I picked up a copy of The Orthodox Heretic by Peter Rollins and devoured it. Some of the "tales" I found rather shocking, but they made me think and I felt like I wanted to read them to everyone I know.
A few days ago, I was visiting with Henry at Rehab. I questioned him on something specific and his answer made me really mad. I was soooo ticked - I abruptly said I needed to go to the washroom and I took off down the hall. I thought I would just return to the room in a couple minutes, say I had to go home now, gather my things and leave. He'd know why I was leaving, but ... so what! He had screwed up, he knew it and ... I just didn't want to be there anymore.
But while I was talking to myself and justifying what I was about to do, I thought about some of Peter's comments in the book - what he said about forgiveness. "What if Jesus taught an impossible forgiveness, a forgiveness without conditions, a forgiveness that would forgive before some condition was met?" And I realized how poorly I love unconditionally.
So I had this little talk with Jesus in the bathroom, and then I walked back to Henry's room, knowing darn well he was expecting me to do my crappy attitude thing, and instead I plopped down on the bed and started chatting about something else.
(I also thought about how easy it is for me to walk out, take off, etc. cause I have both legs and can do that. And how Henry can not, bound as he is in his wheelchair. How unfair I can treat him because I physically have the ability. That really stinks, doesn't it?)
I do believe Peter is right - Jesus calls us to this absolutely ridiculous unconditional love, but ohmigosh how hard it is to walk in it! It doesn't make sense that by just absolutely loving a person in their screw-ups, they will become a better person (not that the gospel makes a lot of "sense" anyways). But then ... when I screw up, that really is what I am desperately hoping for ... that my family and friends will just keep forgiving me and loving me to wholeness.
I guess it's one of those gold rule things again, eh?
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
The Lord's Prayer - Mennonite Style
"This poem is actually a several hundred year old Mennonite rendering of the Lord’s Prayer, meant to make it memorizable and recitable in a relevant way...."
Abba Father God, Bless your holy name.
Let your reign come now, Let your desires be carried out.
Bring your peace to birth, As in heav’n, so on Earth
Give us bread, daily; Free us, as we free.
When the way is hard, Be our guide and guard.
Your rule, power; and praise Reign supreme, always.
Original link is on the title of this post, but I actually found the prayer here.
Abba Father God, Bless your holy name.
Let your reign come now, Let your desires be carried out.
Bring your peace to birth, As in heav’n, so on Earth
Give us bread, daily; Free us, as we free.
When the way is hard, Be our guide and guard.
Your rule, power; and praise Reign supreme, always.
Original link is on the title of this post, but I actually found the prayer here.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Compassion
Yesterday was an emotional day for me. I kept yoyo-ing. I had a conversation that scared me and made my heart feel cold, then another conversation that excited and encouraged me, then another that made me sad, and then another that made me feel upset, then another... Gosh!
At one point in my day, a friend said, "I will not be politically correct." That statement floated in the back of my brain for quite a while. It made me think, "Is that it? Is that it? Is that my motivation in some of the things I am doing?" I kept asking myself that question.
At a meeting in the evening, we were asked to spend a bit of time quiet before Jesus, to think of a centering prayer word. I was asking God for a word, and mulling over a few in my head and then I hit upon "compassion". Ohhhh, what a good word! I sat before Jesus with "compassion" in my thoughts.
I believe that is the motivation of my heart. I don't think I care too much about being politically correct, although I am no giant of independence that I am free to not be influenced by the atmosphere of the group I am with. No, I'm not that independent or insensitive or whatever word you want to use.
It seems to me that Jesus was mostly moved by compassion. Love manifest as compassion. I think that's my motivation for the journey I'm on and the direction I am headed. Gosh, I know my motives are not totally pure - I'm just in Compassion Kindergarten, but ... yep, that's the attitude I want rooted in my heart.
In the centering prayer time, a thought that swept through my brain as I focused on "compassion" was "What else would you want to motivate you?" Yes, indeed.
I spend an amount of time thinking about the church and culture. I read a lot about it. I'm not quite sure why this is the track I am on, but I have to believe God has something to do with it.
I do feel like this is a big area of struggle for a lot of the church that I am familiar with. I do think we've missed it in this area. Our culture is changing ... scary fast. Or ... maybe it changed awhile ago and we were working so hard to maintain our church culture that we didn't notice.
I don't think, as some Christians do, that our culture is going to see the light and realize we are right and become like us and adapt our ways. No, I don't think that will happen at all.
