"There are two reasons people become religious... To escape mystery... And to approach mystery." -- Scott Peck
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Le Freak/So Chic
How in the world can I ever explain disco, especially to a group of people, many of whom are too young to have experienced it? It’s hard to believe that people—maybe even your mom or dad—went out in public with feathered hair, platform shoes, and bell–bottoms. They did dance moves The Hustle and The Bump. They listened to songs like Le Freak/So Chic, YMCA, and Stayin’ Alive on 8-Track.
If you weren’t born yet, I’m sure my description of the disco era sounds like some crazy nightmare I conjured up the last time I was in the grip of an especially high fever. But it wasn’t. Disco was about America being caught in the grip of Saturday Night Fever. For a few years in the 1970s an incessant rhythm section provided the soundtrack to our lives.
There was a club in New York City that was at the very epicenter of the disco trend, and it was called Studio 54. Everybody that was anybody was there, and the club’s exclusivity was a big part of its draw. On any given night about 1500 people would be milling around outside, and one of the club’s owners would stand outside to personally admit people or turn them away.
You’re too ugly! Get out of here!
Go get some new clothes!
You’re too fat! Come back when you’re on a diet!
But if you were an heiress or a movie star, you’d be motioned in. And people who were neither rich nor famous still hung around outside, because if you were especially attractive you still might get lucky and be admitted to the club. There are stories of all kinds of crazy things people would do to get into Studio 54: women dressing up as Wonder Woman, people taking off their clothes, guys trying to bribe the owners into letting them in, people ditching their dates when only one of them was chosen…
It’s amazing to me that people would put up with that kind of abuse just to get into a disco club. But Studio 54 was more than that. Admittance was the ultimate status symbol of New York Society. It was an honor. You were one of the rich, famous, or beautiful people. Or maybe all three.
Of course, to have your entrance to the club barred was the ultimate slam. Sometimes the gossips columns would run a story about an up-and-coming actor or model that was inexplicably turned away. I guess so-and-so isn’t as famous as they thought they were! What a dishonor.
Honor and dishonor. The in-crowd and the out-group. The guest list and the z-list. Making reputations and breaking reputations. And in the middle of the party, surrounded by the flashing lights and incessant beat, we’ll find Jesus.
One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched... When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 14: 1, 7 – 11)
Nobody likes a social climber, right? Jesus is giving some common sense advice that wouldn’t be out of place in a Dale Carnegie book. But there’s something more there—Jesus is telling a story to illustrate a spiritual truth. What he’s really talking about is the Kingdom of God.
Jesus is traveling around the countryside telling everyone who will listen about a God who loves them and wants to show them mercy and has such a wonderful new way of life for them. And the tax collectors, and the drunks, and the whores, and the two time losers embrace him because they know he’s the only second chance they have. But the Pharisees, the most religious people of all, can’t see the Kingdom of God even when it’s right in front of them. Isn’t it ironic that the very people who claimed to have the most profound spiritual insight turned out to be the most blind of all? Jesus makes the same point by telling a different story a little later on:
Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'
"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 18: 10 – 14)
Rather than embrace the Christ, the Pharisees stayed secure in their own reputations.
Jesus’ story still speaks to us today. We’re not part of the family of God because of how much we know, how devout we are, or because of our connections. The only reason that we find ourselves part of the family of God, and that is the mercy shown to us by Jesus Christ.
I’m working my way through the book Celtic Daily Prayer. I’d like to quote Tuesday’s reading:
“’Pray for me. I ask you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me.’ If ever you go to a black church that’s a phrase you’ll hear almost every person use when they stand up or come forward to testify—sometimes it’s like punctuation, not heart-felt at all, but it’s still an important reminder.
“If you attend mass you will say, ‘I ask… all the angels and saints and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.’
“And George MacLeod, founder of the Iona Community, as he quotes the old spiritual, echoes the same words:
It’s not my brother or my sister
but it’s me, O Lord:
standing in the need of prayer.
We are so warm in our own self-esteem
that we freeze the folks around us.
We get so high in our estimation
that we stand isolated on a mountain
top of self-righteousness.
that is why You came: Lord Jesus:
not to save the lecherous but to turn
the righteous to repentance
And it is me, O Lord.”
Let’s continue on in starting in verse 12:
Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." (Luke 14: 12 – 14)
Everybody and their sister are trying to grow their church, because the church in America is shrinking fast. There are all kinds of books and techniques about how to reverse this trend and have a "successful" church. We all want to find young families that will tithe, and serve, and fit in. And Christ takes our carefully prepared invitation list and crumples it up and tosses it in the trash can. He’s not going to be screening people at the door, and he doesn’t want us to, either. “Whosoever…”
Ultimately, we don’t need to worry about seating arrangements in the party, because we’re all seated at one table, together. And there’s only one person in the place of honor—Jesus Christ.
If you weren’t born yet, I’m sure my description of the disco era sounds like some crazy nightmare I conjured up the last time I was in the grip of an especially high fever. But it wasn’t. Disco was about America being caught in the grip of Saturday Night Fever. For a few years in the 1970s an incessant rhythm section provided the soundtrack to our lives.
There was a club in New York City that was at the very epicenter of the disco trend, and it was called Studio 54. Everybody that was anybody was there, and the club’s exclusivity was a big part of its draw. On any given night about 1500 people would be milling around outside, and one of the club’s owners would stand outside to personally admit people or turn them away.
You’re too ugly! Get out of here!
Go get some new clothes!
You’re too fat! Come back when you’re on a diet!
But if you were an heiress or a movie star, you’d be motioned in. And people who were neither rich nor famous still hung around outside, because if you were especially attractive you still might get lucky and be admitted to the club. There are stories of all kinds of crazy things people would do to get into Studio 54: women dressing up as Wonder Woman, people taking off their clothes, guys trying to bribe the owners into letting them in, people ditching their dates when only one of them was chosen…
It’s amazing to me that people would put up with that kind of abuse just to get into a disco club. But Studio 54 was more than that. Admittance was the ultimate status symbol of New York Society. It was an honor. You were one of the rich, famous, or beautiful people. Or maybe all three.
Of course, to have your entrance to the club barred was the ultimate slam. Sometimes the gossips columns would run a story about an up-and-coming actor or model that was inexplicably turned away. I guess so-and-so isn’t as famous as they thought they were! What a dishonor.
Honor and dishonor. The in-crowd and the out-group. The guest list and the z-list. Making reputations and breaking reputations. And in the middle of the party, surrounded by the flashing lights and incessant beat, we’ll find Jesus.
One Sabbath, when Jesus went to eat in the house of a prominent Pharisee, he was being carefully watched... When he noticed how the guests picked the places of honor at the table, he told them this parable: "When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 14: 1, 7 – 11)
Nobody likes a social climber, right? Jesus is giving some common sense advice that wouldn’t be out of place in a Dale Carnegie book. But there’s something more there—Jesus is telling a story to illustrate a spiritual truth. What he’s really talking about is the Kingdom of God.
Jesus is traveling around the countryside telling everyone who will listen about a God who loves them and wants to show them mercy and has such a wonderful new way of life for them. And the tax collectors, and the drunks, and the whores, and the two time losers embrace him because they know he’s the only second chance they have. But the Pharisees, the most religious people of all, can’t see the Kingdom of God even when it’s right in front of them. Isn’t it ironic that the very people who claimed to have the most profound spiritual insight turned out to be the most blind of all? Jesus makes the same point by telling a different story a little later on:
Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'
"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.'
"I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." (Luke 18: 10 – 14)
Rather than embrace the Christ, the Pharisees stayed secure in their own reputations.
Jesus’ story still speaks to us today. We’re not part of the family of God because of how much we know, how devout we are, or because of our connections. The only reason that we find ourselves part of the family of God, and that is the mercy shown to us by Jesus Christ.
I’m working my way through the book Celtic Daily Prayer. I’d like to quote Tuesday’s reading:
“’Pray for me. I ask you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me.’ If ever you go to a black church that’s a phrase you’ll hear almost every person use when they stand up or come forward to testify—sometimes it’s like punctuation, not heart-felt at all, but it’s still an important reminder.
“If you attend mass you will say, ‘I ask… all the angels and saints and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.’
“And George MacLeod, founder of the Iona Community, as he quotes the old spiritual, echoes the same words:
It’s not my brother or my sister
but it’s me, O Lord:
standing in the need of prayer.
We are so warm in our own self-esteem
that we freeze the folks around us.
We get so high in our estimation
that we stand isolated on a mountain
top of self-righteousness.
that is why You came: Lord Jesus:
not to save the lecherous but to turn
the righteous to repentance
And it is me, O Lord.”
