Sunday Morning Coming Down July 17, 2009

Well, I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.

Sigh, Kris and Johnny.   Always knowing just how a soul is feeling.  A ugly headache that came on like a freight train round 11:00 last night,refused to be ignored, sent me to Sheetz at midnight scrambling for the miraculous release of Excedrin, and then reluctantly parted company at about 4:00 this morning, derailed my best-laid plans for church this morning.  It also left me with the odd semblance of a hangover and removed the filter that I usually cling to like a life-preserver. (Sunday)

(Friday) I’ve been working up to this post for almost a week now, looking at it, jotting down a few sentences, discarding them, and then abandoning the whole enterprise all together.  So here goes:

My faith is a shaky creature, tremulous and timid.  I never seem to have a firm grasp on it when I need it most.  I spend probably as much time running from God as I do running to Him.  I imagine I’m not alone in this, but it feels lonely. As a rule, most Christians are not very good at admitting weakness and to admit that sometimes you’re just not sure how the whole thing works seems like a mighty big weakness.  I envy people who proclaim to have never had a doubt, who never seem to experience that darkness where all we think we know seems on the verge of unraveling if we pull the thread that bedevils us.  I guess I’m a thread-puller. Even if it leaves me perplexed, holding one end of what used to be a gorgeous cashmere sweater, you can bet I’m gonna pull that damn thread.  I have a compulsive need to know things, to figure it all out, to get a definitive answer.  And therein lies the rub.  Faith is not an exercise in the absolute.  You would think that after 33 years, I would be better at accepting this.  I’m not there just yet.  For a girl who prides herself on independence, on being able to go it alone, reliance on a supernatural father is a hard hard thing to grasp.

So what’s a girl to do?  Read, pray, seek, go to church, open up to those you trust.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  Being a Christian is a process.  I will never be a finished product in the here and now.  Thank God for the process.

Right now, I’m on my 4th or 5th read-through of Brian McLaren’s Finding Our Way Again.  Have you ever read something, and had the eerie feeling that somehow the author read your mind, scooped out your innermost thoughts, and then oh-so-eloquently put them to page?  That’s this book for me.  Thus the compulsive re-reading.   It’s passages like the following that send me reaching for this book over and over again.

“If you’ve lost your way to the desired destination, you’re in shallow trouble.  But if in the process you’ve also lost the address you were supposed to visit,  your trouble just got deep.  If you don’t realize you’ve forgotten what your desired destination is, you’re in the bottomless pit…namely, to be in a hopeless situation but not realize it or feel bad about it.”

I hope I’m never so complacent that I fail to realize when I’m lost.  I hope I never get so consumed with my shortcomings that I fail to realize that Jesus loves me nonetheless.  That he accepts that I’m human so I might accept it too.

And since it’s been over a week since we’ve mentioned Kings of Leon here, let me  remedy that right now:

“I talk to Jesus.  Jesus says I’m okay.”

The Runner

I should probably listen to Jesus more than I do.

Gimme That Old-time Religion June 3, 2009

So our buddies Dave & Tony over at Muddied Waters are currently in the midst of a weeklong experiment/challenge in which they are only consuming Christian pop culture.  Godspeed, little men.

Anywho, it has been an endless source of entertainment for the rest of us as we witness Dave suffer from the lack of competitive sports viewing and Tony from the dearth of good music.  Their efforts to spiritualize Twitter has led to the invention of  handy new phrases (thanks to Jen for most of these) such as  twestify, twitnessing, and my personal favorite twongues.  Hey we’re all Pentecostal in some shape or fashion around here and twongues is funny!

So mosey over to their blog and read about the boys’ adventure in the land of all that is holy.  And in their honor, here are the top 5 spiritual (to me) songs on my i-pod.

