Mid-September

I’m teaching Intro to Worship this fall, and the focus of this week is the Church Calendar.  Clearly, this could be the subject of an entire semester; but in an intro class, you only get a week.  This has me thinking about not only the great significance of marking time in terms of sacred feasts and sanctified souls but also more widely about how we mark time in a variety of ways.  Discussions lend themselves to everything from the civic calendar to particularities in the local community to family traditions.  The liturgist snob that lives inside of me wants to just push the Church Calendar and move on, but how inauthentic is that?  We do not live in a vacuum, and the rhythms and patterns of time that undergird our theology of new life… giving way to death… giving way to resurrection (way oversimplified, I know) are cyclical and intricately tied to our actual experience.  It’s all very important to discuss and debrief.     

In addition to all of the established ways that people have kept time for millennia, we are always creating new systems.  In an attempt to be more attentive to my use of social media, I have recently started scrolling through all of my Facebook Memories while on my commute.  Now, hear me out, social media is a poor substitute for actually capturing a full life.  It is certainly not even close to my only outlet for attempting to archive the events that have been most formational to me or the people who have been most beloved.  Of course, even my best attempts at memorializing such things will fall short of reality.  I’m always writing from my own perspective, through some narrow lens that cannot be expanded beyond my senses and intellect.[1]  But the purposes of this little experiment of mine, in which I subject myself to my own words and images from the past decade, day after day after day, is about considering what things I have found either important enough or ordinary enough to share publicly.  I have not actually decided which way the pendulum swings on this.  It might be a little bit of both.

So, mid-September…  It’s a weird time for me.  Ten years ago, I was downing pizza for breakfast, throwing up all day long, and trying to hold on a few more weeks before announcing my last pregnancy.  Last year I was sitting outside the very building I am sitting inside, now, drinking coffee that was really just OK with brand new people, who are really pretty great.  Somewhere in-between, there were academic paper proposals, a need for a new can opener, listening to my daughter play piano, subbing for second graders, quiz meets, and an inquiry into which neighbor might feed our fish while we were out of town.  Is this the stuff that marks the time of my life?  I don’t know.  Maybe.

If I’m honest, though, this mid-September week always brings with it a frustration for me if I stop to think about that one year when it may have been the dumbest week of my life!  It wasn’t the most tragic or the most painful or the most insanely busy (although there were elements of all of those things), but when I look back over it, the only appropriate word I can muster is “dumb” (well, and all of its synonyms).  It was not enough and too much, all at the same time, and the truth is, that’s exactly how I defined myself (hear me here, not the week, not the experience, but my actual embodied self) for far too long, after it was over.  But this post is not about that, at all.  Not really.  Because, today I ran across the funniest glimmer of hope, couched (perhaps too neatly) within the memories of that week.  This is what I wrote:

”Spraying my jeans with glitter just became the top priority in my life… I love vacation time…”[2]

I’m thankful the subway wasn’t very full, because in addition to laughing out loud, I also teared up.  That seems to be how emotion works for me lately.  There is almost always this tension between hope and lament.  And no one who knows me is surprised in the least.  I had such a strong reaction to these words, because I know myself, and I know I had reached a moment in which I could do nothing else.  All my cards were on all the tables, so I took a deep breath and let go for a second. 

There is hope for the future in this.  In fact, I was thinking just yesterday about what would happen if I suddenly failed at everything I am attempting to do with my life now (just FYI, I don’t think this is an issue anyone should be concerned about, I was simply pondering all the possible endgames I can imagine, as is fairly typical for me by week three of any school year), and I had the strangest sense of peace about the fact that I would still be me.  I would still be the girl who has enough hope left that even in the midst of stupid seasons, she can take a moment to spray glitter on her jeans.  Because here’s the thing, friends:  Those times are going to come.  You can count on it.  But, they’re not going to last forever.  Hope on…

L.

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[1] This, of course, makes collaboration all the more important!

[2] Me, Facebook, September 19, 2015.

