 year-olds who maybe for the first time, got an idea of what it was like to view them in a different way. How I love education.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Southern Hills Mennonite Church
Nine days and eleven hours ago, I was getting ready for a church service that I really wasn't feeling like going to. I could always catch up on my reading instead... Maybe I'll just get dressed and get coffee... My room could use a nice, deep cleaning... Any excuse. At this point, I've been to seven different churches. It is starting to get old: entering an unfamiliar place by yourself, trying to figure out what normal looks like then mimic that, feeling guilty because you don't really subscribe to the beliefs everyone in that room probably thinks you subscribe to, well, it's not the easiest thing to do...
Fortunately, nine days and 9 hours ago, I drove home from the Mennonite church, happy as a clam. I loved it!
How did I get from point A to point B?
Well, first I will expose my ignorance. I expected the Mennonite church to be pretty reserved and conservative. A few years ago, some friends and I, just for our sheer amusement, decided to have a "Home School" party. (We were pretty wild!) We all dressed up uber-conservatively, acted really awkward, played this game called Generosity (a Christian version of Life), and tried to bring up God as much as we could. We were definitely making fun of the archetype Home-schooled Christian, but it was okay because 3 out of the 5 of us were home-schooled.
My point is, as I was getting dressed for service, choosing my outfit carefully (trying hard to dress very simply- not easy for me!), I couldn't help but be taken back to that silly party when I wore a very modest ankle-length denim skirt, plain pastel yellow shirt, Birkenstock sandals, and cross necklace. I wondered if I needed to wear a scarf over my hair, keep jewelry to a minimum, dress like these ladies:
Upon arriving at the church, I found a parking lot full of Obama-stickered Subarus, not horse and buggies. Sigh of relief! Once I was inside, I was happy to find that the people were dressed pretty regularly. Not a head-covering in sight!
I made my way into the plain looking chapel (with an impressive set of instruments up front) and plunked down. The service would be starting in just a minute. As I noticed a woman who seemed to be noticing me, thinking "How do I know her??" another woman behind me tapped me on the shoulder, asked if I was new, and then introduced herself. Then, something that I've been hoping wouldn't happen in any of my church visits finally happened. "Would you mind if we introduced you to the congregation during the service?" Sure enough, a couple minutes into the service when the minister asked if there were any visitors, this kind lady stood up and introduced me by first and last name :) I did that awkward quickly stand up and half-heartedly wave thing. I then saw that woman who I recognized from somewhere whisper to her husband.
Onto the actual service and message- the things that made me glad I came. Here is what I loved about the Mennonite church I was at: the music, the friendly people, and their affirmation of values I have been emphasizing as a Christian for the last few years (peace, social justice, financial simple living, moderation, separation of church and state, to name a few). I'll begin with the music.
I am a lover of music. I've been in choir since 4th grade, but even before that, I sang all the time. I'm an alto, so because of my time in high school/ college choir, I've gotten used to singing the harmony. Though I'm no longer in any choir, I'm still very much a harmonizer. Whether singing in my car or singing in church, it actually takes effort to sing the melody. At my home church, where we generally have a small band upfront and the lyrics projected onto a screen for all to read (but no actual notes displayed), I, as a harmonizer, am a minority. I have been sticking to the melodies while visiting various churches, partly because you have to know the song well enough before you can add another dimension to it, and partly because I don't want to stick out anymore than I already am.
This church was different. There were no electric guitars, no loud drums, and no power point lyrics displayed for all to see. While many churches have modernized their approach to praise and worship, this church has stuck with hymns and acoustic instruments. From the first note of the first hymn we sang, I realized that these Mennonites knew how to sight read, and they knew whether or not they were alto or soprano; tenor or bass, then stuck to those parts like there was a Bible verse commanding them to! It was musical bliss. In addition my joy that I could once again be an alto during full-congregation songs, there were a few special musical acts that were enjoyable. Piano, harmonica, banjo, and cello were some of the instruments that were used throughout the service. Also, Mennonites clap after someone sings or plays in front of the congregation. I like that. (Some churches don't think it's appropriate to clap- praise a person- during a church service, but not clapping, to me, has always feels kind of cold.)
As for the people and the message, I could tell that the people I was sitting amongst wanted to make a difference in not only heaven, but also the world we can currently see. During prayer requests, one man stood up and announced that he knew of a 17 year-old girl in our community who was homeless. He said that if anyone would like to consider taking her into their home for a while, they could talk to him after the service. The fact that he would even feel comfortable presenting a request like that to the congregation, and the fact that he seemed to genuinely feel bad for her and want to help her out (instead of blaming her parents or assuming she has a drug addiction or something like that) blew me away. They didn't want to blend in with Conservative Christians with their American (ahem, Republican) forms of Christianity, but instead knew that in order for their faith to remain pure, it could not be affected by any nation or modern culture.
They were not willing to kill anyone, period. That decision could be left up to God. During a prayer, the minister said, "Help us to be peacemakers planting seeds of peace throughout our lives." She discussed the number of Afghanis and Iraquis who have been killed since September 11th. Her sermon was titled "Extravagant Citizenship" and was about really giving yourself to something, no matter what the cost. It seemed to me that the cause she suggested giving yourself to was more the ideals of peace, justice, and love than God. The sermon did not really stress maintaining a relationship with Jesus or trying to win people over to God. I think the assumption was that everyone in that room was a Christian, so why bring up faith? Instead, they focused on using their Biblical roots to live with peace, love, and mercy on their hearts and in their hands, giving what they could to make this community, this state, this country, and hopefully, this world, better than it was the day before.
"Every person can do what they can to be a good citizen and to make the world a better place."
As the sermon came to a close, I made eye contact with that recognized lady (by this point, I had realized who she was) and we chatted for a bit. I then saw another person I had once met (we chatted), plus two others I had only met that week! Four people in one small congregation! I was impressed by the odds. It was like something was telling me that I already had a head start at a community there, in case I ever wanted to return to the faith. As I drove home, I thought, "Wow, it's like I've been Mennonite all this time without even realizing it!"
Although, looking back on the service, I have to wonder if it felt that good because it seemed more humanist than Christian? An unbeliever was able to sit in the service and agree with most of the things that were said, so, if I really did decide that Christianity is what I can claim as truth, I'm not sure that I would really go to the Mennonite church. Wouldn't I want to go to a more Bible-based church? Maybe alternate between the Mennonite and a more Bible-based church? Guess I can cross that bridge if I get there, but for now, Mennonite wad enjoyable.
Fortunately, nine days and 9 hours ago, I drove home from the Mennonite church, happy as a clam. I loved it!
How did I get from point A to point B?
Well, first I will expose my ignorance. I expected the Mennonite church to be pretty reserved and conservative. A few years ago, some friends and I, just for our sheer amusement, decided to have a "Home School" party. (We were pretty wild!) We all dressed up uber-conservatively, acted really awkward, played this game called Generosity (a Christian version of Life), and tried to bring up God as much as we could. We were definitely making fun of the archetype Home-schooled Christian, but it was okay because 3 out of the 5 of us were home-schooled.
