Sophomore year: seeking conguence

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For me, the watershed moment was in a college course called Hebrew Roots of the Christian Faith.

I know, it’s cliche for my faith to be “tested” at college. They warn you about such things. But it shouldn’t be fought. It’s a natural progression. The questions, the doubts- they can take us somewhere deeper.

It was simple, really. Our textbook was called, “Has God Only One Blessing? Judaism as a Source of Christian Self-Understanding.” I don’t even remember the book all that well, but I remember learning in the class a counter-narrative to the implicit belief that Christianity replaced Judaism as the real, true religion. Instead, the book and the class showed reverence to both religions, explored the themes that were common in both, and still respected each as their own.

That’s all it took. That one question, “Has God only one blessing?” Because I knew in my heart that the answer had to be no, that the God I was taught was vast and loving and couldn’t be pinned down. Even as a kid who assumed the rightness of her own religion, I knew God couldn’t be that simple.

My own religious upbringing laid the foundation for my questions, stuggles, and spiritual transformation.

I wasn’t rebelling against the faith of my childhood, or even the faith of my Christian college, I was searching for congruence, the very call that the campus theme made that year. Congruence. A theme that continued through my spiritual development.

Congruence. How can what I say I believe align with what I know to be true?

Congruence.

Tell me the old, old, story

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I grew up in a church of testimony.

In Baptist churches, in evangelical churches, in country churches, it’s customary to talk about God and what God has done in your life. Why keep that a secret? Community comes in the sharing of those stories. If someone was in a dark place and you were experiencing the hand of God, your story could inspire someone to “keep the faith.” Our shared stories reassure others that they are not alone at the very same time they tell something unique about our own individual experience.

Stories are important. The churches I grew up in knew this.

But my experience in liberal Christianity is different. It almost seems as if the respect for differing opinions on theology runs so deep that we’re afraid to speak about any experience of God. After all, how do we know if that’s God or community or life at work? (asks the liberal skeptic.)

The sad result, then, is that the stories of God and life that are actually shared (because the sharing is highly valued and encouraged) do not necessarily reflect the breadth of experience in the Church. Those who are fearful that their stories don’t fit in keep their stories to themselves.

And then, those who need the encouragement to keep going or the reassurance that they are not alone never get those things. Those stories are never told.

I have been afraid to share my stories because I know there are those who would say that they fall outside of the lines of orthodoxy they themselves have drawn, but my silence is perpetuating the fear in others. Maybe if more of us spoke up, society would see a rich diversity in the Christian faith. And perhaps then, among the cacophony of voices and stories, there would be more chances to connect?

Let’s tell stories, friends. I’ll start soon.

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For the mothers, for the women, for the models

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For those who expressed their love by building us up with words

you’re smart, you’re beautiful, i’m proud of you

For those who proved their love by their presence

at games, at performances, after heartbreaks, in the yard

For those who gave their love on birthdays

books, dollhouses, jewelry, legos, games

For those who demonstrated their love with time

cleaning, cooking, yard sale-ing, working

For those who showed their love by touch

snuggles, hugs, kisses, brushing hair, holding hands

Sometimes one person’s love doesn’t look like the next person’s, but we strive to recognize love where we find it. We thank you and we celebrate you.

 

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Taking church lessons from teachers

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How A Teacher Encouraged Her Students With An ‘F’

TED talks are short video lectures from leaders in technology, education, science, psychology, etc., which are often inspirational. In this one, Rita F. Pierson talks about the ups and downs of being a teacher. She explains that good teaching is built on relationship, even joking that “kids don’t learn from someone they don’t like.”

However, it was her brief story of a student failing a quiz that I found most inspirational. She explained that on a twenty question quiz, this student missed 18. Instead of putting “-18″ at the top of the quiz, she wrote “+2″ and added a smiley face. When the student asked if he failed, she said yes. When he asked why she drew a smiley face, she answered something to the point of, “You’re on the right track. You got two right.” She then asked if he could do better in the review, and he enthusiastically said yes.

She summed up her story by explaining,

Minus eighteen (-18) sucks all the life out of you. Plus two (+2) says ‘I ain’t all bad.

I think this is true of people. This doesn’t dismiss the need for constructive criticism; she still told him he failed his exam. However, out of the relationship she formed with this student, her excitement and concern for him empowered him to improve, rather than knocking him down as someone who couldn’t crawl out of the hole that an F creates.

I think this impacts how we think of each other spiritually as well. If churches and pastors and religious leaders are constantly telling people that all they are are sinners, it “sucks all the life out of you.” Who am I to be different if all that I am is already offending God? What if, instead, we told people, “Look at how much love you showed in that moment. You think you could show even more next time?” Maybe people would realize, “I ain’t all bad,” and come back ready to work hard. God created; God called it good; and God is ready to pull out the best in us, almost like this great teacher.

A modern parable of justice and compassion

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“So Ahab called to his son: ‘Go into the village and buy some salt, but pay a fair price for it: neither too much or too little.’

“His son was surprised: ‘I can understand why I shouldn’t pay too much for it, Father, but if I can bargain them down, why not pay a bit less?’

“‘That would be the sensible thing to do in a big city, but in a small village like ours it could spell the beginning of the end.’

“The boy left without asking any further questions.

However, Ahab’s guests, who had overheard their conversation, wanted to know why they should not buy the salt more cheaply if they could. Ahab replied:

“‘The only reason anyone would sell salt more cheaply than usual would be because he was desperate for money. And anyone who took advantage of that situation would be showing a lack of respect for the sweat and struggle of the man who labored to produce it.’

“‘But such a small thing couldn’t possibly destroy a village.’

“‘In the beginning, there was only a small amount of injustice abroad in the world, but everyone who came afterwards added their portion, always thinking it was very small and unimportant, and look where we have ended up today.’”

