This One Time, During the Super Bowl Commercials

This one time, during the Super Bowl commercials, a radically forward-thinking company advertised their product using a diverse group of peoples who actually represented their consumer base. There were different languages, genders, races, nationalities, sexualities and ages. Each of the people in the advertisement was depicted loving life and a few of them had the product in their hands. 

Originally created as a headache medicine containing cocaine, this nectar of the gods was soon stripped of the stuff that made it green (namely, cocaine) and filled with aritfical colors and sweetners that made it's carbonated tooth-rotting powers delicious and appealing to many! 

Fast forward 100ish years and some dim-witted marketing department came up with what they thought to be a brilliant idea. With 30-second Super Bowl advertising slots costing upwards of $4 Million, the company affectionatly known as Coke decided to spend an entire MINUTE depicting satisfied consumers enjoying their product. Out with the sex-appeal! Out with the hasty generalizations! Out with the literary devices! 

And so, my friends, this 1-minute advertisement for Coca Cola was born. (http://youtu.be/A8iM73E6JP8)

And now, a whole bunch of conservative whitey tighties are in a wad (because, let's face it, if conservatives were a type of underwear, they'd be whitey tighties or granny panties - I researched it). They accuse you of BLASPHEMY against America the Beautiful!

How dare they sing it in languages other than English! English is the only language ever to be spoken on this soil! How dare they depict inter-racial or bi-racial families! There is no way that would ever happen here! There are yarmukles and hijabs and cowboy hats... But Christianity is the only religion allowed in this Nation! And that sweet family with two daddies at the end... THAT scarred me so deeply that the unfertilized eggs of my ovaries wept. 

Come on, people. Pick your wedgie already. It was a patriotic song and refreshingly un-sexualized footage of people enjoying life, not blowing each others' heads off and all getting along. It depicted it's consumer base (old, young, white, black, Middle-Eastern, Muslim, Jewish, gay, straight, single, coupled...) and was generally uplifiting. But you're sitting here ripping it apart because they showed you the diverse reality of America that you choose to ignore? Pardon my French, (because this is America and we only speak English here) but that's your own damn problem. 

So, Coca Cola... You should have stayed within the safe confines of white, middle-class, Christian, heterosexual males, who are generally depicted in all advertisements. Because now that you acknowledged that other people exist, you're brand is going to be boycotted by One Million Moms. And it's going to crumble to the ground, just like JCPenny. Take it from Ellen, you just can't be successful if you keep advertising with your true consumer base. Nobody wants to see that.

America. The only country in the world where people freak out about skincolor, religious symbols and sexuality in advertising more than the fact that they spent BILLIONS of dollars on a stupid game, while children in our homes were hungry, dirty, and without shelter. 

If we're arguing about this commercial, we're missing the point. We are all different and all unique. But we are still united. United as a nation, sharing our inter-woven and richly complex lives. And it is a beautiful thing. 

The End of an Era.

Six years ago today, my faith as I knew it came to a sudden, unwelcome, and crumbling hault. I was sitting at Qdoba with my then youth-pastor and in the middle of my perfectly delicious burrito (and before I even got to my cookie), one of my worst fears came to fruition.

I was being outed to my church. 

It wasn't a decision that I got to make, it wasn't a situation that I had any control in. I was called out, blindsided and totally powerless in revealing one of my deepest and most personal struggles to the group of people I feared sharing it with most. When the conversation ended, I thought we had agreed to carry forward in confidence and not share this piece of information with others, but to talk about it amongst the three of us.

The next morning, my phone rang and it was the pastor of my then-church. My heart sank and I knew where the call was headed. We agreed to meet for coffee, where my sexuality was compared to alcoholism and my faithfulness as a Christian was questioned. I was given a packet of articles from Exodus International (an ex-gay "ministry" which has since disbanded and publically apologized for their methods and views), which I agreed to read in it's entirety. The following Sunday, the legs of my faith were ripped off.

I was informed that I would no longer be allowed to sing on the praise team, teach Sunday School, help with Vacation Bible School, lead Bible studies, etc. until I "figured out" and "made right" my sexuality. I wasn't kicked out or asked to leave, but every single reason I had to stay was taken away.

I was formally and officially rejected by the church until I could get my sexuality "right." (My words, not theirs.) I was no longer good enough to actively engage in worship with them. 

There were a lot of things I wasn't sure about and a lot of my faith that I questioned, but I never doubted that God loved me, unconditionally and made no mistaking when She made me gay. I had a very difficult decision to make: to fight against the way I was being treated and knowingly cause division within the church I'd been a part of since the day it opened it's doors, or leave quietly and find a new faith community, where I would be accepted and loved, unconditionally.

It was likely the most difficult decision that I've ever made. The journey of finding a new faith community felt like it would never end, but I finally did. My new community has enriched me, inspired me, challenged me, frustrated me, broken me, and put me back together. But most of all, they have loved me.

Fast forward six years to last Wednesday night. Wednesday, January 22, 2014. A day I will not soon forget. At the annual meeting of our congregation, we voted to adopt an Open & Affirming Covenant. An official covenant where people are named as valuable, perfect and welcomed Children of God, just as they are. 

"We, First Congregational Church of Greeley, United Church of Christ, are an Open and Affirming congregation. We welcome people of every race, national/ethnic origin, language, sexual orientation, gender identitiy, age, family organizaiton, economic status, political belief, ability, faith origin or religious belief.

