redefining adventure

i used to have grand ideas about the kinds of fantastic and exciting places i would go and crazy things i would do. i used to dream of backpacking across europe. roadtripping all over the united states. eating exotic foods. skydiving. going to glitzy, star-studded events. drinking coffee in european cafes. finally seeing italy. moving to india and living with those of lowest caste. moving to uganda and living with my beautiful friends there. camping in the national parks. and i pictured myself in well-planned outfits to match each adventure.

i haven't accomplished any of those lofty and wonderful goals. i'd still like to do those things. but i find myself living out very different kinds of adventures. adventures that i would have previously scoffed at and certainly never would have willingly participated in.

i am living in a small farm town that doesn't boast a single european style cafe. and i wouldn't have the money to enjoy it if it did exist. i have done a lot of roadtripping in the last two years, but it has been mostly confined to the tri-state area of michigan, indiana, and ohio. i haven't eaten many curries, but i have sampled the southern indiana staple of persimmon pudding (and i am not at all convinced of it's deliciousness). i still haven't seen italy and i definitely haven't gone skydiving, but it turns out that the hills of salem are so breath-takingly beautiful when in the throes of springtime that i haven't craved the retreat into any national parks. in fact, i find that some of the adventures i thought i wanted to have are easily replaced by others that are just as wonderful and valuable.

i am learning to bake - i'm quite proud of my very first two layer chocolate cake and my delicious chocolate chip cookies.

we are doing our very first vegetable garden and i honestly have no idea what i'm doing, but i am having fun learning about soil and seeds and watering.

i learned how to make homemade strawberry jam thanks to a wonderful family from our church.

i got married to the only person i've ever met that i'd consider marrying (though if i ever met hugh jackman i could conceivably change my tune) and it turns out to be one of the most joy-giving adventures of all.

steve and i are testing out our parenting skills on the cat, toto baggins. i am hoping that, in the eventual adventure of having children, we will be more successful changing diapers than we have been changing cat litter.

so, my current life is much smaller and less ambitious than i once hoped that it would be. but, i find that in the simplicity of my existence i have found something that often eluded me in my city life.

joy.

maybe thoreau had it right all along. maybe all this time i just needed to "simplify! simplify! simplify!"

words flowing in some sleepless early morning hour

i don't know where i fit. i know church is not what it is supposed to be. but i don't know how to fix it. i don't even know how to begin. that is why i pulled away from institutional church. i know it is broken, but i am terrified to begin trying to renew it. and now i've moved to salem, indiana and find myself thrust back into the institution of church.

st. augustine once said "the church is a whore, and she is my mother." there is all this imagery in the bible of the church as a bride. pure. full of potential. hopeful. in love. selfless. and we've gone and turned that beautiful bride into a whore. corrupted. static. selfish. power-hungry. she is messed up. dysfunctional. and yet - people are still being nurtured; growing up; finding their estranged mother because buried underneath all the ugly muck lies the original calling of the church. though we have turned our mother into something that only slightly resembles Christ's church, i must believe that there is hope. i must believe that God still loves his bride. his people. i must believe that the church - that we - can be renewed, cleansed, and brought back to our original purpose.

i believe that must happen, but i don't know how to believe that the church can be a community of radical, world-changing love, but exist within an institution that is bogged down in thousands of years of whoring itself out. that is a lot of centuries of baggage and disease and i don't know how to deal with it. my instinct is simply to wallow in anger and resentment for the injustices that the church blindly embraces. but that anger does not always inspire action. it usually just eats away at my joy until i am empty and hopeless. so what can i do? do i just quietly go about my business? living love as much as i can without causing too much of a stir? though i think real, lived out love always causes a stir. do i pick battles? do i challenge the institution? do i demand justice, awareness, equality, selflessness? do i cause a stir? and if i do - are my motives pure? the model Jesus sets is not timid. the great church reforms have not been without controversy. but i am no martin luther or tyndale or christ. so, what do i do? i am a 22-year-old woman with too little knowledge and far too much pride and angst. i am a self-confessed hypocrite. i do not practice much of what i rant about. i struggle to read my bible. sometimes, i struggle to believe in God. i am so broken. what can i do?

Lord, give me the humility to know i cannot fix the world on my own, but give me the courage and strength to do what i can. help me. amen.

hair extensions.

you've heard that in order to understand someone you must "walk a mile in their shoes." i didn't have to borrow any shoes. i inherited her hair.

