A Statement of Faith and a Challenge for the Church

This post is in response and support of this article, written on cnn.com: 


I think it's time that I confess something, and it may come as a surprise to some of you.  I haven't been to church in a really, really long time.  And while there are some things that my heart continues to long for; worshipping and praising God with other people, seeing children grasp that they are loved by the Creator of this earth, and building relationships with fellow believers, there are also experiences that I've had with churches I've attended that have left me feeling even more broken and ashamed and confused than ever before.  I'd like the share those stories, but first I want to tell you what I believe:

• I believe that God knew me and my inner most thoughts before I was a thought in my parents' mind.  That my life, my choices, my celebrations and my sorrows are important and cherished by Him.

• I believe that God knows, loves and cherishes e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e, no matter what.  This isn't a get out of jail free card, but there are no exclusions or limits to God's pursuit of us.

• I believe that God felt pain and suffering when He allowed Jesus to be crucified, just as any father would.  I believe that Jesus experienced the emptiness of separation from God in hell, and that he proved that he rose from the dead and ascended into heaven.  

• I believe that God created the Earth, but I am not clear about when, or how long it took. I believe that He is the designer of evolution and science and therefore, they can all work together.

• I believe that God uses people, whether that be family, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, partners, children to show us His love in a way that we see and feel.  I don't believe that we have the right to condemn how that love is given or received.

• I believe that when we are born, we are imperfect, but never wretched or filled with sin.  I believe that pounding those thoughts into a child's heart and mind is more detrimental and damaging than people realize.  It is possible to be good without believing in God (although, you're missing out some pretty overwhelming love).    

• I believe that God gave us free will so that we could make mistakes, and take ownership of learning from and taking value from those experiences.  I also think that God gave us free will so that we can think for ourselves and wrestle with our faith and our doubt.

• I believe in God's constant forgiveness, when we ask for it.  How do we learn from our mistakes, if we don't own them, apologize and make changes? 

• I believe in the power of prayer and the impact of maintaining my relationship with God through both reaching out and being still to listen.

•  I believe that God hates religion.  I think that rules and regulations become the very idol that He asks us to denounce, because they get in the way of the real relationship that He is waiting to have with us.

• I do not believe that God gave me Diabetes.  God does not inflict suffering and pain on us.  We are broken people, and that can sometimes manifest physically.  In the same vein, our brokenness can sometimes result in terrible things happening to innocent people.  He is there, feeling our pain with us, through it all.  He is there through our anger and confusion and fear, and He is there when we find hope. 

So if I believe all of this, why am I not going to church? I want to point back to Rachel Held Evan's article where she says, 

"Armed with the latest surveys, along with personal testimonies from friends and readers, I explain how young adults perceive evangelical Christianity to be too political, too exclusive, old-fashioned, unconcerned with social justice and hostile to lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people.

I point to research that shows young evangelicals often feel they have to choose between their intellectual integrity and their faith, between science and Christianity, between compassion and holiness.

I talk about how the evangelical obsession with sex can make Christian living seem like little more than sticking to a list of rules, and how millennials long for faith communities in which they are safe asking tough questions and wrestling with doubt."

I'll have what she's having... 

A few months ago,  I went to a church service with a friend.  This particular church is filled with guys and girls my age and their 34,589,903 children.  I was looking forward to reconnecting with people I hadn't seen in a while and worshipping along with their renown praise band.   Everything was great, until the pastor got up to speak, and I realized the topic on the table was one I'd heard about a thousand times before.  Sexual immorality.  Over and over again he told this congregation-held-captive that premarital sex was shameful.  That homosexuality was disgusting.   That there was no room for gay people in church, but there were people down front who can pray it away for you.  By the end, I was sweating, my heart pounding, hoping that there wasn't anyone in the room who was gay or who was questioning if they were gay, just so they didn't have to feel this awful and pointed hatred.  I wanted to ask that pastor one very simple question. "Who do you think you are?"  

Who are we, that we feel we have the authority to pass that kind of condemnation on fellow human beings?  We spend so much time pointing out each others' faults with white knuckles, that we completely miss the whole point:  Love. Grace. More Love.  How's that plank feeling? 

I visited a church with a friend and her family.  The pastor stood in front of his congregation and said, "I don't understand why anyone would need to see a counselor if they have Jesus."  So what happens, if there is a person in that room who is dealing with a serious chemical imbalance, or suicidal thoughts.  What happens if that person is trying to work on these things with a therapist, and that relationship is the only thing that's keeping him from making it all go away?  What happens if that person has never been to church before and now also feels bad about seeing his therapist, but he has no idea who Jesus is?  How do you think this is going to play out?

When I first got married, I remember having a really hard time transitioning from the constant negativity around anything sexual that I heard growing up in my youth group, to all of the sudden being free as a bird.  As a young, high school girl, it felt as though our one and only goal was to be "the bride who wore white."  Needless to say, this very drastic change in mentality because of a 20 minute ceremony, a signed piece of paper and a party was jarring.  I don't want to get into anything too specific here, but I often question whether premarital sex is really as black and white as some make it out to be.  In some gray circumstances, can waiting actually be more damaging to the relationship? What is the Bible's definition of marriage?  What did Adam and Eve's wedding look like? Who signed their marriage certificate?