Let’s continue on in starting in verse 12:
Then Jesus said to his host, "When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous." (Luke 14: 12 – 14)
Everybody and their sister are trying to grow their church, because the church in America is shrinking fast. There are all kinds of books and techniques about how to reverse this trend and have a "successful" church. We all want to find young families that will tithe, and serve, and fit in. And Christ takes our carefully prepared invitation list and crumples it up and tosses it in the trash can. He’s not going to be screening people at the door, and he doesn’t want us to, either. “Whosoever…”
Ultimately, we don’t need to worry about seating arrangements in the party, because we’re all seated at one table, together. And there’s only one person in the place of honor—Jesus Christ.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Quote of the Week: Prayer
"Our problem is that we assume prayer is something to master the way we master algebra or auto mechanics. That puts us in the 'on-top' position, where we are competent and in control. But when praying, we come 'underneath,' where we calmly and deliberately surrender control and become incompetent…The truth of the matter is, we all come to prayer with a tangled mass of motives – altruistic and selfish, merciful and hateful, loving and bitter. Frankly, this side of eternity we will never unravel the good from the bad, the pure from the impure. God is big enough to receive us with all our mixture. That is what grace means, and not only are we saved by it, we live by it as well. And we pray by it." -- Richard J. Foster
Monday, August 23, 2004
No Reedie Ze English
Who ever thought it would be a good idea for churches have signs out front? Probably the Devil.
The sign out front of our building used to display useful messages to the people driving by, such as the phone number of our women's shelter, the hours our food pantry is open, or the date and time of a special meeting. Sometimes it would display a Psalm or a simple prayer, like Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace.
But now our sign has been commandeered by the "Finger Pointing Brigade" who feels that it's their duty to make passing motorists feel as guilty as possible. Recent signs have included:
I AM NEVER A FAILURE UNTIL I BEGIN BLAMING OTHERS
THE EXPRESSION OF CHRISTIAN CHARACTER ISN'T GOOD DOING BUT IN CHRISTLIKENESS
SEVEN DAYS WITHOUT PRAYER MAKES ONE WEAK
Might as well erect a statue of St. Francis with his middle finger up.
When did Christians get the idea that pithy little sayings were somehow a religious duty that needed to be fulfilled on every sign, bumper sticker, and t-shirt they could get their pious little hands on? Do they really think that they're changing the world by being obnoxious?
This week's signage takes the cake:
IF YOUR SOUL DOESN'T HAVE A SUNDAY, IT WILL SOON BECOME AN ORPHAN.
Uh, thank you William Shakespeare. Methinks not.
Will someone -- a theologian or English teacher -- please e-mail me and enlighten me as to what this sign means? Because I have absolutely no clue, even after reading it a dozen times. And if I can't decipher it -- and I'm one of the pastors for Pete's sake -- what do the thousands of people who drive by our intersection everyday think?
The sign out front of our building used to display useful messages to the people driving by, such as the phone number of our women's shelter, the hours our food pantry is open, or the date and time of a special meeting. Sometimes it would display a Psalm or a simple prayer, like Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace.
But now our sign has been commandeered by the "Finger Pointing Brigade" who feels that it's their duty to make passing motorists feel as guilty as possible. Recent signs have included:
I AM NEVER A FAILURE UNTIL I BEGIN BLAMING OTHERS
THE EXPRESSION OF CHRISTIAN CHARACTER ISN'T GOOD DOING BUT IN CHRISTLIKENESS
SEVEN DAYS WITHOUT PRAYER MAKES ONE WEAK
Might as well erect a statue of St. Francis with his middle finger up.
When did Christians get the idea that pithy little sayings were somehow a religious duty that needed to be fulfilled on every sign, bumper sticker, and t-shirt they could get their pious little hands on? Do they really think that they're changing the world by being obnoxious?
This week's signage takes the cake:
IF YOUR SOUL DOESN'T HAVE A SUNDAY, IT WILL SOON BECOME AN ORPHAN.
Uh, thank you William Shakespeare. Methinks not.
Will someone -- a theologian or English teacher -- please e-mail me and enlighten me as to what this sign means? Because I have absolutely no clue, even after reading it a dozen times. And if I can't decipher it -- and I'm one of the pastors for Pete's sake -- what do the thousands of people who drive by our intersection everyday think?
Sunday, August 22, 2004
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Monday
Monday was the Experiment House crew's day to exhale. We had concluded our meetings the night before, so we had the whole day to mix it up with the campers and staff. It was nice for Lamont and I to have some unstructured time with people, and it was interesting to see where some of those conversations ended up.
The big event of the day was a trip to The Gorge at Watkins Glen. We walked all 800 steps (1.4 miles) to the top. The forest, caves, rapids, and waterfalls. It was so beautiful -- just like Middle Earth except for all the pop bottles floating downstream. When I got to the top I took off my shoes and socks and walked around in the grass soaking up the sunshine. I think the bliss I was experiencing was probably what dogs feel like all the time.
What else did I do that day? Drove back to camp with the windows down listening to jazz and big band music. Snuck in a quick nap. I took a hot bath -- not because I needed to, but just because I could. And just when I didn't think the day could possibly get any better, the camp directors took it to the next level by treating us to dinner at the Mongolian Grill in Geneva NY.
After a day like this it was hard to imagine going home!
P.S. We all adopted Hobbit names for our hike at Watkins Glen. My name was Hornschwaggle Phartknocker.
The big event of the day was a trip to The Gorge at Watkins Glen. We walked all 800 steps (1.4 miles) to the top. The forest, caves, rapids, and waterfalls. It was so beautiful -- just like Middle Earth except for all the pop bottles floating downstream. When I got to the top I took off my shoes and socks and walked around in the grass soaking up the sunshine. I think the bliss I was experiencing was probably what dogs feel like all the time.
What else did I do that day? Drove back to camp with the windows down listening to jazz and big band music. Snuck in a quick nap. I took a hot bath -- not because I needed to, but just because I could. And just when I didn't think the day could possibly get any better, the camp directors took it to the next level by treating us to dinner at the Mongolian Grill in Geneva NY.
After a day like this it was hard to imagine going home!
P.S. We all adopted Hobbit names for our hike at Watkins Glen. My name was Hornschwaggle Phartknocker.
Saturday, August 21, 2004
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Sunday
The Experiment House crew was well-settled in to camp and condo by Sunday. Although we wouldn't leave camp until Tuesday morning, this was our last day of doing program. Lamont spoke in the morning meeting about being afraid; I spoke in the evening about warning signs your faith is waning. All lot of people from the camp staff volunteered to help out, which enriched the meetings and made our job easier.
Content in the knowledge that the evening meeting was already put together, I succumbed to one of life's greatest pleasures -- The Sunday Afternoon Nap. I went into the bedroom to read a paperback, but with the sunshine warming me through the big bay windows and the sound of water gently lapping the shore... I think I read about one page that afternoon and slept almost three hours.
Sunday is the day of rest, after all. It's just that some Sundays are more restful than others...
Content in the knowledge that the evening meeting was already put together, I succumbed to one of life's greatest pleasures -- The Sunday Afternoon Nap. I went into the bedroom to read a paperback, but with the sunshine warming me through the big bay windows and the sound of water gently lapping the shore... I think I read about one page that afternoon and slept almost three hours.
Sunday is the day of rest, after all. It's just that some Sundays are more restful than others...
Thursday, August 19, 2004
All Bent Out of Shape
Do you consider yourself an upright, law-abiding citizen? Do you walk the straight–and–narrow? Be on your guard, because there are a lot of laws on the books right here in New York State that you may not even be aware that you’re breaking!
Now there’s a good story to be told about the genesis of each and every one of those laws. I’m sure that if we had the full history we’d find out that there was a logical reason for the law in a specific time in a specific locale. (I’m sure today that the State Supreme Court could strike these laws down as being overly broad or already covered by existing laws, but why waste our tax dollars? Especially when the highway department already is doing such a good job of it!) If you ever want to browse around some funny stuff like this, check out www.dumblaws.com.
England has a lot of laws like this because their judicial history goes back so far. For instance, you can’t have an open flame on a boat on the Thames. Well, when that law was passed, an open flame would be a sign of aggression and the people on the boat were obviously going to set fire to Londontown. But what about today? Wouldn’t it seem crazy if the London Police arrested a chef on board one of the many dinner cruises that go up and down the Thames?
Our reading this morning is from the Gospel of Saint Luke, Chapter 13. We’ll begin at verse 10.
On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. (Luke 13: 10 – 13)
I’m going to remember this woman the next time I’m having a hard time getting out of bed on a Sunday morning. She was a crippled woman, bent over like a question mark. Over the course of eighteen years she had gone from looking people in the face to just being able to see her feet in the dirt. It must have been hard to navigate around town; it must have been a physical hardship to get there. That’s not even mentioning her emotional hardships—in her culture, a person who developed a handicap or sickness would have been viewed as someone God was punishing for a sin. But despite all of her sufferings she was at the synagogue, worshipping. She was faithful above and beyond the call of duty.
Jesus sees her and reacts with compassion—“Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” He touches her, and suddenly her body changes from the shape of a question mark into an exclamation point! She praises God! It’s party time!