Our God calls us to create a sacred and safe place where all are loved as Jesus loved. We seek pace and justice for our church family, our community and the world."

Six years ago, I was formally rejected by the chruch I'd grown up in because of my sexuality. Six days ago, I was formally accepted by the church I've chosen as my own, embracing my sexuality.

As the the tally of votes were announced, 121 people in the room of 123 stood up for me, agreeing to love me, accept me, and value me. The overwhelming feeling of closure on formal rejection, the unconditional love I felt, and the validation that God cared about me, too, brought tears to my eyes. And as I wept, I knew that the era of hurt and rejection I'd walked through had officially ended. As much as I knew that I was loved and accepted before, it was a formal end to formal beginning.

First Congregational Church of Greeley, United Church of Christ, thank you. Thank you for spending six long years, putting the pieces back together and healing my hurt. You are my family. And you inspire me in so many ways. 

The Lens

This week, a couple of times I have had some really interesting conversations about removing our experiences from our faith to be able to share our faith with others. I still stand by what I've said: that you cannot remove experience from faith because our experiences are the lens through which we view our faith. Let me see if I can muddle these thoughts from my head into some sort of sense in black and white...

First of all, I should start with the fact that I don't think you can truly share your faith in a way that can be meaningful outside of relationship with another person. I won't knock on the door of a stranger and ask them to listen to me talk about this incredible God that I love. Sharing faith is meaningful when people are curious - curious about the God I follow or curious about the life I live. I'll continue to say I'm not a shove-my-God-down-your-throat kind of girl and I mean it. With all my heart.

So, when in relationship with others, if it comes up or if you ask me about it, I share my experience. It's not good enough to say I believe in the Christian God and leave it at that. In these conversations, there's an important why. And that why... It is the lens through which I view what I believe.

All the things I have experienced in my life - the joy, the peace, the heartache, the brokenness, the love - play into my experience of God. And as all of those things have happened, they have shaped the way I have come to understand who and what God is and how awesome her love and peace and divine presence is. So to remove those experiences of God from my faith, I remove the understanding of God I have formed and will continue to form.

Without those experiences, God is just a word... No meaning, no weight, no implications. But through my experiences of God, I have formed a deep, rich and meaningful faith. And I can share that with others. If I don't share with you my experience of God, I can't share anything about God, other than the word. So yes. My experience of God is the lens through which I view my faith. And if I remove that lens, I have nothing to share...

I Wonder

My goodness! There are so many things I’ve wanted to write about, but life is so busy that it seems like there’s no time to write about any of them!

Today was Bible Sunday at our church. Each year, we give our preschoolers and 3^rd graders new Bibles. This year, we gave all of our younger kids (infants-preschool) a Bible, all of our Preschoolers and Kindergarteners a Bible, all of our 3^rd graders a Bible and all of the kids who hadn’t already received a Bible their age-appropriate Bibles. We gave out all kinds of Bibles today!

Ben had asked me help hand them out to each child, one by one. How cool it was to present some of our kids with their very first Bible! And it was SO incredible to see their reactions and excitement for their new book!

When I interviewed with our church Cabinet for in-discernment status, I was asked one theological question: “How do you view the Bible?” This morning, as I taught the Bible Sunday lesson to my preschoolers and kindergarteners, I thought that the lesson summed it up quite nicely. I adapted the original story for my kids and am adapting it even more for the blog. But loosely, it goes something like this:

“The Bible is a gift from God! It is full of the stories of God and the stories of the people of God! It was written for us by the people of God to help us understand the best ways to love God and the best ways to love others. The Bible can serve as a history book, telling about what others have done or as a roadmap, showing us what ways we should choose. But the stories of the people of God are a sacred (set apart) gift from God. They are ours. No one can take them from us. Our Bibles help us to tell the stories of God, but the stories also live in our hearts.”

At the end of all of our lessons, we ask the “I Wonder” questions. Today, it was “I wonder what your favorite Bible story is?” My kids’ answers? Jonah and the Whale, Advent, Creation, The Parable of the Good Samaritan…

It’s so cool to have to ask our kids to put away their Bibles for a few minutes during the story time. And incredibly humbling to watch them choose reading stories in their new Bibles as one of their activities during response time.

If I were teaching this lesson to adults, my last question would be “I wonder when we stopped getting so excited to read the stories of God?”

I Think We Missed the Point

You know what bothers me? Getting so wrapped up in the practice of our faith that we miss the point. Our faith really isn't about the church-y. In my world, it's about finding and trusting in the sacredness of things greater than us. Beyond our our imaginations and possibilities... If we're wrapped up in what we call it, the "gender" of the greater power or the rituals we need to go through to get to it, we've missed the point.

This is probably the disclaimer paragraph of this whole post. My name for the greater power is God. I come from the Christian tradition; that's what I grew up calling it. Does God need to be gendered? No. In fact, I often interchange pronouns for God, using both male and female pronouns or titles. I love the rituals employed by different churches, temples and mosques because they help me to feel closer and more connected to both God and the people who have or are walking their faith journeys, too. I love the symbolism and discipline found in the structure of many faith practices. I pray, I use prayer beads, I meditate, I love prayer labrynths, I go to church every week, I read and study the texts of my faith... But I also see God in many other places. The smile of a child, the comfort of a friend's embrace, the peace I feel when playing the piano...