I guess the point of this post is that I really want to feel safe going to church.  I want my friends who might not believe the same things I do to feel safe going to my church with me.  I want to find out how natural history and God's omniscience and sovereignty coincide.  I want to learn and grow and not feel like I'm part of some cheesy infomercial.  If I wanted to see a concert, I would buy a ticket.  If I wanted to cry my eyes out, I would watch Marley and Me.   If I wanted to feel really bad about myself and the world around me, I would stop taking my medication.   Enough is enough.   

Rachel says this better than I ever could,

"We want to be challenged to live lives of holiness, not only when it comes to sex, but also when it comes to living simply, caring for the poor and oppressed, pursuing reconciliation, engaging in creation care and becoming peacemakers.

You can’t hand us a latte and then go about business as usual and expect us to stick around. We’re not leaving the church because we don’t find the cool factor there; we’re leaving the church because we don’t find Jesus there."

I haven't lost Jesus.  My faith flame has not burned out.  I have hope that I'll find a place where my soul can rest.  Until then...

Amen.

A Remedy for Spirit Concussions

It's been a tough couple of weeks.  You know the kind where you just want to throw your hands up and yell into the infinite abyss, "Enough! Enough, already!"  I feel bruised and shaken and I keep wanting to write about it, but then it turns into this Dementor-like pity party, and that's not what I want this space to be.

So instead, I'm going to fill it with things that I'm thankful for. Gratitude seems to be the perfect medicine for spirit concussions.  And I'm not talking about slapping a band-aid on what we are feeling and skipping way with a daisy in hand. No. I'm talking about owning what we're feeling, digging deep, reeling in the truth if it's a little foggy, and moving on with a thankful heart and a plan for progress.  There is a time a sit in the dark, and then there is time to look up and feel the sun on your face.

Today, I'm thankful for:

• Friends, who not only listen, but want to come into my space and sit with me.
• Friends who let me snug with their sweet babies while we wait for our own. 
• Time spent reading poetry with my Nana on her screened in porch.
• The opportunity to watch my cousins grow and develop into some genuinely cool people who are going to make this world a better place. 
• Long and intentional hugs from David when I walk in the door. 
• The safety and sanctity that comes with being married to an honorable, encouraging, and compassionate man. 
• This phase of my life, where I am finally discovering just who I am and the sound of my own voice. 
• The people who have helped me and empowered me to get to this place. 
• The summer oasis of my parent's backyard.
• The feeling of the first sip of ice-cold sangria. 
• This kid...

What are you thankful for today? 

So What Wednesday

This week I'm saying SO WHAT if: 

• Keeping my little Diabetes Monster green and happy on the "mySugr" app is the only thing that has helped me to log my blood sugars, ever in my whole life.  It's like a Diabetes Giga-Pet.  (When I was 10, I may or may not have stayed up all night the first night I had my very own monkey to make sure he had enough bananas and didn't wet the bed (that I constructed from a decorated box) and die. 

• I refuse to wash dishes. I will clean anything in the house, but I can't bring myself to use sponges that smell like soaking death. 
• Deciding on paint colors gives me full blown anxiety.  I love decorating, but trying to decide between painting the bathroom walls and leaving the vanity white, or painting the walls white and painting the vanity some swanky, Apartment Therapy- worthy color is making me want to revert to thumb sucking. 
• Candy Crush makes me feel hopeless.  How the heck to people get to level 350, when I will never, ever beat level 30?  
• Yesterday, I was this close to buying $11 Little Hip Squeaks headbands for a baby girl that I do not have...probably a good thing they sold out, as it would have sealed the deal that I will have all boys. 
• I think I might like Blog Lovin' more than Google Reader. 
• I got through 80% of Dragonfly in Amber and had to stop.  They lost me as soon as they got into 18th Century Highland battle strategy.  My mom reminded me that there is power in not finishing a boring book, although I do feel a twinge of guilt.  So long, Jamie Frazer. Parting is such sweet sorrow. 

What are YOU saying "So What" to this week?

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Lessons Learned from "The Voice"

Have you been watching "The Voice" this season? It's the best one yet, somewhat because I don't have to see Christina's overly spray-tanned ta-tas spilling out of her dress, but mostly because of this girl and her coach, Usher.  Michelle Chamuel has been my favorite artist from day one solely because of the fact that from the beginning, she has never wavered from expressing exactly who she is, no matter what. Her look, her poise, her courage, and her pureness of heart has not changed by being in the public eye.  And girlfriend can sing:

Last night, after her second performance, Usher left her with these words, "You are medicine to the world."  

I think I would have just sat down on the stage and cried if anyone said that to me, let alone Usher freaking Raymond.  What an incredible thing to say to someone!  That the way they live their life brings healing to those who hurt, gives strength to those who are beaten down, and gives hope for a better day.  It made me stop, grab a Kleenex, and ask myself, "who am I healing today?"