I think we will need to rethink a lot of things. (Bruxy Cavey says something like every generation needs to recalibrate themselves to Jesus.) We will need to decide how much of what we believe and do, is just a product of the cultural setting we grew up in. Some of that we just need to dump - practices as well as attitudes! What worked for us in our attempts to love and follow God will not work for those who live in our communities.
I wonder why it is so easy for us to realize that to be effective on a mission field, we have to adapt to the culture of the people. But in our own setting, we expect those outside the church to adapt to our church culture.
I want to see Jesus walking my street. I want to see Jesus sitting with the people I know, who are on the fringes. I want to hear what he talks about with them. I want to have a like heart. I want to overflow with compassion for their lives and their struggles just like Jesus does.
Compassion.
At one point in my day, a friend said, "I will not be politically correct." That statement floated in the back of my brain for quite a while. It made me think, "Is that it? Is that it? Is that my motivation in some of the things I am doing?" I kept asking myself that question.
At a meeting in the evening, we were asked to spend a bit of time quiet before Jesus, to think of a centering prayer word. I was asking God for a word, and mulling over a few in my head and then I hit upon "compassion". Ohhhh, what a good word! I sat before Jesus with "compassion" in my thoughts.
I believe that is the motivation of my heart. I don't think I care too much about being politically correct, although I am no giant of independence that I am free to not be influenced by the atmosphere of the group I am with. No, I'm not that independent or insensitive or whatever word you want to use.
It seems to me that Jesus was mostly moved by compassion. Love manifest as compassion. I think that's my motivation for the journey I'm on and the direction I am headed. Gosh, I know my motives are not totally pure - I'm just in Compassion Kindergarten, but ... yep, that's the attitude I want rooted in my heart.
In the centering prayer time, a thought that swept through my brain as I focused on "compassion" was "What else would you want to motivate you?" Yes, indeed.
I spend an amount of time thinking about the church and culture. I read a lot about it. I'm not quite sure why this is the track I am on, but I have to believe God has something to do with it.
I do feel like this is a big area of struggle for a lot of the church that I am familiar with. I do think we've missed it in this area. Our culture is changing ... scary fast. Or ... maybe it changed awhile ago and we were working so hard to maintain our church culture that we didn't notice.
I don't think, as some Christians do, that our culture is going to see the light and realize we are right and become like us and adapt our ways. No, I don't think that will happen at all.
I think we will need to rethink a lot of things. (Bruxy Cavey says something like every generation needs to recalibrate themselves to Jesus.) We will need to decide how much of what we believe and do, is just a product of the cultural setting we grew up in. Some of that we just need to dump - practices as well as attitudes! What worked for us in our attempts to love and follow God will not work for those who live in our communities.
I wonder why it is so easy for us to realize that to be effective on a mission field, we have to adapt to the culture of the people. But in our own setting, we expect those outside the church to adapt to our church culture.
I want to see Jesus walking my street. I want to see Jesus sitting with the people I know, who are on the fringes. I want to hear what he talks about with them. I want to have a like heart. I want to overflow with compassion for their lives and their struggles just like Jesus does.
Compassion.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Connected
We have lived in and near this little town for quite awhile. In the 80's, we spent six years here. This time, we've been here 11 years. Wow! That's pretty amazing for us.
Unfortunately most of those 17 years, we drove out of our community for church. So ... even though we lived here, on some levels it never really felt like we were a part of our own town.
We homeschooled our kids for most of those years, which did isolate us to a certain measure. Yes, our lifestyle plus our financial situation were great influences in our ability to really be a part. We volunteered at various kids' programs, which was great, but we really did not (or could not) participate in a lot.
Just over three years ago, when it seemed God was directing us to "come home" as far as our churching, we didn't know what would happen to us. It really seemed like there wasn't any faith community that we would fit into here. On some levels, it was kind of scary.
We come from an evangelical background, and have spent a few years in charismatic style churches. But, the evangelical churches here were a definite "not fit" for us, and although we did try to attend the local charismatic church, it just wasn't the place for us either. We felt lost.
I've told the story before of how we ended up in Trinity United church. Sometimes a wave washes over me, and I get the sense again that God had been preparing us for a long time, to someday become a part of this particular church. It is rather amazing.
Today it was there again. I had hung up the phone from chatting with my friend. We're having a young mom's nite out and she is letting us have it at her house. Almost every time I have been around this friend of mine, I leave with a deeply satisfying feeling. It is beyond explanation. I feel like she has been my friend for a long, long time.
