Unity

 I went to a faith symposium on Saturday and walked away with my mind spinning from challenging thoughts. As the information has begun to settle, I keep coming back to one thought:

 

We have forgotten how to disagree.

 

I’m not a fan of cliches, but the words “agree to disagree” keep coming to mind, and while in most instances I know that I can do this, even I, with sixteen years of therapy and countless hours of intentional work to be open to ways and people who differ from me, struggle to make this sentiment a reality.

 

It’s human nature to want to be “right.” But what if “right” can’t be agreed upon?

 

There are always two dichotomies, opposites, or extremes of every belief or situation: right vs. wrong; left vs. right; introvert vs. extravert; hard vs. soft; loud vs. soft; fast vs. slow; black vs. white; life vs. death; heaven vs. hell; good vs. evil; love vs. hate; you get the point.

 

Yet in between those two opposites, there is always more…and that more is where most of life is lived. Most of life doesn’t fall in the extremes, but rather life falls on the sliding scale in between—and that scale moves back and forth at different times in life, with different issues and different experiences—and it’s different for different people.

 

For instance, “love your neighbor” is a somewhat universal truth. But how we go about doing that differs from person to person, community to community, religion to religion. For some, love is the direct action of feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and providing shelter for the homeless. For others, love is the indirect action of creating policies that promote law and order. For some, love is giving people second chances over and over again. For others, love is creating boundaries that say no. For some, love is embracing all people in this life because Christ said that in Him there is no division. For others, love is trying to save souls from hell because they don’t want anyone to suffer an eternity separated from God.

 

Yesterday in church, something was either said or sung about unity. My lingering thoughts from the symposium on how we no longer know how to disagree crashed into the command for unity and I realized something: Unity isn’t about everyone having the same thoughts and beliefs. Unity is about accepting our differences and doing our part and believing that God, somehow, can take all of the parts and use them for good. Unity is about fighting for Love and being open to love and believing that everyone is God’s beloved child—even if we don’t like them or understand them because they don’t look like us, act like us, or come from the same culture or background as us.

 

These days, it seems like we are quick to judge, dismiss, unfriend, tell on, or cut-off those who don’t agree with us after just one encounter. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that we need to stick around people who are demeaning and abusive. Sometimes, when the other person is coming from a place of hate, we should let go and move on for our own personal safety and sanity. Sometimes, when the other person is coming from a place of hate, we should speak our truth in love and then let them be. Responding to hate with hate perpetuates hate. Responding to hate with healthy love changes the world. But I digress.

 

I just think that, in general, especially if we are Christians who profess to follow a Christ who hung out with the marginalized of society, then we need to know how to have conversations with people who are different than us and to be open to what they have to say. I think that, in general, we need to learn to trust the positive intent of people’s hearts rather than automatically deeming them “bad” or “wrong” or “demonic” or “liberal” or “conservative” because of our own fears and insecurities.  

 

Like I said earlier, even after years of therapy and intentional work to be open to ways and people who differ from me, I still struggle. But I am trying. And I invite you to try with me. Because, friends, God is so much bigger than we allow God to be. And I think we may all be surprised by the people whom Jesus loves.  

 

Amen.

Car Rider Excitement

 When my principal does car-rider duty, he walks the line and types the names directly into our school’s Car Rider Dismissal Google Doc. His phone will allow him to do this. My phone will not.

 

So when I do car-rider duty, I walk the line and radio the names to Shauna The Art Teacher who then types them into the Google Doc. Most of the time, this process works just fine. But every once in a while, the students waiting to be picked up are too loud or a student doesn’t come out when they are supposed to come out and Shauna has to radio the office to call for them.

 

Usually, as I call the names, I simply walk the line. I pass a car. I call the name. I wait a few beats. I call the next name. I wait a few beats.  I call the next name. When the line transitions from sitting to moving, I call a name as a car rolls by. I wait a few beats. I call the next name. And so it goes until all names have been called.

 

Usually, too, cars don’t drive past me unless I give them a thumbs up or talk directly to them.

 

But last Wednesday, things went wrong. Shauna needed to me pause, so I did. In the process, at least four cars passed me, one of them a non-normal car rider, so I had to walk the line backwards to catch up. While I had my back turned, more cars passed and I had to guess who they were.