My point is, as I was getting dressed for service, choosing my outfit carefully (trying hard to dress very simply- not easy for me!), I couldn't help but be taken back to that silly party when I wore a very modest ankle-length denim skirt, plain pastel yellow shirt, Birkenstock sandals, and cross necklace. I wondered if I needed to wear a scarf over my hair, keep jewelry to a minimum, dress like these ladies:
I made my way into the plain looking chapel (with an impressive set of instruments up front) and plunked down. The service would be starting in just a minute. As I noticed a woman who seemed to be noticing me, thinking "How do I know her??" another woman behind me tapped me on the shoulder, asked if I was new, and then introduced herself. Then, something that I've been hoping wouldn't happen in any of my church visits finally happened. "Would you mind if we introduced you to the congregation during the service?" Sure enough, a couple minutes into the service when the minister asked if there were any visitors, this kind lady stood up and introduced me by first and last name :) I did that awkward quickly stand up and half-heartedly wave thing. I then saw that woman who I recognized from somewhere whisper to her husband.
Onto the actual service and message- the things that made me glad I came. Here is what I loved about the Mennonite church I was at: the music, the friendly people, and their affirmation of values I have been emphasizing as a Christian for the last few years (peace, social justice, financial simple living, moderation, separation of church and state, to name a few). I'll begin with the music.
I am a lover of music. I've been in choir since 4th grade, but even before that, I sang all the time. I'm an alto, so because of my time in high school/ college choir, I've gotten used to singing the harmony. Though I'm no longer in any choir, I'm still very much a harmonizer. Whether singing in my car or singing in church, it actually takes effort to sing the melody. At my home church, where we generally have a small band upfront and the lyrics projected onto a screen for all to read (but no actual notes displayed), I, as a harmonizer, am a minority. I have been sticking to the melodies while visiting various churches, partly because you have to know the song well enough before you can add another dimension to it, and partly because I don't want to stick out anymore than I already am.
This church was different. There were no electric guitars, no loud drums, and no power point lyrics displayed for all to see. While many churches have modernized their approach to praise and worship, this church has stuck with hymns and acoustic instruments. From the first note of the first hymn we sang, I realized that these Mennonites knew how to sight read, and they knew whether or not they were alto or soprano; tenor or bass, then stuck to those parts like there was a Bible verse commanding them to! It was musical bliss. In addition my joy that I could once again be an alto during full-congregation songs, there were a few special musical acts that were enjoyable. Piano, harmonica, banjo, and cello were some of the instruments that were used throughout the service. Also, Mennonites clap after someone sings or plays in front of the congregation. I like that. (Some churches don't think it's appropriate to clap- praise a person- during a church service, but not clapping, to me, has always feels kind of cold.)
As for the people and the message, I could tell that the people I was sitting amongst wanted to make a difference in not only heaven, but also the world we can currently see. During prayer requests, one man stood up and announced that he knew of a 17 year-old girl in our community who was homeless. He said that if anyone would like to consider taking her into their home for a while, they could talk to him after the service. The fact that he would even feel comfortable presenting a request like that to the congregation, and the fact that he seemed to genuinely feel bad for her and want to help her out (instead of blaming her parents or assuming she has a drug addiction or something like that) blew me away. They didn't want to blend in with Conservative Christians with their American (ahem, Republican) forms of Christianity, but instead knew that in order for their faith to remain pure, it could not be affected by any nation or modern culture.
They were not willing to kill anyone, period. That decision could be left up to God. During a prayer, the minister said, "Help us to be peacemakers planting seeds of peace throughout our lives." She discussed the number of Afghanis and Iraquis who have been killed since September 11th. Her sermon was titled "Extravagant Citizenship" and was about really giving yourself to something, no matter what the cost. It seemed to me that the cause she suggested giving yourself to was more the ideals of peace, justice, and love than God. The sermon did not really stress maintaining a relationship with Jesus or trying to win people over to God. I think the assumption was that everyone in that room was a Christian, so why bring up faith? Instead, they focused on using their Biblical roots to live with peace, love, and mercy on their hearts and in their hands, giving what they could to make this community, this state, this country, and hopefully, this world, better than it was the day before.
"Every person can do what they can to be a good citizen and to make the world a better place."
As the sermon came to a close, I made eye contact with that recognized lady (by this point, I had realized who she was) and we chatted for a bit. I then saw another person I had once met (we chatted), plus two others I had only met that week! Four people in one small congregation! I was impressed by the odds. It was like something was telling me that I already had a head start at a community there, in case I ever wanted to return to the faith. As I drove home, I thought, "Wow, it's like I've been Mennonite all this time without even realizing it!"
Although, looking back on the service, I have to wonder if it felt that good because it seemed more humanist than Christian? An unbeliever was able to sit in the service and agree with most of the things that were said, so, if I really did decide that Christianity is what I can claim as truth, I'm not sure that I would really go to the Mennonite church. Wouldn't I want to go to a more Bible-based church? Maybe alternate between the Mennonite and a more Bible-based church? Guess I can cross that bridge if I get there, but for now, Mennonite wad enjoyable.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Whoa!
I realized this morning when I accidentally commented on one of my dearest friend's blog how much my secrecy in all of this means to me. See, I have 3 different google accounts, and I have to remember to be logged in to either of the 2 innocent google accounts (as opposed to this evil google account!) when I comment on her blog (she knows about this blog, but she's the only Christian friend of mine who does). Well, this morning, I read one of her posts, felt the need to comment, and did so without giving it a thought. It wasn't until I saw this profile picture pop up next to my comment on her blog that I went "Oooops!" After a brief moment of panic, I deleted the comment. It makes sense that that would delete everything about the comment. However, blogger doesn't seem to want people to get out of these sorts of mishaps because what was left on the post was my name and that picture of me in the red dress and the statement "Comment has been removed by author." I'm sure that this statement would peak anyone's interest even more than my old, comparatively mundane comment would have, and prompted people to click on my profile and access my blog.
Here's the thing: I'm so not ready for that.
Although I've told a few good friends who definitely care about me and about making sure I stay on the good Christian track, I don't so much feel the need to tell everybody. If I were to be completely transparent about this blog, everyone who reads my friend's blog would know: her mother (whom I LOVE- but who also might say something to my parents?), her sisters, our mutual friends who maybe know about my agnosticism but not about this blog...
So I did what any defensive, frightened person would do. I made my blog private and made my profile un-accessible. I felt like a complete chicken for doing this, but there are just some people that I'm not ready to be that open with. So, in case you're currently trying to read my blog and think that I made it private to be exclusive, puh-lease. I'll probably make it public again in about a week.
I am so not a secrets person. This sucks in a huge way.
Edit: Okay, my friend with the blog helped me see that I don't need to make my profile inaccessible AND invite only. Yay! So you can now click on my url and visit. I really do feel the need for community, and as lame as it may sound, this little corner of the world wide web is hugely helpful in allowing me to voice my thoughts without fear of rejection, and not feel so alone in these thoughts.
Here's the thing: I'm so not ready for that.
Although I've told a few good friends who definitely care about me and about making sure I stay on the good Christian track, I don't so much feel the need to tell everybody. If I were to be completely transparent about this blog, everyone who reads my friend's blog would know: her mother (whom I LOVE- but who also might say something to my parents?), her sisters, our mutual friends who maybe know about my agnosticism but not about this blog...
