My Dead Friends

I'm contemplating Polycarp today. A few weeks ago, Headless asked me who I'd like to see when I get to heaven. Old Polycarp was one of them.

The story of his martyrdom is, like most early church literature, wordy and flowery. But, I still love it. I wonder what it would be like to be a second-wave disciple. The first generation, taught by the eye witnesses of Jesus while he lived among us in flesh. Thought to be a cult, yet full of the Holy Spirit and confident in the truth. Under horrible persecution by the ruling government. Without the New Testament canon.

If you've never heard of Polycarp, read his story in my "Dead" links at the left. Tell me what you think.

I'll be away at a family reunion for a few days. Stay tuned for more of My Dead Friends (cripe...I have the "My Three Sons theme song ringing in my head now...).

Just Whelmed.

I cried last night.  I don't cry often.  So I was surprised.

I was reading Dallas Willard's "The Divine Conspiracy," and came to this phrase:
"Just ask yourself how many divorces would occur, and in how many cases the question of divorce would never even have arisen, if anger, contempt, and obsessive fantasized desire were eliminated.  The answer is, of course, hardly at all." (pg 172)

The tears came from somewhere below my stomach.  I had to just shut the book, and pray.  Not because he isn't right.  He is very right.  On the money.  The tears came from a frustrated core in my soul that knows this, and in knowing this, that there was nothing I could do, in either of my marriages, to stop the erosion that destroyed them. 

So, a well-meaning statement, meant to support argument in its context, seems to have hit me in a place where I needed to weep.  I confessed, I repented, I disclosed, I relinquished everything I knew I could over the years.  And, I did it again.

My wounds have an interesting personality all their own. They surprise me with the strength and insight they bring to my life, and just when I think I've positioned them where I think they will be properly used and displayed, they surprise me again by resurfacing in an unexpected place in my psyche.  Painful, yes; but another opportunity to invite God into another area of my heart.  Thought he was there already; now I know he can occupy more room.

I'm grateful for tears, and for promises kept, and for grace.  And, for the miracle of joy after tears.

 

Bulwer-Lytton on Church

It was a dark and stormy night.  Or was it morning.  She slipped into the parking space, full of uncertainty...was it the church, or was it the place of worship...she wasn't sure...it was like pulling into the drivethru at Burger King and asking for an Egg McMuffin...she got out of the car anyway, and walked toward the door, wishing she had brought her umbrella, and that she had stopped for fast food.

And the winner is...

The winners of the Bulwer Lytton awards for 2004 have been chosen.  I can only dream of someday acheiving such comedic eloquence.  Find them at Bulwer Lytton Award Winners
Check out Dave Zobel, winner of the fiction contest.
I think I'm in love...

Identity

For Headless:
 
When you notice a cat in profound meditation
The reason, I tell you, is always the same
His mind is engaged in rapt comtemplation
Of the thought
Of the thought
Of the thought of his name
His ineffable
Effable
Effinineffable
Deep and inscrutible
Singular
Name

Inevitability

I watched The Matrix last night.  I watch it every once in a while, because I like it, and because I always pick up something I missed the last time I watched it.  I guess I've watched it about 20 times.  Some of it has become cheesey to me, but there is a lot of unintentional spiritual truth in that film that I still enjoy chewing on.
 
(Please stay with me.  I know it's just a movie.  But, don't you find it fascinating that these script writers have produced something that is profound and timeless?  I do. Without intention, they have echoed scriptural truth very powerfully.)
 

This is one of my favorite scenes in the movie.  The villain has the hero in a vice grip, beaten and taunted down to a subway rail as the train approaches.  Then, the hero draws on the speck of strength left in his frame, and gets the better of his foe.
 

Agent Smith: Do you hear that Mr. Anderson?  That is the sound of inevitability... it is the sound of your death.  Goodbye, Mr. Anderson.
Neo: My name... is Neo.
 

The victory is all about identity.
 
I am one of those old school Christians that believes there is a real enemy, a Satan, whose power and purpose is to give the screws to God by seizing and destroying His beloved creation.  I've not seen him, but I've heard him in my head.  The accuser.  The destroyer.  The blasphemer.
 
"Do you hear that, Pat?  That is the sound of inevitability.  That is the sound of your failure, your loneliness, your incredibility, your benign existence..." 
 