 

I was feeling a bit discombobulated when I turned around a saw a car that I hadn’t seen in a while.

 

Without hesitation, I immediately grinned and said, “Hey!!!!” I was genuinely happy to see the mom driving the car. We used to talk every day but then her work schedule changed. She hasn’t been able to get her kid recently, so I was happily surprised to see her.

 

Almost immediately, my discombobulation turned to joy…because of a kind soul and smiling face in the car rider line.

 

There’s a lot that can make us grumpy in this world. There are pressures and demands coming from so many places that it doesn’t take much to feel overwhelmed. Yet if we are open to them and we will look, then we will find that moments of joy abound. And it’s in those moments, passing though they be, that we are most fully alive and able to live abundantly.

 

It’s easy to get absorbed by the big picture of doom and dread—especially if you watch the news. But we must remember that it’s the small moments like turning around in the car rider line that make up life and propel us through our days. It’s the present moment where life is lived.

 

Dear God: Grant us eyes to see the joy that surrounds us and help us to be present in each moment of the day—feeling the good as well as the bad—and knowing that both are okay. Amen. 

Leather Padfolio

 A couple of months ago,

While shopping for Christmas presents,

I treated myself to a gift:

A leather padfolio.

I had purchased padfolios for two other people,

And I was so impressed when they came that I decided to buy myself one.

The leather is gorgeous,

Stained a rich brown,

Flexible yet sturdy,

And monogrammed with my name.

The only downfall is that my padfolio easily shows scratches and scuffs.

After only two months of use,

It was looking rough,

And I was lamenting how easily my beautiful padfolio had become dingy.

Then I found a product called Leather CPR at my local The Dollar Gentrald.  

It was an “As Seen on TV” product, promised that it was all natural, and touted that it would cover scratches and scuffs.

Sure enough, it did!

After gently massaging my padfolio with Leather CPR,

It returned to its original beauty.

It was amazing,

And I was thrilled.

 

Friends: We all have scratches and scuffs.

If you have a cat like Annie, then your scratches and scuffs might be literal.

But more likely than not, your scratches and scuffs are figurative…

And they are all over your heart, mind, and body.

While there’s not one magic product that will return your heart, mind, and body to its original beauty,

There is grace,

And grace will do wonders to restore a weary soul.

Grace may come in the form of exercise, a massage, or some other body work.

Grace may come in the form of therapy or a friend’s a listening ear.

Grace may come through the depth of music.

Grace may come through the mystery of prayer.

Grace may come from the magic of medication.

Grace may come from the restorative nature of sleep.

Grace may come out of nature.

Grace may come out of the Word of God.

But however it comes,

There is grace.

 

As you can see in this picture,

To keep my padfolio looking its best,

I will have to reapply Leather CPR on a regular basis.

To keep ourselves at our best,

We will have to reapply grace.

Every.

Single.

Day.

 

Oh God: You have offered us grace time and time again, and you have given us grace in the person of Jesus Christ. Help us to see your grace and to accept your grace as the gift that you are offering. Heal our deepest wounds. Restore our souls when they are weary. Soothe our scratches and scuffs. And grant us true life in the way that only you can. Amen.

 

Disorder?

 “What if it’s not a disorder?” he asked.

A disorder implies that something is wrong,

That something needs to be fixed,

That something is fundamentally bad and flawed.

“What if it’s common humanity?” he suggested.

Common humanity implies a norm,

A unified standard,

A shared experience,

A way of being that does not warrant judgment.

 

After thinking for a few moments and talking things through,

I finally concluded:

“I’m all about common humanity.

Common humanity is why I write my notes each week.

But I don’t want Generalized Anxiety Disorder to be common humanity.

I don’t wish this on anyone.”

 

And I don’t.

 

I don’t wish the unwarranted worry on anyone—

The nagging thoughts of death and dying—

The constant, interfering lookout for what might go wrong.

Joe says that the lookout is part of our biological make-up,

That our ability to anticipate threats and proactively deal with them is

What got us to the top of the food chain.

Yet I look for lions everywhere,

All the time,

Even in good times.

I never know when a lion is lurking,

And so I must stay vigilant.

 

No…

I don’t wish this on anyone.

It’s exhausting.

And yet the reality is:

Tens of thousands of people struggle with deeply rooted anxiety and fear every day.