So I did what any defensive, frightened person would do. I made my blog private and made my profile un-accessible. I felt like a complete chicken for doing this, but there are just some people that I'm not ready to be that open with. So, in case you're currently trying to read my blog and think that I made it private to be exclusive, puh-lease. I'll probably make it public again in about a week.
I am so not a secrets person. This sucks in a huge way.
Edit: Okay, my friend with the blog helped me see that I don't need to make my profile inaccessible AND invite only. Yay! So you can now click on my url and visit. I really do feel the need for community, and as lame as it may sound, this little corner of the world wide web is hugely helpful in allowing me to voice my thoughts without fear of rejection, and not feel so alone in these thoughts.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Coming Out
When I decided that I wanted to commit a solid amount of time to studying religion from an outsider's point of view (because you can't really look at the components of different beliefs if you feel the need to make the truth be your truth), I didn't think I needed to tell many people. Why bother them with my beliefs, especially while I'm in an intentional questioning stage? I haven't even landed on anything yet.
But, when you go from helping in Sunday School classes, hosting weekly Bible studies, and being the token good church girl at work to no longer believing in anything, people notice.
It seems like I've been having to explain to people a lot lately where I'm at, and I'm finding their reactions to be diverse and sometimes surprising.
(Whoa- just realized that today is National Coming out Day! I titled the post before I realized this, I swear!)
There's J__, someone I work with who has always jokingly picked on me for being a Christian (he's atheist). In the past, I've taken his comments like a champ, knowing (or hoping) that what I knew he would one day find true and not putting forth much effort to fight back. When he did it a week ago, I couldn't take it and said, "Actually, that no longer applies. I'm kind of going through an agnostic phase." (I think adding the word phase makes it sound less definitive, but it also makes it sound like I'm going to bounce out of it any day now). He looked at me skeptically and that was the end of that. A few days later, he asked me how long I thought I'd be agnostic and I told him as long as it took to figure something out, and that if I didn't think there was enough out there to figure anything out, then it would be a long term thing.
There's S___, my missionary friend. She obviously took what I had to say very seriously. She was surprised, but said without hesitation and with utmost belief, she said she knew that if I kept at the search and didn't do it "halfway," I'd end up back at Jesus. I've always craved that kind of faith. But she's right. A Bible verse that in many ways affirms what I'm doing is Jeremiah 29:13-14:
13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile."
If God is true and I really have an open mind, he will not melt under the flame of scrutiny. He will get me out of the exile of doubt and bring me back to him, if he's not made up, if he's actually the Christian God, if he's really the way the Bible says he is.
There's P___, someone else I work with. He says he is spiritual, but not at all religious. When I told him, he said, "Well to be honest I was kind of worried about you. I mean, you're young and hot and you need to live life up!" Ha. Not planning on doing anything terribly pagan quite yet (haha- "yet"), no need to worry. But P___ definitely has a point. If what I've been carrying my cross for for years isn't worth all of this work (if it's not real), then I don't want to waste another minute of my life on it. Life is too short to give yourself to an imaginary cause.
There's J___, someone I used to work with. She believes in a God, but has beef with organized religion (if you're reading, please correct me on any of this). I sent her a link to this blog after going to a church she had a bit of a history with. I met with her yesterday and she said reading this made her sad for me. I think she meant that anytime someone loses their religion, they are kissing a huge part of themselves and their past away. It means reevaluating your politics, your morals (which things stay and which things go?), your reasoning skills, and what others tell you. Hopefully, the things I will let go of in this process (be it faith or doubt) will make my spirit lighter and more free, more sure of what I really believe to be true.
There's J___ (wow, there are a lot of people out there with names that start with J!), a 60-something year old cook at the restaurant I work at with whom I have the funniest, faux-parental relationship. I did not want to tell him! He thinks the world of me and sees no wrong. But someone I work with jokingly said, "You've renounced Jesus [obviously I never put it that way and don't see it that way!] and you're still doing fine? Shouldn't you be struck down by lightening or something?" and J___ overheard. He said, "Wait a minute, what's he talking about?" Then, after a deep sigh and a nervous smile, I told J___ what was going on. He looked worried and just encouraged me to stay true to myself and my ethics.
There's T___, the gay Jew I work with. (Have you gathered that I work with some pretty interesting people?) He's the one who made the lightening joke and outted me in front of my work dad. Over drinks, he told me that this was really surprising him and that it was hard for him to see me as anyone but a very Christian girl. No longer fitting in the box I've made for myself is kind of strange.
What I love the most about being vocal with where I'm at is the spirituality stories that follow. The unlabeled testimonies. Suddenly, they're voicing what they believe and why- telling stories of middle school crises of faith, reliving conversations with clergy, and spreading their gospel. I no longer listen strategically, thinking of ways to combat their qualms with religion or feeling sad when I hear that they've rejected all dogma. I can now just listen and respect what they've come to, especially when it's thought out, when you know they had to wrestle a little to get there. When all of this research and thinking is said and done ("done!" Never will I think ever again...), I think I'll have a pretty good testimony myself.
But, when you go from helping in Sunday School classes, hosting weekly Bible studies, and being the token good church girl at work to no longer believing in anything, people notice.
It seems like I've been having to explain to people a lot lately where I'm at, and I'm finding their reactions to be diverse and sometimes surprising.
(Whoa- just realized that today is National Coming out Day! I titled the post before I realized this, I swear!)There's J__, someone I work with who has always jokingly picked on me for being a Christian (he's atheist). In the past, I've taken his comments like a champ, knowing (or hoping) that what I knew he would one day find true and not putting forth much effort to fight back. When he did it a week ago, I couldn't take it and said, "Actually, that no longer applies. I'm kind of going through an agnostic phase." (I think adding the word phase makes it sound less definitive, but it also makes it sound like I'm going to bounce out of it any day now). He looked at me skeptically and that was the end of that. A few days later, he asked me how long I thought I'd be agnostic and I told him as long as it took to figure something out, and that if I didn't think there was enough out there to figure anything out, then it would be a long term thing.
There's S___, my missionary friend. She obviously took what I had to say very seriously. She was surprised, but said without hesitation and with utmost belief, she said she knew that if I kept at the search and didn't do it "halfway," I'd end up back at Jesus. I've always craved that kind of faith. But she's right. A Bible verse that in many ways affirms what I'm doing is Jeremiah 29:13-14:
13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you," declares the LORD, "and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile."
If God is true and I really have an open mind, he will not melt under the flame of scrutiny. He will get me out of the exile of doubt and bring me back to him, if he's not made up, if he's actually the Christian God, if he's really the way the Bible says he is.
There's P___, someone else I work with. He says he is spiritual, but not at all religious. When I told him, he said, "Well to be honest I was kind of worried about you. I mean, you're young and hot and you need to live life up!" Ha. Not planning on doing anything terribly pagan quite yet (haha- "yet"), no need to worry. But P___ definitely has a point. If what I've been carrying my cross for for years isn't worth all of this work (if it's not real), then I don't want to waste another minute of my life on it. Life is too short to give yourself to an imaginary cause.