Almost six years ago now (hard to believe!), there were a string of events that really led me to become open to experiencing the spirit in ways I hadn't before. Before that, I was a "practice-centered Christian" (I just totally made up that term). Saying the right words while praying, completing tasks like they were a checklist, singing Christian music and reading the Bible in a literal way were all important parts of what I needed to do to be a Christian. Or so I believed.

Several friends, Jenn in particular, helped me begin to get more comfortable with a new concept of this Christian faith that was so important to me. I began not worrying about the words I used when praying or not using any words altogether. I began listening for the feelings in the pit of my stomach, the voice in the back of my head... I started to see God not as this overpowering and chastising father figure, but as a loving, peaceful and supportive mother. The religious rituals I practice - baptism, communion, song, - became less about their concrete practice and more about the way they helped me feel connected to God or connected to the holy. I learned to use a prayer labrynth to quiet my spirit and listen, I began reading the Bible and asking myself what the morals or messages the authors were trying to get across, based on what we know was going on in the world at those times and I began figuring out that growing up, I'd often missed the point of what my faith really was all about.

And today, more than ever, I get super frustrated when I see friends who are struggling and getting hung up on those practice-centered things. All of those things are human-created ways to help us grasp and understand and live out this incredible sense of higher power that is sacred to us. We will all experience God (or Buddah or Yhwh or Vishnu or Allah or whatever we call that greater divinity) in different ways, in different places and in different times. Sometimes I just want to shake people and tell them to let those things go! To experience first and worry about how to do it and what to call it later! If it's about the things and the names and the "right" and "wrong" way to experience it, we've missed the point. Totally, completely and absolutely missed the point.

"Spiritual but not religious" is a whole separate blog issue, but in some ways I don't think those people have missed the mark that much. All the tools that we use within religions are just ways to help us experience, understand and grasp this concept that is so much greater than us... But if you took it all away, would your remaining faith still exist? Six years ago for me, it really didn't...

The Holy Spirit's Movin, Y'All!

Hi, Blogworld! I missed you! It's been a little crazy lately (like it ever hasn't been; that's a total excuse). Tonight's blog might verge on the edge of repetitive to something I've already said, but there's a giant spider in my room that disappeared a few minutes ago and I haven't found it again, so I'm not willing to spend the time or reading power to look and be sure it isn't.

I need to preface this post with a little background so it all makes sense for you. I have always been a big believer that people will start searching for God or for a church when they're ready for and open to it. And that until they're ready for and open to it, even if they go or you share, it probably won't end in an incredible experience.

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting at a barbecue and a family member remarked to her sister that they really needed to get to church and that they should go to my church because there were lots of kids there. I don't remember the specifics of the conversation, but it ended abruptly when I said that I was sure her sister knew where I went to church and that they were always welcome and that if she had any other questions about it, she knew where to find me, but shoving it toward them wasn't necessary.

Well guess what? Tonight, the sister called me and asked if she could drop the kids off for church tomorrow. And then she thanked me for standing up and saying that they would ask if and when they were ready.

Going to a new church or exploring the whole God thing can be scary if you've never been or haven't been in a while. Hell, it's scary even if you have. I remember searching for a new church after leaving the one I grew up in! Scary stuff! It takes some time just to get used to the idea of it, even before you act. And someone saying "you should..." isn't helpful. Not in my mind, anyways. "Hey, I want you to know that if and when you're ready to explore the possibility, I'd love to share my church with you" is less threatening and quite honestly, more inviting to me.

It's one of those trusting God issues. Sometimes, you just have to trust that the Holy Spirit will move within people to grant them the courage it takes to pick up the phone and ask or walk through a door. Or to seek out whatever they're searching for. Our job isn't to push or compel or motivate. Our job is to be there to welcome people in whom the Holy Spirit has moved.

Cook The Snot Out Of It

If you've ever tried to eat with me, you've noticed that it can, at times, be rather difficult. Why? Because I am allergic to everything. If it's a fresh fruit or vegetable, there's an 80% chance I'm allergic to it. Until you cook the snot out of it. Once it's cooked to oblivion, we're good to go... And I can enjoy the same delicious things as you.

It's called Oral Allergy Syndrome and actually stems from my environmental allergies. Basically I'm allergic to whatever plants the foods grow on. Lots and lots of people with OAS experience symptoms that come and go with their seasonal allergies. But not me. No. That would be simple and cool and peachy keen, jelly bean. Mine are here year-round. And they're severe. Like anaphylaxis severe. Which makes eating an adventure.

You'd be amazed at what you can cook, though! There are very few fruits and veggies that you can't somehow cook enough to eat. My dear friend Jennifer has allergies similar to mine and she's been a great resource of new recipes and ideas. A few months ago, she discovered that we can take frozen strawberries, boil the snot out of them, refreeze them, thaw them and use them in a smoothie or protein drink. BERRIES! For the first time in years! Oh, berries, how I'd missed thee! 

Tonight, I decided to get a little bit adventurous. I did the strawberries, as normal, and added bananas and cherry juice. A little twist of the flavors... Have you ever boiled a banana? That's a sight to see. Gross and really cool all at the same time. I also discovered tonight that it's time to invest in an immersion blender. Just strawberries can be mashed up pretty well with a potato smasher, but the bananas change the texture of the whole mixture just enough that it would be more pleasant with an immersion blender. Or maybe I'm just lazy. The puree is still pretty chunky tonight, but holy woah! It's delicious! 