Or is it? There’s always one Debbie Downer in the crowd! Look at verse 14.
Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”
The Sabbath. We commonly call it the day of rest. In the Book of Genesis, Chapter 2, we read that God created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he rests. I was taught that God established a pattern for us to follow. I still think that’s a valid argument.
That’s where the synagogue ruler is coming from. He knows his scriptures. It’s the Sabbath. Nobody can do any work—that’s the rules. And they apply to everybody—including this Jesus guy.
But listen to what I found in Deuteronomy, Chapter 5. Moses is giving the Ten Commandments to the Israelites. Listen to this little bit he says after telling them to keep the Sabbath:
Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the LORD your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.
The Sabbath isn’t just some weird regulation that we keep to somehow placate God… It’s not a huge burden meant to weigh us down. It’s about liberation from bondage! When the Jews were slaves they were on the leash of the Egyptians twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, including Thanksgiving and Christmas. God delivered them and said on the seventh day no one in Israel is at anybody’s beck-and-call. Doesn’t matter if you’re the richest man or poorest pauper everyone experiences liberation that day. I’m not implying that this contradicts the on the seventh day God rested bit, I’m just saying that this scripture puts it in a little different light.
The legalists had turned the Sabbath into just another way to point the finger at people and condemn them, while God intended it to be a day of celebration where Israel could say look how much better it is to serve God than some Pharaoh!
When Jesus healed this crippled woman, wasn’t he really delivering her from bondage? Let’s move onto Jesus’ response, starting in verse 15.
The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?"
It’s questionable who was more in bondage that morning—the crippled woman or the people that were so dogmatic about their religion that they weren’t free to praise God for the miracle done in their midst? In a similar situation in Matthew, Chapter 12, Jesus feels the need to remind the finger-pointers that it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
Does God want religious people or compassionate people? Does God want religious people or loving people? Does God want religious people or merciful people? I’d like to say those all those terms are always synonymous, but human history demonstrates otherwise. Those times in my life when I’ve let my nice, tidy, color-in-the-lines religion create a wall between me and someone in need I have been just as truly bound as if I had a crippling disease. Christians should have clean hearts, but we should be willing to get our hands dirty when we can make a difference.
I presume Jesus could have waited until the next day to heal this woman. He wouldn’t have rocked the boat with anyone. After eighteen years, what difference would another twenty-four hours have made? But Jesus didn’t hesitate when he saw a burden he could lift. As servants of Christ, should we do any different? We can waffle all day and all night the best course of action—but that doesn’t lift anyone’s burden. In the words of Martin Luther King:
Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question, "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right. (Address to SCLC Ministers)
A spontaneous celebration was squelched by the most religious people in the room. The Bible says [that when Jesus confronted them] all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. Let’s not get so dogmatic in our thinking that we miss what’s obvious to the average Joe in the street.
Life presents us with some pretty difficult decisions. We will make mistakes. But in those moments when we’re so conflicted about what’s the right thing to do, let’s decide to ere on the side of compassion.
- You can be fined $25 for flirting.
- You can get the death penalty for jumping off a building.
- You can’t walk around with an ice-cream cone in your pocket on a Sunday.
- You can’t wear slippers after 10 pm.
Now there’s a good story to be told about the genesis of each and every one of those laws. I’m sure that if we had the full history we’d find out that there was a logical reason for the law in a specific time in a specific locale. (I’m sure today that the State Supreme Court could strike these laws down as being overly broad or already covered by existing laws, but why waste our tax dollars? Especially when the highway department already is doing such a good job of it!) If you ever want to browse around some funny stuff like this, check out www.dumblaws.com.
England has a lot of laws like this because their judicial history goes back so far. For instance, you can’t have an open flame on a boat on the Thames. Well, when that law was passed, an open flame would be a sign of aggression and the people on the boat were obviously going to set fire to Londontown. But what about today? Wouldn’t it seem crazy if the London Police arrested a chef on board one of the many dinner cruises that go up and down the Thames?
Our reading this morning is from the Gospel of Saint Luke, Chapter 13. We’ll begin at verse 10.
On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. (Luke 13: 10 – 13)
I’m going to remember this woman the next time I’m having a hard time getting out of bed on a Sunday morning. She was a crippled woman, bent over like a question mark. Over the course of eighteen years she had gone from looking people in the face to just being able to see her feet in the dirt. It must have been hard to navigate around town; it must have been a physical hardship to get there. That’s not even mentioning her emotional hardships—in her culture, a person who developed a handicap or sickness would have been viewed as someone God was punishing for a sin. But despite all of her sufferings she was at the synagogue, worshipping. She was faithful above and beyond the call of duty.
Jesus sees her and reacts with compassion—“Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” He touches her, and suddenly her body changes from the shape of a question mark into an exclamation point! She praises God! It’s party time!
Or is it? There’s always one Debbie Downer in the crowd! Look at verse 14.
Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”
The Sabbath. We commonly call it the day of rest. In the Book of Genesis, Chapter 2, we read that God created the world in six days, and on the seventh day he rests. I was taught that God established a pattern for us to follow. I still think that’s a valid argument.
That’s where the synagogue ruler is coming from. He knows his scriptures. It’s the Sabbath. Nobody can do any work—that’s the rules. And they apply to everybody—including this Jesus guy.
But listen to what I found in Deuteronomy, Chapter 5. Moses is giving the Ten Commandments to the Israelites. Listen to this little bit he says after telling them to keep the Sabbath:
Remember that you were slaves in Egypt and that the LORD your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the LORD your God has commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.
The Sabbath isn’t just some weird regulation that we keep to somehow placate God… It’s not a huge burden meant to weigh us down. It’s about liberation from bondage! When the Jews were slaves they were on the leash of the Egyptians twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, including Thanksgiving and Christmas. God delivered them and said on the seventh day no one in Israel is at anybody’s beck-and-call. Doesn’t matter if you’re the richest man or poorest pauper everyone experiences liberation that day. I’m not implying that this contradicts the on the seventh day God rested bit, I’m just saying that this scripture puts it in a little different light.
The legalists had turned the Sabbath into just another way to point the finger at people and condemn them, while God intended it to be a day of celebration where Israel could say look how much better it is to serve God than some Pharaoh!
When Jesus healed this crippled woman, wasn’t he really delivering her from bondage? Let’s move onto Jesus’ response, starting in verse 15.
The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?"
It’s questionable who was more in bondage that morning—the crippled woman or the people that were so dogmatic about their religion that they weren’t free to praise God for the miracle done in their midst? In a similar situation in Matthew, Chapter 12, Jesus feels the need to remind the finger-pointers that it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
Does God want religious people or compassionate people? Does God want religious people or loving people? Does God want religious people or merciful people? I’d like to say those all those terms are always synonymous, but human history demonstrates otherwise. Those times in my life when I’ve let my nice, tidy, color-in-the-lines religion create a wall between me and someone in need I have been just as truly bound as if I had a crippling disease. Christians should have clean hearts, but we should be willing to get our hands dirty when we can make a difference.
I presume Jesus could have waited until the next day to heal this woman. He wouldn’t have rocked the boat with anyone. After eighteen years, what difference would another twenty-four hours have made? But Jesus didn’t hesitate when he saw a burden he could lift. As servants of Christ, should we do any different? We can waffle all day and all night the best course of action—but that doesn’t lift anyone’s burden. In the words of Martin Luther King:
Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question, "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right. (Address to SCLC Ministers)
A spontaneous celebration was squelched by the most religious people in the room. The Bible says [that when Jesus confronted them] all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. Let’s not get so dogmatic in our thinking that we miss what’s obvious to the average Joe in the street.
Life presents us with some pretty difficult decisions. We will make mistakes. But in those moments when we’re so conflicted about what’s the right thing to do, let’s decide to ere on the side of compassion.
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Saturday
I woke up early Saturday morning before everyone else in the condo. I quietly collected my Bible, my copy of Celtic Daily Prayer, and my notebook and made my way out onto the balcony. Sitting there overlooking Keuka Lake it was hard to believe that just 24 hours earlier I was rushing around like a madman in Jamestown. It seemed like a whole different life.
It's been a real struggle for me to center myself in prayer lately. An ongoing conflict at work keeps me distracted at all times. It's even the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning. I try to stay focused and make the best of it. The gist of Saturday's readings was God works in people's lives for good. I meditated on that, although I have to admit that at that moment I felt less than confident!
Lamont was in charge of the morning meeting, which went off flawlessly. Icebreakers, visual aides, and an easily remembered sermon -- the L Girl was in the house! She talked about, well, talking, which is a good topic for a generation of kids raised on sitcoms which portray put-downs as a normal part of family life.
I found that what I was most enjoying about the weekend was the collaboration with friends. Mr. X started this riff about an "extreme youth group" in a Southern Bible-belt type of delivery that eventually turned into a brainstorming session with Lamont, and A-- and S--, two women from our church who are working at camp for the summer. It evolved into a hilarious skit that they performed in the evening meeting to great success! It was so easy, and I wish we had time to do this kind of stuff at home!