(It would be an interesting exercise to list my friends, and the major input they have in my life. Each one certainly gifts my life differently from the others. I love it! I am just so thankful for all of them.)
This good friend makes me somehow feel that - or maybe she helps me connect with the fact that - I am part of this little town. She makes me feel like I really and truly belong here. Somehow she wakes that feeling up in me. She awakens a thankfulness in my heart.
And so ... I'm thanking God once again, for how he has worked in our lives, for bringing us back to this little town 11 years ago, for leading us to "come home" to find a local church, and then for making us a part of this faith community.
It's all so truly amazing.
Unfortunately most of those 17 years, we drove out of our community for church. So ... even though we lived here, on some levels it never really felt like we were a part of our own town.
We homeschooled our kids for most of those years, which did isolate us to a certain measure. Yes, our lifestyle plus our financial situation were great influences in our ability to really be a part. We volunteered at various kids' programs, which was great, but we really did not (or could not) participate in a lot.
Just over three years ago, when it seemed God was directing us to "come home" as far as our churching, we didn't know what would happen to us. It really seemed like there wasn't any faith community that we would fit into here. On some levels, it was kind of scary.
We come from an evangelical background, and have spent a few years in charismatic style churches. But, the evangelical churches here were a definite "not fit" for us, and although we did try to attend the local charismatic church, it just wasn't the place for us either. We felt lost.
I've told the story before of how we ended up in Trinity United church. Sometimes a wave washes over me, and I get the sense again that God had been preparing us for a long time, to someday become a part of this particular church. It is rather amazing.
Today it was there again. I had hung up the phone from chatting with my friend. We're having a young mom's nite out and she is letting us have it at her house. Almost every time I have been around this friend of mine, I leave with a deeply satisfying feeling. It is beyond explanation. I feel like she has been my friend for a long, long time.
(It would be an interesting exercise to list my friends, and the major input they have in my life. Each one certainly gifts my life differently from the others. I love it! I am just so thankful for all of them.)
This good friend makes me somehow feel that - or maybe she helps me connect with the fact that - I am part of this little town. She makes me feel like I really and truly belong here. Somehow she wakes that feeling up in me. She awakens a thankfulness in my heart.
And so ... I'm thanking God once again, for how he has worked in our lives, for bringing us back to this little town 11 years ago, for leading us to "come home" to find a local church, and then for making us a part of this faith community.
It's all so truly amazing.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Jammin'
I was invited by a man in our church, to come over last evening and "jam" with him and a few of his friends. This time-change has really affected me, it seems, and I just wanted to stay home, but when I phoned him to cancel, he talked me into coming at least for a little while.
I do play guitar, but ... I am no musician. I never aspired to be a musician. In fact, I've hardly played at all in the last few years. But I went.
Ohmigosh! What a nice evening! Our host plays fiddle. Another man from our church was there, who also plays guitar. The others I had not met before - a man and his wife - he is an amazing fiddle player, she does her best to keep up with him on an old keyboard that was there. And one other man, who plays guitar and had a binder full of the songs he has written (and most likely performed somewhere).
I was clearly out of my league. But none of them seemed to mind. They were all incredibly welcoming. When it came around to be my turn to pick the next song, I always declined and finally promised I would look through music at home and come better prepared next time.
I was amazed - as I seem to be fairly often - of this treasure hidden in my community. It is very hard to explain how I felt, trying to participate or just sitting back and enjoying the incredible music. I sort of felt like I had been given a gift, or let in on a secret ... or something like that.
It was very cool.
I do play guitar, but ... I am no musician. I never aspired to be a musician. In fact, I've hardly played at all in the last few years. But I went.
Ohmigosh! What a nice evening! Our host plays fiddle. Another man from our church was there, who also plays guitar. The others I had not met before - a man and his wife - he is an amazing fiddle player, she does her best to keep up with him on an old keyboard that was there. And one other man, who plays guitar and had a binder full of the songs he has written (and most likely performed somewhere).
I was clearly out of my league. But none of them seemed to mind. They were all incredibly welcoming. When it came around to be my turn to pick the next song, I always declined and finally promised I would look through music at home and come better prepared next time.
I was amazed - as I seem to be fairly often - of this treasure hidden in my community. It is very hard to explain how I felt, trying to participate or just sitting back and enjoying the incredible music. I sort of felt like I had been given a gift, or let in on a secret ... or something like that.