Here's my recipe:

4lbs frozen strawberries

4 bananas, yellow (not green, not brown, not purple)

12ish oz. cherry juice

I made it in the cast iron pot... Put the strawberries in the pot (frozen), break the banana into halves or thirds, pour the cherry juice over everything. Turn the heat on to medium high (NOT HIGH) until the cherry juice starts to boil, then turn it down to medium. Let it cook for a half hour, use your potato masher or immersion blender, pour into storage containers or ice cube trays, freeze. 

When you're ready for a real fruit popsicle, pop a cube out of the tray and eat it. If you're ready for some flavored yogurt, a bowl of plain yogurt and a cube is fabulous. For a smoothie, yogurt and several cubes. Jenn even adds protein powder! 

I know you're totally jealous that I can make an entire smoothie in just under 12 hours (because fruit doesn't freeze that quickly, after it comes off the boiling stove). You're probably jealous that I eat grilled romaine lettuce and kale, too. And that I roast bananas in honey. And that I have a perfectly legitimate medical reason for not eating my brussels sprouts. 

But I'm telling you, next time you go to eat a salad, be glad you don't have to cook it. Because cooked salad just isn't the same. 

Water and Wine

Every month at our church Cabinet meeting, we complete a task or discussion activity that aims to keep us mindful of our mission. Tonight, we had a discussion prompt. We worked in partners and were to give an example of when a church had turned water into wine for us and then an example of when a church had turned wine into water for us.

In John 2, there's a story where Jesus, his mom Mary, and Jesus' disciples are at a wedding. They ran out of wine at the wedding and Mary was freaking out to Jesus about it. Jesus basically told Mary it wasn't really his problem. Mary ordered the servants to do what Jesus said, so Jesus told the servants to fill all the jars with water and take it to the chief steward. To his pleasant surprise, when he drank from the jugs, the water had miraculously become wine. Yeah! Party on! 

So what's my water to wine? My most recent water to wine moment was on the missions trip last week. I didn't go with the expectation that I would be helping to lead vespers, to offer a prayer of blessing for a new garden or to prepare for a communion service. But I was given all of those opportunities. What I thought would be missions work and chaperoning youth was truly an opportunity for ministry I'd never gotten before.  It doesn't seem like much... But it went from being an ordinary day of work to a sacred time of preparing communion and peaceful prayer before vespers. In many of those moments, I felt closer to God than I ever had before. 

Digging into the wine to water was a little bit harder for me, though. I don't know that I'm ready to publicly share the first one that comes to mind (it isn't even the one I shared with Susan tonight). Maybe that's because it's still one I grapple and struggle with. Maybe because I know that it's one that would likely be taken the wrong way and unintentionally offend someone. And part of it is that it's hard to articulate how something that has been so sacred to me has slowly been pulled apart, thread by thread. 

But don't we have the most to learn from our wine to waters? Aren't the wine to waters the ones where division happens? Where people get hurt? Where disagreements come to surface? Where we have to let conflict be present?

Guess what?! Churches aren't perfect. Sometimes, we mess up. We turn what are really good and awesome things into not so awesome things. We get wrapped up in how awesome they are and how we could make them even more awesome, instead of letting them be what they are and we try too hard. So how do we avoid that? How do we know when to leave good things alone and not mess with them anymore? I don't really have the answers, just the questions... But I know that I have to explore that because I don't want to turn anyone's wine into water. 

Conversations Of God with Teens

I get to spend the next few days with a pretty awesome 16-year-old kid. I've known him for a long time and even though he sometimes has his moments, I love him dearly. Tonight, he asked what he would have to wear to church on Sunday morning when he goes with me. And then our conversation took an interesting turn.

I asked how often C goes to church and if he likes it. He likes church, so I asked what his favorite part of going to church was. Somehow (don't remember exactly how we got there) we started talking about wearing hats in church. He asked if it was wrong to wear a hat in church. I don't know about you, but I really don't think God cares what we wear to church. I told him that some might find it disrespectful to wear it, but that if he wanted to wear a hat to church, it would be okay with me. I didn't think God was going to be upset about it.

And then came the issue of cussing. Anyone who has been around me for any length of time knows that I have a mouth. Sometimes I try to hold my tongue more than other times, but I have a mouth. Here was C's explanation of the issue: someone somewhere along the way told me I can''t believe in God and cuss, but I do both.

Oh, dear child.... Here's the way I see it: We're humans. Language is required to communicate. And sometimes, we have to communicate strong, harsh and unpleasant things. So long as you're not using harsh and unpleasant language towards or about another person in a manner that is hurtful or disrespectful, sometimes, you just have to use it. Please don't get tripped up over this... I don't think it's a topic worth making a fuss over. BUT. On the other hand, your parents have rules regarding your language and I do expect that you follow them. And I will hold you to them. So don't think that you can go around saying whatever you want. You can't. But don't think that God's going to smite you if you say you've had a shitty day.

This is the thing that bothers me so often... Some people get so wrapped up in the things they think God sees as wrong that we forget to show people the awesome, cool and wonderful things about God. Like grace, mercy and love! And so what if we cuss? Doesn't mean God loves us any less! Doesn't mean we can't believe in God!

