The year of the Lord's favor

About a week ago I was told two things by someone I respect a great deal:

I should concentrate on doing things that I love.
I should concentrate on cultivating a close relationship with God.

It sounds like something I should have been doing all along. I think it was my intention to do so in the first place. But somehow, along the way, I got sidetracked. Some of these sidetracks began three years ago, two years ago, about a year ago. Some were more recent. So this past week I concentrated on those two things just as hard as I could and the following resulted:

I had a really amazing week. I am thoroughly happy.

I reflect on what is still to come. I have a feeling a lot more will be asked of me soon, and that part of me is currently resisting the idea that anything more CAN be asked. So I sat and looked at the situation dispassionately. At least, as dispassionately as one can look at a situation like this. Heh. I realized that my efforts have brought me pretty far in terms of changing my mentality, behavior, and actions to be more Christ-oriented, but the resistant part of me is fairly powerful and starting to interfere. So I'm doing the "God, I can't do this alone" prayer. Because I can't do it alone, and trying harder will probably just turn out in the nasty snarl of knots that happens at the end of arrogance, pride, and self-delusion.

In the interest of trying something new, I asked a friend of mine about her painting hobby. She responded by giving me three small canvases on the promise that I would show her my efforts (she is one of the most generous people I've ever met). My grandma has a box of painbrushes she hasn't used in years, so I stopped by Crafts and Creations last night to buy some paint, then sketched out an idea for a painting in my head. My own design actually surprised me. I think it's going to turn out really well.

Veil of the Temple

Last night I went to a tiny worship service for Organic Faith. I showed up early to help set up; we were going to use the sanctuary but discovered to our surprise that an orchestra was going to be practicing during our service time. So we instead set up in an upstairs office largely devoid of furniture. Pillows scattered in a circle around a cross, lined with Christmas lights. Small chairs draped with gorgeous vestments donated to us, embroidered silk. Tea lights everywhere. We sat in a circle and listened to music, reflecting on quotes read aloud at the beginning of each song. We sat there like this for at least a half hour, soaking up music, scripture, guidance. Then we got up and stood around a table for communion. As we held hands and spoke The Lord's Prayer, I almost started crying. It felt tangible, more real in some ways than a lot of worship has for me lately. I know that worship isn't always going to be a transcendent experience, and I won't hold on to it. But I am grateful for this flash of heaven's curtain being pulled back.

Lost and Found

I really like my job. It's crazy awesome and badass. They're going to give me more hours, which I am super psyched for. I'm going to work the 2010 census too, methinks. The only fly in my ointment is that I feel like I'm coming down with some kind of upper respiratory ick. Ick.

I finished The Lost History of Christianity, which chronicled the rise and fall of Christian churches in Asia and Africa between the time of the apostles and roughly the fourteenth century, and included information regarding the fate of the remnant churches even up through the 20th century. It was an extraordinary trip through what was once a series of rich church cultures that dialogued with Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, and Manichaesm, and had their own liturgies, art, scholasticism, and architecture. Their collapse was a mix of bad choices, bad luck, and straight up human nature.

The author has some interesting things to say about the whole situation. He doesn't pull any punches regarding the fact that the Asian and African churches were destroyed by Islam, but also pointed out that Christianity did the same to Muslims in Spain and Jews throughout Europe. What becomes clear is that people do bad shit to each other for reasons that are religious, but also political and economic, in order to gain, hedge, and maintain power. One of the more interesting connections he draws is that the violent overturning of Christianity in Asia coincided with anti-Semitic violence in Europe, the Black Death, and general famine due to the Little Ice Age. In other words, it was a bad time to be alive, period, and if you happened to be a minority, you got scapegoated. The rise of the modern nation state extended the ability of the state to control isolated areas that once housed lingering minorities, and the extension of the state's power meant that these minorities were therefore extinguished.

On a spiritual level, he discusses the interesting theological questions that the church's destruction poses: was God angry with the followers to the point that their city's reduction to a pile of skulls by Timur's army was justified? Does God favor Islam? In the past, people may have thought this (some people STILL think this way). Instead, he chooses to step away from such black and white ideas about humans knowing the will of God and reminds us to be more humble in terms of timelines and history. Churches which once existed and were destroyed could eventually be reborn. Islam, despite the negative connotations currently associated with it, clearly has an appeal and spiritual benefits for a billion people in the world; God is big enough to work in many ways through many people, even if we don't see it. The author actually poses an interesting challenge: the theology of extinction. Given that I have spent a great deal of my life attending mainline churches whose heydey was long before I was born, I understand his challenge. It's been a common question nearly everywhere I've gone. I wonder about it in the context of the Rocky Mountain Conference of the United Methodist church, where tiny churches are barely surviving. Yet sometimes different forms take shape. When the United Methodist church in Clarence Center closed, the Sikhs bought the building and now use it for their temple. At House, we use a building whose congregation has long disbanded for our worship and vestments that were donated because they were no longer being used by those congregations.

I think humility is ultimately the message here: hegemony does not guarantee that one will remain that way. God doesn't work the way we expect. What once was lost can be rebuilt, and what is strong now may soon die. We don't know. All we can do is the best we can with the time that is given to us.

The words of men and angels

I am currently in a game of cat and mouse with one employer, trying to get someone to contact me back about starting a part time job next week. The other part time job officially begins Monday morning. I'm hoping for some reprieves from the crap weather we've had this week; driving has been treacherous, and one of my jobs requires me to drive anywhere from Niagara Falls to Orchard Park. Yeeeah.