There's J___, someone I used to work with. She believes in a God, but has beef with organized religion (if you're reading, please correct me on any of this). I sent her a link to this blog after going to a church she had a bit of a history with. I met with her yesterday and she said reading this made her sad for me. I think she meant that anytime someone loses their religion, they are kissing a huge part of themselves and their past away. It means reevaluating your politics, your morals (which things stay and which things go?), your reasoning skills, and what others tell you. Hopefully, the things I will let go of in this process (be it faith or doubt) will make my spirit lighter and more free, more sure of what I really believe to be true.
There's J___ (wow, there are a lot of people out there with names that start with J!), a 60-something year old cook at the restaurant I work at with whom I have the funniest, faux-parental relationship. I did not want to tell him! He thinks the world of me and sees no wrong. But someone I work with jokingly said, "You've renounced Jesus [obviously I never put it that way and don't see it that way!] and you're still doing fine? Shouldn't you be struck down by lightening or something?" and J___ overheard. He said, "Wait a minute, what's he talking about?" Then, after a deep sigh and a nervous smile, I told J___ what was going on. He looked worried and just encouraged me to stay true to myself and my ethics.
There's T___, the gay Jew I work with. (Have you gathered that I work with some pretty interesting people?) He's the one who made the lightening joke and outted me in front of my work dad. Over drinks, he told me that this was really surprising him and that it was hard for him to see me as anyone but a very Christian girl. No longer fitting in the box I've made for myself is kind of strange.
What I love the most about being vocal with where I'm at is the spirituality stories that follow. The unlabeled testimonies. Suddenly, they're voicing what they believe and why- telling stories of middle school crises of faith, reliving conversations with clergy, and spreading their gospel. I no longer listen strategically, thinking of ways to combat their qualms with religion or feeling sad when I hear that they've rejected all dogma. I can now just listen and respect what they've come to, especially when it's thought out, when you know they had to wrestle a little to get there. When all of this research and thinking is said and done ("done!" Never will I think ever again...), I think I'll have a pretty good testimony myself.
Bitty update
Saturday afternoon, I agreed to work the Sunday brunch shift for one of my coworkers who really needed off, so I didn't make it to the Four Square church. I've decided to trade Church of the Nazarene (10/31) for Four Square. Speaking in tongues can be kind of scary, and it will be on Halloween, so, nice. Next week, Mennonite :)
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Recurring Themes
Yesterday, my day went like this:
Breakfast of coffee, peanut butter toast (topped with honey, of course!), and 3 reasons/chapters ("Believing in my god makes me happy," "Better safe than sorry," and "A sacred book proves my god is real.") in Guy P. Harrison's 50 reasons people give for believing in a god. All of that reading made my breakfast longer than usual, so I decided to move past religion/nonreligion for the day and get some business taken care of!
Easier said than done.
While listening to the new Guster cd, Easy Wonderful, I realized that SIX of the sixteen songs (on the deluxe version) have religious themes. It's crazy. I've been a Guster fan for years now (saw them live in Portland, ME last summer) and there are usually 2-3 songs on each album that have something to do with religion. But six ("On the Ocean," "Stay with Me Jesus," "Bad, Bad World," "That's No Way to Get to Heaven," "Jesus and Mary," and "Jonah")?
The song that I'm right now most in love with is "On the Ocean." Not only is it deliciously poppy and harmonious, I also find it full of striking parallels to what I'm figuring out right now.
Am I asleep? Is this a dream? Oh my God, what have I done, anything?
At 23, you walked out on me. Oh my God, where have you gone, anyway?
On the ocean, I think we're taking on water. A storm is on the way. But I will hold on anyway. (Chorus) [Keeping the faith in spite of rising doubts]
10,000 leagues under the sea. Oh my God, what have you done, anything? [Sinking deeper. Continued denial that the boat of faith is flawed]
29 years I've wandered around. There's no beauty here, no emerald town. I shout aloud, "What will be forgotten, everything?" [Disillusionment with the church and the religion as a whole?]
(Chorus....)
I close my eyes and there's someone beside me. Hand in hand, we can only speak in tongues. She's pulling me along.
Falling down a trail of crumbs behind me, my head's in her hands, but everything, it still feels wrong. This isn't what I thought, so can I just go home? ["Close my eyes"- praying with someone. But he doesn't feel it. He can't believe it and just wants to renounce it.]
(Chorus)
Am I asleep? Is this a dream? Oh my God, what have I done, anything?
Other than the surprise attack of thoughts on religion by Guster, I was also assailed by Glee last night!
Who else watched that episode? No matter where you stand, can you not admit that that episode (titled: Grilled Cheesus [!]) was awesome?!?
Basically, the episode begins with Finn opening his George Foreman griller only to be amazed by the image of Jesus on his grilled cheese. He then eats half of the sandwich, and saves the sacred half, praying to it throughout the episode (the things he prays for are so funny, but telling of what an average high schooler like Finn would want: a football win, a chance at fondling his girlfriend, and his old quarterback position back). Throughout the course of the episode, Kurt, the witty, stylish gay glee club member, learns that his dad has had a heart attack and is in a coma. Other glee club members try to comfort him with messages of spirituality, but he won't have it. He's an atheist. Teachers get involved, blaming Will Schuster, the glee director for allowing religious dialogue and songs in his classroom. Friends pray over Kurt's dad. Kurt goes to church with his Christian friend, Mercedes, who was the example of what a loving, comforting, open Christian looks like. By the way, if anyone knows of a church that will sing a gospel rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Water," let me know and I'll tack it to the ICHE!
It really was a very well done episode, tying humor, music, drama, and religion (it was very fair- I read an article where Ryan Murphy said that he made sure that in the script for this episode, for each anti-religious statement there was one pro-religious statement made) very successfully. I think it made every viewer think about where they stood and why, which is always a good thing.
I have to share some of the quotes from the episode. If you haven't already stopped reading to watch it on hulu, please do!
"Asking someone to believe in a fantasy, however comforting, isn't a moral thing to do. It's cruel."- Sue Sylvester, in a scene where she opened up to the school counselor, Emma, about why she is against religion. I read that Murphy considers this philosophical scene to be one of the best he's ever made.
"It was sort of cool, feeling like I had this direct line to God. Now I just feel like everybody else, you know, like we're all just floating around in Space. I don't like that." - Finn, after realizing his Cheesus was nothing more than a Foreman fluke. It resonates with me because I've felt like that when I've consider loosing the power of prayer, and the relationship with Jesus. That feeling of being special and having a unique connection to God keeps a lot of people claiming his name.
"I'm very impressed with everyone's Sunday best. It's very Christ chic."- :) Kurt, as he was entering Mercedes' church
Glee did, in my opinion, a good job presenting the atheists (Kurt and Sue), the agnostic (Emma?), the Jews (Rachel and Puck), the Christians (Mercedes and Quinn), and those who just didn't know or maybe didn't care, but wanted to help out in some way (Will, Finn). It was definitely an episode to talk about.
Later, I checked out websites like:
http://debunkingchristianity.blogspot.com/
http://de-conversion.com/
and happened upon some other religious blogs.
So there you have it, a day that was anything but religion free. But that's okay. I'm finding I can't get enough of thoughts on religion lately...
