Why I Believe, Part 1 of Infinity

First, let me say that I have blocked my first real user on Xanga (my other blog with the same content, where I actually get comments). Once someone decides that they get to question whether or not I am a Christian, and to throw out spiritually arrogant attacks, they are nixed. Feel free to read the comments on my last post there to see what I mean. At first I was going to respond, and to say that doubting is not antithetical to faith (and to point out the bitter, pointed examples of doubt and frustration with God in our very own Bible; he even asked me to "read the psalms" to learn about God's love; well, there are several psalms expressing deep despair and lack of hope, and I had to stop myself from rushing to quote them all to validate my point)...but I really would rather not encourage this line of conversation--ie, let's fight and prove the other one wrong, etc. When argument (esp. of such a personal nature) is done between strangers, and not in the context of a relationship of trust and love, very little good can come out of it. I choose out of that.

Now, onto the day's topic. Heather asked me a question on my last entry (Rachel, you asked me something too, which I will get to in a later post...I need to think about it more), and I'd like to offer a very meager, unsatisfying, response-in-progress to why I believe God is active in the world. She asked:

Um, can I ask, why? What were your reasons for believing God to be 'in action'? I kept waiting for you to write about it in the post, but then realized this was more just being thankful for the opportunity, but I'm curious about the specifics.

Thanks for the question, it made me think further. Unfortunately, my answer will probably be unsatisfactory (to you, and probably to me also). I feel like it's one of those questions like, "Why do you love your husband?" I mean, you could give some reasons...but at the end of the day, it's not easily quantifiable and able to be articulated. That said, I will throw a few things out there.

1) Structural examples of ways people are moved by God to love others in the world. I look around the world, especially poorer countries, and notice that a lot (I would say the vast majority, but I don't have actual statistics) of the hospitals, schools for women, etc. were started by churches or missionaries or Christian groups. Say what you will about the failings of Christians (and I would agree with them), there is no denying the ways hundreds of thousands of people have been moved to work for justice and to care for others around the world. In an age of such selfishness, I do find this to be miraculous, and the work of God.
2) Same as number 1, but on a personal/relational level. I am amazed sometimes at the love I see in others, and in myself. When I see this love, I see God's work.
3) My own experiences relating to God. You know, like feeling God's presence, hearing God say something, feeling God softening my heart and transforming me, that kind of stuff.
4) Faith. This is the one that plays a big part, and is probably the least satisfying of an answer. Since I don't feel like I conjure it up, it's just something that's there (at least most of the time).

Anyway, that's as good an answer as I can come up with right now. I have a feeling this question will be asked and reanswered very many more times throughout my life.

Of Mice and Atheists

I have found it to be an oddly faith-building experience lately to talk heatedly about God with an Atheist. It has been a refreshing and much needed change of pace to be on the side of wanting to lift up the beauty and good of the Church, and of God, rather than being the one to say all the ways we Christians are not being the church Jesus calls us to be. See, it forces me to reach down deep into my guts and find those reasons why, in the face of so much crap and disappointment and pervasive brokenness (communally and individually), I choose to remain a Christian and to remain committed to my faith in Jesus and desire to follow him.

Over the weekend I was talking to a few friends about why we think people should become Christians. My set-up was this: let's say there's no Hell--and the main impetus for wanting someone to be a Christian could not be that you wanted to save their soul from eternal torment. If you take that away, what would you tell them? Maybe it was the group I was with, all of us who are in a place of some real struggle right now, but it seriously wasn't easy to come up with reasons. Looking around, and realizing the real suffering going on in each of our lives at that moment, none of us had it in us to think that being a Christian really made your life any happier or less filled with sorrow and disappointment. Honestly (and maybe this is a post for another time), I often think being a Christian actually increases suffering (especially certain types), rather than decreasing it. Not that God should be about making us feel joyful and fulfilled all the time...but if all the knowledge that we are loved and that God is with us exists just as an abstract concept, and not in our guts and feelings, then it's sometimes hard to see the point. I know that's where faith comes in; but there are those times when it's hard to know that being a Christian is really worth it.

So after feeling like a total apostate, realizing I couldn't think of anything I could say to someone to make them think being a Christian sounds appealing...let's just say it forces me out of my shell to talk with an Atheist (who is combative, though mostly respectful) and to say why I do think God is real and important and at work in the world. And it's funny, because he could say the same thing I've said about God before (for example, pointing out that the world is so messed up and that if there was a God, God should really be intervening more and not letting so many people suffer), but it's so different coming from the lips of someone who mocks God than from someone who worships God. I take God to task plenty. But hearing someone else do it--someone who doesn't love and revere God, well, it just forces me to think about and articulate the reasons that in the face of what appears to be God's inaction, I still firmly believe God is in action. It is good to dig into and rediscover that part of myself. It is full, it is beautiful, and it has been neglected.

