Songs to Share

God has been ministering to me through music again. I use the word ministering (rather than talking or communicating) not to be ultra-spiritual, but to reflect what I feel like he is actually doing. He is healing and comforting me, soothing and reminding me - ministering to me.

It's funny, because I can't even tell you why some of these songs are so moving to me. They must speak to something I need to hear. So here they are -

The first is a Nichole Nordeman, Amy Grant collaboration based on the book of Ruth called "I'm with you." Ironically (given my recent depth study of Ruth), I didn't recognize it as a Ruth inspired song. What I recognized was a song about friendship and intimacy and commitment. The minute I heard the first chord and certainly by the end of the song I was tearful, grateful for my Jackie. In my mind, it's our song.



Next is a couple of Matt Maher songs. The first is "Christ is Risen", which has spoken really deeply to me since around Easter time. For some reason, the reality of what Christ's resurrection really means (i.e., Victory over sin and death!) and the beauty by which is was accomplished (i.e., through selflessness and sacrifice and compassion) was so salient and powerful  to me. This song just claims this Truth so clearly. My absolute favorite part is the bridge: Oh death, where is your sting? Oh hell, where is your victory? Oh Church, come stand in the light! Our God is not dead, He's alive! He's alive!



The second I didn't even know was a Matt Maher song - it sounds super country - and part of me doesn't want to like it, but I love it! It's called "Turn Around" and it is about how God is in hot pursuit of us, always standing just behind us, longing and waiting for us.    


Then there is Natalie Grant's "Your Great Name". My eyes just well up in tears: every fear has no place at the sound of Your great name... the enemy, He has to leave at the sound of Your great name.

Finally, there is Shawn McDonald's "Rise." For He, who is in me, is greater than I will ever be and I will rise. Yes, He, who is in me, is greater than I will ever be and I will rise.

Modesty

As you all know, I have been completing a Bible Study on sex and sexuality. For the past two weeks, I've been studying passages in Scripture (predominantly Proverbs) about "the strange woman." These passages are written as warnings to men, to stay away from women who use their sexuality, particularly risque dress, to entice them. And because the Bible study I am doing is geared to women, what we've really been talking about it modesty (i.e., Are you the strange woman?).

First, you should know that I immediately get salty when I even smell a hint in the air that women are going to get blamed for male sin. If a man is lusting in his heart, it is his issue. I want to say something like, I don't care if she is parading around in the nude, his thoughts and decisions are his responsibility. So you can imagine, two weeks devoted to telling me (or women generally) that they should dress modestly because otherwise we are going to tempt men into sin is going to have me prickly. And I am prickly about it. Women are not responsible for male sin. If a man lusts, it's his deal.

But I also want to say something else that is true. I recently had a very vulnerable conversation with two very close friends about some of my "stuff." And part of my "stuff" is the deep, entrenched longing to be the object of desire. I have a few recurrent dreams, one of which is directly related to this topic. Specifically, I have this dream where I am being chased by a man, sometimes many men. This is not a threatening dream, I am running and hiding but all the while enjoying because I want to be chased. It's  one of those dreams when you wake up and you wish you could fall back asleep, because I feel so desirable. And in the conversation I had, I admitted that what I really want (deep down) is to be so beautiful, so captivating that every man in the room wants me - married, single, my husband or somebody-else's it doesn't matter. And I think that desire is really sick, it is the desire to be the strange woman.

And you may be thinking to yourself, what is so wrong with that desire?? What harm does it cause if you don't actually act on it??

Well, I want you to ask yourself something - have you ever known a woman like that? A woman that you know is conjuring up desire in every man around? Have you ever watched that desire manifest in an actuality? I have. I have intimately known at least three women - two of whom I called very close (even best) friends at points in my life - whom had a large degree of success at attaining what I desire. And this is my lived experience of that truth:

(1) They were not trustworthy women - their longing to be desired over-road everything else. You could not trust them with any man you loved (brother, boyfriend, father, husband, potential love interest), given the right set of circumstances no one was off limits. And I don't mean that they necessarily slept with all of them - they just used their sexuality to get something from them, most often a sense of self-esteem from being desired by them. As you can imagine this dramatically decreased their ability to have close friendships - it eventually ended most of ours.