I'm still trying to figure out what happened on Saturday night. It just seemed to me like the whole thing was lurching towards disaster:
All of this stuff just threw me off, and I didn't feel like anything I said was connecting with the teens. I think the premise was good: We can't change the past, the future isn't here, all we can do is make the best of our lives in the present. But the hastily rewritten sermon was all backwards -- serious at the front and funny at the rear... It sucked...
I muddled through to the end and mentioned that we were going to be having a time of prayer, and that if they wanted, they could come down to the altar for prayer. While Mending Point came on stage to play a song, I sat down on the edge of the stage and prayed for the kids. I was supposed to take the mic at the end of the band's song and close the meeting in prayer, but the band just kept on playing. I looked up and there were dozens of kids lining the altar and the surrounding floor. Some kids were crying out their hurts, some were deep in prayer, some had a look of deep serenity about them that only God can impart. Needless to say, the meeting went a little longer that night than planned...
I guess my point is that even in a roomful of distracted teenagers, God works for the good of people despite the shortcomings of his messengers.
It's been a real struggle for me to center myself in prayer lately. An ongoing conflict at work keeps me distracted at all times. It's even the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning. I try to stay focused and make the best of it. The gist of Saturday's readings was God works in people's lives for good. I meditated on that, although I have to admit that at that moment I felt less than confident!
Lamont was in charge of the morning meeting, which went off flawlessly. Icebreakers, visual aides, and an easily remembered sermon -- the L Girl was in the house! She talked about, well, talking, which is a good topic for a generation of kids raised on sitcoms which portray put-downs as a normal part of family life.
I found that what I was most enjoying about the weekend was the collaboration with friends. Mr. X started this riff about an "extreme youth group" in a Southern Bible-belt type of delivery that eventually turned into a brainstorming session with Lamont, and A-- and S--, two women from our church who are working at camp for the summer. It evolved into a hilarious skit that they performed in the evening meeting to great success! It was so easy, and I wish we had time to do this kind of stuff at home!
I'm still trying to figure out what happened on Saturday night. It just seemed to me like the whole thing was lurching towards disaster:
- I got cold feet about my message and rewrote it an hour before the meeting.
- Due to a miscommunication error, the order of service changed a few times right before it started.
- I had a technical problem right at the beginning of my talk -- a song that I was supposed to be referring to in the opening lines wasn't playing.
All of this stuff just threw me off, and I didn't feel like anything I said was connecting with the teens. I think the premise was good: We can't change the past, the future isn't here, all we can do is make the best of our lives in the present. But the hastily rewritten sermon was all backwards -- serious at the front and funny at the rear... It sucked...
I muddled through to the end and mentioned that we were going to be having a time of prayer, and that if they wanted, they could come down to the altar for prayer. While Mending Point came on stage to play a song, I sat down on the edge of the stage and prayed for the kids. I was supposed to take the mic at the end of the band's song and close the meeting in prayer, but the band just kept on playing. I looked up and there were dozens of kids lining the altar and the surrounding floor. Some kids were crying out their hurts, some were deep in prayer, some had a look of deep serenity about them that only God can impart. Needless to say, the meeting went a little longer that night than planned...
I guess my point is that even in a roomful of distracted teenagers, God works for the good of people despite the shortcomings of his messengers.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
LPC Day 1
You can expect a day to go a certain way - but it rarely does. When I woke up early for our trip to LPC, I was determined to not allow the little glitches get to me. But when we got to the church, all we seemed to face were delays. But as I gathered things and greeted parents I knew it would be alright once we got on the main highway. Oh how I couldn't wait to get out on the open road.
The team worked together so well from the first moment. Shuffling to pick up a volunteer, located our van and trailer to transport 13 teenage campers on Friday the 13th. After medication, money and head checks were complete (and all-13 were clean); you would have thought I had won the lottery. Yahoo!
I almost lost my jubilant mood after having to return back to town two times for various items, but after a few miles of highway and happy chatter with the passengers in the back seat - I was a millionaire again.
The drive went fast, stopping for gas and pop-tarts just once. Camp registration went alright. There was a scramble to retain resistant documents for a few campers, but I was going to be there the whole session. So I waited happily while chatting with old friends and joking with two of my unregistered imaginary campers. We were all happy when the faxes came through and they became real live campers, with cabins and counselors and canteen cards.
It was a new experience for I. F. and I taking along our two kids to Teen Camp. The Director promised child care for them, so we decided to give it a try. We found out that we were staying in the apartment directly above the Director's. Two bedrooms, a pull out sofa for our volunteer, a microwave for our popcorn habit, and a small sitting area outside of the sliding glass door that was perfect for staring at stars while listening to the lake water lap the small shore. What a perfect and peaceful place for us to stay while working with unpredictable and energetic teens.
Friday night we had the first meeting we were responsible for putting on. We played a game called "Who Am I" with the almost 90 campers. Our daughter H - is a tween. Not a kid and not quite a teen, so she assisted us with props and various supporting jobs. So as she ran in front of the stage with the poster-board " Who AM I?" sign, I had a such a happy feeling knowing that we truly were a team. We all had a purpose for being there.
B- mc'ed the game and I played Vanna. B- gave his testimony and expressed how important it was to listen to the quiet voice of God. He said, that often times we look for a burning bush to direct us instead of relying on the peaceful presence and quiet direction of God's Holy Spirit. He spoke from his heart and the teens listened attentively. I played my guitar and led some worship songs. My hands were shaking and my faced was hot with some stage fright. But the audience didn't seem to notice my nerves, because they stood up, sang loud and cheered through the songs and introductions. I - seemed happy, calm and so intelligent as he taught about Jesus being the good shepherd. "Who is Jesus to you?, " he asked the crowd. During the time of prayer, several people came forward to the alter. I was privileged to pray with some of the kids that we had brought to camp and some that I hadn't met before that moment. I tried to encourage each one that Jesus knew who they were and loved them. He's willing to go on a hike to look for us. He already knows where we are. He's not the one that is lost - we are. N- ( the sound guy), had picked an amazing song to play during prayer time. I can't even remember the name of it - but it expressed salvation in such a pure, direct way; that the time at the alter was seamless and pristine. The kids were there to call out to God. They wanted to be real with HIm. They weren't afraid to reach out to HIm. God was the Good Shepherd to that group on Friday night.
I felt so relieved, joyous, blessed and exhausted and the end of LPC day 1. The kids and I hit the showers while I and B went in pursuit of a late night snack. What a pretty picture it was, as I remember my two children dozing on the pull out sofa. The kid's faces were pink from the summer sun against the white T-shirts they had put on before going to sleep. They were smiling as I tucked them under the covers. After spending some time with I, B and some pizza, I also fell asleep that first night wearing my white T-shirt and pajama pants. My face pink from the summer sun and I had a smile on my face as I closed my eyes.
I slept so well the first night the dreams I had were clear in my mind when I woke the following day. I've been so restless in my sleep of late that I haven't been able to remember any of my dreams. I can remember my dreams at LPC. Friday was a dream come true. Getting 13 teens and 5 staff to camp for five days is no small miracle. Having our ministry team gel so easily, without ego or snappiness present - was another miracle. It's a miracle for all of us, you know, this God that chases after us, this God that shepherds us in the right path, and speaks clearer in the quiet times. It's a miracle that even when we have certain hopes or expectations for our lives, that God's reality is better than anything we can dream.
The team worked together so well from the first moment. Shuffling to pick up a volunteer, located our van and trailer to transport 13 teenage campers on Friday the 13th. After medication, money and head checks were complete (and all-13 were clean); you would have thought I had won the lottery. Yahoo!
I almost lost my jubilant mood after having to return back to town two times for various items, but after a few miles of highway and happy chatter with the passengers in the back seat - I was a millionaire again.
The drive went fast, stopping for gas and pop-tarts just once. Camp registration went alright. There was a scramble to retain resistant documents for a few campers, but I was going to be there the whole session. So I waited happily while chatting with old friends and joking with two of my unregistered imaginary campers. We were all happy when the faxes came through and they became real live campers, with cabins and counselors and canteen cards.
It was a new experience for I. F. and I taking along our two kids to Teen Camp. The Director promised child care for them, so we decided to give it a try. We found out that we were staying in the apartment directly above the Director's. Two bedrooms, a pull out sofa for our volunteer, a microwave for our popcorn habit, and a small sitting area outside of the sliding glass door that was perfect for staring at stars while listening to the lake water lap the small shore. What a perfect and peaceful place for us to stay while working with unpredictable and energetic teens.
Friday night we had the first meeting we were responsible for putting on. We played a game called "Who Am I" with the almost 90 campers. Our daughter H - is a tween. Not a kid and not quite a teen, so she assisted us with props and various supporting jobs. So as she ran in front of the stage with the poster-board " Who AM I?" sign, I had a such a happy feeling knowing that we truly were a team. We all had a purpose for being there.