I am thankful for my Atheist friend.

Just Some Thoughts

Here are a few of the things rolling around in my head.

1) A friend of mine and I were discussing feminism, especially in the context of dating (specifically, of dating Christian men, as feminist Christian women). She mentioned that she often has people say something like this to her: "You're too pretty to be a feminist!" or "But you don't really need to be a feminist, you're attractive." I am not sure I completely get where this sentiment is coming from...but I'm pretty sure that the place it's coming from proves that there is a great great need for feminism. God help us.

2) I am typically pretty cool with people dissing Christianity. I mean, let's be honest, within the church, and the ways we Christians can be such total morons, well...it just does warrant criticalness and frustration pretty often. But I noticed something interesting in myself lately--that I'm cool with Christians dissing Christianity, and I'm also cool with people who were raised in the church but were hurt and disappointed and disillusioned questioning and expressing anger at the church...BUT, lately I've had a couple of people who are not Christians dissing Christianity to me, and I actually found myself becoming quite defensive. I didn't really act defensive, but internally I felt protective and fierce. I think it's something like that principle about how I can talk smack about my family all I want, but if somebody outside the family does...that's trouble. I'm not saying I need to defend or protect Christianity, it's done its thing for 2000 years independent of my protection; but, I just found it interesting that I did feel protective, y'know?

3) Another friend and I were recently talking about how to meet men (I swear, I do talk to my friends about things other than dating and men). And I realized I just hate that whole mentality of always putting yourself out there no matter where you are--and just trying to meet men all the f-ing time. When I get into that mindset, and I'm "on the prowl" everywhere I go, then every time I go somewhere and don't meet a man (which is the vast majority of the time) I feel like a failure. And I don't like feeling like I've failed just because I went grocery shopping, or to the library, or to a coffee shop, or to a party, and didn't meet a man I wanted to go on a date with. I much prefer life when I am not "on the prowl."

Feeling Lenty

Thursday morning was a beautiful morning for me. And the thing is, even though I know that using words to describe it will not really work, and will only come off as cheesy; and it also won't even come close to capturing the glory of the morning...I feel compelled to share it anyway.
I was talking to a friend Thursday morning saying that I just wasn't feeling very "lenty" during this season of Lent. Often Lent is really important for me in terms of connecting with God and awakening my spiritual life. This time, I didn't add any practices (I usually add something instead of giving something up), and I just kind of went through the days as usual. But I noticed that the newest Speaking of Faith (NPR's weekly, hour-long show on faith and values; not necessarily Christian, just faiths in general) in my podcast inbox was an Armenian Orthodox man (Vigen Goroian) speaking about "Restoring the Senses: Life, Gardening, and an Orthodox Easter." So, on my morning walk, Vigen and Krista Tippet (the host of the show) accompanied me. For some reason, when they started talking about Easter, and senses, and new life, I almost immediately started crying.
See, I think the problem is, it's very common in the Western Church (and my particular congregation) to focus on Lent and Good Friday and Easter being about our yucky sinfulness and Jesus dying for our sins. And it's not like I don't believe in that at all...but the legalistic way of thinking about this time just doesn't capture me like it used to. It's not a metaphor that resonates with me on a deep level anymore. Partly it's because I just don't feel all this guilt anymore about my sinfulness; so this whole legal transaction way of thinking about the cross and Easter, well, on an emotional level it just rings hollow. HOWEVER...looking at it on other levels, really really speaks to me. Like, looking at the power of God to bring life out of death, both in my individual life and in the world that so desperately needs new life in so many ways. And seeing how the killing of Jesus reveals so much about human brokenness (that we would kill someone like Jesus), and Jesus resurrecting redeems that brokenness. Redemption, New Life, God triumphing over death/evil...the need for those things really resonates with me.
So as I was walking, and listening to Vigen talk about using all of our senses to experience Lent and Easter, I found a kumquat on the ground right on the sidewalk in front of me, even though there was no kumquat tree anywhere I could see. It was a perfect shade of bright orange, and I could squeeze it and smell a lovely citrus smell. It was just such a perfect addition to the love and hope and beauty I was feeling toward the world--and it was awakening my senses. So I just held it and smelled it for a mile or so.

Then I saw this tree--and it was just one of those moments where the beauty of everything was just overwhelming and real. And not in a sappy way. But there's no way to really explain it in words.