We talked a little more and C seemed upset that nobody else in his youth group ever seems to doubt God. That breaks my heart... In my eyes, part of being a spiritual leader means inviting people to wonder about God, doubt God and question God... In my faith journey, those points were the points where my understanding of God grew most deeply and profoundly. And because I have been allowed to wonder and doubt and question, I know in my heart of hearts that God is there. And always has been and always will be. But I had to find that conclusion for myself. Just like C will have to find that for himself.

It is not our job to spoon-feed our kids their faith. It is our job to live our faith, to demonstrate our faith, to be real and practical about our faith and it's application in our daily lives. To allow our kids to explore and question and to accompany them on that journey. That way, it's personal. It's real. Faith actually means something.

An Idiots Guide To Church Signs

You know all those church signs that you see on Facebook? The ones that are just downright witty? Or have spelling errors that totally change what you were trying to say? Or just didn't think all the way through the spacing and say something absolutely hilarious that they never intended? If you haven't, you're lucky that I included a few at the bottom of this post.

You know what drives me crazy in this town? Yep. You guessed it! Church signs! Sketchy theology and bad humor aside, sometimes I drive by and wonder exactly what someone was thinking when they came up with that stuff! Do people forget that for maximum reach and impact and desired results, you want the sign to invite people in your doors and see what you're all about? (Well... that gets into the "church walls" issue, which is a whole 'nother bag-o-worms that I'm not going into right now.) Because, to me personally, nothing says you won't be welcomed here like a sign that says homosexuality is a sin!

Lesson 1: Your church sign won't scare anyone into doing or believing anything. So stop trying! Seriously. "Johnny, we've got to go to church today! The sign outside said we're going to burn in hell if we don't!" said no one ever.

Lesson 2: Your sign is for inviting and informing, not scaring and excluding. If everybody's good enough for God's love and forgiveness, then everybody's good enough for the church. A sign that tells you who/what God isn't so fond of misrespresents the whole idea of God... God should start suing for defamation. He/She's a good guy/gal!

Lesson 3: Quit being so serious! It's a church sign. Nobody is going to pay attention to a church sign that says 

Jesus Loves You!

John 3:16

Sunday Worship 10am

But I guarantee you that they'll at least chuckle at a church sign that says 

God didn't create anything without a purpose.

But mosquitoes come close.

Lesson 4: People drive by your church every single day. Change the stupid sign once in a while! If you do and you keep it interesting, people notice. If it's always the same, they don't! 

Lesson 5: If your sign isn't piquing anybody's interest, it isn't making people wonder about you. If people aren't wondering about you, they aren't wondering about this super-awesome Jesus dude that we sorta kinda maybe like to share. So basically, why bother?

Here's your church sign checklist:

__ Avoids the Scare Tactic

__ Includes Something Interesting or Funny

__ Doesn't Exclude Anyone

__ Makes People Feel Welcome/Invited

__ Will Go Away in a Few Weeks

__ Isn't Offensive to People

And last but not least, I have to poke fun at a friend... Because it still cracks me up every time I see it. =]

Parables. They're Tough Little Boogers.

"I wonder if this is a parable? It might be. 

Parables are very precious, like gold. This box is gold.

This looks like a present. Parables are like presents.

They have already been given to us.

We can't buy them or take them or steal them.

They are already ours."

We've been talking about parables in Sunday School. They're tough little boogers! Especially for preschoolers and kindergarteners! What is this seemingly cryptic set of stories? And what the heck impact does it have on our faith? What was so important about these special stories? Why do we need them in our Bible? And how in the world am I supposed to explain this type of metaphor and allegory to kids this young?

According to Google (which,obviously holds absolute authority), there are precisely 46 parables in the Bible. According to my very, incredibly, meticulously accurate math, that equates to 9,439,872 possible interpretations or understandings of the parables. And according to the same mathematical principles, it will take approximately 4 lifetimes to reason through them all. So on I march, exploring parables. Because I do think there's something to them! 

All joking aside, though. Parables are tough. Their form and meaning is tough. Their translation had to be tough. And grappling with them, asking ourselves "what could Jesus possibly have meant by all of these" is tough. I've found that parables mean different things to me - I interpret them differently - during different situations in my life. Even the way parables are described have varied in my life.

Growing up, I was taught that parables are earthly stories with a Heavenly meaning. At first glance, that seems like a pretty simple way to explain something that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. But lately, I've been digging into it a little more deeply. In Matthew 13, Jesus shares a parable with the people. After hearing it, the disciples ask Jesus why he speaks in parables. In different Gospels, there are different responses, but the basic answer Jesus always provides is that we might be able to see them or hear them, but in seeing and hearing them, we can't understand them. Only in exploring them within our hearts can we understand them.

Great. Just fabulous. Even Jesus says we can't just see them or hear them and understand them. Which brings me back to why the heck he even uses them in the first place! Why would Jesus set us up to fail with these things? Hmmm...

Could it be that Jesus was setting us up to wrestle with our faith? Could it be that he was teaching a lesson to be still and listen? Could it be that our faith isn't easy - another example of how hard following him can be? Could it be something else?

I don't have the answers - only the questions. But it's been interesting to explore them a little more deeply. Go read a parable or two. Dig around in the parables from the different books. See what you think. And share in the comments, because I love to hear new ideas!  