Breakfast of coffee, peanut butter toast (topped with honey, of course!), and 3 reasons/chapters ("Believing in my god makes me happy," "Better safe than sorry," and "A sacred book proves my god is real.") in Guy P. Harrison's 50 reasons people give for believing in a god. All of that reading made my breakfast longer than usual, so I decided to move past religion/nonreligion for the day and get some business taken care of!
Easier said than done.
While listening to the new Guster cd, Easy Wonderful, I realized that SIX of the sixteen songs (on the deluxe version) have religious themes. It's crazy. I've been a Guster fan for years now (saw them live in Portland, ME last summer) and there are usually 2-3 songs on each album that have something to do with religion. But six ("On the Ocean," "Stay with Me Jesus," "Bad, Bad World," "That's No Way to Get to Heaven," "Jesus and Mary," and "Jonah")?
The song that I'm right now most in love with is "On the Ocean." Not only is it deliciously poppy and harmonious, I also find it full of striking parallels to what I'm figuring out right now.Am I asleep? Is this a dream? Oh my God, what have I done, anything?
At 23, you walked out on me. Oh my God, where have you gone, anyway?
On the ocean, I think we're taking on water. A storm is on the way. But I will hold on anyway. (Chorus) [Keeping the faith in spite of rising doubts]
10,000 leagues under the sea. Oh my God, what have you done, anything? [Sinking deeper. Continued denial that the boat of faith is flawed]
29 years I've wandered around. There's no beauty here, no emerald town. I shout aloud, "What will be forgotten, everything?" [Disillusionment with the church and the religion as a whole?]
(Chorus....)
I close my eyes and there's someone beside me. Hand in hand, we can only speak in tongues. She's pulling me along.
Falling down a trail of crumbs behind me, my head's in her hands, but everything, it still feels wrong. This isn't what I thought, so can I just go home? ["Close my eyes"- praying with someone. But he doesn't feel it. He can't believe it and just wants to renounce it.]
(Chorus)
Am I asleep? Is this a dream? Oh my God, what have I done, anything?
Other than the surprise attack of thoughts on religion by Guster, I was also assailed by Glee last night!
Who else watched that episode? No matter where you stand, can you not admit that that episode (titled: Grilled Cheesus [!]) was awesome?!?
Basically, the episode begins with Finn opening his George Foreman griller only to be amazed by the image of Jesus on his grilled cheese. He then eats half of the sandwich, and saves the sacred half, praying to it throughout the episode (the things he prays for are so funny, but telling of what an average high schooler like Finn would want: a football win, a chance at fondling his girlfriend, and his old quarterback position back). Throughout the course of the episode, Kurt, the witty, stylish gay glee club member, learns that his dad has had a heart attack and is in a coma. Other glee club members try to comfort him with messages of spirituality, but he won't have it. He's an atheist. Teachers get involved, blaming Will Schuster, the glee director for allowing religious dialogue and songs in his classroom. Friends pray over Kurt's dad. Kurt goes to church with his Christian friend, Mercedes, who was the example of what a loving, comforting, open Christian looks like. By the way, if anyone knows of a church that will sing a gospel rendition of "Bridge Over Troubled Water," let me know and I'll tack it to the ICHE!It really was a very well done episode, tying humor, music, drama, and religion (it was very fair- I read an article where Ryan Murphy said that he made sure that in the script for this episode, for each anti-religious statement there was one pro-religious statement made) very successfully. I think it made every viewer think about where they stood and why, which is always a good thing.
I have to share some of the quotes from the episode. If you haven't already stopped reading to watch it on hulu, please do!
"Asking someone to believe in a fantasy, however comforting, isn't a moral thing to do. It's cruel."- Sue Sylvester, in a scene where she opened up to the school counselor, Emma, about why she is against religion. I read that Murphy considers this philosophical scene to be one of the best he's ever made.
"It was sort of cool, feeling like I had this direct line to God. Now I just feel like everybody else, you know, like we're all just floating around in Space. I don't like that." - Finn, after realizing his Cheesus was nothing more than a Foreman fluke. It resonates with me because I've felt like that when I've consider loosing the power of prayer, and the relationship with Jesus. That feeling of being special and having a unique connection to God keeps a lot of people claiming his name.
"I'm very impressed with everyone's Sunday best. It's very Christ chic."- :) Kurt, as he was entering Mercedes' church
Glee did, in my opinion, a good job presenting the atheists (Kurt and Sue), the agnostic (Emma?), the Jews (Rachel and Puck), the Christians (Mercedes and Quinn), and those who just didn't know or maybe didn't care, but wanted to help out in some way (Will, Finn). It was definitely an episode to talk about.
Later, I checked out websites like:
http://debunkingchristianity.blogspot.com/
http://de-conversion.com/
and happened upon some other religious blogs.
So there you have it, a day that was anything but religion free. But that's okay. I'm finding I can't get enough of thoughts on religion lately...
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
1st Lutheran Pastor's Response!
I really appreciate the pastor at the Lutheran church for getting back to me so quickly and with such a thoughtful response. Again, the questions I'm asking the leaders of these churches when I email them are 1. about how they came to believe in God and why they keep believing in him daily and 2. about why they lead and worship in that particular church/ denomination. In my email to this pastor, I also told him that I enjoyed a part of the sermon in which he described the process of going out to eat. He even made a quick comment on tipping, saying "at least I hope you leave at least a 15 or 20% tip." Christians are notorious for bad tipping in the restaurant business! (Oh, I work as a part time server)
So, here it is:
"I'm glad that you emailed me, and that you found your worship time with us to be meaningful. I guess it was just fortuitous (or perhaps Spirit led) that some of the sermon resonated with you, especially the server part. As someone who has bused tables, washed dishes, and even cooked food (Colonel Sanders friend chicken in high school), I have a special fondness for those who work in food preparation and distribution.
I was blessed to be raised in a Lutheran/Christian home by a father who was very faithful and dedicated to Christ and the church, and a mother whose faith was not quite as strong. I enjoyed attending church services and found a home in our youth group. Early on (7th grade), I started to think about becoming a minster, and my parents and home pastor encouraged me in that direction. By the time I was in high school, I was taking language classes which would help me as I started college prep for the ordained ministry. Four years of college and four more years of seminary led to my ordination at Immanuel Lutheran Church in L____ in 1974.
Like many Christians, I have had my share of "ups and downs" in faith throughout the years. The deaths of my parents threw me for a loop, but also made me hang on more tightly to the resurrection promises of Jesus. My faith was challenged, but also comforted, by a stronger commitment to proclaim the resurrection. That's why I always end the communion meal with a blessing which speaks about the new life or resurrected life which is ours through our faith in Christ. I have had health issues to deal with for many decades. The past two years, my wife, K___, (First's Director of Education and Youth) has gone through cancer treatments and a stem cell transplant for non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Events like these have made me rely more and more on the grace of God to help me through troubled times and trials, remembering, as Jesus' promised, that he would always be with me, whatever it is I am going through.