It was very cool.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Moving Right Along
So today's the day. Yep, Henry goes to back to Rehab. Tomorrow, the prosthetic guy brings Henry's new foot and we are told, Henry will be walking right away.
Our physio lady also encourages us that Henry may find it easier than a lot of people, to deal with a fake foot because he hasn't had feeling in his feet for years. They've felt like wooden blocks on the ends of his legs for a long, long time.
The length of Rehab for learning to walk on a prosthesis is usually 4 to 6 weeks, but patients can go home on the weekends, which works for us!
Henry and I started attending a local United church a couple years ago. We had sort of burned out on "Sunday morning church" for awhile, and enjoyed just being home. But you know that longing for connection and that wanting to be involved in a Christian community ... well ... we found a small group and started attending it, and then months later, when most of the group left for a warmer climate, we tried the church the group was connected to.
I've told the story before - how amazed we were to discover the "gold" that was there in that old, old church. (Trinity United has just begun its 150th year!)
We've been there 2 years now! Ohmigosh!
Soooo many things have opened up for us because of our involvement there ... including ... I am now on a course of study to become a "Licensed Lay Worship Leader". Once I have that, I will be licensed to preach in the United Churches in this Presbytery. Ohmigosh!
Life is always just so interesting!
Our physio lady also encourages us that Henry may find it easier than a lot of people, to deal with a fake foot because he hasn't had feeling in his feet for years. They've felt like wooden blocks on the ends of his legs for a long, long time.
The length of Rehab for learning to walk on a prosthesis is usually 4 to 6 weeks, but patients can go home on the weekends, which works for us!
Henry and I started attending a local United church a couple years ago. We had sort of burned out on "Sunday morning church" for awhile, and enjoyed just being home. But you know that longing for connection and that wanting to be involved in a Christian community ... well ... we found a small group and started attending it, and then months later, when most of the group left for a warmer climate, we tried the church the group was connected to.
I've told the story before - how amazed we were to discover the "gold" that was there in that old, old church. (Trinity United has just begun its 150th year!)
We've been there 2 years now! Ohmigosh!
Soooo many things have opened up for us because of our involvement there ... including ... I am now on a course of study to become a "Licensed Lay Worship Leader". Once I have that, I will be licensed to preach in the United Churches in this Presbytery. Ohmigosh!
Life is always just so interesting!
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Catching Up
I have so many profound things to share with the world, until I actually sit down in front of the computer. Then the thoughts all just evaporate.
I really need to do a bit of a catch-up for anyone who has followed our story. Perhaps then, the profound thoughts will stay in my head long enough for me to get something down.
July 4th, up to 14 people crowded around Henry's hospital bed, praying and watching and wondering if we were watching him breathe his last. It was a very, very difficult experience.
But, at the same time, it was incredibly amazing the number of people who came to pray ... people we had not seen in years and years. People who had moved away, or were about to go on holiday. People who should not have been able to come. They were there. God brought them there to pray. It was so wonderful - so full of wonder!!!
One of our young friends, who is not a christian, told my kids, "I could feel him in the room." "Who?" they asked. "God," he replied.
July 5th, Henry was moved to ICU and they put in every kind of tube you could think of. They needed to give his lungs a rest until they could find out what exactly was going on. And he was tied down - to prevent him from pulling the tubes out.
I was so touched by the amount of effort they were expending, trying to help a very sick man - trying to keep him alive.
The doctor showed me the xrays. Something very aggressive was attacking Henry's lungs. The difference in the xrays from July 1st to 5th was shocking. The whole thing was so ... overwhelming and scary.
The next few days were so hard. Gramma Ellen had come to stay with us, and I would go in, in the mornings and sit with Henry, and then Ellen would go in, in the evenings. Sometimes other friends went in, several from our church. Henry was surrounded by love and prayer.
The next week we were moving back to the really rough ground - the breathing tube could only stay in so long, and the big question was whether or not he could breathe on his own once they took it out. With the breathing tube there are two factors at play. One is the amount of oxygen being given to the patient, the other is the "push" behind the oxygen. Each of these had been decreased daily, but no one knew for sure if Henry would be able to manage on his own.
We had to decide. If Henry could not breathe on his own, what would he want us to do? Ohmigosh!
On Monday, my friend Lori went in with me to visit Henry - it was becoming so hard on my own. We talked funeral, and she offered to go to talk to the funeral director in our town for me. Difficult, difficult, difficult.