"i had this hair when i went to auschwitz. it was always braided, but not when i went to auschwitz. on that day it was exactly like yours."

those were some of the first words out of ann's mouth when she saw me.

ann rosenheck is a holocaust survivor. She was "born in czechoslovakia near the mountains." she went to auschwitz and dachau. she lost her entire family in the holocaust. she experienced great suffering, and she survived. and we share hair. and now we share a story.

yesterday, i told the story of her survival to a room full of other survivors, their families, and community members in miami, florida. Ann's story, along with nine others, is told in the reader's theatre production of ...Who Returned My Soul, written by Kelly Brock.

by telling ann's story and meeting her, i am now a part of her story as she is a part of mine.

it may sound cheesy or ridiculous...but maybe God made my hair big, and frizzy, and the perfect length for just that moment. to tell just this story. so i could be ann rosenheck for those few minutes. is it so preposterous? we believe God does the big things - like world-wide floods and resurrections. maybe God works in the little things too. maybe he works through my hair.

maybe he loves ann and i enough to work this little miracle for us. i believe that he does.

anne prayed this prayer everyday that she was imprisoned, and she still prays it today: "i am thankful before you, living and sustaining Ruler, who returned my soul to me with mercy. your faithfulness is great."

amen.

forgive me...

to the beautiful woman who sat at the top of the exit ramp:

forgive me for driving past you on more than one occasion. forgive me for hoping that the light would be green so i wouldn't have to stop and see you. forgive me for turning away when the light turned red. forgive me for not wanting to see. forgive me for ignoring your cardboard cry for food. shelter. love.

you did not look at me. i think you must know that your need makes me feel uncomfortable. and i didn't look at you either. because i don't want you to see the pity in my eyes. and the self-loathing in my eyes. as i pray for the light to turn green. so i don't have to see you anymore.

there is no shame in you. there is shame in me. i don't want to see you and accidentally find out that Jesus is in you. that Jesus loves you. and that Jesus told me to love you too. shame on me.

shame on me.

'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me'

confession

i run from you.

most of the time i have a hard time even believing in you.

i'm not so much embarrassed of you as i am horrified at the actions (and inaction) of the people who say they think you are the greatest.

i'm trying. i really am trying. to be humble. gracious. forgiving. patient.

love.

i'm trying to realize that i am no better than the people i am frustrated with. i know i am insufferable. i know i am occasionally illogical. i know i am usually stubborn.

i am trying. i am also failing.
i am so sorry.

i am so sorry that i can't express myself. that i can't love. not really. i'm far too selfish. i am sorry that i argue so much.

i'm sorry that i've changed my mind.

i'm sorry that i'm struggling to love you.

i'm sorry for admitting it.

i wish simple was the answer.

it probably is.

but simple is hard.

i'm sorry simple is so hard for me.

please forgive me.

please help me.

amen.

still i will worship

i don't like church

i don't like most christians

i don't like theology

i don't like shallow people who think christianity is easy

i don't like conservatives

i don't like liberals

i don't like argumentative people

i don't like most praise and worship music

i don't like fundamental christianity

i don't like praying

and i resent a lot of people and movements and factions and actions

...but my resentment is precisely the opposite of christian love...

...and i am the poster child for the behavior i judge so harshly in others...

and despite it all...i do love Jesus...but sometimes i wish it was easier

i am certainly a far cry from the idealistic, crusading girl i was only a few short months ago. and that is ok. but i have spent most of my time lately wishing for joy. wishing i was less jaded and more hopeful.

this morning was easter morning.

and i just decided that i must worship my God. because he is God. not because i feel like it. not because i feel him. but because he is God. so i did. i lifted my hands and i prayed for forgiveness and i worshiped my God who is love.

and i can't say that i feel entirely transformed. but i can say that i know my God is with me. i know he is here. and i am taking baby steps toward him.

still i will worship still i will worship still i will worship still i will worship still i will worship

even when it is the last thing my flesh wants to do.

still i will worship still i will worship still i will worship still i will worship still i will worship.

please, help me, jesus!

change (and beauty)

the rain is pouring outside my window. it signals change that has been all too slow in coming. i am tired of the snow and cold. i hate wearing coats (in fact i haven't worn one since december). i hate confining my feet to the prison of shoes. and now the rain has come and it is washing away all of the dirty, icy snow that has lingered over this long winter season. and soon...very soon i will liberate my feet. i will take those first glorious barefoot steps. i really can't wait. the thought fills me with joy...really.

i feel as though the rain has been flooding my soul for some time now. the last year has been full of discovery, grace, justice, and healing. the waters have poured over my broken heart and spirit and i have been cleansed. over and over again. One year ago last weekend James broke up with me. this may seem trivial to some, but i gave my heart to that boy and he didn't want it. i know this is not an experience that is exculsive to me, but it has had a tremendous impact upon my life. it took sooo long to find healing. too long for me. i don't like emotional vulnerability.

in examining my journey, i have been blessed to have mentors and counselors who have spoken the promises of my God to me. this summer i told kevin butcher the story of my unwanted heart. he told me that i was beautiful simply because God made me and loves me. he told me that i shine with the beauty of God. he told me that women and men are designed to lead each other into relationship with God. he told me that someday there will be a man who will see this light in me and will pursue it.

these are beautiful words. they are words that i needed to hear from my brother. but these are also hard words for me to hear. i have trouble believing them. i have discovered that many women also long for these words. we spend our time lamenting the lack of manhood in males. we spend our time hating our bodies and desperately trying to get attention with the bodies we hate. sometimes we need to be told that we are beautiful. that God loves us. that we are lovable. that the light of God shines through us. we need to believe it. only then can we enter into edifying, God-breathed relationship with our brothers.