B- mc'ed the game and I played Vanna. B- gave his testimony and expressed how important it was to listen to the quiet voice of God. He said, that often times we look for a burning bush to direct us instead of relying on the peaceful presence and quiet direction of God's Holy Spirit. He spoke from his heart and the teens listened attentively. I played my guitar and led some worship songs. My hands were shaking and my faced was hot with some stage fright. But the audience didn't seem to notice my nerves, because they stood up, sang loud and cheered through the songs and introductions. I - seemed happy, calm and so intelligent as he taught about Jesus being the good shepherd. "Who is Jesus to you?, " he asked the crowd. During the time of prayer, several people came forward to the alter. I was privileged to pray with some of the kids that we had brought to camp and some that I hadn't met before that moment. I tried to encourage each one that Jesus knew who they were and loved them. He's willing to go on a hike to look for us. He already knows where we are. He's not the one that is lost - we are. N- ( the sound guy), had picked an amazing song to play during prayer time. I can't even remember the name of it - but it expressed salvation in such a pure, direct way; that the time at the alter was seamless and pristine. The kids were there to call out to God. They wanted to be real with HIm. They weren't afraid to reach out to HIm. God was the Good Shepherd to that group on Friday night.
I felt so relieved, joyous, blessed and exhausted and the end of LPC day 1. The kids and I hit the showers while I and B went in pursuit of a late night snack. What a pretty picture it was, as I remember my two children dozing on the pull out sofa. The kid's faces were pink from the summer sun against the white T-shirts they had put on before going to sleep. They were smiling as I tucked them under the covers. After spending some time with I, B and some pizza, I also fell asleep that first night wearing my white T-shirt and pajama pants. My face pink from the summer sun and I had a smile on my face as I closed my eyes.
I slept so well the first night the dreams I had were clear in my mind when I woke the following day. I've been so restless in my sleep of late that I haven't been able to remember any of my dreams. I can remember my dreams at LPC. Friday was a dream come true. Getting 13 teens and 5 staff to camp for five days is no small miracle. Having our ministry team gel so easily, without ego or snappiness present - was another miracle. It's a miracle for all of us, you know, this God that chases after us, this God that shepherds us in the right path, and speaks clearer in the quiet times. It's a miracle that even when we have certain hopes or expectations for our lives, that God's reality is better than anything we can dream.
I.F.'s Teen Camp Diary -- Friday
Friday began too darn early. 6 am to be exact.
True to form, Lamont and I waited until the last possible moment Thursday to get everything ready for the weekend. I finally dropped into bed around midnight; Lamont woke me up when she crawled in beside me at around 2:30 am.
Everything went wrong on Friday morning. No, really, I'm not exaggerating:
Now mind you, this is all going on while we're surrounded by a group of easily excited teenagers. But despite the craziness, I still held onto the hope that a week spent at Teen Camp would be better than a week spent at the office, which has become pretty unbearable as of late.
I'm happy to report that my hope was not misplaced.
Everyone at the camp made us feel so welcome from the second we got there. The camp staff clicked with our crew from Jamestown, which was a relief, because Lamont and Mr. X and I have such a unique working style. (Flying by the seat of our pants mostly!) We also had the great band, Mending Point, for use in our meetings, which was a real bonus. It was great -- everyone was so cooperative and willing to improvise to get things done! With everything being so tough at our church lately, Lamont remarked that she could really grow to like this kind of enthusiasm!
The theme for the weekend was Get Real. I think that's an idea that needs to take root in the church. The burden of being a "good witness" is so oppressive that quite often Christians spend more effort on maintaining a fake image to get approval from people than facing the daily reality of working out an authentic, personal spirituality. So we thought that would be a good place to start with the teens.
Teenagers are some of the most stressed-out people on earth. I'm certain that they're busier than most of us adults: they have to juggle work, school, extracurricular activities, and active social lives. When do they get time for themselves? When do they get time for God? Lamont and I were determined not to guilt trip these kids for not doing enough (i.e. prayer or reading the Bible) -- we were going to bring them a message of hope.
Face it. Kids don't have anyone to look up to anymore. Kids don't have anyone they can trust. So for our first meeting on that night I spoke simply about Christ, the Good Shepherd, who wants to gently lead them and comfort them, who loves them as they are -- with all their imperfections and blemishes intact. We had a short time of prayer at the end, with some kids coming forward to pray. I had an opprtunity to pray with some teenage girls who leaned against the altar and just sobbed and sobbed. The image will be forever etched in my mind. What kind of sick love-starved world are we living in that a message of God's love would evoke such a response from these girls?
After the meeting, we celebrated the night at the condo with some New York Pizza, courtesy of Mr. X. Although I have been suffering from insomnia as of late, Friday night I collapsed into bed and slept like a baby!
True to form, Lamont and I waited until the last possible moment Thursday to get everything ready for the weekend. I finally dropped into bed around midnight; Lamont woke me up when she crawled in beside me at around 2:30 am.
Everything went wrong on Friday morning. No, really, I'm not exaggerating:
- The van that we had reserved was M.I.A.
- When the missing van was returned, it was low on gas.
- So was the other vehicle we were taking.
- We opened up the luggage trailer to find it stuffed with garbage bags full of old clothing.
- We had to wait an additional forty minutes for some kids to show up.
- When we got on the road, Lamont had to turn around to find the camera.
- Which she never found.
- And then had to turn around again to pick up the video projector that I left sitting in my office!
Now mind you, this is all going on while we're surrounded by a group of easily excited teenagers. But despite the craziness, I still held onto the hope that a week spent at Teen Camp would be better than a week spent at the office, which has become pretty unbearable as of late.
I'm happy to report that my hope was not misplaced.
Everyone at the camp made us feel so welcome from the second we got there. The camp staff clicked with our crew from Jamestown, which was a relief, because Lamont and Mr. X and I have such a unique working style. (Flying by the seat of our pants mostly!) We also had the great band, Mending Point, for use in our meetings, which was a real bonus. It was great -- everyone was so cooperative and willing to improvise to get things done! With everything being so tough at our church lately, Lamont remarked that she could really grow to like this kind of enthusiasm!
The theme for the weekend was Get Real. I think that's an idea that needs to take root in the church. The burden of being a "good witness" is so oppressive that quite often Christians spend more effort on maintaining a fake image to get approval from people than facing the daily reality of working out an authentic, personal spirituality. So we thought that would be a good place to start with the teens.
Teenagers are some of the most stressed-out people on earth. I'm certain that they're busier than most of us adults: they have to juggle work, school, extracurricular activities, and active social lives. When do they get time for themselves? When do they get time for God? Lamont and I were determined not to guilt trip these kids for not doing enough (i.e. prayer or reading the Bible) -- we were going to bring them a message of hope.
Face it. Kids don't have anyone to look up to anymore. Kids don't have anyone they can trust. So for our first meeting on that night I spoke simply about Christ, the Good Shepherd, who wants to gently lead them and comfort them, who loves them as they are -- with all their imperfections and blemishes intact. We had a short time of prayer at the end, with some kids coming forward to pray. I had an opprtunity to pray with some teenage girls who leaned against the altar and just sobbed and sobbed. The image will be forever etched in my mind. What kind of sick love-starved world are we living in that a message of God's love would evoke such a response from these girls?
After the meeting, we celebrated the night at the condo with some New York Pizza, courtesy of Mr. X. Although I have been suffering from insomnia as of late, Friday night I collapsed into bed and slept like a baby!
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Camping Craziness
In the morning, some of the Experiment House Crew including myself will be going to spend a few days at our church denomination's camp. How is it that I always feel I need, "just one more day", to get ready for trips like this. UGH. I know that once the van is loaded, the car is packed and all the students we are taking are checked in, it will be fine. But for the next 10 hrs, I feel as if I'm on nuclear meltdown countdown.
Pack clothes. Check - except for that favorite pair of jeans spinning out in the washing machine as I write. Uncheck. Clean out car. Check - except that I had to load the drinks and snacks into the back and haven't had a chance to unload it into the van yet. So uncheck. Organize campers paperwork in folder, make sure to note any special needs, meds, etc. Check. Well. the folder is in the car, I had a late minute camper surface, and my husband had to go to buy some last minute supplies necessary for the presentations we are going to be doing at camp over the next few days. Uncheck, Uncheck, Uncheck.
I really don't feel ready for this. I don't look ready. I don't think I'm ready.
Feeling unready, though, I think is part of the whole experience of breaking away from our regular schedules, geography, and doing something different for a couple days. Every time my computer clock tells me what time it is, I begin to realize that even if I had another day I wouldn't feel any different than I do now. I would make another list of to dos, repack my suitcases and re-organize everything I was and wasn't going to take with me.
