A Contemplation on Grace

Last night I attended a support group.  I was invited by a woman that I work with, one of those shining humans that help you feel okay about going where she leads.  For a couple months she had been talking to me about this group called PFLAG, which is an organization for parents, families, friends, and allies united with the LGBTQ community (thank you Wikipedia).  I was interested but never seemed to get the time right, until last night. 

I really didn’t think much about going, again I was just following that shining human.  All I knew is that I respected this woman and I wanted to see what she was so passionate about. 

Within moments of sitting in a circle made up of small folded out chairs and about ten people I was struck with the reality that I was the minority.  As we went around the room and introduced ourselves and our preferred pronouns that point became even more clear.  Insecurity tightened its grip on me. 

            “What could I possibility offer?”

I have the privilege of being a white, heterosexual, Christian woman in the south.  Besides from being a woman I have most of the advantages to live in this region of the world.  Within this circle, I found myself feeling very small and afraid that anything I offered would be automatically disregarded, or seen as offensive or ignorant.  Did my truth count here?

In my 30 years of life I have never felt that way. 

I had never even tasted the feeling of being a minority.

What a safe life I have lived.

The woman that invited me to this group was leading the circle into various discussion topics.  She was doing an amazing job.  Smiling, empathizing, following the energy around the room, and making sure no one was left out of the conversation.  Even me. 

The first time she asked for my input on a topic my heart, I fear, found a home in my throat.  The hum inside of me, that low voice that steadies me in rough waters, kept singing to me that I would be okay.  This experience will not destroy you.  So I spoke a little from my small place and as I spoke a man beside me began to shake his head up and down in agreement. 

I smiled at his nodding head.  That nodding head was an oasis in the desert.

When I spoke I talked about the place I was coming from.  I grew up in a conservative Christian town and went to an even more conservative Christian college.  I needed the group to know this about me.  I needed to expose myself.  I’m not sure why I felt I needed to do that.  Maybe I wanted to feel I had power, to reclaim the comforts of my upbringing, or maybe I just didn’t know how to talk from any other place. 

It became obvious that this group didn’t care where I came from.

They were just happy that I was there. 

Grace.

I cannot say with certainty if any of these people came to my church that they would be welcomed.  That we, and I have to say we, could let go of our dualistic, judging, and labeling minds for a second and just be happy they came. 

That hurts.

That sucks.

This community of people showed me more grace than I had ever felt from my own church community.  There were no strings attached, no agenda, they were just happy I showed up. 

The religious community often talks about how many people, especially young people, are leaving the church.  Theologians have written books on the topic and what we can do to increase our numbers and turn things around. 

After last night I feel like I understand much more why so many people are leaving.  Because there are other communities that aren’t even affiliated with the church that are providing a much fuller experience of grace. 

I am not ignorant to why conservative churches operate as they do.  This isn’t meant to be a criticism but more of a reflection.  A lamenting.  An observation. 

I am not writing this to change the church.

But I have been changed by an experience of grace.

Truth, is Truth, is Truth. 

And grace transcends. 

My Emmaus

Last week I made the 5-hour drive to Little Rock Arkansas to meet my Mom and Stepdad.  We loaded my duffle bag into their car and off we drove to Hot Springs.  My Mom was bouncing in her driver’s seat saying, “ARE YOU EXCITED!?”  My stepdad explained that my Mom was excited to see me but also very excited for me.  It was Thursday March 3^rd and I was on my way to the Walk to Emmaus. 

I’ve known about Emmaus since I was in 8^th or 9^th grade because my Mom went on her own Walk to Emmaus and soon after I attended the teenage version Chrysalis’s.  For those of you that don’t know what the Walk to Emmaus is I took the liberty of looking up an informative definition for you.  #you’rewelcome

“The Walk to Emmaus is an experience of Christian spiritual renewal and formation that begins with a three-day short course in Christianity.”

So lets back up a day.

I’m walking around Wal-Mart, killing time between clients, and I’m anxious with the sort of anxiety that makes me feel wrecked.  I text a lamenting message to a friend of mine who graciously hears my anxious cry’s for comfort and doesn’t swat me away like an aggravated house fly.  I was looking forward to Emmaus but I was also equally terrified.

Yet Thursday came. 

As I packed the last of my things my frontal lobe finally fired up and I heard myself say, “You’ve been anxious for a whole day and haven’t told yourself you’re going to be okay, this will not destroy you.”  A couple months ago I listened to a pod cast with a gentleman named Terry Waite who had been held captive for 5 years, two of which was in solitary confinement.  One of his mantras was, “They have tried to break your mind and they have failed.  They have broken your body but they will never destroy you because they will never have your soul.”  This mans story inspired me deeply. 

Knowing that you will not be destroyed is a great comfort to an anxious soul. 

Once I remembered to pause and care for myself I felt my spirit stir and say to me, “God is going to show up for you this weekend.”  Talk about peace. 

At some point between finding peace and my excited Mom I ended up making it to Emmaus.  I was set up in a room, then waved bye to my parents as I was shuffled into a chapel with about 40 strangers.  It felt very much like being back in high school and getting dropped off at church camp.  The small chapel filled quickly with the sounds of women laughing and awkward conversations.  All I could think was, “Here we go.”

Emmaus is sort of like Fight Club.  The first rule of Emmaus is you don’t talk about Emmaus. Emmaus is something you have to experience and if you know what to expect a bit of the magic is lost.  Because the over all layout of Chrysalis is very similar to Emmaus I wasn’t expecting to have the same experience I had previously.  So the first night I was there I wrote down what I felt I needed or wanted to experience.  Because, God is going to show up, so I better have a list ready for him. #lol

a good hug

a hardy laugh

genuine kindness

a sincere smile

Some may think I set the bar low but in my experience wanting sincere connection of any kind is a higher expectation.