What I value about my Lutheran/Christian faith and identity is its emphasis on the Word of God, the Scriptures, as a wonderful (though sometimes perplexing) expression of God's love and forgiveness for me. Lutherans emphasize God's grace (as I described it last night in our new member class - G.R.A.C.E. God's Riches At Christ's Expense). God's overwhelming love showered upon me, when I don't deserve it. God granting me the gift of eternity, not because of anything I have accomplished, but because of what Jesus has accomplished for me. Lutherans emphasize faith in Christ Jesus, and I deeply appreciate that.
I also appreciate the Lutheran approach to worship, with its structured liturgy which emphasizes the preaching of the Word and the sharing of the Meal (communion). And, of course, I love the music of the hymns we sing. Martin Luther said that singing hymns was like praying, and I agree. I enjoy the rich hymnody we have, because the music and the words of hymns and songs elicit strong feelings within me which nourish my faith -- challenging me where I need to change or improve, comforting me where I need to be encouraged, and commissioning me to share my faith with others.
I could probably say a lot more, but this may be more than you really wanted!! Anyway, I do hope to see you again in worship here. I will pray that God leads you to a congregation where you can grow in your faith and where you can serve Christ and his people with the gifts and talents God has given you.
Peace and love in Christ,
Pastor L___
PS Two weeks ago (September 26), instead of preaching a sermon I shared with the congregation something called "Narrative Communion Liturgy" which explained Lutheran worship. If you would like to have a copy of that to read (it's about 7 type written pages), just email me your address and I will mail you a copy to peruse."
*****
With all due respect to a man that I believe really is very Biblical and kind, what do you think of his story? I have to admire his faith and commitment to God, throughout his ups and downs, as he said. But does it point to the existence of a God or more to a faithful man who has found comfort in belief? Let's dialogue here.
So, here it is:"I'm glad that you emailed me, and that you found your worship time with us to be meaningful. I guess it was just fortuitous (or perhaps Spirit led) that some of the sermon resonated with you, especially the server part. As someone who has bused tables, washed dishes, and even cooked food (Colonel Sanders friend chicken in high school), I have a special fondness for those who work in food preparation and distribution.
I was blessed to be raised in a Lutheran/Christian home by a father who was very faithful and dedicated to Christ and the church, and a mother whose faith was not quite as strong. I enjoyed attending church services and found a home in our youth group. Early on (7th grade), I started to think about becoming a minster, and my parents and home pastor encouraged me in that direction. By the time I was in high school, I was taking language classes which would help me as I started college prep for the ordained ministry. Four years of college and four more years of seminary led to my ordination at Immanuel Lutheran Church in L____ in 1974.
Like many Christians, I have had my share of "ups and downs" in faith throughout the years. The deaths of my parents threw me for a loop, but also made me hang on more tightly to the resurrection promises of Jesus. My faith was challenged, but also comforted, by a stronger commitment to proclaim the resurrection. That's why I always end the communion meal with a blessing which speaks about the new life or resurrected life which is ours through our faith in Christ. I have had health issues to deal with for many decades. The past two years, my wife, K___, (First's Director of Education and Youth) has gone through cancer treatments and a stem cell transplant for non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Events like these have made me rely more and more on the grace of God to help me through troubled times and trials, remembering, as Jesus' promised, that he would always be with me, whatever it is I am going through.
What I value about my Lutheran/Christian faith and identity is its emphasis on the Word of God, the Scriptures, as a wonderful (though sometimes perplexing) expression of God's love and forgiveness for me. Lutherans emphasize God's grace (as I described it last night in our new member class - G.R.A.C.E. God's Riches At Christ's Expense). God's overwhelming love showered upon me, when I don't deserve it. God granting me the gift of eternity, not because of anything I have accomplished, but because of what Jesus has accomplished for me. Lutherans emphasize faith in Christ Jesus, and I deeply appreciate that.
I also appreciate the Lutheran approach to worship, with its structured liturgy which emphasizes the preaching of the Word and the sharing of the Meal (communion). And, of course, I love the music of the hymns we sing. Martin Luther said that singing hymns was like praying, and I agree. I enjoy the rich hymnody we have, because the music and the words of hymns and songs elicit strong feelings within me which nourish my faith -- challenging me where I need to change or improve, comforting me where I need to be encouraged, and commissioning me to share my faith with others.
I could probably say a lot more, but this may be more than you really wanted!! Anyway, I do hope to see you again in worship here. I will pray that God leads you to a congregation where you can grow in your faith and where you can serve Christ and his people with the gifts and talents God has given you.
Peace and love in Christ,
Pastor L___
PS Two weeks ago (September 26), instead of preaching a sermon I shared with the congregation something called "Narrative Communion Liturgy" which explained Lutheran worship. If you would like to have a copy of that to read (it's about 7 type written pages), just email me your address and I will mail you a copy to peruse."
*****
With all due respect to a man that I believe really is very Biblical and kind, what do you think of his story? I have to admire his faith and commitment to God, throughout his ups and downs, as he said. But does it point to the existence of a God or more to a faithful man who has found comfort in belief? Let's dialogue here.
David Bazan's "Bearing Witness"
Today, I had to drive quite a bit, just throughout town, from place to place. David Bazan's solo album, which debuted about a year ago, but only became a part of my itunes library months ago, felt like the right thing to listen to. David used to be the lead singer and song-writer of Pedro the Lion, a Seattle-based Christian rock group. But in 2004, he had a crisis of faith, and through the painful process of sifting the truth from the stories, he has now reached the conclusion that everything he had believed so strongly for his 30 something years was a lie. In his album, Curse Your Branches, themes of doubt, disillusionment, deconversion, pain, alcoholism that went with this process, disappointment, and renewal are prevalent. I found the song "Bearing Witness" particularly poignant today when I was driving through my city's downtown.
I clung to miracles I have not seen
From ancient signatures I cannot read
Though I've repented I'm still tempted I admit
But it's not what bearing witness is
To full of fear and prophecy to see
The revelation right in front of me
So sick and tired of trying to make the pieces fit
cause it's not what bearing witness is
When the gap between
what I hoped would be
and what is makes me weep for my kids
I take a cleansing breath
and make a positive confession
But is that what bearing witness is?
Though it may alienate your family
and blur the lines of your identity
Let go of what you know
and honor what exists
Son, that's what bearing witness is
Daughter, that's what bearing witness is
Hear him sing it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qVXev6It94
Whether or not you think that David came to the right conclusion on Christianity and God, you have to admit that his honesty is extremely admirable. To move from belief to disillusionment, and reexamine everything is not for the faint hearted. I am encouraged by him.
From ancient signatures I cannot read
Though I've repented I'm still tempted I admit
But it's not what bearing witness is
To full of fear and prophecy to see
The revelation right in front of me
So sick and tired of trying to make the pieces fit
cause it's not what bearing witness is
When the gap between
what I hoped would be
and what is makes me weep for my kids
I take a cleansing breath
and make a positive confession
But is that what bearing witness is?
Though it may alienate your family
and blur the lines of your identity
Let go of what you know
and honor what exists
Son, that's what bearing witness is
Daughter, that's what bearing witness is
Hear him sing it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qVXev6It94
Whether or not you think that David came to the right conclusion on Christianity and God, you have to admit that his honesty is extremely admirable. To move from belief to disillusionment, and reexamine everything is not for the faint hearted. I am encouraged by him.