You fill in the blanks.   I'm sure you've heard it too.
 
The catch is this...there is so much truth in the accusation, it's tough to argue.  If I am held accountable for my efforts alone, I am so sunk.  Like a big, friggin stone.  My life, on it's own record, is riddled with failure.
 
That's why I love this movie.  Neo, the hero, remembers who he is.  Not what he is, or where he came from , or what he's done.  He remembers who he is proclaimed to be, who he is hoped to be.  And, who it is that believes in him.
 
That is the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  We come under the authority of One who claims to know us better than we know ourselves, and thereby we become free of the inevitable.   This gives me great cause to rejoice.
 
Thank you, Wachowski Brothers.  Unknowing prophets.  Accidental preachers.  You nailed it.  I hope you come to know the identity you have preached of so well.
 
 

Fun With Inflections #6

(This one's dedicated to Leslie Nielsen.)

I.C.U.

I see you.

I see, you.

I see ewe.

Aye. See ewe.

Icey you.

Icey ewe.

I see. EEEWWW!

A Picture Paints A Thousand Words

I'm a sentimental decorator. I like my old family pictures, and furniture and "stuff" that came from someone, or somewhere, that means something to me. Has memories attached. I don't think everyone needs to be that way, but honestly, it is one of the qualities I enjoy about myself unashamedly.

I like me...I like MEEEEEEEEEEE...

Oops, back to you.

I just painted and recarpeted the epiphany porch. I needed an instant gratification project. And, since I spend a lot of time on the porch, it was the best "instant" I could think of. Except, the instant turned into a whole week. But, finally, I am now hanging pictures. Getting ready for the Ginster to join me for coffee and epiphany talk on Wednesday night.

So, I'm hanging pictures. And I am struck by what I am hanging. I have two pictures with quotes, from two ladies I don't see much of anymore. Two women I worked with. Worked for, really. One a clinical director, one a WIC coordinator. And I realize that, on my epiphany porch, I have a sketch of my life, written on those two pictures.

From Wanda:
"Days that are cold and grey and lonely do not last forever...birds know this, and that is why they sing." -D.Gerard

From Pat:
"One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood." -Seneca

It would be a sweeping generalization to boil my life experience down to fit those two quotes. But, much of it does fit. And, I'm suddenly amazed that these women gave me these gifts of verse. Unknowing prophets. Marketplace associates. Caring acquaintances. Angels of God.

I know you can't possibly understand why these mean so much to me right now. You don't know them, and you don't know the countless moments that link me to them. But, I'm certain you can understand that those we rub elbows with day to day get to know us well, and are capable of blessing us with reflection that we only come to appreciate when we look back over our lives. I am full of thankfulness for thoughtful women who saw me.

Wanda and Pat. My epiphany porch is your shrine. You don't even know it.

Lord, please use me more to bless others by seeing them.

A Church Without Walls

I was back at my place of worship for the first time in almost a month yesterday. It was like jumping into a cool lake on a hot day. It was so great to worship God in song and prayer in the midst of my spiritual family. I knew I missed it, but I didn't realize how much until I was there. In Church.

I spoke with Pastor Man Daryl and Pastor Wife Deb on the way out the door, and selfishly took the opportunity to ask them to pray for my sister and brother-in-law. Well, I guess if I were really selfish, I'd ask them to pray I'll win the lottery...

My sister and brother-in-law have been pastoring for 21 years. They are loving, reasonable, honest people, and they work hard. Their church is in turmoil right now because a gentleman who has attended for quite a long time - well thought of, an elder - has decided that my brother-in-law has not reached out appropriately to two young men, who are no longer attending the church, because their wives divorced them and are still attending. He is gathering a following among those in the fellowship. He believes that my sister and brother-in-law have not dealt biblically with the situation, that they have not acted in love, and that they do not have the annointing of God.

Okay, I want to choke on that last sentence, for several reasons. First, as a Christian woman who is unfortunately twice divorced, I take offense at anyone who has the nerve to use the Holy Bible as a knife to twist in the gut of a wounded spouse or a pastor desparate to restore and bring peace. Please. There are more verses in the Bible about oppressing the downtrodden (thank you Daryl, and Amos), than there are about what the "biblical" grounds are for divorce. Those who are quick to judge most likely have not felt the depths of the pain. And, at least in my case, I can say that no one - NO ONE - but Jesus knows all the reasons why I am divorced. No one needs to. It would not be loving, nor ethical, nor Christian for me to divulge all the details. So, how would I appear to this gentleman? A harlot? A liar? A Jezebel? I hope not, for his sake. God is my only fear-worthy judge.