I remember reading something years ago about how God likes to show off.  This may make me sound cynical, but I’ve never really had that experience.  I eye roll a lot at the catchy things most Christian authors say about God, and most things deserve an eye roll or two.   But this weekend I was exceeded, surprised, and overwhelmed by the work of the spirit. 

I laughed until I cried Friday night.

Received an exceptional hug Saturday morning.

Felt a sincere smile Saturday afternoon.

And was overwhelmed by genuine kindness Sunday morning. 

Where God showed off though was in between the lines, in the unexpected places. 

I didn’t know I needed affirmation but I received it from almost everyone I talked to.  My profession was greeted with interest instead of a defensive posture.  I was asked by a hand full of women for my perspective on one situation or another and received validation for my input and was humorously offered a quarter.  I spoke up about the things I disagreed with and the women at my table gave me space and caught me.  I sat with a woman one evening and we laughed and cried together for over an hour. 

Then something totally unexpected happened. 

My heart leaped and my spirit stirred. 

I was called into Ministry.

Someone at my table asked me, “What is the greatest thing you learned in grad school?”  

My answer, “That I am enough.” 

When I felt the call I was shocked.  I laughed, I cried, and said the word “really” a lot.  If I could travel back in time and tell my high school self that one day she would be called into ministry she would stare blankly at me in disbelief and then go smoke a joint.  If I could visit 23-year-old me who was going through a divorce she would say, “I could never, I am an awful person.”   But now I have hind sight, 20-20 vision, and I can see that even with all my anxiety, insecurities, anger, drinking, drugs, cynical thoughts, divorce, adultery, selfishness, weight issues, and defensiveness I am enough.  

God still wants me.

He even wants me in his service.

Grace. 

Grace is how God shows off. 

Lent: week 3

I went back to work today.  After a three hour session I'm feeling tired and ready to toss in the metaphorical towel.  Here's something I have a hard time understanding about myself.  When I'm tired I can easily toss my own self care out, however I can always discover more energy when it comes to others.  My Mom has reminded me that I've always been this way but I'm not sure it's good for me to always be this way.  I'm two weeks into Lent and everyday I feel the urge to not post. "Isn't it kind of dumb to post this on Instagram, You really don't have time, I really don't want to do this today." Most days when I go to create a post I have no idea what I'm going to say and sometimes it takes me 10 or 15 mins just to wait myself out.  I suppose that's what we all need.  To give ourselves the space to wait for whatever needs to be felt or expressed.  Space to remember ourselves as worthy. 

This week I've battled on and off with some not so fun ever present funk.  I have this image of being in the middle of a dry barren land feeling like death and longing for a place of rest... but all you have is miles of hot sand.  I can see myself lying down and nesting in the warm ground.  Hoping the heat will soothe my joints and quiet my feverish chills.  I want to believe that it's possible to utilize our deserts. That life and rest can be found even in a dust bowl. -A musing of the desert- I sat at the foot of a desert plant and watched the sun as it set.  The cactus whispered from the sand, "I've witnessed life, I've witnessed death.  The sun made a promise to the moon one night. That the moon will live but the sun must die.  The moon promised the sun he would die by the day and since then death and life have never been separate, but equal parts of the same." 

"He was tempted by the evil one for 40 days. He was there with the wild beasts and the Angels took care of him." Mark 13.  Richard Rohr does a good sermon on lent and today I needed a good sermon.  He says that the wild beasts are symbolic for our own wild beasts. Being in the desert brings out all the darkest parts of ourselves.  I've had this experience numerous times already. Rohr goes on to say, "then angels ministered to him.. So the promise is you can endure it, you can allow it, because there will be angels of God to hold on to you when you can't hold on to yourself." Experiencing these dark parts creates an opportunity to let God hold on to me and love me in one of the wildest parts of my soul.  I need that today... To hold on to love especially when I feel unworthy of it. Let love enter in spite of myself. 

"But Abraham had faith, and had faith for his life. Indeed had his faith been but concerning the life to come, then might he more easily have cast away all, in order to hasten out of this world which was not his..." Soren Kierkegaard

Over the weekend I was tested.  This test was a total surprise and thus one I wasn't prepared for.  It was a small miracle that I kept posting, my head nor my heart was present.  I felt like I was drifting aimlessly and though it only lasted for a few days it was still unpleasant and unwanted.  I'm still feeling the effects of the weekend but over all I am proud and peaceful.  I reached out to my community and found comfort in the affirmation of my present identity.  I am not defined by my past but what I do moving forward.  I am thankful for friends who love me no matter what but challenge me to act differently.  The desert is survived by angels and angels are found in good friends. 

Such a busy day today.  After a long day of doing therapy and paperwork I came home hugged my husband, pet my animals, made myself a healthy 8:30pm dinner, and chatted with a friend.  I'm tired but I'm also proud of myself today.  In the past I would've used being busy as a reason not to eat right and eat too much.  Tomorrow I may back step and over eat or eat junk but if this time of posting and meditation has taught me anything it's baby steps add up and are worthy of celebration.

Today marks my third week in the desert.  At this point I feel both challenged by this experience and bored by it.  What a paradox.  Admittedly I don't always have good follow through when I start something. Usually by now I would've abandoned this desert for another.  Without even realizing it. I've explored the perimeters of many different wildernesses but I am ignorant of the center.  As I move deeper into the center of my own physical neglect I have to push a bit harder to continue on.  I'm learning slowly that I'm worth the effort.