Camp is starting on Friday after lunch. It is Thursday night at 9:30 p.m.. The clock is going to keep ticking away, even if I don't want it to. Camp is going to be unpredictable, because of the weather, people and the amazing- loving- uncontainable- forgiving God we are going to serve there.
So maybe I can take a deep breath, realizing that there is only so much I can do. God really is the one holding this time in His hands. I hope that is what this weekend turns out to be. God's time. God's plan. God's purpose.
I am truly blessed. There are new relationships to make, old ones to build upon, and opportunity for something unexpected to occur. Camp is a crazy place. What I really need right now is some of that craziness to come inside of me a shake things up - so they can be put into place again. Not my place, but God's.
Let the countdown begin, because when the camp "ball" drops, anything is possible.
Pack clothes. Check - except for that favorite pair of jeans spinning out in the washing machine as I write. Uncheck. Clean out car. Check - except that I had to load the drinks and snacks into the back and haven't had a chance to unload it into the van yet. So uncheck. Organize campers paperwork in folder, make sure to note any special needs, meds, etc. Check. Well. the folder is in the car, I had a late minute camper surface, and my husband had to go to buy some last minute supplies necessary for the presentations we are going to be doing at camp over the next few days. Uncheck, Uncheck, Uncheck.
I really don't feel ready for this. I don't look ready. I don't think I'm ready.
Feeling unready, though, I think is part of the whole experience of breaking away from our regular schedules, geography, and doing something different for a couple days. Every time my computer clock tells me what time it is, I begin to realize that even if I had another day I wouldn't feel any different than I do now. I would make another list of to dos, repack my suitcases and re-organize everything I was and wasn't going to take with me.
Camp is starting on Friday after lunch. It is Thursday night at 9:30 p.m.. The clock is going to keep ticking away, even if I don't want it to. Camp is going to be unpredictable, because of the weather, people and the amazing- loving- uncontainable- forgiving God we are going to serve there.
So maybe I can take a deep breath, realizing that there is only so much I can do. God really is the one holding this time in His hands. I hope that is what this weekend turns out to be. God's time. God's plan. God's purpose.
I am truly blessed. There are new relationships to make, old ones to build upon, and opportunity for something unexpected to occur. Camp is a crazy place. What I really need right now is some of that craziness to come inside of me a shake things up - so they can be put into place again. Not my place, but God's.
Let the countdown begin, because when the camp "ball" drops, anything is possible.
Sunday, August 08, 2004
Quote of the Week: Water
"Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup,
You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle,
You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot.
Now water can flow or it can crash!
Be water, my friend." -- Bruce Lee
You put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle,
You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot.
Now water can flow or it can crash!
Be water, my friend." -- Bruce Lee
Saturday, August 07, 2004
I.F.'s epiphany
I had an epiphany this afternoon at approximately 2pm. It occured upstairs at the James Prendergast Library in the corner aisle bordering Washington & Fifth. The epiphany was as follows:
My unhappiness in life stems from not being myself.
I will contemplate this phrase until I recieve enlightenment. Or I will sell it to a fortune cookie manufacter. I haven't decided yet.
P.S. I'm not gay!
My unhappiness in life stems from not being myself.
I will contemplate this phrase until I recieve enlightenment. Or I will sell it to a fortune cookie manufacter. I haven't decided yet.
P.S. I'm not gay!
Walking on Water
Fear is a funny thing. The things that people can be afraid of don’t seem to have any limitations. As children we’re often afraid of imaginary things that our unlimited creativity seems to spout out without much effort. As adults, we are often more afraid of tangible or realistic things. Things like our kids getting sick, not being able to pay the bills or being rejected by the people we care about. If I give you a minute, I’ll bet you can come up with something you were afraid of when you were little and something you’re afraid of now. As you compare the two things you fear, they may seem to be very unrelated – but the emotional reaction is the same. Fear paralyzes you.
During his years as premier of the Soviet Union, Nikita Khrushchev denounced many of the policies and atrocities of Joseph Stalin. Once, as he censured Stalin in a public meeting, Khrushchev was interrupted by a shout from a heckler in the audience. "You were one of Stalin's colleagues. Why didn't you stop him?" "Who said that?" roared Khrushchev. An agonizing silence followed as nobody in the room dared move a muscle. Everyone was paralyzed with fear.
Then Khrushchev replied quietly, "Now you know why."
Although Khrushchev demonstrated the fear Stalin was able to exude over himself and the Soviet people, Stalin wasn’t free from fear himself.
It is said that the Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin so feared for his safety that his residence in Moscow contained eight bedrooms. Each night Stalin chose a bedroom at random to ensure that no one knew exactly where he was sleeping.
Stalin feared for his safety and lost much sleep over ways to keep himself safe. Khrushchev was afraid of what Stalin could do, until he was removed from power. Fear is something that we all have to face at some point in our lives. If you don’t take a moment to consider how you deal with your fear, you may find yourself frozen by its power to paralyze.
Jesus and his disciples spent a great deal of their time traveling about and ministering to the masses of people that were sick and hurting. It can be easy to assume that the disciples were always filled with peace and solitude because they spent so much time with Jesus. The disciples struggled with fear and discouragement regularly, even though they lived and worked with Jesus for about three years. Matthew 14:22-33, shows us how much the disciples needed Jesus’ help to live life without being paralyzed by fear.
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come," he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."
The disciples felt like they were alone – possibly abandoned. Even though they were experienced fishermen, the rough water and wind frightened them.
Jesus knew where they were.
Jesus went looking for them. He knew they would be scared.
Jesus called out to them to comfort them.
The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost because they were so unsettled. Peter was upset, but he didn’t allow his fear to paralyze him. Peter got out of the boat, but when he saw the danger around him he panicked. Peter started to sink. He called for help.
Jesus immediately pulled him out of the water, climbed into the boat with the disciples, and the wind stopped.
The disciples worshiped Jesus after seeing his ability to care for them and protect them.
Jesus words and actions throughout this stormy night provided a great deal of comfort to his disciples. I think that these same words can provide us with the same comfort we all need when the concerns and worries of our lives are about to paralyze us.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.
It can be hard to understand, but the fact remains that Jesus knows where we are and is looking for ways to get our attention. He understands the difficulties we’re facing more than we do. It is His desire to find us where we are, so he can take us to safety.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
Jesus words were heard through the wind and the waves. Peter remembered enough about what Jesus had taught him to respond to his voice. Remembering God, holding on to courage and letting go of fear is the only way we are every going to get out of the boat.
"Come," he said.
Sometimes a fearful situation requires us to move out of our comfort zone. Just as Jesus called Peter out of the boat – he calls us out. If we keep moving toward God, we will move farther away from fear.
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.
To be honest, I don’t think that Jesus was surprised that Peter panicked once he left the safety of the boat. Jesus understands how frightening it is to step into situations that are unsure. That’s why he had his hand out waiting for Peter. Jesus didn’t wait to see if Peter could swim, he was ready and prepared to rescue him. I think that Jesus would have liked to see more faith in the reactions of the disciples, instead of asking them about their doubts. But just as he asked them why they had doubted, he calmed the winds. Jesus understands the need we all have for peace and clarity. Just like a child can’t learn their alphabet on a hungry stomach, we can’t accept that peace exists when there is a storm raging around or inside of us.
So what storm is raging in your life today? Fear, anxiety, and hurt can cause us to forget the peace and comfort Jesus offers just like the disciples did. We can begin to forget the sound of his voice, or just not be able to hear over the raging storm around us. So just as Peter called out into the storm, you can to. Don’t stay in a boat that’s being tossed about in the chaos of life. Come out and meet Jesus on the water. Although your faith may be small, he can calm the storm and take you to safety. Jesus can be your bridge over troubled water. Inside and out.
During his years as premier of the Soviet Union, Nikita Khrushchev denounced many of the policies and atrocities of Joseph Stalin. Once, as he censured Stalin in a public meeting, Khrushchev was interrupted by a shout from a heckler in the audience. "You were one of Stalin's colleagues. Why didn't you stop him?" "Who said that?" roared Khrushchev. An agonizing silence followed as nobody in the room dared move a muscle. Everyone was paralyzed with fear.
Then Khrushchev replied quietly, "Now you know why."
Although Khrushchev demonstrated the fear Stalin was able to exude over himself and the Soviet people, Stalin wasn’t free from fear himself.
It is said that the Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin so feared for his safety that his residence in Moscow contained eight bedrooms. Each night Stalin chose a bedroom at random to ensure that no one knew exactly where he was sleeping.
Stalin feared for his safety and lost much sleep over ways to keep himself safe. Khrushchev was afraid of what Stalin could do, until he was removed from power. Fear is something that we all have to face at some point in our lives. If you don’t take a moment to consider how you deal with your fear, you may find yourself frozen by its power to paralyze.