Second, acting in love means doing everything we can to promote the best interests of those we love. Even if it is uncomfortable. Even if it means misunderstanding. Rejection. Love has faith that when the best is done, the outcome will eventually be best. No one was in the counseling room with my brother-in-law and those young men, except the Lord. It would be inappropriate for my brother-in-law to defend himself by disclosing private conversation. He is now facing more misunderstanding, more rejection. And, he's enduring it. That is acting in love.

Third, all I have to say is, don't mess with folks who have given their lives to promote the kingdom of God. It makes me shiver for this guy, just thinking about it. Not that I think a lightning bolt will undoubtedly strike him down. No. But, what is the fate of a man who persecutes the very folks whose sole purpose in life is to feed his soul? He is devouring his own flesh.

Pastor Man Daryl always drops little pearls every time we speak. He said, it's a shame this guy doesn't just take it on himself to minister to these young men, without slamming the Church, and my brother-in-law. Now, that's a concept. That would imply that the Church is bigger than their little northern Michigan fellowship. That would imply that our ministry is as vital outside the walls of the building, as it is within. That just might mean that the pastor is not ultimately responsible for the fate of the sinner, the sick, the downtrodden; as if he were some feudal lord or CEO. That might mean that the walls are an illusion.

I don't know what has motivated this gentleman to such ugliness. I hurt for my sister, and my brother-in-law, and their kids, and the folks in their fellowship. After talking to Daryl, my anger over the situation turned a little toward concern; a little toward prayer; a little toward excitement for what's possible.

It was really great to be back. Thanks Daryl.

I don't play the lottery. Just in case you were wondering.

Open Communion

I realized for the first time this morning that when I changed my blog template, settings followed that did not allow just anyone to leave comments on my blog. I've remedied the problem.
If you were one of the "anyone's," you may now freely leave your comments. They are welcome.
Unless they disagree with my opinions, of course...

Mirror, Mirror

Oops. Wrong aisle. I really do want shredded cheese, but you're there. I'll come back. I need to get eggs anyway. Really, I'm in a hurry, and I don't want to even think about bumping into you. You aren't my type, whatever that is...okay...the eggs. Finally.

But there you are again. Okay, it could be a coincidence...you really aren't following me. Hello - how vain am I anyway? Everyone needs eggs, well, most people need eggs. Okay, act natural...go get the lettuce.

Whew. Okay, spring mix, where is it? Got it. Cucumber, tomatos...I really like the sweet grape tomatos, but really, do I want six dollars worth? Okay, the hydroponics will do just fine. Yeah, now don't I want olives too?

Diet Squirt, olives, and, oh yeah, face lotion. Done! Check out. Oh... there you are again. You have a lot of stuff...is that all for you? I'll bet the case of Miller Light is! Oh, sorry...that's none of my business. Just check out Pat. Just get out. Yes Miss, you have a nice day too. Here I go. I wonder if you see me leaving...

I wonder if you'll see I drive a Jaguar. Oh, please! Who cares? But, I wonder...

No, you're nowhere in sight. Not my type anyway. Whatever that is. Just go home, Pat.

Oh...there you are, loading your car. I'll bet you worked hard all day - you sure look like you did. But, you're probably loading up the car for the family, aren't you?

It's okay. I don't want you. Not your looks, or your carriage, or your warmth, not anything.

All I really want is a turn of your head.

Heat Vent

May I just say that holiday traffic sucks?

If it isn't frustrating enough to have to migrate home with the fleet of boats, trailers, and jet skis (well, scratch the jet skis; they fly), then along come the folks who did not find their spiritual center before getting in their cars, and find it necessary to ride every butt on the road, and wiggle into tiny gaps between cars traveling at unnerving speeds. And for what? WHAT?! Maybe five minutes at the end of their trip.

Yeah, sheer genius.

Fun With Inflections #5

"Dance partner."

"Dance, partner!"

"Dance. Partner."