Monday, October 4, 2010
1st Lutheran
Well, yesterday I was scheduled to go to a Methodist church, but as my dear old Gramma says, all plans are subject to change. Due to running late, I went to a closer church, 1st Lutheran. In a few weeks, I'm scheduled to go there, so I'll go to the Methodist church instead :)
Having a background in (well, a number of denominations, but mostly) Evangelical Christianity, I am not well-practiced in liturgical services. One thing that stood out to me about this ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) church was the structure. It was apparent that the way I was being led in worship yesterday is the way the congregation is led each Sunday. I find value in that. There's the danger that the rituals and the shared prayers will lose their meaning (you're just trying to focus on reading what you need to read, not actually thinking about it), but I think bringing the worship and the message out of the pulpit and more into the hands of the congregation is good.
Actually, I was happy to find that there was a paper in the lobby on the liturgy at 1st Lutheran! An exerpt:
"First, a word about the word 'liturgy.' 'Liturgy' is from the ancient Greek leitourgia and means 'public work' or 'the work of the people.' When the people of God gather on Sunday mornings, we gather to do 'the work of the people,' the liturgy."
You know, I graduated in May. A year ago, I had it firmly set in my mind that after graduating, I wanted to commit two years of my life toward an organization called Jesuit Volunteer Corps. JVC has four core beliefs: community (you share a living space with other volunteers, and hopefully, a friendship), spirituality (it's a Catholic organization, so church, Bible studies, and prayer are ways JVC encourages tending to its volunteers' spiritual needs), social justice (yay!), and simple living (you don't make much money at all for your services, but instead of that fact being viewed as a bad thing, JVCers see it as helping them become closer in understanding to the poor they are serving). It didn't work out (and good thing! For several reasons), but the process of applying was tedious. I wrote about 20 typed pages in answers to several questions applicants needed to address. One of those prompts said "Describe your communal prayer practices." Here's my answer (from a year ago):
Having a background in (well, a number of denominations, but mostly) Evangelical Christianity, I am not well-practiced in liturgical services. One thing that stood out to me about this ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) church was the structure. It was apparent that the way I was being led in worship yesterday is the way the congregation is led each Sunday. I find value in that. There's the danger that the rituals and the shared prayers will lose their meaning (you're just trying to focus on reading what you need to read, not actually thinking about it), but I think bringing the worship and the message out of the pulpit and more into the hands of the congregation is good.
Actually, I was happy to find that there was a paper in the lobby on the liturgy at 1st Lutheran! An exerpt:
"First, a word about the word 'liturgy.' 'Liturgy' is from the ancient Greek leitourgia and means 'public work' or 'the work of the people.' When the people of God gather on Sunday mornings, we gather to do 'the work of the people,' the liturgy."
You know, I graduated in May. A year ago, I had it firmly set in my mind that after graduating, I wanted to commit two years of my life toward an organization called Jesuit Volunteer Corps. JVC has four core beliefs: community (you share a living space with other volunteers, and hopefully, a friendship), spirituality (it's a Catholic organization, so church, Bible studies, and prayer are ways JVC encourages tending to its volunteers' spiritual needs), social justice (yay!), and simple living (you don't make much money at all for your services, but instead of that fact being viewed as a bad thing, JVCers see it as helping them become closer in understanding to the poor they are serving). It didn't work out (and good thing! For several reasons), but the process of applying was tedious. I wrote about 20 typed pages in answers to several questions applicants needed to address. One of those prompts said "Describe your communal prayer practices." Here's my answer (from a year ago):
[My home church] is a great church, however, like any one church, some points are hit hard on while others are missed. The idea that each of us is to have a personal relationship with Christ is preached just about every Sunday in some way or another. The idea that the church should have a communal relationship with Christ is not. Often one of the pastors will lead the congregation in prayer, but public prayers in which all the church-goers recite a prayer simultaneously rarely, if ever, are part of a church service. Whenever I’ve been to a different church that is more liturgical and have been a part of a public prayer, I have enjoyed the thought that for at least that moment, everyone in the room is united in their prayer to God, assuming that people are not just mindlessly saying the words. I have been involved in a prayer team for my missionary friend. The people in this group get together after church on the third Sunday of each month, bring a different dish, dine and converse, then get to business by sharing things that [my missionary friend] needs prayer for. Finally, with prayer requests noted, we all bow our heads and pray one person at a time. This time of group prayer is good because I get the chance to hear the ways that others converse with the Lord, join in a prayer that seems to have more weight than one that I might pray individually and silently, and know that even if my mind drifts, the prayer is being carried on, which is not the case when I’m praying on my own. I am hesitant to say that I feel God’s presence or the Holy Spirit moving within, just because I’m not completely sure, however, when I do pray in group settings, I often feel some force from God that touches me and reminds me of His attentiveness to our prayers and His power in answering them somehow. I definitely want to pray communally more.
Since JVC is a Catholic organization, I think I felt the need to praise communal worship practices highly, but what I wrote was sincere. Maybe I'll share more of my 20 page, deeply personal and spiritual application later in the blog. It's funny having reminders like that of how firmly I believed, or tried to believe.
Back to 1st Lutheran: the liturgy paper broke down the basics of any service at that church. If anyone has been to a different Lutheran church, perhaps you can chime in about whether this rings a bell. This church says the four actions that make every Sunday truly worshipful are the: gathering, word, meal, and sending.
Gathering- everyone comes to church. Confession and forgiveness, gathering song, greeting, Hymn of Praise, Prayer of the Day. Word- this part of the sermon is not just the reading of one passage, but rather 3: one Old Testament passage, one New Testament passage, and one Gospel passage. The congregation just stands when the 3rd passage is read, because the gospel has words spoken by Jesus, so it is considered more sacred. After each scripture reading, the readers says: "This is the word of God," and the congregation says, "Thanks be to God." Then the sermon, the Hymn of the Day, recitation of The Apostles Creed, the prayers of intercession (unique to individuals in the congregation's prayer needs)- again, there is a reading in the bulletin and the individuals in the pews are active in reading the prayer out loud... one person's not doing all the work while others sit silently, then the Meal. This involves taking an offering, then someone making a musical offering to prepare the hearts of the church-goers for communion (ahem, "the Eucharist"). I like what this liturgy paper says about these monetary and musical offerings that precede the Eucharist: "Our main offering, however, is really the offering of ourselves, as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, as St. Paul encourages us in Romans." Then, a congressional singing of Great Thanksgiving which ends with the famous Holy, Holy, Holy. Finally, Words of Institution, The Lord's Prayer, and the taking of the Eucharist. Then, a communion song, a post communion blessing and prayer. Then, the Sending, complete with a blessing, sending song, and dismissal "Go in peace- Thanks be to God."
So there you have it. Similar to Catholocism in the rigid structuring of the service and in the valuing of liturgy and the Eucharist, but definitely Protestant (Luther!!) Although there were a fair amount of people there, the reverend noticed me and greeted me personally. I've sent him an email. Hopefully he gets back to me.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
I hate feeling this alone.