♫ Bring Your Peace Into Our Violence... ♫

Fourteen years ago today, I experienced the first tragic act of violence I can remember. I was nine years old and at school. I remember the office people coming through the school and closing and locking all of the doors in the building. It was a little out of the ordinary for our school, but nobody thought much about it. And then we got home that afternoon. We sat - Nick, Carley, Ashley, Josh, Kelsey and I - glued to the television, watching the news and listening to the unfolding reports of all that had happened at Columbine High School earlier in the day. It was the first time Shonna ever turned off what we were watching and actually MADE us play video games. We were all so shocked by it, we didn't play Sonic, like we usually did. We played Kirby. I remember wondering how that could ever  happen, how it could happen so close to home and why someone would be so angry or upset that they thought it necessary to take the lives of innocent people. To that point in my life, violence only existed where conflict existed.

Fourteen years later, trying to process all the unspeakable and senseless violence from the week, I still wonder many of the same things. How can this happen? How can this happen so close to home?  What motivates anger or hatred so strong that it becomes necessary to take the lives of others? I don't understand. I will never understand.

There's a Chris Rice song - normally a Christmas song - that has a couple of lines that have come to mind again and again this week. It's called Welcome To Our World... "Tears are falling, hearts are breaking.  How we need to hear from God..." and later "Bring your peace into our violence, bid our hungry souls be filled..." Isn't it funny how in the face of some of the most horrific violence, I often experience the deepest sense of peace?

Maybe that peace lies within the reminder that I am blessed to live in a nation where this sort of violence is not an everyday occurance. Maybe it lies within the hope that is renewed in watching communities come together to overcome it. Maybe my peace lies within  the refusal to believe that people are anything but inherently good. And maybe that peace lies within knowing that this time, it wasn't me and it wasn't my loved ones. Wherever that overwhelming peace comes from, I am incredibly thankful for it.

My prayers have been the same, all week long. After every act of violence and every tragic accident this week, I pray that somewhere, in the midst of the chaos and violence, we can find an inner peace. And I pray that we can respond to those who have fallen victim to these senseless tragedies, but also the perpetrators behind the tragedies from the smallest sliver of peace we can find within ourselves. I don't believe that we can respond to hate from a place of anger or hate. Really, then, what have we accomplished? It will only be perpetuated... But to respond from a sense of peace, saying "you will not take away our security..." That, my friends, is what wins.

How Am I Coping? I Have No Clue.

So much of Sunday's events are still a complete shock to me. This morning, I posted the letter I wrote in response to everything. Let me start by saying that I have been completely and totally overwhelmed by the outpouring of support from those who have taken a moment to read about what happened. Thank you. Your kind words really have meant the world to me. Almost every time I have checked my phone, there has been a new comment or message or email with kind and supportive words of encouragement. You are all so kind.

I never intended to share this story because I was looking for support... I believe that when assaults happen on our community, a public forum for working through it and healing is necessary. I don't have a large public forum and I don't know who the people at the tables around me were, so this is the best I've got.

As I continue to work through this whole thing and reflect on the lessons it can teach me, I feel like I'm being dragged on this roller coaster of emotions (cliche, I know). One minute I'm angry that it happened, the next I'm sad, the next I pity him and the next I have a sense of empowerment because of the whole thing. And the way I feel about most of it goes back and forth.

Right after it happened, I was okay with nobody standing up in the moment. A few  hours later, I became really angry about it. I'm not angry or upset or hurt or let down by it anymore... But it has really made me think. I have heard so many people say to me that if they had been there, they would have stood up for me in that moment. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that they wouldn't or that I don't believe them. But I thought I would've stood up in that moment. In a moment when hate speech was being tossed at someone, I was positive that I had the strength, backbone and conviction to stand up and shut it down. But when I was actually faced with it, I couldn't. What does that say about what I thought about my character?

I've had a lot of conversations with a lot of people over the last few days about the whole thing, but perhaps the one that was most healing to me was the Facebook conversation I had yesterday with the pastor from my parents' church. He and I have had some pretty major disagreements in the past, which ultimately led me to choose to leave the church where I'd grown up. Although we still were often at lunch together, we never spoke of the issue again. But yesterday, for the first time ever, he apologized. Not for the hurt that happened five years ago (because, in part, apologizing for that could seem like he was saying my being gay was acceptable in  his eyes), but for not standing up on Sunday to a bully. And that meant the world to me. I know (because I know him well enough) that the words and hate of the man Sunday were not a shared sentiment with Ken, but it was really good to hear it.

The other thing that keeps coming up, though, is the fact that so often, we see injustices in our communities and just wait for them to go away. That's really bothering me. Injustices don't go away. Hate doesn't go away. As a community, we have got to start doing something. We have to start understanding that unless we find a way to shut down and overcome hate or injustice, it won't go away! Hate is a powerful force, and unless there is something to stop it, it will only perpetuate and grow. We can't just wait for it to go away or it won't.

Maybe I'm crazy and maybe I'm spending way too much energy to process this, but I think our community needs to be able to heal and work through this. I spent so much of my life believing that things like what happened Sunday didn't exist in our community and it breaks my heart that I've had to face them and know that they do. Now, I just want to know what to do about it.