And what’s worse:

Many of those people struggle alone because of the stigma of mental health disorders.

 

So what if they aren’t “disorders?”

What if that’s the wrong word?

What if nothing is “wrong?”

What if nothing needs to be “fixed?”

What if we, who struggle with anxiety, are not fundamentally “bad” and “flawed?”

What if we do not need to be discounted as worthless

But instead to accept that we are wired differently,

With a true medical condition  

That requires us to work harder to keep our minds healthy through therapy, spiritual discipline, meditative practice, exercise, and/or medication?

What if we must learn to lean into the fullness of who we are and realize that there is a gift of compassion in our deep feelings and over-planning?

What if we embrace

Common humanity?

 

Dear God: You have put us on this path together. Help us to love and support one another in common humanity and help us to reframe the stigma of mental health disorders. Guide those of us whose brain chemicals are imbalanced and help us not to believe the lies that we are fundamentally flawed and must be “fixed.” Help us to be the healthiest versions of ourselves possible through the healthiest means possible and help us to use all parts of ourselves for good. With you all things are possible. With you, our broken selves are whole. Thank you. Amen. 

Remembering G-mama

 Last night, while much of America was watching the Super Bowl, I was remembering G-mama.

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of her passing, so I decided to honor her by making Tin Art. I set out to make something with “the red family,” which was her favorite color according to an “Interview with G-mama.” This is what emerged. I think it’s my favorite piece yet, and the one for which I’m most proud. Here is what it means to me…

 

The Guitar—The guitar represents the sacred moments just after G-mama died. My mom, brother, sister, and I made it to Jacksonville, FL, minutes after G-mama passed. G-mama loved music, so I had taken my guitar to play for her that weekend. We thought we were going to say good-bye, but we had no idea that she would be gone before we got there. My aunt suggested that I play for G-mama anyway. So I did. “How Great Thou Art” and “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” There was a holy silence in the room while I sang. And I think that, somehow, G-mama was listening.   

 

“Good Eatin’”—G-mama enjoyed a good meal…especially if it included a Bloomin’ Onion!

 

“Naps”—G-mama liked to nap!

 

“Nutrition Facts”—G-mama always let us know if we’d gained some weight :-o!

 

“Decaffeinated Coffee,” black circle, and bridge—G-mama used to have a cup of coffee each morning with her toast and banana…or at least I think she did!

 

Blue lines on the head of the guitar—These are from a chocolate tin. And G-mama loved chocolate! In fact, it was the last thing she ate.

 

Red Background Cookie Tin—G-mama loved dessert! And, as already mentioned, her favorite color was “the red family.”

 

Silver border—This is the back of a Christmas tin. Christmas was always a special time together. And it the last time I saw Gmama before she died.

 

The crazy feeling of the background—The day we drove down to say goodbye was sort of crazy…and the moments after we got there were somewhat hectic…and they are moments that I will never forget.

 

Dear God: Thank you for memories and for the ability to commemorate special days with love, laughter, tears, and art. Be with those who are grieving today—for loss of loved one, relationship, job, health, or dreams—and help us to work creatively with You to make it through. Amen.  

Forgive And Dance

 We’re having a program tomorrow night.

K-1 students will be singing songs about family,

And I will be hoping that no one falls off the stage.

 

Because of tomorrow night’s program,

I’m having K-1 music class in the auditorium this week.

This is a new experience for K-1 students.

The auditorium is huge and daunting,

And the seats are not assigned!

 

As students file into the auditorium,

They simply sit in the next available seat on the front row.

After a brief welcome and explanation of how to stand on the risers,

Students file onto stage.

We practice.

Then we go back to our seats.

 

Now. Do I really care which seat a student sits in when he/she returns to the front row?

No. But to lessen chaos, I tell students to go back to their seats.

Some students remember their original seat.

Others do not.

And yet others intentionally try to switch.

That’s what happened on Monday

And it caused a Kindergarten-sized crisis.

 

One girl wanted to switch seats so that she could sit beside her friend but the other girl did not want to switch seats because I had told them to return to their original seats.

They argued—with little bodies sitting on each other and little mouths claiming the seat.

Realizing that the seat switch wouldn’t be good for behavior,

I told seat-switcher that she needed to go to her original seat,

Which was only one seat over.