I think in the midst of the chaos of our busy lives and going from one thing to the next, we lose sight of the fact that every day is an opportunity.  An opportunity to show someone hope, love and grace that might not otherwise know what those words mean. Let's face it.  We all need healing in some way or another.  There isn't a single person out there that isn't fighting a hard battle. And so often we don't let others into our fight because of shame or fear of rejection.  It's a two way street.  We need to be aware that people around us need healing, and we also need to allow others to help us heal.

During our trip to Boca Raton, I watched one of my favorite movies, "Chocolat," for probably the eleventh time.  The final scene is such a source of rejuvenation for me, and it sums up my prayer for change  (watch here):

I'm not sure what the theme of my homily today ought to be. Do I want to speak of the miracle of Our Lord's divine transformation? Not really, no. I don't want to talk about His divinity. I'd rather talk about His humanity. I mean, you know, how He lived His life, here on Earth. His kindness, His tolerance... Listen, here's what I think. I think that we can't go around measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think, we've got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create, and who we include.

 While I know that goodness isn't everything and that goodness isn't effective without faith, I also know that we are missing something critical about genuinely caring for each other as human beings. I have been so encouraged by Michelle and Usher's partnership and subtle examples of love and celebration of self.  It reminds me that there is hope, and hope is medicine enough for me.

Two Years Later...

I must apologize for the break in writing. The reason being, the brand new digs! I'm so excited to share the new look of Huckleberry & Lime!  Major thanks to my beautiful and incredibly talented friend, Amanda Tobin, for simplifying and refreshing this little space and making it feel more like home.  

Last week, Dave and I celebrated our 2nd Anniversary with a trip to Boca Raton, Florida (feel free to scroll through the wedding post and the 1st Anniversary post).  My sweet Nana has a little condo there, that she let us take over for the week, so we only had to pay for airfare and food. Budget-friendly vacay? Check.  We had 2 sunny days and the surf was too rough to swim, so we spent a lot of time at the community pool and reading on the screened in porch, listening to the rain spray on the palm fronds. By the way, I'm slightly addicted to Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series. Historical fiction.  Riveting suspense.  Not to mention a kilt-wearing, sword-swinging, Gaelic-speaking Scottish hottie.  Yes, yes, most definitely yes. I digress...

 We celebrated our Anniversary with a shopping trip to Mizner Center, where I discovered Francesca's and immediately set up a tent inside in hopes they would let me live there...kidding. But I did end up spending much too much mula on earrings and dresses, one of which I wore to our fancy schmancy dinner at CHOPS Lobster Bar. Pricey, but it was one of the best meal's we've ever had, and the service was out of this world. It was pretty dark, and I wanted to be completely unplugged during our dinner so I didnt take any photos, but just imagine a two pound radiantly red crustacean, and then imagine me slipping into a melted buttery dream with every blissful bite. And let's not even discuss the banana creme pie... TO. DIE. FOR.  It was a perfect celebration of the past two years, complete with clinking wine glasses and reflection on what we've accomplished in our marriage thus far.

That said, there are miles to go before we sleep. (I mean, it's only been two years, we have at least another hundred to go, right? ) That's one of the things I love about marriage.  The idea that there is so much yet to learn about each other and to experience side by side.  I'm learning that we are not supposed to be in control of everything, and have our lives completely figured out. It's such a comfort to know that God has my life safely in the palm of His hands and my story has already been written. I think that also holds true for building and refining a marriage as time speeds by, goals are accomplished, hearts are broken, and simple joys are celebrated. We aren't supposed to know how it works right away.  This marriage thing is hard work. Almost like when you plant sunflower seeds in the ground and you guess how high they will grow.  We can't predict the potential that comes out of our own growth, but we can muster up enough strength and grace to go through the life sucking droughts and seemingly unceasing storms.  There will be sunny days, and water to drink.  There will. And someday we will be able to cut those sunflowers and put them in vase from Anthropologie and realize how those storms and droughts helped make these flowers so beautiful.

I can't imagine planting this garden with anyone else.

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 The next day, in between downpours, we were able to go over to the Gumbo Limbo Wildlife Center, where we were fortunate enough to watch a turtle scarf down a HUGE salad, that would probably cost $15 at any restaurant, not including a mid afternoon cocktail. We also made friends with the biggest parrot fish I've ever seen, who should probably star in a toothpaste commercial.

On Friday, the sun finally emerged and the rain stopped long enough for me to get to go to Butterfly World, a magical place where butterflies flutter around and land on your hair, or nose, or tooshie, and hang on tight while you walk through the actual Garden of Eden.  Seriously, if you ever have the chance, do your inner child or your actual child a favor and go. I'm certain that there were fairies napping peacefully in that dreamy sanctuary.

Our week in Boca was filled with rest, revival, laughter, lobster, hand holding, and butterflies. I'll take it.