(2) They were predatory - seducing men was not an accident. They dressed, talked, and walked in a way specifically aimed at seduction. They were not innocent. This is not the story of some innocently beautiful woman, who accidentally makes those around her swoon just by her mere presence (p.s. I have yet to meet one of these women outside of fiction). They were using their eyes, lips, and words as deliberately as a frat boy might use alcohol to get what they wanted.

(3) Getting involved with them was never a good idea. I mean honestly, no man I ever knew that got involved with one of these women ever left better off then when he started. They often broke off relationships with or cheated on other women in their lives. Many became quite attached and experienced great pain when she would move on or cheat on him. Honestly, the best case scenario was for the worst type of man - the one that was capitalizing on her vulnerability and knew she was "easy." But even they left with a awful stereotype of women confirmed.

(4) Finally, they were not happy - even though this huge desire was being fulfilled mostly they felt empty, incomplete and unlovable. Most often the fuel driving the longing train was a deep seated felling of unworthiness, that they needed to mediate as quickly and often as possible with a warm body's "proof" that they were worthy of something.

So when Proverbs says something like "Hey men - stay the heck away from women like that, they are only gonna kill you."  I see that as just good advice. Sorta like saying to women, "Hey ladies, don't go to frat party alone those boys are often up to no good" is just good advice.

I also think it tells me, "Hey Paula, is this who you really want to be? Do you really think that being desirable is what you really want? Take a careful look at the price tag for both you and those around you - because it is not cheap."

First Church Experience in Indiana

I went to church for the first time since the move this last Sunday. It isn't that I haven't wanted to go - it's something about moving and boxes and being entirely out of a routine that's kept me away. Every week I would think "I really need to go to church" and every week it would be Sunday at 11:00 and I would realize that the window had closed.

But what got me off my tuckus and to the church service, was the fact that one of my colleagues was speaking.

Ok - a quick side note - Can I just say how awesome it is to work at this practice?? We prayed together to open and close the staff meeting. Did you hear that??? At my JOB we prayed at a staff meeting! If that weren't enough, I met up with another of my colleagues to discuss transfer of cases and we spent probably half the meeting talking about how God is working in us and in the community. And at no time did either one of us feel the need to justify ourselves as still competent professionals or just generally non-judgmental people. Well, maybe I felt the need to (old habits die hard) but I didn't actually do any justifying and he didn't seem to care. Hallelujiah!

So back to the story...

One of my colleagues, David Smith, was speaking at the service. Now I knew through snippets that David had a interesting tale to tell; that he had walked with God through a time of being pastor for a church and had lost a child. I also knew that he was going to speak on suffering, despite (as his wife put it ) telling God he would not speak on suffering. You know its going to be good when God does something like that - He ain't foolin around. So I was NOT going to miss it.

So I was there - two Bibles in hand (my big study Bible and my little purse Bible; overkill I know - but I really didn't know what to expect). The venue was so strange - everything was different and yet familiar. I mean Canyon is huge; stadium seating, separate children's facility, 5 big screens, a full rock band, etc. This service was maybe 75 people with a projector in this room they typically used for faculty meetings. Yet we sang some familiar songs and prayed together. The church was in crisis a bit because a new baby among the church family, little Lily Frost, was sick (meningitis) and we prayed for her, her parents, the doctors, you name it. It was so warm and comfortable. I remember half-way through the service realizing that this was a little glimpse of a heaven - a room full of the faces I would see and the brothers and sisters with whom I would share eternity. You know this life is hard and being a Christian is not always easy, but moments like that - standing in a room full of basically strangers, in a new state, by myself still feeling a deep sense of connection and belonging - *sigh* there are some benefits, aren't there?

And then David begins speaking and he poses two questions: (1) Why does God allow suffering? and (2) Where is God in my suffering?.

Immediately two of my nearest and dearest come to mind. The first question brought my Leslie up. There was a pivotal moment in my relationship with Leslie where we were talking about my faith. Les often asked about my faith and listened intently. One day, she asked how I reconciled a loving God, who was active in the affairs of the world, with the suffering I see all around me - I gave some answer, I don't remember what, but I do remember her response. It was something like - "I've heard that before. And it works if we are talking about the small sufferings of my life, but it does nothing to explain the fact that God didn't stop those men in Africa from raiding homes, raping and killing families with small children over and over again." And though she didn't say it - hanging there was a question "Where was your God then?" And in a way I never saw before, I saw Leslie's heart, bleeding compassion and rage for those children and families. No shallow, American version of understanding suffering was going to work. She needed something she could bite into - something that didn't diminish the suffering of those people or paint something so atrocious using rosy, bright sided optimism.

