to find beauty

A Ramble

 

Blog co-author: fail 

 

It is not as though I don't want to invite the entire world in on my most intimate thought processes. It is just that I am so involved in having them, and doing them, that often I fail to write them down.  I also lack the words to describe so much of what is going on in my life. I can't begin to convey the intense excitement that burns within me when I contemplate my life and the future. When I talk about it there seems to be a disproportionate amount of eye rolling.

 

Four years ago I wrote a letter to my 17 year old self. If I were to rewrite that letter today it would be completely different. It would be more along the lines of: obviously you are going to mess-up, but the majority of the things that happen in this world are not your fault or responsibility.  Take what comes and roll with it because inside of you is me. You have an amazing potential for joy and wonder!

 

I think my 17 year old self would have cringed at that advice and crawled back into her self defeating, self destructive reality of her own creation.  Crying in fear that to see the sunlight she might get a sunburn in the processes. As afraid of success as of failure, never standing and making a decision, living a life that's choices were defined by default. Not living, just breathing.

 

Life is a bit different now, walk with me and we will talk.

someone help that girl

I bought myself a new light fixture for my bedroom at IKEA last weekend. Last night, forgetting it was on my big chair underneath the laundry I had just thrown on top of it (thus hiding the fixture), I sat on it. Broke it. Of course. Good thing it was only $9.99. Yay for imports.

In my annoyance, I placed the broken light fixture on a side table. In doing so, I knocked over the first can of Diet Coke I've opened in 40 days. Diet Coke spilled all over the floor.

Later, I was holding a bag of old picture frames (to be donated somewhere) and the bag broke. Picture frames with their glass fronts hit the floor. I think I tripped on something next and then Elwood knocked something over too (probably to get away from me.)

Today, I went to New Seasons and got a piece of cheese pizza for lunch. Went to eat the pizza (I eat their pizza NY style: folded like a pizza taco), and oil(?) squirted out (eww)and landed on my jeans. Just now, I went to drink some Diet Coke (the first real can since Lent passed and the first one was spilled) and I missed my mouth and spilled Diet Coke on my shirt.

Seriously?!

Shall I go on? Should I go on? Help me. Please.

eavesdropping at borders

Last night I went to Border's to study math. I sat at one of the tables by the coffee shop and sipped on a very delicious White Chocolate mocha. I couldn't get online (only T-Mobile) so I have no Internet distractions. Just me, my math assignment (interest rates and loans!) and my coffee.

Well, that's not totally true. I liked to study in public places because I like to feel like I am a part of "life." After I ordered my coffee, I checked out a display of tea or something, but as I did that I overheard a group of either high school or young college kids working on a group project or having a meeting. They were discussing the perception and attitudes against/for gays and lesbians in society. One of the kids, was definitely the leader. He had a strong voice that carried well, and I heard him say, "the largest discrimination against gays and lesbians is those with religious beliefs." They continued to talk, but this statement was what stuck in my mind.

I got my drink, and situated myself in the cafe area to do my math. Across the cafe, there were two girls (the cafe was actually fairly crowded) and they both spoke very loud and I could hear them clearly. They were doing a bible study, studying a passage about King Silas and David. They read, discussed, and questioned each other. It sounded like one of the girls may have had a Jewish background from some of her responses about Jesus, but I couldn't be sure. They were studying God's Word and sharing with one another their experiences with God, Jesus, love and grace.

I sat there, and pondered the irony. As one group discussed the discrimination they felt from "religious people," two "religious" people sat and talked about how to show God's love to all (which is not bad at all, quite cool actually.)

I wanted to stand up, and tell the girls to stop reading and to go over to the other group who felt like religious people were their biggest enemies (and honestly, aren't we the biggest opposers?) and tell them God loves them, even when His people forget that God's love is for all people. I wanted to challenge the girls to be something different to the other group who pigeon-holed all religious people in a box. Not to preach to them, not to scold or judge. But to openly dialogue and show, not just talk about, God's grace.

But I didn't stand up. I sat there, and continued to work on my math homework.

angry conversations with God

Sometimes when God works… it's not-so-mysterious.

Last Monday evening, I found myself with an hour or so to fritter away to my own carefree enjoyment. I set off to the local bookstore to peruse the aisles and find a new addition to the growing piles of books around my bedroom. I found Susan Isaac's "snarky but authentic spiritual memoir," Angry Conversations with God. Or maybe it found me?

It was the last copy on a display table filled with books about religion and spirituality. It stuck out. The title screamed for (my) attention. Angry conversations with God? Is this for real? The inside flap began: "I was raised Lutheran: Bible believing, Jesus-loving Lutheran. But as an adult I tried everything: Pentecostals, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Rock 'n' Roll Slacks for Jesus, Actors for Yahweh. Then I said, 'Screw it' and became a drunk and a slut. Well, a Lutheran slut—I slept with only two guys. Then I got sober and into AA, where they said I could pick whatever god I wanted. But I didn't pick God; God picked me. I've known Him as long as I can remember."