Necessary Possibilities

For a variety of reasons that would be difficult to explain (since I’m not entirely sure how to explain it even to myself), I have had two concepts/phrases competing for my attention this week.  They are, “what counts as necessary,” and, “as much as possible.”  Weirdly, these thoughts were at war within me until I sat down to write, at which point I realized they might be synonymous.  Perhaps what is necessary is for us to engage in doing things in such a way that they are done as well (or as much) as possible.

Often, I think the word necessary contains connotations that lead toward doing the bare minimum to get by, but if you think long and hard about how we use this word in real life, it is usually attached to radical, uncomfortable situations.  We use it apologetically.  “I’m so sorry, but this is necessary.”  I can over think for weeks at a time about what counts as necessary, to the extent that it would have been better to just risk it in the first place, because it would be less consuming.  But most of the time, the “necessary” is painful in some way.  It is used to describe things we would not otherwise choose.  We are doing this… saying this… being this… because for some reason or another, we have to. 

I have recently been reading James K.A. Smith’s book, “Imagining the Kingdom,” which does not undermine the concept of free will but also presents a realistic understanding of what it is to be inclined toward one choice or another, to be persuaded by the very world we conceptualize as the real world, to act habitually and without deep thought in the vast majority of circumstances.  He articulates things I have agreed with, without knowing it (probably thus proving his point) for a very long time… maybe even my entire life.  Attention is given to the importance of living into regular ritual and routine which forms and transforms us into the people we desire to be, given our understanding of what is good in the world.  I appreciate this considerably (see: liturgist), but I also believe we will still encounter extraordinary circumstances that cause us to take pause, sometimes veering from our culturally ingrained habits as we meticulously consider whether or not we must resist the norm in order to take necessary action.

But again, what is necessary if not “as much as possible”?  And perhaps the question that follows on the heels of this one is: What is possible?  I’m not sure it means merely what can be done.  In fact, I’m pretty sure our desires play into this in more ways than we would often like to admit (sometimes for good, and sometimes… well… not).  For, just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, and just because you should do something doesn’t mean you will.

I’ve come to realize that the most difficult decisions require us to rank our loves.  They are the decisions that will benefit someone… or something… or some circumstance while taking away from another.  They are the decisions that must be made and that have no win-win outcome.  I should be clear that I don’t think most decisions fall into this category.  I think most of the time we can do things that (at the very least) cause no harm and much of the time we can even find creative solutions in which all parties are (again, at least minimally) satisfied.  But sometimes… rarely… we just can’t.  And when that’s the case, the words “as much as possible” don’t bring any comfort at all to hurting people.  Sometimes, “as much as possible” isn’t enough.  And that sucks.

Smith would argue that what we love defines us.  I think he’s right.  And most of the time, I think that works out pretty well.  But sometimes it hurts.  Still… may we love things (people… places… experiences…) that matter and may we love things that love us back.  I’m not sure that’s solid theology, but I don’t mean that we should only do what’s right or good to those who love us…  of course I don’t mean that!  But may we have enough requited love in our lives that we can make the hard choices and be (at our core) the very most good we are capable of being.

L.

Why I Didn’t March Yesterday

And…  Here we go…

Up until about a week ago, I had every intention to march.  I had every intention to go to Washington, D.C. to march.  I really wanted to be a part of this, primarily because I am a woman who believes in the equal rights of women, I know what it is to work and live life in a male dominated field (truth: most of the time it’s great, but sometimes it isn’t), I am raising two spit-fire daughters whom I hope will be stronger than me as they grow up, and I am also raising three sons who understand what it is to love and respect women and to advocate for equality.  Just a note…  Sometimes I think we forget how important our sons are in this whole mess.

At any rate, I knew we had a family schedule conflict yesterday, but I was still pretty sure I was going to march.

Originally, I had a ride to D.C., but that fell through when my friend and her family came upon a truly unavoidable scheduling issue.  She didn’t march, because she needed to be somewhere else, making the choice that was the very best for her family and life.  That’s sort of what this is about, right?

Plane tickets kept escalating, because, of course, inauguration weekend is not a cheap time to fly to D.C.