My family came and went. It was a good week/weekend. My bro and I got to have some alone talk/sing time, and Dad and I got to have hang out/Tai Chi time, both of which are pretty important to me because they don't happen very often. My relationship with both has often been rocky, so being in a place where we get along together and there isn't any conflict or tension is such a gift.

I keep making bizarre personal discoveries that have been buried or unrecognized my whole life but are coming to the surface for healing or to be used in a positive way. It's actually a relief to feel these things opening up. There were some things that confirmed just how far beyond words this faith thing goes for me. Words barely scratch the surface. I'm not sure how much I feel comfortable describing here yet. It's one of the more profound things I've encountered, and yet I feel largely incapable of describing it (and even rather reluctant to do so as it is so personal).

Some friends of mine are coming to visit this weekend. I hope the weather holds so that they can get here and go home safely. Dang it, it's snowing again.

Uh oh, now I have to make a decision.

It always goes down like this:

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

SUDDENLY 4 JOB INTERVIEWS/OFFERS AND ACCEPTANCE TO ILIFF.

I have another day to sort through and see what comes through.

Life abundant indeed.

Helter Skelter

The endorphins I got from working out today are battling the depression I've felt since Saturday. This makes me feel very strange today.

I got a lead on the job front, which as serendipity would have it led me back to someone I networked with at my grandparents' church. I wonder if it will work out.

I also got the strangest feeling that one of Sunday's PostSecrets was written to me. I've never felt that way before, just that I could often say "me too" to many of them.

Speaking of PostSecret, that came up in conversation last night at Bible Study. We were talking about confession and absolution. In church liturgy, community confession is a way of acknowledging the ways we've fallen short of God, and the absolution is really a mechanism to hammer home that we've already been forgiven of our sins by God. PostSecret was interpreted by one person as being the confession without the absolution, which is where the church could step in and minister to people, but another person brought up the fact that, attention getting aside, many people use it because there is a lack of judgment involved, and involving the church would on some level imply judgment. I think the second person was right; PostSecret reveals this emotional subculture of shame and guilt in our society (or a lack thereof, in some cases) and the fear we have of being judged. In that regard, PostSecret does a service to those who are suffering in silence by providing that outlet of sharing in the midst of their terror, fear, shame, and guilt. One of the sources of negative and positive tension in this bizarre sharing/voyeurism is that there is no resolution unless people write that there was some kind of resolution. So we rarely get to find out if the person's burden was lifted.

How would the church step in to this situation? I don't even know if it would be possible or desirable. The only thing I could imagine at all would be Jesus reading each one and saying "I love you" regardless of what was on the card. He might also say "I'm sorry" or "That's funny" or "Be careful", but love would be the main theme. Since we can't speak for Jesus, the only part I know for sure would be the "I love you" part. And probably "you're forgiven". I don't know. I think the church needs to do a better job of addressing our guilt and shame and secret fears and needs for lamentation. A lot of people go to church to be uplifted, but we can't deny or avoid the negative feelings forever, and we need to stop pretending that becoming a Christian means that your life will automatically become bunnies and rainbows if you just put the right coins into the celestial slot machine.

Monday needs to stop being so weird.

The Wine Ran Out

There are some times when I am more than happy to express my beliefs and reasons for them to others. But there are other times, especially in the face of hostility, where doing so is quite exhausting to me.

Last night, I found an article that Nadia wrote for The Lutheran at Zion. In it, she discussed our BYOB Bible Study, which throughout last year was one of the most fun and spiritually fulfilling of my spiritual practices. She talked about how we would find the texts funny and interesting. At one point, she actually quoted me. We were joking about how in one particular text, Jesus wanders on the water around behind his friends, coming up from behind them, and it was like he was trying to sneak up on them or something.

I like to believe that Jesus had a sense of humor. He saw his disciples as friends. Friendship involves laughter and jokes. Even if he wasn't trying to sneak up on them, it's still a strange story, and he probably found ways of laughing with his friends in other ways.

My grandma insisted on seeing this article, then proceeded to basically interrogate me about how I could possibly see this as a respectful form of spiritual discipline, as well as questioning why I like certain kinds of worship and music instead of others, why I don't go to evangelical churches (ironic since she's gone to bloody mainline churches all her life), why I don't do this or that, how I can think in this way, etc. It's so tiring to have to support what I feel feeds me spiritually in the face of someone who thinks I'm wrong, which is why I don't like to go after atheists or agnostics for their lack of belief. Usually, the only people I go after at all are Christians whom I believe are harming others with their practices. At any rate, the whole conversation was exhausting, and she just kept pushing until I finally said "we agree to disagree" and left it. This morning she tried to start in again, but I refused. She says she's trying to learn and that she's curious, but the way she pushes and the questions she asks tell me that she wants someone to tell her she's right, not that she wants to actually learn anything.

I guess I should have more patience, but I spent most of yesterday feeling very depressed and today isn't shaping up to be much better. In this situation, my capacity for rational defense of my beliefs is getting low, and may soon border into harsh words. I've spent a lot of my time since I was 13 under the impression that she didn't think my beliefs were correct simply because they didn't reflect her own. That's not a very good place to start, and she has a tendency to push and push until no one is happy, because she feels any difference in belief from her own is somehow a judgment on herself. I've worked to unlearn this behavior, and I still see it in a lot of people I know. I'm trying to leave it behind. It doesn't always work.

In today's lectionary reading, Jesus is changing water into wine at the wedding in Cana. This is a very hilarious text, when it comes down to it. But there are so many times when it seems like the wine has run out; it's run out for the entire nation of Haiti. I pray for changes in hearts and minds, and for strong hands and plentiful supplies for aid workers. I pray that I have the strength to walk away and be renewed instead of losing my temper. I pray that she can just let it be.