A Response To Hate

Dear Pastor [edited],

I met you Sunday afternoon at Chili's. We were the table next to yours and I was the girl sitting in the corner of the booth. There were some things I should have shared with you while we were together but didn't, so I though I'd write and share them with you now.

I understand your views on gay marriage and how upsetting it is to so many, like you. I am glad that you stood up for your convictions and exercised your right to get involved with your legislature and share your thoughts. I wish more people would pay attention to what is going on in our communities and stand up for their convictions.

Since I came out as lesbian eight years ago, I have heard a lot of rude, mean or ignorant things that have been said to or about me. And I've listened to every side of every argument on the issue that people have wanted to share with me. I have always been proud to say that I don't need people to have the same view on homosexuality and gay marriage as I do. My beliefs and convictions on the issue are firm, but I respect greatly those who disagree with me. While I don't share your views that my sexuality is a sin, I respect them and will gladly stand for your right to protect and express your view. My friends and family stand on almost every side of the issue and I love that. Sunday afternoon, the people at the table that I was with happen to share your views, not mine. While I'm not a member of their church, they are my family and friends and we have found ways to overcome our differences on the issue.

What I will not defend or condone, however, was the way that you share your opinion and views on Sunday. I've hear my fair share of strong opinions and respect them. But the way that you spoke Sunday was the first time in my life that I've ever heard outright hate speech. The use of words like fag and pervert were derogatory and discriminatory. The tone you used to share was degrading and less-than Christ-like. And the way you used the information that one among us was a pastor as permission to share your views on the subject without knowing us was absolutely appalling. Never in my life have I experienced such hateful, derogatory, discriminatory and degrading speech being directed to anyone. I've heard about hateful verbal assaults  but until Sunday, I'd never experienced it.

But Pastor [edited], the lesson that you taught me while standing and spewing hate at me I will always value. It was a great lesson in demonstrating Christ's love. Not because you were demonstrating it, but because the Christ I know, love and follow would have stood up to you and asked you to treat me with grace and mercy. He would have demonstrated compassion and respect, knowing that hate only hardens hearts. As I embark on my journey to ministry, Sunday's events will serve as a constant reminder of what it feels like to be belittled and bullied by a leader within the Church.

I regret that not one of us stood up to you Sunday to tell you that your hate is not welcome in this community. There is plenty of room your for your views and opinion, but there is no room for your hateful speech.

I pray that you'll seek manners in which you can express your views constructively, appropriately and respectfully, as our Christ did. Our God, the Prince of Peace, showed mercy even to those who nailed him on the cross, demonstrating our need to overcome differences and hate with grace, mercy, compassion and love. And I pray that if you'd like to discuss the incident or situation with me, that you'll find the courage to come to me, directly and respectfully. Because I am always glad to have open, honest and peaceful conversations about how we can better follow and demonstrate the love of our God.

In Christ's forgiving love,

Laura

Such Hateful Things

After church this morning, as after church almost every week, I went to lunch with my parents, their pastor and his wife. We were sitting at Chili's and had finally ordered (which was a feat today, considering all of us wanted just about everything on the menu) when the pastor from small local church walked up to our table. He introduced himself, found out Ken was a pastor and then proceeded to spend what seemed like hours, spewing some of the most hateful things I have ever heard anyone say.

He started with telling us about how he'd spend time at the State Capitol over the last few weeks fighting the amendment to allow gay marriage. I wasn't particularly offended by it, since I believe that everyone has their right to their opinion and view on gay marriage. What followed, however, still shocks me.

He proceeded to stand there and tell us (who, mind you, he had never met before) how the "wicked" and "perverted" people were going to ruin this state. One of the most upsetting things, to him, was the fact that there was no exemption for churches or religious organizations. Even though he, or other pastors, could refuse to marry a couple, "those fags" would still be able "to use our churches."

I was absolutely dumbfounded. Before I even address what he was actually saying, let's just talk about etiquette. What, on god's green earth, ever gave him the notion that his opinion or comments on ANY subject were welcome or warranted?! I am totally cool with introducing yourself and exchanging general niceties. But to even broach a subject with any sensitivity with ANY person you just met is absolutely ludicrous.

But it wasn't just that it was socially awkward. NEVER IN MY LIFE have I witnessed someone spew such unabashed hate. Though the slurs and the hateful, hurtful things he was saying were incredibly offensive, there was also another side I saw it from.

I happen to know (from the funeral industry) that he is particularly aggressive about evangelism and sharing his faith with others. Don't get me wrong - I have NO issues with sharing the God I believe in - but there's a difference between sharing your God and shoving your God down someone's throat. This particular pastor happens to be the shove-God-down-your-throat type, which is always a bit of a turn-off for me, but I sat there wondering exactly how effective that shoving God down people's throats was going to be while spewing hate. See, I believe in a gracious, merciful and loving God. My Jesus chose to hang out with the sinners and tax collectors and treated them BETTER than the Pharisees did. What happened at lunch? That demonstrated the opposite. If our job, as Christians, is to be Christ-like, we can't spew hate. Jesus NEVER spewed hate. He stopped it. He stood up against it.

At first, it didn't bother me that nobody said anything or stopped him... We were completely shocked and dumbfounded at the things coming out of his mouth. I felt like I should have said something, but I also felt so personally attacked (even though he didn't know me and didn't know he was personally attacking me) that I didn't know what to say. But the more time that passes, the more upset I am that NOBODY stood up and said it wasn't okay. Not the people I was with. Not the people he was with. Not the people at the other tables right next to us. I'm as guilty as the next, but every single one of us sat there and let him continue to say hateful things. And we didn't do a thing about it.