Holy Roller Novocaine May 14, 2009

yes, this is where i grew up

A friend (Hi Tony!) sent this pic to me this morning.  Oddly, it fell on the heels of a oft-repeated, never-resolved conversation my husband & I had last night regarding our Pentecostal background.  This is the marquee from the church I grew up in.  Honestly, I am pretty much a lapsed Pentecostal at this point.  Though I spent twenty-odd years attending a Church of God, and even worked for the church itself, it’s mostly been an uneasy fit.  But to paraphrase Tim O’Brien, it’s one of the things I carry-a huge chunk of my personal DNA.

To be Pentecostal is to be fluent in a language that is something of a mystery to the outer world.  Last month, Rolling Stone profiled Kings of Leon, and I couldn’t help but laugh to see the music industry bible attempt to explain the culture of the band’s childhood:  mixed bathing, traveling evangelists, youth camp, camp meeting, prayer lines, hymns, no shorts, no secular anything.  Strange to your average Rolling Stone reader I’m sure, but  par for the course to any Pentecostal.  Personally, my parents were not very strict.  I think they just liked certain things too much to let them go, so I cut my teeth on the movies and music of their youth-namely the Vietnam era.  Every year my aunt had to sew culottes for my cousins and myself so we could be properly kitted up for youth camp.  Our usual summer uniform of shorts & tanks was not allowed, so for one week out of the year we looked the part of modest Church of God girls.  The culottes were then relegated to the back of the drawer never to be looked at again.

My husband is the son of a Church of God preacher.  We met at the fore-mentioned camp.  I don’t think Eric saw a movie until he was a teenager.  When he & I stopped attending a Church of God, he was informed that he was breaking a family tradition of generations.  And while Pentecostalism can make for an exuberant and warm environment,  it can also leave you with the sense that you can never ever measure up.  It’s part of our shared DNA-one that’s oddly made for a pretty strong alliance between the two of us.

I guess that’s one reason I do adore Kings Of Leon.  In the midst of the sex and the drugs and the absolutely lethal rock-n-roll, you can hear the echoes and vibrations of countless Sunday nights spent squirming in a church pew absorbing things that are mysterious and wonderful and terrifying.  You can’t really amputate any part of your childhood, can you?  It stays with you in one form or another.  The things we carry…

This is the way the world ends April 21, 2009

“The Hollow Men”

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

T.S. Eliot

Thanks to a renewed Netflix subscription we have been playing a frantic game of movie catch-up at our house this past month.

Now, I am going to divulge a tiny bit of personal info-something I’m not particularly good at.  Eric, my husband, served in Iraq from July 2005-July 2006.  War is an ugly brutal business, and that fleeting 365 days has left an indelible mark. One of the oddest effects (and certainly a minor one)  is that his stint in Iraq greatly altered what we watch.  For three years, we’ve avoided heavy movies and especially violent movies.  For separate reasons, neither of us have had the capacity to process them so it’s been much lighter fare in our house than usual.

Last night, we watched Children of Men, an horrifying morally complex glimpse of a dystopian future in which humanity has been rendered infertile and is waiting for extinction.  So armed with the knowledge that the end is inevitable, how do we act?  Not very well, I’m afraid.  This movie tore my heart into a thousand pieces & I feel just a bit shell-shocked today.  The violence is real and grim, so much so that towards the end I noticed a tightness in my husband’s face.  “Too much?”  I asked, “Is it bothering you?”  He nodded, but continued to watch.

If there’s a thematic common thread that runs through the works that resonate with me,  I guess it’s the indefatigable presence of hope in terrible circumstances.  The thought that we can stare down the worst the devil has to offer, and still retain our humanity.  I call myself a reluctant idealist because  no matter how royally humankind manages to screw things up I cannot let go of the notion that we can and will do better.  We have to.  It’s a moral imperative that I cling to more stubbornly than anything that I was formally taught in church.  I don’t want to do good things because it will get me into heaven.  I want to do good things because it is the right thing to do, regardless of the presence of an reward.  I guess this makes me something of a humanist.  Humanist is kind’ve a dirty word where I come from.  I really don’t see all the bother, and frankly I don’t care.  God is everpresent when we choose to act unselfishly, when we help the helpless.