She burst into tears.

While other happily kids did “The Freeze Dance,”

She sat and wept.

The other girl watched.

After the song was over, the girl who refused to move talked to the seat-switcher.

I don’t know what she said, but the next thing I knew,

They were smiling and hugging it out.

And then they danced.

 

Dear God: Help us to learn from the Kindergarteners. Help us to stand for what we believe in, to grieve when we are upset, to have the courage to speak to those whom we have upset, and to have the strength to forgive those who have upset us. And God? Help us to dance. Amen. 

Fools

 I sang at my dad’s church yesterday.

While practicing for the service,

I cried.

 

“Lord, you never said that the road would be easy.

The mockers and scoffers and critics and skeptics will stand up to taunt you.

Only a fool would choose to walk into uncertainty

I guess I’m a fool ‘cause I choose You

Though a struggle it may be

So let it be.”

 

I remember writing those words with a friend

At a camp where we both used to spend the majority of our free time.

I wrote it for an organization that I believed in and gave my life to,

But in the end, the organization parted ways with me because our theologies didn’t match.

In short, I am welcoming and affirming.

The organization and its main partners are not.

 

To be honest, the break-up was hard.

I leapt into uncertainty,

Choosing Christ’s love above denominational loyalty,

Foolishly trying to live into the fullness of God’s creation,

While struggling to redefine all I had ever known.

 

Maybe that’s why I cried while I practiced those words.

Maybe they hit a little too close to home.

Because maybe I’m a fool for choosing my understanding of Christ,

And yet…let it be.

 

I finished Martin Luther King’s autobiography last week.

I know he had his weaknesses.

I know he had his flaws.

But I also know that he had a rock-solid faith in the love of Jesus Christ,

And that his faith led him to non-violent direct action that changed a nation.

He believed that not standing for justice for all people was being complicit in the oppression,

And that staying silent on issues involving the dignity of human life was as bad as openly disparaging an entire group of people.

His faith and beliefs drew jail time, death threats, home bombings, and an ultimate assassination.

Some would say his actions were foolish.

And maybe they were.

But as he said…

Let it be.

 

“Be our light. Be our guide. Help us see in this world

Where we can be the hands and feet of your love.

Help us be. Help us do. Help us live in you, Lord,

In everything shine through us as we follow you.”

 

God: Regardless of the mockers and scoffers and critics and skeptics, give us the strength and courage to choose you…to choose Love…foolish as it may be. Amen. 

Choral Reading

 Choral reading is a tricky thing.

Some people read fast.

Some people read slow.

Some people read in between.

I always err on the side of slow when I’m leading my students,

But when reading with the congregation,

This movement takes us over and propels us forward in a rhythm created by the collective whole.

Some congregations are well-versed at this reading and members fall into rhythm naturally.

Other congregations aren’t as practiced with choral reading and struggle to stay together.

 

Each Sunday morning, my congregation’s worshippers read quite a bit.

We take an active part in worship rather than simply sitting back and listening.

As a result, we are a congregation that falls into rhythm naturally…

Except for one older woman.

 

For months now, while saying the morning’s creed, I’ve noticed a lone voice lagging behind.

In the space between phrases,  

I’ve noticed that voice trying to finish her phrase as the rest of the congregation has moved forward to the next.

It’s not on every phrase.

And it’s not distracting.

It’s just something I’ve noticed,

And I’ve wondered if others have noticed it as well.

 

And then something beautiful happened on Sunday morning.

At the end of the creed,

After the majority had finished making our declaration,

There was a collective pause,

During which one lone voice slowly but deliberately declared:

“…and the life everlasting. Amen.”

For the first time that I’d experienced,

We all waited for that voice,

That voice that persevered in its worship,

Despite being slow,

Despite standing out,

To make its declaration.

 

I cried.

 

In an age when more and more Americans are falling away from the church,

There is still a place for collective worship,

For standing with persons of all ages who

Give voice to a belief that sustains through time.

 

Oh God: Thank you for being the God of young and old, of fast and slow, of neuro-typical and neuro-divergent, and everything in between. You are the maker of heaven and earth, and you are still creating with us today. Thank you. And thank you for being with us in worship through the voices of stalwarts of faith. Amen.