For the past 8 years, I've lived in the same town, gone to the same church, developed relationships with people who were like-minded and God-centered. My church was everything a Bible-believing Christian could want. My friends were (and are) wonderful people with whom I felt so comfortable expressing my honest thoughts, having a good laugh, and delving deeper into the Bible. I worked and went to school with non-Christians who became acquaintances, but never really friends. I didn't think it was possible to reach the deep level of friendship with non-Christians that I could with Christians, because if someone did not believe what I believed was the most important thing in life, if we couldn't share that belief in Jesus, they would never be able to understand me truly and encourage my spirit the way one of my Christian friends could. Jesus was so important to me that if I didn't have him in common with another, I really wouldn't be able to share a deep friendship with him/her.
Suddenly, I'm not sure about Jesus. And now, all those friends with whom I had so much in common, they feel far away. My best friends, the ones I've cultivated over my time here, they believe with everything inside of them that the Bible is true, that God hears their prayers, that people who don't at one point ask Jesus into their hearts will go to hell. I love them for their faith. They are the kinds of people who really, seriously believe in what they profess to believe, and they live their lives each day in an attempt to bring glory to God and lead people to him. I really love them.
It's just that I've had to keep this from them because of how firmly they believe. I knew that once the news that I, one of the former firm believers (yes, doubt is not new to me, but overall, I have been a very committed Christian and have genuinely believed in the divinity of Jesus, and I have felt certain that I was in a loving relationship with him) was going through a time of honest and real unbelief surfaced, my closest friends would be extremely concerned. I hate disappointing people. I kind of hoped that I could skate by for a while by just having fun with them, talking about how things are going, having the sort of friendship non-Christians have, ones that are real and loving, just without the Jesus talk. But my avoidance of Bible studies and my aversion to conversation having to do with quiet times, the Bible, God, or spiritual growth caused my good friends to wonder what was going on. Of course. I realized that I needed to be honest, even if it meant that things wouldn't be the same and that I would make them sad.
In the past week, I've told two good Christian friends of mine. Now, to say that I've dated a little would be an over-statement, but I do have some experience in that realm. Each time I've mustered up the strength to tell a friend about my religious status, I've been reminded of what it felt like to break up with someone. That hollow feeling in your stomach. The determination to just do it even though you'd rather just fast forward and have it done for you somehow. The knowledge that you need to be honest, but the immense fear and guilt you feel over hurting someone. Unlike breaking up, the people I'm bearing the "bad" news to in these cases don't feel rejected. They can't take what I'm telling them personally. But, they would tell you that what I'm expressing to them is bigger than ending any human relationship, and therefore, the weightiness of my confession hits them, perhaps staggers them. They probably take what I'm saying in with disappointment in me, pity for me, and anxiety over whether or not I'll come to the "right" conclusion in the end. Being the person to inflict all of those feelings onto someone is awful.
I'm just afraid that without the Bible studies, the hugs at church, and the spiritual openness, these close friendships will fall apart. I don't want to be viewed as someone to be saved. I just want to be loved and accepted, encouraged to embrace this new passion for religious understanding. I know that if friends react with worry, it just means that they: a. believe firmly in what the Bible teaches and b. love me and want what's best for me, which is, in their eyes, to be in an every-changing relationship with Jesus. Even if I decide that that's not what's best for me, I can appreciate that their believing it is, just means they really love me.
I don't know where this post is going. I guess I want to know who my new good friends will be if my old good friends fizzle out. I'm not about to change my course because of loneliness; I need to do this for myself. But I'm going to need some community. Hopefully, it will be a diverse body of friends, some old gems and some new ones. Please, just love me for what I am, not for what you hope I'll be. That's all.
For the past 8 years, I've lived in the same town, gone to the same church, developed relationships with people who were like-minded and God-centered. My church was everything a Bible-believing Christian could want. My friends were (and are) wonderful people with whom I felt so comfortable expressing my honest thoughts, having a good laugh, and delving deeper into the Bible. I worked and went to school with non-Christians who became acquaintances, but never really friends. I didn't think it was possible to reach the deep level of friendship with non-Christians that I could with Christians, because if someone did not believe what I believed was the most important thing in life, if we couldn't share that belief in Jesus, they would never be able to understand me truly and encourage my spirit the way one of my Christian friends could. Jesus was so important to me that if I didn't have him in common with another, I really wouldn't be able to share a deep friendship with him/her.
Suddenly, I'm not sure about Jesus. And now, all those friends with whom I had so much in common, they feel far away. My best friends, the ones I've cultivated over my time here, they believe with everything inside of them that the Bible is true, that God hears their prayers, that people who don't at one point ask Jesus into their hearts will go to hell. I love them for their faith. They are the kinds of people who really, seriously believe in what they profess to believe, and they live their lives each day in an attempt to bring glory to God and lead people to him. I really love them.
It's just that I've had to keep this from them because of how firmly they believe. I knew that once the news that I, one of the former firm believers (yes, doubt is not new to me, but overall, I have been a very committed Christian and have genuinely believed in the divinity of Jesus, and I have felt certain that I was in a loving relationship with him) was going through a time of honest and real unbelief surfaced, my closest friends would be extremely concerned. I hate disappointing people. I kind of hoped that I could skate by for a while by just having fun with them, talking about how things are going, having the sort of friendship non-Christians have, ones that are real and loving, just without the Jesus talk. But my avoidance of Bible studies and my aversion to conversation having to do with quiet times, the Bible, God, or spiritual growth caused my good friends to wonder what was going on. Of course. I realized that I needed to be honest, even if it meant that things wouldn't be the same and that I would make them sad.
In the past week, I've told two good Christian friends of mine. Now, to say that I've dated a little would be an over-statement, but I do have some experience in that realm. Each time I've mustered up the strength to tell a friend about my religious status, I've been reminded of what it felt like to break up with someone. That hollow feeling in your stomach. The determination to just do it even though you'd rather just fast forward and have it done for you somehow. The knowledge that you need to be honest, but the immense fear and guilt you feel over hurting someone. Unlike breaking up, the people I'm bearing the "bad" news to in these cases don't feel rejected. They can't take what I'm telling them personally. But, they would tell you that what I'm expressing to them is bigger than ending any human relationship, and therefore, the weightiness of my confession hits them, perhaps staggers them. They probably take what I'm saying in with disappointment in me, pity for me, and anxiety over whether or not I'll come to the "right" conclusion in the end. Being the person to inflict all of those feelings onto someone is awful.
I'm just afraid that without the Bible studies, the hugs at church, and the spiritual openness, these close friendships will fall apart. I don't want to be viewed as someone to be saved. I just want to be loved and accepted, encouraged to embrace this new passion for religious understanding. I know that if friends react with worry, it just means that they: a. believe firmly in what the Bible teaches and b. love me and want what's best for me, which is, in their eyes, to be in an every-changing relationship with Jesus. Even if I decide that that's not what's best for me, I can appreciate that their believing it is, just means they really love me.
I don't know where this post is going. I guess I want to know who my new good friends will be if my old good friends fizzle out. I'm not about to change my course because of loneliness; I need to do this for myself. But I'm going to need some community. Hopefully, it will be a diverse body of friends, some old gems and some new ones. Please, just love me for what I am, not for what you hope I'll be. That's all.
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