I thought I would just drive, but I really didn’t want to go alone.  It’s not that I couldn’t go alone.  The trip is about 550 miles (each way) for me, and I drive long distances alone, rather frequently, but I felt as if this particular trip required community.  On short notice, I just couldn’t find anybody who could make it work.

Now, here’s where I legitimately messed up…

Somehow, until I scanned my FB newsfeed yesterday afternoon, I didn’t realize there were several opportunities to march closer to home.  Had I known this, my day might have looked differently.

It might have, but there was one thing about the march that started to irritate me a little bit as it drew near.  It seems that in the days leading up to the march, one pro-life women’s organization was excluded from official partnership, simply because they are pro-life.  And here’s where I get in trouble with everyone… again.

About a year ago, I wrote a piece describing how very pro-life I am.  It can be found here, and I would highly suggest you read it… actually, I beg you to read it… if my being pro-life is offensive to you in any way.  Although we may not agree when you finish reading, I do think we can live with one another and maybe still be friends.

Even though I am vehemently feminist, I can’t stand on a pro-choice platform.  I can march side by side with my many friends, relatives, acquaintances, and colleagues who stand on a pro-choice platform, but my choice… every time… is life.  I need that to be clear, but I am concerned that this point may have been a little muddled yesterday.

I can’t tell you how happy it made my heart to see pictures of my friends and their children marching for equality all over the country.  Many beautiful words were penned, and I tried to ‘like’ all of them… until my FB app stopped working right.  But my heart sank a little bit at the thought that I don’t count, simply because of the different values I hold on one issue.  May I express to you how very difficult it is when you don’t fit neatly into any one camp?  It’s ironic, really, because these are the people for whom we’re supposed to advocate, right?  And yet…

Well, wouldn’t you know it, there are a few words from Scripture that seem to speak to this:    

I Corinthians 1:10, “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought” (NIV).

This is a hard teaching, maybe especially right now.  I don’t think Paul is actually suggesting that we become like the aliens in “Buzz Lightyear of Star Command” and submit to the ‘unimind.’  We’re going to have differing views on a plethora of issues, and I want to be exceptionally clear that I think it is completely appropriate for all of us to protest peacefully and certainly to step in passionately to defend the marginalized!  But could we maybe, just maybe, begin by agreeing to offer love and hope at all costs?  Don’t we all want that?  I’m going to choose to believe that we do.

 
L.

God of Hope

I saw this picture on a friend's FB wall the other day.  I was impressed:

Then my friend Sharon wrote this, today, "The distance between, 'Yay! I'm having a great day!' and 'Wow, this really sucks,' is very short. Couple of minutes, maybe, or a few hundred characters." 

Wow, can I ever relate.  I need friends to say things like this, because it keeps me grounded, and it allows me to be human without worrying that my "amazing, ordinary, and awful" is so far beyond normal.  I'm glad I'm not alone in this, because, honestly, I think one of the biggest risks of sharing so much life together is that we see each other at our best and our worst, and sometimes these moments are only separated by... well... mere moments... 

It can be frustrating.  It can be uncomfortable.  Sometimes we don't even know what to do for one another, but I will take silence that stretches for far too long, followed by an awkward hug, over the expectation that I should be someone I'm not any day of the week... especially today.  The alternative to this tricky life of relationships and community is not sharing life transparently.  That's not a good alternative.

If you read this page regularly, you know I was completely fed up with David recently, but somewhere in the midst of all of his running from people who were trying to kill him and stuff, he penned this, "As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more" (Psalm 71:14, NIV).

God is a God of hope.  But let us not forget that, "hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently" (Romans 8:24-25, NIV).  As a side note, all of Romans 8 is pretty good...

And so may we jump into life with both feet, praising more and more in the amazing... in the ordinary... and, perhaps, just stepping back and allowing the Spirit to intercede (see Romans 8:26-27) in the awful.  May we allow others the same grace, and may we listen... really listen... to their stories of triumph and heartbreak, recognizing that we are all the same.  We all have this kind of narrative whether we share it or not.  And God offers hope for every one of us.

L.