Jesus and his disciples spent a great deal of their time traveling about and ministering to the masses of people that were sick and hurting. It can be easy to assume that the disciples were always filled with peace and solitude because they spent so much time with Jesus. The disciples struggled with fear and discouragement regularly, even though they lived and worked with Jesus for about three years. Matthew 14:22-33, shows us how much the disciples needed Jesus’ help to live life without being paralyzed by fear.
Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
"Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water."
"Come," he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."
The disciples felt like they were alone – possibly abandoned. Even though they were experienced fishermen, the rough water and wind frightened them.
Jesus knew where they were.
Jesus went looking for them. He knew they would be scared.
Jesus called out to them to comfort them.
The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost because they were so unsettled. Peter was upset, but he didn’t allow his fear to paralyze him. Peter got out of the boat, but when he saw the danger around him he panicked. Peter started to sink. He called for help.
Jesus immediately pulled him out of the water, climbed into the boat with the disciples, and the wind stopped.
The disciples worshiped Jesus after seeing his ability to care for them and protect them.
Jesus words and actions throughout this stormy night provided a great deal of comfort to his disciples. I think that these same words can provide us with the same comfort we all need when the concerns and worries of our lives are about to paralyze us.
During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.
It can be hard to understand, but the fact remains that Jesus knows where we are and is looking for ways to get our attention. He understands the difficulties we’re facing more than we do. It is His desire to find us where we are, so he can take us to safety.
But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."
Jesus words were heard through the wind and the waves. Peter remembered enough about what Jesus had taught him to respond to his voice. Remembering God, holding on to courage and letting go of fear is the only way we are every going to get out of the boat.
"Come," he said.
Sometimes a fearful situation requires us to move out of our comfort zone. Just as Jesus called Peter out of the boat – he calls us out. If we keep moving toward God, we will move farther away from fear.
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.
To be honest, I don’t think that Jesus was surprised that Peter panicked once he left the safety of the boat. Jesus understands how frightening it is to step into situations that are unsure. That’s why he had his hand out waiting for Peter. Jesus didn’t wait to see if Peter could swim, he was ready and prepared to rescue him. I think that Jesus would have liked to see more faith in the reactions of the disciples, instead of asking them about their doubts. But just as he asked them why they had doubted, he calmed the winds. Jesus understands the need we all have for peace and clarity. Just like a child can’t learn their alphabet on a hungry stomach, we can’t accept that peace exists when there is a storm raging around or inside of us.
So what storm is raging in your life today? Fear, anxiety, and hurt can cause us to forget the peace and comfort Jesus offers just like the disciples did. We can begin to forget the sound of his voice, or just not be able to hear over the raging storm around us. So just as Peter called out into the storm, you can to. Don’t stay in a boat that’s being tossed about in the chaos of life. Come out and meet Jesus on the water. Although your faith may be small, he can calm the storm and take you to safety. Jesus can be your bridge over troubled water. Inside and out.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
The Fool on the Will
I work at a church, although you would never guess it from spending time there. Oh, we can pull it together for some meetings on the Sabbath, but as anyone who has ever worked in a religious organization can tell you, Sunday is just a small part of the work. For a variety of reasons -- financial, clashing personalities, differing expectations, the world, the flesh, and the devil -- the place has turned a source of stress for everyone involved. It may be listed in the phone book under church, but what we're building seems like anything but.
How do you measure a church's success? The number of people packing the pews? A lot of programs? A nice property? Money in the bank? I think an equally important rubrik should include the Christlikeness of the people who dwell therein. Taking a look at the scriptures I see some of the qualities that should be evident:
* love; joy; peace; patience; kindness; goodness; faithfulness; gentleness; self-control (Galatians 5:22)
* tender mercy; kindness; humility; meekness; patience (Colossians 3:12-16)
* true; noble; just; pure; lovely; of good report; virtuous; worthy of praise (Phillipians 4:8)
* love that suffers long; is kind; does not envy; does not parade itself; does not get 'puffed up'; does not behave rudely; is not provoked; does not think evilly, nor rejoice in sin; rejoices in the truth; bears all things; believes all things; hopes all things; endures all things (1 Corinthians 13)
I don't know what we're all building, but using this criteria I can't say it's a church.
The other day I had an interesting experience. I had a coworker blow up at me. The ouburst was unprovoked, but what was interesting was what he said to me: among many other things, he said I wasn't a Christian. I remained silent so as not to escalate his anger, and refrained from giving him a lecture on the theology of salvation.
As I reflected on the days events that evening I really thought about what he said. I thought, "How judgemental. How misguided. How immature." But then I thought about it some more. Prayed about it. And I tried to see things from his point of view. What has my attitude been like these last few months? Confused... depressed... angry... impatient... easily provoked... divisive...
Darn. My coworker was absolutely right.
It's a baffling business. But I realize that it's not on Sunday mornings behind a pulpit that showcases my Christianity. It's my attitude and actions in the pressure cooker environment of the office in which my faith will be made real or not.
How do you measure a church's success? The number of people packing the pews? A lot of programs? A nice property? Money in the bank? I think an equally important rubrik should include the Christlikeness of the people who dwell therein. Taking a look at the scriptures I see some of the qualities that should be evident:
* love; joy; peace; patience; kindness; goodness; faithfulness; gentleness; self-control (Galatians 5:22)
* tender mercy; kindness; humility; meekness; patience (Colossians 3:12-16)
* true; noble; just; pure; lovely; of good report; virtuous; worthy of praise (Phillipians 4:8)
* love that suffers long; is kind; does not envy; does not parade itself; does not get 'puffed up'; does not behave rudely; is not provoked; does not think evilly, nor rejoice in sin; rejoices in the truth; bears all things; believes all things; hopes all things; endures all things (1 Corinthians 13)
I don't know what we're all building, but using this criteria I can't say it's a church.
The other day I had an interesting experience. I had a coworker blow up at me. The ouburst was unprovoked, but what was interesting was what he said to me: among many other things, he said I wasn't a Christian. I remained silent so as not to escalate his anger, and refrained from giving him a lecture on the theology of salvation.
As I reflected on the days events that evening I really thought about what he said. I thought, "How judgemental. How misguided. How immature." But then I thought about it some more. Prayed about it. And I tried to see things from his point of view. What has my attitude been like these last few months? Confused... depressed... angry... impatient... easily provoked... divisive...
Darn. My coworker was absolutely right.
It's a baffling business. But I realize that it's not on Sunday mornings behind a pulpit that showcases my Christianity. It's my attitude and actions in the pressure cooker environment of the office in which my faith will be made real or not.
Looking into an aluminum toaster
The presence of vanity in people can vary in great degrees. Some individuals can’t pass a mirror without stealing a glance, but to be honest I’m not sure if that is the expression of vanity or insecurity in one’s appearance. Either way, the way we look is important to us.
The way I look is important to me. I once had a friend ask me if I ever had a dream about my teeth falling out. Oddly enough, I had recently dreamt about biting into an apple and having my teeth instantly crumble upon impact. I had woken up in the middle of the night terror stricken and feeling in my mouth to make sure the dream was not a reality. Dreams about the loss of or crumbling of teeth apparently represents, according to my friend, the fear of losing good looks through age or other means. In short, dreams about decaying teeth equal vanity in the mind of the dreamer.
As a child, I remember looking into our shiny aluminum toaster and grinning ear to ear while devouring my Mom’s Avon lipstick samples. There was something unreal and fun about the color, taste and smell of the “Power Pink” and “Mostly Mauve” mini lipsticks. I still flash back to that childhood memory when I shop for lipstick and open the cap for the first time. I remember that my Mom would never go into the local grocery store without freshening up her lipstick. To this day, I check myself in the mirror before I go to the store. My Mom’s lipstick ritual showed me that it was important to look my best – even if I just stopping to pick up a gallon of milk. My Mom was very balanced though when I came to the use of cosmetics. On Sunday mornings, my Mom would put her makeup on while standing in the bathroom, her hair freshly curled and her dress newly pressed and waiting for her on a wire hanger. After carefully slipping her dress over her hairdo and shimmery white slip, she would take her wonderful red lipstick out of the drawer and carefully run the color over her lips. I used to complain to Mom when she would dutifully grab a piece of tissue and blot her lips, leaving a perfect lip print on the tissue square. She always looked so sassy with her powdered face and bright red lips. When I complained about her blotting habit, she would always say, “It’s just too much.” Looking her best consisted of freshly styled curls, a neatly pressed dress and blotted red lipstick. Leaving her lipstick unblotted would have just looked vain.