Of the many thoughts swirling in my head today, one I keep returning to is the fact that the main character, played remarkably well by Clive Owen, did not carry a weapon for the duration of the movie.  Escorting the last hope for the future of humanity to safety and you don’t feel a gun is necessary?  I’m not sure what that says exactly, but I kind’ve like it anyway.

Luc

I can have oodles of charm when I want to.  Kurt Vonnegut

The Christian’s Response to Separation April 20, 2009

I am what you could call an “industry insider”. I’ve been in church since birth, still attend it, and work full time and part time for two church organizations.

I also happen to be separated. In a country in which the divorce rate is 50%, it should not shock a soul that it happened to a Christian. And yet, by observing my church’s response – it has.

First some background. Aaron and I met at a Christian college (told you, I’m an insider). From the outside we are the “perfect” couple. We look cute together, we match up on surface stuff, and we are fairly opposite one another. He’s a pastor’s son; I’m a deacon’s daughter…that alone should’ve guaranteed no hard times, right? Ah yes…that fairy-tale-idealism that runs rampant in 20-somethings who were raised under a pew and also happen to be slightly obsessive compulsive and Type A.

Our world (and subsequent marriage) has been one of fighting. All of the fights that should’ve made us stronger but actually tore us apart all came to a head sometime around our 3rd year of marriage. It was at that point that ‘divorce’ got thrown out and used not as some idle noun but as an action verb. Various situations and circumstances have led us to a place of being separated. Come May 15, it will mark the one year anniversary of our separation date.

When everything happened, I felt like the rug had been yanked out from underneath of me, and the various things I was juggling to keep my sanity and our marriage together came crashing down. And there I sat, reeling from losing my balance and distraught over the various things that had been broken (trust, security, hope) from the fall.

I am now in an altogether different place; emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Over the course of this year I’ve thought about the ways in which I wish those who are churched around me had responded. I don’t blame anyone or harbor any resentment – after all, we’re the ‘test case’ – the first in our peer group to go through anything like this. In mulling it over, I’ve come up with a list of what I (I know that not everyone is like me nor would want what I want, this is simply what I’ve learned from MY journey) wish people could grasp regarding marriage, separation and divorce.

1. Don’t jump to attack or defend either party involved. In the beginning (and even now to an extent) I just needed people to listen. For them to attack him left me protective of him – they hadn’t been with him for 7 years and didn’t have the right to attack him; only I did. For them to defend him left me feeling like I couldn’t be safe with them, that they would “side” with him, and left me feeling even more vulnerable and exposed then the actual separation itself.  Just. Listen.

2. Don’t band-aid a gaping wound with religion. If there’s a hole in my heart (which there was, it’s now slowly healing), all of your “Just forgive!”, “Just pray harder!”, “Just stick it out – remember, Jesus hates divorce!” has made me think murderous thoughts about YOU, the giver of advice – rather than make me want to stay in my marriage.

This issue is where I had a giant log in my eye. I’d been told of a mutual friend’s divorce and in my holy and just mind I sat on my throne looking down on him thinking “What did YOU do? You’re a pastor/youth pastor/church goer, how could YOU let this happen?” For this thought I have repented a million times, both to the person and to Jesus. And now, after the most painful of experiences, I know first hand it takes TWO people who have FREE WILL for a marriage to fall apart.

I believe that prayer changes things – but this is where us church people have to be careful: the person you are praying for is of their own mind. God can soften their heart, God can present opportunity for reconciliation and provide outlets for change – but that person has the freedom to obey or choose whatever it is they want. In our church world, we say “Honey, you just spend a lifetime praying for him – and one day he’ll come back to you.” There’s a possibility that will happen – but there’s also the possibility, that God being the gentleman he is, won’t force himself on that other person – and after years of opportunities, he won’t make that person accept a one of them. Be careful church people of what you say – your well meaning Christian ideals can put pressure on someone who has had the rug yanked out from under them. Someone who doesn’t have the strength to stand on their own can’t handle your legalistic pressure too. That gaping wound that their marriage is bleeding out through you have the potential to further infect with your rules and views on how life “should be”.