So anyway. Now I am more ready for Easter. I'm feeling more "lenty." Thanks to Vigen and to the common, remarkable beauties of God's creation. Happy Easter.

when a preacher becomes a caterer.

Tonight I met with a very kind man who has retired from a lifelong occupation of being a pastor. We were meeting to go over the sermon I'd be delivering at the Lenten service at my church this Sunday evening, and for him to give some feedback. It was a good meeting overall, and I felt like I got a lot of feedback that will be really helpful in making my homily more effective and more well-received. But a few things really struck a chord in me that made me remember why it is I have such strong negative feelings against the insitutional church (on the whole), and especially against how most people in authority within the church view what church should be like and what pastors/preachers should be like.

1. I tell a story in the sermon that took place when one of my best friends (Jose) and I were driving back to California last summer after I graduated from seminary. He mentioned that for some people of his generation, saying that I went on a cross-country road trip with a person of the opposite gender might raise some concerns. And honestly, I think he's right about that. And part of me feels like I should take out the name just to avoid that--because there is no reason to keep them from hearing the message of the sermon based on a minor, insignificant detail. BUT...the other part of me thinks, screw that! Partly, I think, because just this morning I read an (unfortunately protected) post by someone I won't name (since it's protected)--but the gist of it was that the way the church is on issues of sexuality and sexual sin promotes deception and lack of honesty within the community. So I'm like, why don't I go ahead and raise concerns then? If people want to get bogged down in some stupid thing like that, well, then too bad for them. Damn those prudes, anyway! I hate that I have to hide something about myself (especially since Jose and I are just friends). But at the same time, I want to have grace for people in a different generation, and to understand limitations, and not to keep them from hearing the good news I hope to bring. Because I'm preaching for other people, not for myself.

2. My interpretation of the text is not the way people have interpreted it in the past. So, it was suggested to me that I make sure to include the usual interpretation also in the sermon, just so I can tell people what the text is really about. But it's hard, because I honestly don't see that traditional, widely-held interpretation actually IN THE TEXT. In fact, I see evidence against the traditional interpretation in this specific text. But again, if people are going to be put off by that, and get distracted by me not presenting the usual interpretation, I don't want that to happen. It just is hard to me that I can't just be honest about what I see. I know I have to take my listeners into account, and I try to. So I'm going to go look at some commentaries and see if I might be able to be at least open to seeing how the traditional interpretation might work. I want the message to be heard, and I want people to hear whatever God is going to say to them, and I don't want to get in the way. But at the same time I want to be able to honestly be myself. It's a hard balance, and truthfully, I mostly don't want to do it. But I will, because I think it's kind of selfish just to be like "I have to be authentic and true to myself. Who gives a damn if you can receive the message or not!" At the same time, though, I think that the more authentic people can be, the more it frees other people to also be honest and authentic. Argh.

3. In terms of my style, I was told that my level of intensity is too high throughout; that I need to space out my moments of intensity and use them for when I really want them. Also, that people can't handle that level of intensity for too long, so I need to give them a break. Again, back to the question of catering to the people. Certainly some amount of taking into account listeners' limitations is totally valid (for example, when I speak too quickly, it is hard for older people and/or people with hearing impairments to catch what i'm saying. point taken, and needed.); however, sometimes I just want to be like--hey, if they can't handle the intensity, maybe they need to learn to. Maybe it's not me that has to turn it down all the time, but them that have to be willing to rough it out. Because honestly, and maybe it's just because of the types of people I gravitate to and who gravitate to me, I hear way more about how soft and fluffy and devoid of real message sermons are these days, than that they are too intense. I don't know if I've ever heard someone say they wanted the sermon to have LESS intensity. It's like--hey a story! hey, a joke! hey, something from the text! hey, a mostly unrelated anecdote! hey, a loosely related Christiany life lesson! hey, a nice, gentle closer! and it's another sermon that helps people feel satisfied with themselves and their own individualistic, consumeristic faith and relationship with God. That, to me, is not church.

Okay, I'm done with the rant. I just really struggle with this issue--because I realize a lot of people love those sermons with fluffy bunnies and nice morality tales. But does that make it right to preach like that? Yes, the ability of the people to hear a certain message or a certain delivery should play into deciding how to give a sermon. But it should not promote dishonesty or holding back something that needs to be said. So the question about catering to the listeners is...how much should you do it?