 

Paulo Coelho, The Devil and Miss Prym

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Lent 2013: To live with purpose and presence

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I don’t always live with purpose. And I’m not always present in the moment.

Those are my Lenten confessions.

I love my life. I am chasing my dreams. But if I were to be honest, I would have to confess that there is also a good portion of my time and life that goes wasted. I come home, I turn on the TV, I do other things… never totally paying attention to one thing. Before I know it, it’s time to go to bed again, and the day is over. Never to be lived again.

Ash Wednesday is a day to focus on our humanity. Our finitude. From dust we came and to dust we shall return. Sometimes this is haunting and depressing. This year, though, I choose to be inspired. I have one life, one chance to make it count.

This Lenten season I will try to focus on living life with purpose and presence. For me, this will mean cutting out extra noise and distraction. I may watch TV every so often, but it will be limited to certain shows that mean something to me, and it will end with the TV being turned off when that show is over. No mindless surfing, no background noise.

I will turn to the practices that breathe new life into me, and I will act deliberately and spend my moments carefully. In all this, I pray renewed connection to God, self, and others- my partner, my cohort, my studies, my friends, my community, and my world.

My world: Reflections on a train ride

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riding the train from north atlanta to south atlanta
this is my father’s world

gentrification, modernization, urbanization
this is my mother’s world

corporate buildings towering over tiny people
this is my father’s world

dilapidated parks, broken down cars
this is my mother’s world

suits and ties, briefcases and luggage
this is my father’s world

baggy pants, plaid boxers, beats audio
this is my mother’s world

double strollers, frazzled parents, crying children
this is my father’s world

reverent headscarves, bulky hoodies
this is my mother’s world

couples fighting, couples loving
this is my father’s world

wealthy high schools, run-down elementaries
this is my mother’s world

mansions, houses, trailers, boxes
this is my father’s world

this is my father’s world
this is my mother’s world
this is my world

Glimpses of Grandma

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  • My grandparents invested a lot in my education and partially laid the groundwork for where I ended up. How? As a child, they gave me $1 per A on my report cards. These were the most exciting days, as that was basically my allowance growing up. And they were always so proud, so proud. They were excited when we would call on report card day. 
  • I loved sitting with Grandma at church. I either wanted to be snuggled with my dad or sitting with my grandmother. Grandma always had Juicy Fruit gum to get us through the boredom that was church. (Don’t act like you weren’t bored as a kid.) She kept her Juicy Fruit stash in the first drawer of the dresser across from the bed in her room. (Grandparents get no privacy.) 
  • For awhile when I was about 10-12, I spent most weekends that we didn’t have plans at grandma’s. I remember crossing my fingers and asking mom if we had plans on Fridays, and if not, immediately calling grandma and waiting for her to invite me and tell me she was coming to get me. ;) Usually one or both of my girl cousins were there, too. We would sometimes even go to the grocery store, where we were allowed to get anything we wanted- Pillsbury breadsticks and melted Velveeta was a favorite TGIF snack.
  • Grandma specialties: Velveeta omelets, taco salad, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese. But she was ALWAYS stocked with Cool Ranch Doritos (for Tiffany), Totino’s pizzas, Oreos, and Neapolitan ice cream. No one said visiting Grandma’s was a good diet plan. But that was the point. It was a slumber party every time we were there. And they loved giving us that.
  • Grandma would play with us. Dominos, word searches… I hear she did puzzles, but I hated puzzles. So she would play school with me. I always wanted to be a teacher, and she always wanted to support me getting there. So I would give Grandma my 4th grade workbooks for her to do her homework while I “taught.” Grandma, I’m still teaching, and it means more than most things to me. 
  • Going to Grandma’s was also a free pass at the tv, with one exception: the 7pm hour. Why? Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. Don’t even ask.
  • Shows I watched with her: Touched by an Angel, Promised Land, 7th Heaven
  • Movies she taped for us: Kindergarten Cop, Home Alone, Three Men and a Baby (my favorite) 

We always knew Alzheimer’s was coming. It was a curse in her family, and sat as the heartbreaking backdrop to our bonding moments. I was lucky to have a great 15-20 years with her before things changed. I pray fervently for treatments and a cure for Alz to be discovered. But I like to think that now she is back to herself, back where she came from and with whom she came from… While death usually is envisioned as drifting off into a sleep of eternal peace, I like to think that Grandma has finally woken up- breaking free of the cobwebs that muddled things up in these last years. Love you, Grandma.

The roller coaster of the season

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I think it’s clear that I didn’t keep up on Advent blogs. I’m sorry about that. I had all these big plans, but alas. I will say, though, that being ever mindful of the Advent season was meaningful for me again this year.

But then Christmas came. It brought forth its lights of hope and joy and peace and love, and suddenly, the days started growing instead of shrinking. And very quickly Christmas has come and gone. I feel like Advent is like the slow crawl up the roller coaster. It is full of anticipation, anxiety, trepidation, and even hope. And Christmas day, it’s that split moment at the top. You can see the world. But then the rest of the ride flies. It’s New Years Day, another peak overlooking the ride, but it’s all going fast now. We’re no longer crawling, inching… it’s time to just hold on tight. School starts again on Monday, work starts tomorrow, the new beginning is here, but it’s also gone. It’s time to go.

Whereas I contented in the wait, the wait is over. It’s time to go again.

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The chilling reason I cry at Les Mis

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My heart breaks. There are so many people watching Les Miserables, loving Les Miserables… but so many of those people would actually align more with Javert in the sense that they would doubt the redemption I see in the incarcerated women I know.

There is no grace for those women.

No matter how good that movie was.

At least the angels will surround them and sing them home.

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