Also, please keep in mind: I don’t need to go to the altar EVERY TIME the invitation is given. I now get the scripture that says “pray without ceasing”. I do it. I wouldn’t have survived this year without it. Also, if we are in church on the same Sunday, it doesn’t mean that we are back together; and, we don’t need people to march us up to the altar for everyone to pray over and cry over and hug later. I welcome everyone’s well intentions, just keep in mind; well intentions tend to carry YOUR particular expectations, which might not be what’s best for us. If we individually or as a couple go to the altar, feel free to come pray for us.  But please know: IF you grab my arm and drag me towards the front, I will do my best to trip you on the way up.

And here’s the biggie: DON’T look at me and say “Jesus forgave you, shouldn’t you forgive him?” This will make me morph into a little spinning demon shouting curse words. Before this point in my life, I thought I’d forgiven people but hadn’t; I’d said “it’s ok” just to keep the peace/relationship and carried the hurt as a martyr; and am now crying in counseling saying “but look what THEY did.” Yes I’ve been hurt, worse now than ever before. Yes I am working to forgive. For me to be an “insider” it sounds ridiculous – but I never realized till now that I didn’t know how to forgive. Taking my drink from the fridge or eating my last cookie is forgivable – stomping on my heart and spirit is entirely different. This is an issue Jesus and I have had to work through. We still are. And please let me tell you: there is a Biblical model for forgiveness, but forgiveness for every person will look different. Forgiveness does not always equal reconciliation. Did you hear me, COG and OP? Forgiveness in our situation does not mean that I go back to him and get treated the same as before – neither do I treat him the same as before. It means that I forgive him of the enormous debt I feel he owes me. I’m not there yet, but am working on it.  That leads me to point 3.

3. Don’t rush in to fix: either the person or the marriage. This issue is two-fold. Sometimes it takes a good fall on your ass before you can see life as it really is, before you can effectively evaluate life. (And yes, the A word happens to be the one non-COG word that I use a lot) Some people in life are a tad bit stubborn…ahem…me. Jesus has been trying to sand off some of my rough edges for oh, approximately 28 years – and I haven’t let him get anywhere close to them. This issue however, has brought me to a place with Him where I’d better let him do what He needs to. Otherwise, I’ll be miserable.

I am in a great place where I am balancing the things that need to change with the things that are ME and will always be ME. This is the tricky one: I welcome change in my life. In fact, the only thing I’m thankful about in this whole process has been the fact that I’ve changed as a person. I’ve grown. I don’t need to be changed from who I am though. If you’re my friend there are obviously things that drew you to me – but just because I’m in this grand phase of  changing doesn’t mean that all aspects of me as a person need to change. Some things you’ll like, others you won’t – and no amount of changing in the world will change some of the things you don’t for 2 reasons: 1. they are inherently who I am; and 2. everybody likes and dislikes something different. If I took everyone’s advice on what needed to change, I would cease being Kristina – and would change based on who I am around. Have you met me? That’s not happening.

I welcome CONSTRUCTIVE criticism from certain people in my life. Some are too close to the situation to be fair minded, some are too blind, some just want me to be the way they want me to be. I have prayed considerably about the people I’ve opened up to. I also pray considerably about the things that they tell me I need to change. Then I take it all to the man I pay to listen to me and pay to set me straight: my licensed, very educated counselor who’s been doing this for 20 years. (PS: Church world: TAKE NOTE – COUNSELING IS NOT EVIL) I’ve been very open about the fact that I’m changing – however, if I don’t take your advice, don’t keep pushing. That becomes pressure when I am already over-loaded on it to begin with. This is where I need everyone to trust me: Barring this blip on my life’s radar screen, I’ve lived a life that never rocked my boat or anyone else’s. This blip though is making me a real human, as opposed to the judgmental shrew I once was. Trust that I hear your criticisms and concerns – and am praying over all of it.