How to Pray for Others

Last night at a meeting of people wanting to talk about how to increase and form deeper community at church, we briefly were on the subject of praying for others (like, during a church service, when people are invited to come up to a designated person/people if they need prayer for something) and it raised an issue that I find both very interesting and difficult to fully decide how to handle: the issue of how the moral/spiritual convictions of the person praying impact what is said and how a person is prayed for (and how they should).

Someone related an incident that occurred during one such prayer time, when a person (who was in a committed relationship with another person of the same gender) came up to him asking him to pray that God would give them a baby. Now, the pray-er has strong convictions that romantic same-sex relationships are wrong, and was opposed to them having a baby. So this person prayed for the situation generally, but not for the specific request of them receiving a baby.

Now, regardless of whether the specific situation above would be something difficult for you to pray for, it made me think that there could be times for any of us when we are asked to pray for something that goes against our deep convictions. Maybe for you it's not issues of sexuality so much as issues of money ("Please pray God helps the escrow on our $5 million vacation home to go through.") or issues of race ("Please pray that our country club stays race-specific, it's becoming really uncomfortable there and I really need it to remain a place where I can feel comfortable and safe in my life.") or whatever. The point is, we all have convictions that would make it difficult for us to pray for certain things...and that in itself is just a reality. It's not good or bad, it just is. The question is how to deal with that.

So, in a situation when a stranger is approaching me for prayer, there are a few things I try to keep in mind:

1) It's not easy to come up and ask a stranger for prayer. In that situation the person often feels vulnerable and is really putting themselves out there to ask for help. They are exposed.
2) I have been hurt in these situations before when I have really wanted prayer for something, and the person instead prayed for the situation on their terms (meaning: they did not pray for what I had asked, and redirected what they thought I should really be praying for). I felt like I wasn't heard; and I felt judged, frustrated, and deeply unaccepted. I felt worse than before I went up there.
3) I am not the gatekeeper of prayers. If someone has a certain desire, request, situation they want to bring before God, is it my job to tell them they cannot? Is it not in the very act of communing with God that we are often making space for God to transform our hearts and our desires?
4) One of my favorite quotations, by CS Lewis, goes like this: We must bring before God what is in us, and not what ought to be in us. In other words, be honest, keep it real. God knows what's in your heart anyway--what's the point of keeping stuff back or putting on a show?
5) God cares deeply about the person, no matter how broken they are, or no matter how silly their request may seem to me. And God takes them very very seriously.

Anyway, I have no answer to this issue. Overall I guess I think that honesty is the best policy. Like, instead of saying I will pray for someone about something and then slyly leaving out the exact thing they asked me to pray for, I would be open to dialoguing with them some more about it. Also, I might ask if they want to express their requests to God, and that I would stand with them as they do it. I don't know, I'm still thinking about this. How would you guys deal w/ it if someone (you don't really know well) asked you to pray for something that you felt was totally misguided?

Advent and Spontaneous Fun

In case any of you have been DYING for an Advent Devotional Guide, yours truly was asked to write the one for my church. They even put it online for easy access at http://www.hollywoodpres.org/adventdevotion.htm Enjoy.

Advent is such the red-headed stepchild of the church year though, don't you think? People (including me) get all riled up for Lent...but Advent? not so much. It really wasn't until I wrote this guide that I really even began to get a sense of what an important season it could be--not only in my own personal life, but in the lives of communities. There is something powerful about anticipating together, y'know?

Today at Trader Joe's, where my friend and I went after walking around the Rose Bowl (where we saw mounds of trash left from the UCLA/usc game yesterday...GO BRUINS!), we were joking in line about Advent. We were offering entertainment to the other waiters-in-line with our sarcastic hilarity.

Me: Do you want me to buy you one of these Advent calendars?
Friend: Uh, no thanks.
Me: But how can you adequately prepare for the coming of our Lord without a small piece of chocolate for each day?
Friend: That's a good point. Chocolate seems like an excellent way to prepare.
Me: Yes, that's the way Jesus would want us to prepare for his coming into the world.
Lady in next line over: I agree. Chocolate is good. Chocolate with wine is better.
Me: That's true. Let's make an Advent calendar with a bottle of wine for each day.
Lady: And maybe some cheese.
Me: (thinking: c'mon lady? cheese? for Advent? what is wrong with this lady?) Yeah.

I love hilarity at the grocery store/cleaners/Target/etc. Honestly, don't you think common errands like that, when done with lighthearted friends, afford such excellent opportunities for spontaneous fun? I'm all about that. I knew it was over with my last boyfriend when he asked to go to the store with me and I didn't want him to come with me. Laughter and fun in the everyday is so crucial.

There, that's the Advent message of the day.