But ... when we got to the hospital, Henry was sitting up in bed. He still had the tubes in, but he was certainly wide awake and trying to communicate with us. I think I was in shock. Afterwards, driving home, all I could say was, "Ohmigosh, Lori! Ohmigosh!"
They were planning on taking the tube out on Tuesday morning, and had warned me that Henry might not be able to talk very well for a few days. I got a phone call that early that morning. Henry had sort of beat them to it, and pulled the tube out part way. They took it out the rest of the way, and now the nurse on the phone was telling me that Henry wanted to talk to me on the phone! Ohmigosh!
Aug. 6th Henry came home.
Sept. 16th Henry was admitted to the hospital to have his left foot amputated. We had struggled with a diabetic ulcer for over 2 1/2 years and now the bone was infected.
He progressed surprisingly well. Every medical person we have dealt with expresses amazement at how well he is doing.
Monday, Henry returns to Rehab. Tuesday he gets a new foot, and learns to walk again. Ohmigosh!
I am so amazed at all the things that have happened in these last few months. I am so amazed at the number of people who are praying for Henry. (I walked and talked with a friend this week - hadn't seen her in a long time. She told me her 8 yr. old little boy, who has never met Henry, prays everyday for him!)
I am astounded at God's love and care and kindness toward us.
I really need to do a bit of a catch-up for anyone who has followed our story. Perhaps then, the profound thoughts will stay in my head long enough for me to get something down.
July 4th, up to 14 people crowded around Henry's hospital bed, praying and watching and wondering if we were watching him breathe his last. It was a very, very difficult experience.
But, at the same time, it was incredibly amazing the number of people who came to pray ... people we had not seen in years and years. People who had moved away, or were about to go on holiday. People who should not have been able to come. They were there. God brought them there to pray. It was so wonderful - so full of wonder!!!
One of our young friends, who is not a christian, told my kids, "I could feel him in the room." "Who?" they asked. "God," he replied.
July 5th, Henry was moved to ICU and they put in every kind of tube you could think of. They needed to give his lungs a rest until they could find out what exactly was going on. And he was tied down - to prevent him from pulling the tubes out.
I was so touched by the amount of effort they were expending, trying to help a very sick man - trying to keep him alive.
The doctor showed me the xrays. Something very aggressive was attacking Henry's lungs. The difference in the xrays from July 1st to 5th was shocking. The whole thing was so ... overwhelming and scary.
The next few days were so hard. Gramma Ellen had come to stay with us, and I would go in, in the mornings and sit with Henry, and then Ellen would go in, in the evenings. Sometimes other friends went in, several from our church. Henry was surrounded by love and prayer.
The next week we were moving back to the really rough ground - the breathing tube could only stay in so long, and the big question was whether or not he could breathe on his own once they took it out. With the breathing tube there are two factors at play. One is the amount of oxygen being given to the patient, the other is the "push" behind the oxygen. Each of these had been decreased daily, but no one knew for sure if Henry would be able to manage on his own.
We had to decide. If Henry could not breathe on his own, what would he want us to do? Ohmigosh!
On Monday, my friend Lori went in with me to visit Henry - it was becoming so hard on my own. We talked funeral, and she offered to go to talk to the funeral director in our town for me. Difficult, difficult, difficult.
But ... when we got to the hospital, Henry was sitting up in bed. He still had the tubes in, but he was certainly wide awake and trying to communicate with us. I think I was in shock. Afterwards, driving home, all I could say was, "Ohmigosh, Lori! Ohmigosh!"
They were planning on taking the tube out on Tuesday morning, and had warned me that Henry might not be able to talk very well for a few days. I got a phone call that early that morning. Henry had sort of beat them to it, and pulled the tube out part way. They took it out the rest of the way, and now the nurse on the phone was telling me that Henry wanted to talk to me on the phone! Ohmigosh!
Aug. 6th Henry came home.
Sept. 16th Henry was admitted to the hospital to have his left foot amputated. We had struggled with a diabetic ulcer for over 2 1/2 years and now the bone was infected.
He progressed surprisingly well. Every medical person we have dealt with expresses amazement at how well he is doing.
Monday, Henry returns to Rehab. Tuesday he gets a new foot, and learns to walk again. Ohmigosh!
I am so amazed at all the things that have happened in these last few months. I am so amazed at the number of people who are praying for Henry. (I walked and talked with a friend this week - hadn't seen her in a long time. She told me her 8 yr. old little boy, who has never met Henry, prays everyday for him!)
I am astounded at God's love and care and kindness toward us.
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