So the Leslie from that moment lives with me. She will not let my soul settle for anything less. So listening to David speak - there she was, right next to me, listening. And though I cannot tell you whether or not the real Leslie would be satisfied with what David offered, I can tell you that I was satisfied. First, he said something like "all pain is the result of sin, sin that we all contribute to". For example, those men in Africa who did all that murdering and hating - they weren't born that angry, something made them angry. Maybe watching their parents struggle to feed their family or watching 3 of their siblings die of malaria or their fathers and uncles die in war.So it is really sin (personal sins against them, and more global sins like greed and selfishness) that causes those atrocities. Second, he said something like "and this fact means that we are living in a dead and dying world." Death and dying means = loss and tragedy = suffering. Thus, we end up with the truth that it is our poor choices that has created suffering. So why doesn't God remove our choice? The answer is that choice is what defines humanity. According to Biblical narrative, to remove our ability to choose - removes our ability to be human, to love, to anything. And God will not sacrifice our humanity no matter the cost, it was the purpose of our creation. Now perhaps you disagree with the price tag, but God does not.


What he did not say, but I will add - is what I call the good news of suffering. Specifically, that God DOES have a plan for this dead and dying world. He has not stood by inactive, allowing sin to swallow the world and pain to win. This plan honors our humanity and still allows for healing. His plan is REDEMPTION! To pay the price to be united to us; to heal the sin. The Biblical narrative does not diminish suffering, it states that God was was willing to pay any price to end it.

The second question brought my Jackie to mind. Walking along side her through the journey of grief has been challenging. It brings the reality of suffering from concept to lived experience. I have literally stood by as someone has felt abandoned by God to suffering - stood by as someone has cried out "WHERE ARE YOU?!?!" And I gotta tell you, my response has not always been good. I do not want to feel that way and as a result I do not want Jackie to feel that way. I want to make that moment about something she is doing wrong or something we can easily fix. But turns out, that is an incredibly shallow and selfish response.

And David - in the gentlest, realest way - helped me to see that. He pointed out that Christ himself felt abandoned by God and cried out to Him "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He pointed out that God does not always show up with audible encouragement or a felt presence at the crisis moments for those who love him in the Bible. Many feel incredibly alone. So where is God in their suffering?

What you have to ask yourself is this, did God truly abandon these folks? Is the story that Joseph was abandoned in prison? Or that Job died in his misery? Was God not in Jesus sacrifice on the cross? Did he truly abandon him to suffering?

And what I figured out from those questions, is that the zenith of our suffering - though it may feel final - is only the middle of the story. Hope is coming. One more time - Hope IS coming.

Oh there was so much more my friends. Pages and pages more - where he spoke to the ways in which we as a church family can diminish each other in our pain - calling suffering "a lesson" or "a punishment" or a result of our "lack of faith". Or when he spoke to the ways that Jesus intimately knows and experienced suffering on this earth or bore the sin of the world in His body. But alas, I have gone on long enough for today and need to get back to work.

BTW - I am going to church this Sunday. No more tuckus sitting for me.

I love you all.

Reflecting on Sex

So I’ve been doing a Bible study focused on God’s design for sexuality. I think I’ve been sucked into the topic since I read Rob Bell’s Sex God where he explored the infinite connections between our spirituality and sexuality. It really opened my eyes to something I already knew deep down, that there is a whole lot more to sex than physical pleasure or release. 

I’ve known that to be true since forever. I mean sex is great – but what draws me to it has very little to do with the physicality of it. It’s the feelings of acceptance (desirability, even!) and closeness that I long for.

I remember the first time I decided I would sleep with someone if he asked. I was 15 and away at summer camp, missing my very close friend and first love. I missed his gaze and the feeling of his shoulder pressed up against mine in his little truck. I decided if he wanted me, I would be his. Not because I wanted to have an orgasm, but because I wanted to be missed in the way that I was missing him. I wanted to feel like I belonged to him, was a part of him. I wanted us to be connected in some indefinable and immutable way.  