The second piece of this is that it just takes time. Would I like this to be all wrapped up one way or the other? To quote Luciana quoting Sarah Palin “YOU BETCHA”. But guess what? We won’t be healed as individuals or as a marriage on your time line. Nor on ours. If we’re both doing what we need to be (and even if we’re not) it’ll only be fixed on God’s time line. Don’t rush us.  Or me. Please just accept that “Kristina and Aaron” aren’t that anymore. You have two very broken individuals; healing for one takes a while, for two it’s twice as long. This is our “new normal” = Kristina. Aaron. Not Kristina and Aaron. Please don’t force what can’t happen yet out of YOUR frustration, embarrassment or tiredness of the situation.

4. Don’t ignore me, just because you don’t know what to do about me or my “situation”. To be fairly quiet I am fairly social. I love to talk and laugh and hug. Since my world has turned upside down, I’ve run from the touch of others. I don’t initiate hugs as much as I used to. My heart has been beat to death, and in order to self-protect I’ve pushed everyone back to arm’s length.  You know one of the most healing things you could do? Don’t look at me and smile wistfully, don’t look at me and whisper, don’t come to me and tell me what to do. Simply be there. Hug me, because somedays I don’t have the strength to reach out to you; I don’t have the strength to trust you. And that brings me to my next point.

5. Do pray. I don’t mean that tritely, either. Pray before you talk to me. Pray that I’ll learn what I need to for myself. Pray that Aaron will learn what he needs to for himself. Pray that we’ll each become (as individuals) the people that we need to be. Pray that God’s will will be done, and be made abundantly clear.

Even with my frustrations, I can’t imagine being anywhere else during this trial in my life. To not have a community of believers who love me, a group of friends who have done more than I ever guessed I’d have to ask them to do, and to have a God who keeps nudging me in the direction I should go has helped to heal my broken heart.

Easter April 13, 2009

I am ashamed to admit that one of the most provocative dates on the Christian calendar quickly came and quickly went for me this year. Normally I am extremely religious, in spite of myself. But this year I didn’t attend a Passion play (being straight up honest – they weird me out), didn’t hear an Easter musical of any sort (I would’ve settled for collective worship – there are some GOOD hymns regarding this important day in Christendom, we didn’t sing a one of them), and our Pastor preached on bringing “hope to the hopeless” (which left me feeling neither hopeful, nor hopeless).

I’m going to take a guess here that the problem lies within me. This Easter I just felt extremely distracted by all the new clothes, new people, not enough room at church, loud crying babies in stereo (that’s the last time I sit in the middle!) bad music….sadly the closest I came to being spiritual was the Wednesday before when we had Communion at staff meeting.

This has been such a year of transition. My life was no where close to perfect before, but I don’t ever remember being so emotionally & mentally schizophrenic. I have literally felt myself change moment by moment – react and try to curtail those spur of the moment reactions. And on a day when the focus is on resurrection, I felt to myself dead on the inside.

In being gut-wrenchingly honest, I don’t know if I’m just in a blah, hard place – or if spiritually there is something wrong with me. This year has taxed me emotionally, mentally, spiritually – even physically. I have often felt and still feel like an onion that is being peeled: layer by layer that protective covering is coming off, and I’m being stripped down to a place of reality; and more than once am making those around me cry in the process.

In a moment of reality I can admit that while I work in a religious environment full time and now part time as well, I just don’t feel all that spiritual. I feel very passive and hate it.

Not too surprisingly, Pastor (or rather, big Jesus through Pastor) has left me a spark of hope. I have my “daily bookmarks” folder which houses the websites that I visit…well, obviously daily. The Boston Globe has a spot called “The Big Picture” which, being the fan of photography that I am, I absolutely love. Amazingly, that small flicker of a flame inside me jumped a little in seeing pictures from around the world as other countries celebrated Easter.

http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/04/holy_week.html