I was hooked. She continued to describe her problems as "middle-class white girls" and hinted at some pokes at the American "churchianity." I was definitely a white girl. (I wore a skirt today and my white legs are a testament to this fact!) And I've been a Christian for as long as I can remember. And I certainly know something about "churchianity."

Dave-Ramsey-Financial-Peace-cautions were pushed aside; I didn't even look at the price. I needed to read this book. This book promised something funny and fresh, and different than the books sitting in the piles. I have been wrestling with intimacy with God. I didn't know what the book would reveal about God and me… but I was willing to give it a go.

I wasn't let down. This book spoke to my soul. She shared her God story with the "snarky but authenticity" the cover promised. She was funny. She was real. The pages flew by. She shared of her frustrations and loneliness as a single woman. I related. She shared her annoyances with church-y phrases like "living life together" and I nodded emphatically. She shared her view of Jesus (wimpy) and God (angry) and I began to wonder about my own view of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit with an intimacy I haven't experienced in a long time. Not since the glory days of Uprising when worship was easy and lovely. I miss those days.

I can't do the book justice and I don't want to ruin it for anyone else who may read it. (Obviously I am recommending it.) So, I am not going to say anything more. Just that when I finished the last chapters, I was sitting at the community table at the local New Seasons grocery store (yes, this is another place I like to "hang") surrounded by others eating and chatting and I was crying. Yeah, I probably looked like a weirdo. But something very real within me was touched by her story.

I spend so much time doing things so other people can know Jesus. This is not bad. The mission of Abundant Life Church is to reach as many people as possible for Jesus Christ. As a staff person and member, this is my objective. I agree with it. I feel extremly honored to be where I am, doing what I get to do.

I think too often in the hustle and bustle of making sure a church event is pulled off, or whatever project I am working on, I forget too easily that before I reach others I need to make sure I am being reached. It's not selfish. It's not rude. It's not irresponsible. It's wise and good. And it's really, really hard for me. I don't know why. I don't know why I am afraid. If Susan's God was angry, mine is distant and hard to please. If Susan's Jesus was wimpy, mine is sad and frustrated with me. Both want a lot from me. They are demanding and exhausting. Yeah, they both love me, but I am their daughter, they have to… right?

Last Friday I was at the church office working on some projects, and I had my Angry Conversations with God book with me. A friend of mine who manages a Christian bookstore had asked I write a little review for his store. I had hoped to put something together for him after I clocked out when the church was quiet. My co-worker Val (who also doubles as my dating mentor, but that's a different story entirely) walks in my office space, sees the book at my desk, and says excitedly, "Oh my goodness Cori! I just watched this woman on KATU this morning! She's hilarious! She is reading from her book at Imago Dei tonight!"

I flipped out. I was so excited. I wanted to meet her, hear her story in her own voice. But then I remembered I had a conflict. I was already booked for a "play night" with a volunteer team from church. Yes, on a Friday night my plans are church-work related. I realized I had to make a decision between doing something I was already committed or something for my own personal, spiritual growth. This was actually a touch decision, and I begrudgingly admit I let my pastor-boss make the call for me.

Going to the book reading was about me and God and where I am in my own spiritual growth journey. I don't feel close to God. I feel neglected and a little angry. Okay, I feel pissed off. (I am not going to get into why here.) I feel tired all the time. I feel a little lost and lonely. I feel like a machine that needs to put things out constantly - workschoolpeoplehomeself - with no thought of how it gets fueled.  I am being a poor provider of my own soul care. And I don't want to be. I want to cry out to Jesus and ask him why the desires of my heart have been forgotten, for help, and I am scared to hear the answers. I don't want to be told I am doing anything wrong. I am stubborn. I don't want the expectations of others to define who I am supposed to be. I don't want to be fueled by the approval of others. I want to be confident and in love with my Creator, but when I cry out to Him my voice squeaks. It's like fingernails on a chalkboard. I don't like hearing it. I stumble with my words. I'd rather hide and keep on being busy.

But something tells me, God doesn't mind my squeaks. He wants me to talk to him and cry with him. He sees the potential and passion in me that's good and wants me to see it too. At some point I had scribbled these words by Josh McDowell on a piece of paper and tacked it on my bulletin board: "A healthy self-image is seeing yourself as God sees you-no more and no less." Jesus wants to be my fuel because he isn't judging me—he loves me.

Sigh.

"If God really was good, then I had to let go of every expectation and every grudge. I could no longer defy him or manipulate Him. I might even have to let Him love me (page 224)."

This is obviously a process, and I am not going to solve everything within this post. I want to be honest with others and myself (or try to), and was reminded at the book reading that I need to write these feelings out. It's one of the tools God has given me to learn and grow. Maybe not always on a public blog! But I also believe that when we write for others (like blogs are) we are writing for others to see their own self in our words and experiences. So, I will continue to write.