That really the point isn’t it? Caring about our appearance can become too much and we become a captive to vanity. The supremacy of Vanity is seen not only in the global arena, but in the local neighborhood as well. The look of your favorite actress is rather easily attained at your local salon, for the right price. The limits of perfection are no longer restrained to the silver screen. It is obvious in our culture today that the appearance of an individual holds more power than the value of the individual. I recently was drawn into reflection by a line in a popular film. “It’s not about who you are, in true LA style it’s about what you wear.” It’s this kind of focus on vanity and appearance that I feel is, “…Just too much”. The lines between Hollywood and home become close and blurred when vanity theology like this is accepted without considering the human cost of elevating appearance above the invisible internal value of each person. Demanding media images have meshed with a personal drive for physical perfection, aligning men and women into demanding parallels of vanity. Often times, it seems that we all have forgotten that the people we aspire to replicate are two-dimensional, airbrushed images that are limited to the realm of make-believe. The lifestyles portrayed by the astoundingly beautiful people seem so perfect and seamless it becomes easy to forget that they are flesh and blood individuals. Make believe crashes with reality when we realize the extent of many individuals hard work necessary to build and maintain the machine of media images. There is a balance between make-believe and reality that is necessary to maintain in order that we don’t become consumed by unreal expectations and the emaciation of internal human character.
I do love to get my hair done; in fact it’s one of my favorite things to do. I’ll even bring photos of an actress sporting a new hairstyle in order to try and replicate it. But I know in my heart, I’m not going to actually become that two-dimensional picture perfect woman. Just like my Mom’s Sunday ritual, I have rituals that I follow every day before I go to work. I lie out my clothes, press them if they need it, shower, style my hair, get dressed, put in my contacts and put on my makeup. But not all of my rituals are physical ones. I pray, I exercise, I read, I feed my family and myself. If I spent all my morning fussing in front of the mirror I may look especially pretty on the outside, but my insides would become rather dark and dismayed. There would be… “just too much” on the outside but “not enough” on the inside. Before long everything about me would be off balance, and the three dimensional real me would become flat and cold. That would make me vain.
The difficult part of caring for yourself and others is that it is an art that requires a great deal of skill and practice to maintain. One of my favorite words is “Holistic”.
ho·lis·tic
1. Of or relating to holism.
2. a. Emphasizing the importance of the whole and the interdependence of its parts.
b. Concerned with wholes rather than analysis or separation into parts: holistic medicine; holistic ecology.
The word “holistic”, embraces a point of view that I feel is necessary for each person to live a truly healthy lifestyle. It is impossible for a singular section of our lives, whether it be external or internal, to support the entire function of any person. It is in valuing each part of us and trying to help coordinate the overall function of the human body, mind and spirit where true “balance” is achieved.
In the midst of media images pressing the ideal of physical perfection into our everyday lives and the internal conflict we may feel to respond to that pressure, the use of grace and understanding is necessary in the pursuit of true wholeness. Concern for our appearance may not be something that we verbalize, but the internal conflict can pop up when we least expect it. Sometimes we have dreams that are teeth are crumbling. Sometimes we blot our lipstick. Sometimes we realize that figuring out what we really look like has nothing to do with peering critically into a mirror. Who we are isn’t limited to what we see, that is only one dimension of who we really are. Cultivating a holistic lifestyle is one that will take a lifetime to understand and understands that a lifetime is not enough to figure it all out. So, I will try to cultivate my mind by continuing to challenge it by learning something new everyday. I will continue to feed my spirit through prayer and worship. I will continue to play with my hair, because it’s fun for me. I will try to remember that the whole of me is made up of these equally important dimensions of self: mind, body and spirit, and I will treasure each one. I will remember how my Mom showed me the importance of balance in life, but I will do something different than she did. I won’t blot my red lipstick. Showing a little sass now and then is something I need to make it through this journey. So I’ll say no to vanity, but yes to bright red sassy lips.
The way I look is important to me. I once had a friend ask me if I ever had a dream about my teeth falling out. Oddly enough, I had recently dreamt about biting into an apple and having my teeth instantly crumble upon impact. I had woken up in the middle of the night terror stricken and feeling in my mouth to make sure the dream was not a reality. Dreams about the loss of or crumbling of teeth apparently represents, according to my friend, the fear of losing good looks through age or other means. In short, dreams about decaying teeth equal vanity in the mind of the dreamer.
As a child, I remember looking into our shiny aluminum toaster and grinning ear to ear while devouring my Mom’s Avon lipstick samples. There was something unreal and fun about the color, taste and smell of the “Power Pink” and “Mostly Mauve” mini lipsticks. I still flash back to that childhood memory when I shop for lipstick and open the cap for the first time. I remember that my Mom would never go into the local grocery store without freshening up her lipstick. To this day, I check myself in the mirror before I go to the store. My Mom’s lipstick ritual showed me that it was important to look my best – even if I just stopping to pick up a gallon of milk. My Mom was very balanced though when I came to the use of cosmetics. On Sunday mornings, my Mom would put her makeup on while standing in the bathroom, her hair freshly curled and her dress newly pressed and waiting for her on a wire hanger. After carefully slipping her dress over her hairdo and shimmery white slip, she would take her wonderful red lipstick out of the drawer and carefully run the color over her lips. I used to complain to Mom when she would dutifully grab a piece of tissue and blot her lips, leaving a perfect lip print on the tissue square. She always looked so sassy with her powdered face and bright red lips. When I complained about her blotting habit, she would always say, “It’s just too much.” Looking her best consisted of freshly styled curls, a neatly pressed dress and blotted red lipstick. Leaving her lipstick unblotted would have just looked vain.
That really the point isn’t it? Caring about our appearance can become too much and we become a captive to vanity. The supremacy of Vanity is seen not only in the global arena, but in the local neighborhood as well. The look of your favorite actress is rather easily attained at your local salon, for the right price. The limits of perfection are no longer restrained to the silver screen. It is obvious in our culture today that the appearance of an individual holds more power than the value of the individual. I recently was drawn into reflection by a line in a popular film. “It’s not about who you are, in true LA style it’s about what you wear.” It’s this kind of focus on vanity and appearance that I feel is, “…Just too much”. The lines between Hollywood and home become close and blurred when vanity theology like this is accepted without considering the human cost of elevating appearance above the invisible internal value of each person. Demanding media images have meshed with a personal drive for physical perfection, aligning men and women into demanding parallels of vanity. Often times, it seems that we all have forgotten that the people we aspire to replicate are two-dimensional, airbrushed images that are limited to the realm of make-believe. The lifestyles portrayed by the astoundingly beautiful people seem so perfect and seamless it becomes easy to forget that they are flesh and blood individuals. Make believe crashes with reality when we realize the extent of many individuals hard work necessary to build and maintain the machine of media images. There is a balance between make-believe and reality that is necessary to maintain in order that we don’t become consumed by unreal expectations and the emaciation of internal human character.
I do love to get my hair done; in fact it’s one of my favorite things to do. I’ll even bring photos of an actress sporting a new hairstyle in order to try and replicate it. But I know in my heart, I’m not going to actually become that two-dimensional picture perfect woman. Just like my Mom’s Sunday ritual, I have rituals that I follow every day before I go to work. I lie out my clothes, press them if they need it, shower, style my hair, get dressed, put in my contacts and put on my makeup. But not all of my rituals are physical ones. I pray, I exercise, I read, I feed my family and myself. If I spent all my morning fussing in front of the mirror I may look especially pretty on the outside, but my insides would become rather dark and dismayed. There would be… “just too much” on the outside but “not enough” on the inside. Before long everything about me would be off balance, and the three dimensional real me would become flat and cold. That would make me vain.
The difficult part of caring for yourself and others is that it is an art that requires a great deal of skill and practice to maintain. One of my favorite words is “Holistic”.
ho·lis·tic
1. Of or relating to holism.
2. a. Emphasizing the importance of the whole and the interdependence of its parts.
b. Concerned with wholes rather than analysis or separation into parts: holistic medicine; holistic ecology.
The word “holistic”, embraces a point of view that I feel is necessary for each person to live a truly healthy lifestyle. It is impossible for a singular section of our lives, whether it be external or internal, to support the entire function of any person. It is in valuing each part of us and trying to help coordinate the overall function of the human body, mind and spirit where true “balance” is achieved.
In the midst of media images pressing the ideal of physical perfection into our everyday lives and the internal conflict we may feel to respond to that pressure, the use of grace and understanding is necessary in the pursuit of true wholeness. Concern for our appearance may not be something that we verbalize, but the internal conflict can pop up when we least expect it. Sometimes we have dreams that are teeth are crumbling. Sometimes we blot our lipstick. Sometimes we realize that figuring out what we really look like has nothing to do with peering critically into a mirror. Who we are isn’t limited to what we see, that is only one dimension of who we really are. Cultivating a holistic lifestyle is one that will take a lifetime to understand and understands that a lifetime is not enough to figure it all out. So, I will try to cultivate my mind by continuing to challenge it by learning something new everyday. I will continue to feed my spirit through prayer and worship. I will continue to play with my hair, because it’s fun for me. I will try to remember that the whole of me is made up of these equally important dimensions of self: mind, body and spirit, and I will treasure each one. I will remember how my Mom showed me the importance of balance in life, but I will do something different than she did. I won’t blot my red lipstick. Showing a little sass now and then is something I need to make it through this journey. So I’ll say no to vanity, but yes to bright red sassy lips.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)