After he finally left our table and went and sat down at his, the pastor from my parents' church looked at me and acknowledged how uncomfortable and personal that attack on me was. For the differences the two of us have had on the particular subject, that was a big deal to me. But for the first time in my entire life this afternoon, I didn't feel safe. I felt so personally attacked and hated and cornered that I was powerless. I had never witnessed such hate before. Ever.

I struggle to reconcile the events of today with my belief that people are inherently good. It's so hard to believe that a good person would spew such hate. And I refuse to believe that there is anyone who is not a good person. I am the first to say that your views on anything don't have to be the same as mine. And I will be the first to tell you that we can agree to disagree. I don't need you to hold the same views and opinions and interpretations as I do. But I do demand that you be respectful of ALL people. You can't meet hate with hate. It only perpetuates it. Hate can only be conquered through grace, mercy and love. But I'm struggling with ways to show grace, mercy and love to someone who attacked me so deeply and so personally.

Well That Sucked.

Today was one of those days where I said "Well that sucked" a lot. I'm just going to air my dirty laundry here for a second and make a list of the things that sucked today.

1. I got up late. 
2. Because I got up late, I didn't get to pack before I left the hotel this morning.
3. Mom came to get me before sales meeting started (which didn't suck), so I had to leave earlier and didn't get much for breakfast.
4. Mom and I packed my bags later very hurriedly. (This comes into play later.)
5. On a break this morning, I found out that a dear, dear friend passed away very, very unexpectedly on Thursday. 
6. I lost my pencil and had to do my homework in pencil so I had to go buy pencils. 
7. The rental car we had was not easy to see out of from the back and the two hour drive from Tulsa to Oklahoma City made me nauseous.
8. The security guy at the airport was a jerk.
9. The nausea from the car ride carried over to the plane ride and the turbulence didn't help.
10. Neither did the car ride.
11. I'm still nauseous.
12. The essay I just finished writing that was due tonight totally sucked. Probably one of the worst I've ever written.

I will not make a list of all the crap that sucked about today and leave it at that. So before I go to bed, I have to make a list equally as long of positive things.

1. Sales meeting was really fun and I learned SO MUCH!
2. We get to launch two lines in the next few months that I'm super excited to share with my salons!
3. I have some really incredible and really supportive friends!
4. Even though Bubba is gone, I got to have dinner with her a week and a half ago and the last thing I said to her before we got in our cars was "Love ya, Bubs!"
5. I'm home and I get to sleep in my own bed tonight!
6. I finally found coffee at the airport this evening!
7. The essay that was due tonight was a first draft, not a final, so I'll be able to go back and revise and rewrite before it gets graded!
8. I found some really cool meditative music this weekend that I've been playing before and while I study. It seems to be helping me stay focused!
9. I got a high B on the Psych test I took last night without studying and while traveling!
10. Wes left a welcome home note for us on the kitchen counter that made us all smile! AND he vacuumed! 
11. Despite the stress of it, I really am enjoying school!
12. This day is over and I can go to bed and start new tomorrow! 

Freewriting

Today, I had to do lots and lots of timed freewriting. We were given several statements and were to set a ten minute timer and write what we believed about each statement. Then, we were to reset the time and write what we doubted about each statement. Do you know what I discovered? I really suck at freewriting.

The assignment was designed less to see what you would say and more to make you keep writing, even when you felt like you had nothing left to say. You should see some of the things I wrote... They were ugly. Disorganized, messy, all over the place, only halfway logical and barely understandable. I read some other people's posts and they followed a logical train of thought and were decently organized... It drove me nuts!

Now I have to write this blog post to prove to myself that I don't always write like I did in those freewrites. And now I've proven that, so I'm going to bed. Goodnight.

He Called It Jeff Fulton Disease

I had a teacher in high school - Jeff Fulton - who called it Jeff Fulton Disease. You've been there... You read through a page and look up and have absolutely no idea what you just read. And no matter how many times you go back and re-read it, you still have no clue... And never because you don't understand, but because your mind just can't focus. Maybe you have it right now. Maybe you have no clue why you're even trying to read this blog post. I don't know. I don't know why you're reading it... Who'd have thought my life was interesting enough that people would actually want to read about it?!

I have it. Right now. And I have an entire chapter of my Comp book to read and a posting due at midnight. I also have one measly little math problem left that I cannot figure out how to solve. I was really frustrated with math last night and was feeling stupid, but I must have been too tired, because this evening, it went just fine. Except this one stupid problem. I don't have to do this particular problem - I've already missed it enough on the homework that it's locked me out and I won't be able to fix it, but the fact that I can't figure out how to do it is really frustrating me. What if it's on the test?!

And my mind is everywhere but my reading. The part of the chapter I'm supposed to focus on is called "The Importance of Writing Badly." How can it not be interesting!? I read it, read it, and read it again, but I have no idea what I've read, what it's talking about or how I'm supposed to respond to the discussion questions. And my discussion question responses have to be posted on the boards by midnight. Garr.... So what do I do? Blog! Haha. I don't know - maybe getting all this out of my head will help me focus more. And maybe it won't. But it's worth a shot, right?