Well if you know me well at all, you know that this story did not end in consummation but rejection. Perhaps for the best, right? No teenage sex. No unplanned pregnancy or man from my past. But what stands out for me is the profound way this experience shaped me. And yet we are told, over and over that we all just want sex to procreate or to feel that sexy feeling. But I didn’t feel the pinch of missing out on a “release” or a “pleasure” at 15. It certainly didn’t feel shallow or meaningless then. It felt like the ultimate exposure and rejection. 

All this to say – that when God makes a big deal about sex I believe it.

And boy oh boy, does He make a big deal about sex.

My Bible teacher for this study is Kay Arthur. And if you know anything about Kay, she goes right to the meat. No dancing around in the safe verses, instead by day two we are reading Leviticus and how you should stone adulterers to purge evil from Israel.

“Yowza! What is this doing in here?” I think to myself. I mean, I’m not a moron, I knew stuff like that was in the Old Testament, but staring it straight in the face day after day makes you think about what in the heck God is trying to say.  Just to keep rooted in the faith I found myself mumbling “To see me, is to see the father” trying to remember the revelation of God’s character is found in the person of Jesus Christ – the same dude who said, “He who is without sin, cast the first stone.” 

I also took a week off. This also seemed to help to give me the distance I needed to start seeing something of what God is saying. And not that I’ve sussed the whole thing out – but it seems super clear that God is saying something like:

Sex is a very big deal. Sex is more than sex, sex is a representation of something incredibly profound spiritually. Perverting (or corrupting, or co-opting) sex is a very big no, no. Sex is the physical manifestation of covenant – two becoming one – you don’t mess with that without some very serious and long lasting consequences.

This stands in stark contrast to our culture’s messages about sex. Like: “sex is fun and inconsequential” or “sex is something we can use to market something else”. 

And I wonder which holds up for you. I wonder if, like me, you weren’t looking for something deeper the first time you decided you would have sex. Or if you didn’t feel robbed of something more profound when you weren’t given the choice.

 

I don’t know. I am very white and suburban and female and Midwestern and heterosexual– so I get that I don’t get what sex is like for everyone else. It just seems so unlikely to me that the way it differs in its degree of significance.

Anyway, I know there’s some stuff to argue about in there. Stuff about what constitutes perversion and corruption – stuff that is valuable to work out. But what weighs heavy on my heart today is the larger image (sex as a profound spiritual practice) and the larger loss (sex is cheap and meaningless).

Sparkle

I’ve been having a lot of deep conversations lately. You know, those stay up until 3:00 in the morning over a bottle of wine (or in this case a six pack of beer) exploring the mysteries of the universe and your soul.  I’m around the people who bring that out the most in me – though, to be fair it is not at all difficult to suck me into psychological, philosophical, or moral discussions that creep into the wee hours, I just love them.

As always, I’ve left most of these conversations reflecting on what others and I’ve said. Recently, I've also walked away with a salty dissatisfaction with myself. Most often I’m dissatisfied because I feel like I’ve come across as hard-hearted and cynical and certainly not the hopeful, humanitarian who sees the good in all things (as I hope to be perceived). If I were to comprise a theme to my input, it’s generally that people and the world are broken and selfish and there is little hope that whatever they do or say is going to fix it. 

And the truth is I believe that.

I have been reading the Mitch Albom book For One More Day. The first day I was reading I came across a quote I just had to write down:

Maybe you figure men like me, men who play in the World Series, can never sink as low as suicide because they always have, at the very least, the “dream come true” thing. But you’d be wrong. All that happens when your dream comes true is a slow, melting realization that it wasn’t what you thought and it won’t save you.

I believe that. I cannot underline, highlight or exclamation mark that truth enough. No wordly dream is what you thought. No person is what can fix you. Not even your inherent beauty or humanity. No, no, no. And I feel like I’ve been thrusting forth that message with such clarity and force that the only conclusion I can draw from listening to myself is that I am a hopeless cynic who doesn’t see the beauty in people, only their short-comings and failures.

But that is not true. I love people. I think people sparkle. Even the most broken soul still sparkles in the light. They can’t help it. They are created by God to sparkle.

But here’s the deal – sparkling involves two entities: the prism and the light.

