Communion/Eucharist

crumbs drop to the floor.
wine splatters.
we are imperfect yet.
and we are joyful.
we are moved.
silent.
tearful.
we are your Body.
filled up on your body.
we leave a trace of our feast in this place.
may we do the same in our world.

a case of emPHASis on the wrong sylLABle

 

As a female who is adamant that sexual violence is never the fault of the victim, may I just raise a frustrated eyebrow at the “SlutWalk” movement? (Read about the now “global” effort here) A picture on CNN shows an intense young woman holding a sign that reads “We’re taking SLUT back.” Taking slut back? It is the tendency of abusers and rapists to dehumanize people. This term is just one way of dismissing somebody’s humanity to characterize them as problems. Since when was “slut” ever “our” term?

Sorry, John: It's not exactly a rant.

Any time a privileged group claims a moral right to that privilege, it raises questions. I remember a mission trip to Peru. It turned out to be my last “mission trip” because of disillusionment surrounding the affair. At one point, the leader of the group said, “They’ll believe you, because you’re American.” This was to be used to evangelize, get out of scrapes, whatever (scrapes? I was raised reading Hardy Boys from the 60’s, folks). The worst of these, for me, was using a false prestige to “evangelize.” Every single one of us was white, in a country of brown. Why should our privileged position overrule their life experiences, free will, and freedom of choice? It perpetuated our agenda, our prerogative, and further devalued and demeaned the people we expected to value us based on our color and citizenship. Disgusting.

Free and Easy

 My mental life took a hiatus starting a couple weeks ago. The timing for starting this blog amuses me, now. I wrote to my friend John (at biblicalworld) a while back, and asked him if it ever stops feeling like your underwear is showing over the internet. Then, this career crisis came, and I found myself repeatedly telling the same story to more and more strangers, waiting for someone to decide if the story meant anything to anyone other than myself (me? I don’t know. I had some really lazy grammar teachers). Maybe the blog served to prepare me for that feeling. Not enough, though, not enough.

I just could not bring myself to more self-exposure. I haven’t even been able to look at the blog. So, I’m gonna try easing back in.

Choices

Ambiguous title, no? I found this article by LZ Granderson on CNN's religion blog. In it he writes about a story where he ran into Rob Bell, his pastor. Though the moment was entirely mundane, he made the choice to believe God played a part in that moment happening.

You might wanna see this...

Check out John's post on hope and resurrection here, on the thebiblicalworld.blogspot.com.

Parking Spots, and New Beginnings (Beware, only a small reference to parking spots)

I've been gone from the blog for some time, walking through strange events. Conditions at work escalated to the point where I felt compelled to bring my concerns to higher ups. The fallout has been long, gut-aching, and still ongoing. Hopes, or maybe expectations is a better word, I had for my career have been stripped away.

Yesterday, I finally contacted a chaplain. My body has begun suffering the effects of fear and stress--GI problems, tightness of chest, chest pain, hyperventilation. Mentally and physically I was close to snapping yesterday. My chaplain friend has the most soothing voice. She let me talk, validated my hurts and actions, observed my heightened state, and said, "You are being crucified. You feel abandoned, betrayed, rejected. But you're doing the right thing, and you have to remember the Resurrection."

Some of you reading know how tentatively and cautiously I interact with my faith. First and foremost I practice faith, well...practically. I fear blindly accepting certain beliefs. Really, I haven't considered the resurrection in a long time. But when my chaplain said that, I realized my deep need for hope for life following this time. My physical symptoms expressed my trapped and hopeless feelings. But, for the first time, even though I still don't have resolution, I allowed myself to believe this will end.

Rabbit Trail Alert: It swings back around, I swear.

My Dad's been working to keep my hope alive during this adventure as well. The night before I visited Ms. Chaplain, he told me not to forget God's sovereignty. Too bad that word has become so loaded and painful for some (me included). This is one of God's attributes I least understood, and kind of abandoned for a time as I reconsider my faith. Pretty sure Dad wasn't talking about a grand puppet master who has preordained all things. (Anybody else ever wonder if this included bathroom breaks? "I really gotta poop, God. Is this your perfect timing?") Dad wanted to remind me God is, and God knows. Remember, I'm a practical faith girl. I believe God loves people so I just do that. When Dad said that, I honestly started. Like, oh yeah, I forgot about him. I've just been so busy trying to handle this.

I've said that what I believe doesn't change God, it changes me (or something similar, too lazy to read through my own blog to find out). I shy away from too much emphasis on God's sovereignty. Really? You believe God orchestrated that parking spot for your generous behind, but hasn't gotten around to orchestrating world peace? Bully for you. So I don't believe God devotes his time to parking lot management for Christians. But I do believe he intervenes, or brings aid. Choosing to believe this changes me and brings hope.

After choosing hope in God's presence through suffering, and hope in new life/resurrection on the other side of suffering, hope happened in a real way. An individual with power and influence, who I rarely see, literally crossed my path yesterday. I chose to believe the timing more than coincidence and spoke with them. And they listened--actively, openly, compassionately.  Real tangible reason to hope.

This isn't over. And, regardless of the overall outcome, my current career trajectory has altered. But, the timing, coincident with Easter, brings the richness of a faith growing from love, suffering, and new life to new heights for me. The decisions I've made during this time are the hardest, most painful and risky of my life. While I want things to work out well for me, I don't believe that doing the right thing obligates God or the fates to cater to that. This situation is just one death and a new beginning. Already, I feel new life inside me, allowing me to hope, relaxing my body, giving me freedom to think about other things.

As Easter comes, I hope it stirs life in you. Many of us don't recognize our faith any longer. We cling to some rudimentary, innate sense that something is bigger than us, is real, loves us. This, to me, is hopeful. You could abandon that sense to accept nothingness, or relinquish it for hollow conformity to others' expectations. But you don't. We don't. Good for us. In my life, what grows out of this changes me. And I find hope, this season, for the most difficult time in my life.