See what the world tells us is that we don’t need the light to be beautiful. Which in some sense is true, I mean prisms are neat looking with or without sun shining through them. But prisms are meaningless without light (what is a prism for except to refract light?) and they certainly don’t sparkle. I see it everywhere – do this, buy into this or that ideal and you’ll be fixed. But the only way – the only real and lasting way to find meaning is to hang in the light and let it shine through you. Sparkle.  

So I think I feel cynical, because I keep incessantly shooting down every other option. 

It’s a weird juxtaposition to me. Here I am, at once and earnestly cynical about this world, yet also entirely hopeful for the hand of God to redeem, to dust off and to make us all sparkle.

Welcome home, Paula

So this is it… my first official post from the farmhouse.

My brother sent me a post a few days ago that said “Welcome home.”  It’s weird to think of this place as home and not some vacation spot. I found out a few days ago that it actually has been a retreat destination.  It has certainly been that for me this far.

I love old houses. The way they sound (creak, crack) and smell (dust and age). Houses this old seem wise. Let me share some of my favorite bits of this old house:

Stained glass windows… Aren’t they perfect? Stained glass reminds me of my paternal grandmother’s house. My Grandma Emke was (and is) this generally stoic German woman whose house was always immaculately kept. She also baked up a storm. Stained glass windows remind me of the Easters I spent at her house eating delicately frosted sugar cookie bunnies (her famous recipe) with little red hots for eyes. Delicious. It also reminds me about the way she used to stand at the door and watch us drive away. She would wave her hand and one tear would slip down her cheek. There is something so powerful about when those who hold their cards so close to the chest show emotion visibly. It’s so tangible and real. Something that makes you feel really deeply but simultaneously respect them.

Patterned Wall paper…. Along the halls and some of the ceilings is this white wallpaper that looks like punched tin (one of my favorites). It’s peeling back in places. My anal retentive side wants to get out the wallpaper paste and fix it, but my heart likes the age and imperfection. It’s beautiful and it’s old. I think there is something really comforting about that for me.

 This old vanity/hutch in the upstairs bath…. I just love all the drawers. Makes me feel like I am five years old wondering what could be nestled inside. (BTW – Right now there is nothing nestled inside, but one day…)

I also love the deck and the river and the porch and the garden and the sticky weather and the huge windows that let in light everywhere. I love the trees and the hammocks, the flowers and the bug bites and the smell of rain in the air. The hardwood floors, the ever playing sound track of music, the stream of welcoming visitors. The doggie boys dancing their dance whenever I come or go.

But the bits I love the absolute most are the hardest to share. A spontaneous bear hug from behind – “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” People who are interested in listening to you tell the same old stories over again; smiling, laughing or crying at all the appropriate spots. Hearing new and old stories. Sharing a bottle of wine. Trying a new type of beer (Lingen-something er other). Watching as ones I love so much, giggle and experiment with our forehead thermometer for Sydney – “I wonder how different my temperature is from my head to my arm” or lift her up so she can “climb her first tree.”

I’ve had all of my fear of rejection brokenness surfacing here. It’s seems so out of place in this context, but I see what this is. These circles of friends have always meant rejection for me. Look at how close “we are.” But here, in some way that is undeniable to me, it isn’t “we” but “us.” It isn’t theirs but ours.  

I guess that is what my brother probably meant when he said welcome home. 

Welcome home, Paula.

Here I am Lord

I am preparing for leading Bible study tonight. The first part of this week is focused on being called to redeem, or our role in carrying out God's redemptive plan. It got me thinking about my favorite old hymn, Here I am, Lord. I can remember being so young, like six or seven at the oldest, and singing this song to myself or being so delighted when it would be included in mass. It's hung with me through everything - my many years outside of the church, my doubts, everything. Whenever I would feel really lost or alone, I would sing this song.

So here it is (lyrics below):

I, the Lord of sea and sky,
I have heard my people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin,
My hand will save.

I who make the stars of night,
I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?

Chorus:

Here I am, Lord. It is I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, where you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my people’s pain.
I have wept for love of them.
They turn away.

I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak my words to them.
Whom shall I send?

(chorus)

I, the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame.
I will set a feast for them.
My hand will save.

Finest bread I will provide,
Till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give my life to them.
Whom shall I send?

(chorus)