The End of Time
Apr 17th, 2008 by Sonja

LightHusband recently went out of town on a business trip to Cincinnati.  He traveled with his boss and a couple of co-workers.  BossMan and SalesGuy are more conservative than we are.  That’s the best way I can say this.  We are friends with BossMan and his family, but when it comes to matters of theology and politics, we generally agree to disagree about a lot.  We respect each others’ perspectives, but …

LightHusband returned from his trip yesterday and the rest of us were glad to see him again.  He used to travel quite often and we all have bad memories of that (me especially).  Like the time he went to London for a month when LightGirl was 6 months old.  He was housed in a stadium with no phone access.  It was fairly unnerving.  But he did get introduced to the Queen.  In any case, he and I went grocery shopping for dinner together yesterday afternoon on his return.  That may sound funny, but it’s something we enjoy, especially if we can leave the LightChildren home.

While at the store we ran into an old friend from our CLB1.  Now this lady also happened to be a founding member of that church.  She was (and is) a dear.  I spent a good deal of time with her oldest son when I worked in youth ministry (he was also helping out).  We had a nice conversation catching up with one another.  Then talk turned to our old church and goings on there.  She caught us up on some of the main big news.  Somehow we got on the subject of some books that she is reading and is very excited about.  It’s a series by an author named Joel Rosenburg.  Apparently, he’s written quite a series based on Ezekiel 38 and 39.  It seems to be very popular according to the sales figures on the website.  She spoke very highly of the books and recommended them to us.

In fact, she got pretty wound up about the whole idea of the so-called Second Coming and the Rapture and the End Times.  She got a big grin on her face and a light in her eyes and she stood on her toes.  The air around her was electric.  She spoke with certainty about the days to come and the fulfillment of prophecy.

Maybe I’m cynical.  Maybe I’m … I dunno.  But all I could think as I was listening to her was one word … zealot.  Well, other words came to mind too.  I wondered exactly what makes Christians with this perspective any different from Muslims who are engaging in war-like behavior to bring about their prophecies.  Then, as I was sewing today I was musing about it and I realized the root of my disturbance with the whole thing.

Everyone who subscribes to this theory of the end of time assumes that they will be among those who are raptured (caught up as it were).  They are all absolutely sure that they are among the ones who will disappear in a twinkling and everyone else (all the rest of the rabble) will be left to the horrors of the millenium.  Just as every Christian I know “knows” they will be going to heaven.  But … um … I got news.  Not everyone who thinks they’re going is.  OR … everyone (and I do mean everyone) is going.  What I mean by this is that if this whole metaphor were to actually be truth (and that is a big IF), there are a lot of people who might be in for a nasty surprise.

I have to wonder why it is that we always think that our own fruit (of the spirit) is sweet to God and therefore we’ll be raptured … but that other guy down the pew row, well … he’s not goin’ anywhere.  He may have prayed the prayer, but I don’t see any fruit in his life.

I’m just not so sure I want to be praying and acting like the Rapture is a good thing.  Because that prayer is not in scripture anywhere and does not assure me of anything other than checking a box on a human list.  It seems to me that living in a proper fear of God might just include an understanding that we are not in control … at all.

On Making a Community Quilt
Apr 15th, 2008 by Sonja

So as I may have mentioned in my earlier post, I am somewhat pre-occupied with this quilt lately.  It’s taking up all my time and all of BlazingEwe’s time too.  We are actually ripping our hair out.

This quilt is composed of 81 separate blocks.  There are 49 that measure 12 inches square and the remaining blocks measure 6 inches square.  In January and February we handed out kits for these blocks (complete with directions) and all the fabric needed for each block, pre-cut, at our guild meeting.  We asked for the blocks to be back by the March guild meeting.  Most of them came back.  A few more trickled in at our show a week later.  We had to chase the rest down.

Finally, about ten days ago, we sat down and triaged the blocks.

Here are some things you need to know about quilting.  First … a block that will measure 12 inches square in a quilt, really is 12.5″ square all by itself.  You have to figure for seam allowances (a quarter inch for quilters).  Second, some quilters are slap-dash quilters and others are OCD quilters (I fall into the latter category, btw) … and yes, OCD stands for the same thing here that it does in ordinary life – obsessive-compulsive disorder.  Third, a block sort of indicates that the general shape of the thing should be square, that is, four equal sides with 90 degree angles.   That’s what you’re looking for as an end result because it makes the whole thing go together well.

So, as I said, we triaged the blocks.  Of 81 blocks, 40 were not within tolerances.  That means … they were either not square, or not 12.5″ (or 6.5″) in measurement.  Now we know that everyone is different and sews differently so, that means that very few people are going to have exact blocks.  Well … I do, but I’m OCD about it.  However, in order to make it work, they have to be within about an 1/8″ of an inch on all sides.  That’s what I mean by “within tolerances.”  Several blocks had curved outer edges.  That does not meet the definition of a square to me.

We began making notes on post-its and pinning them to each block.  Notes about what needed to be adjusted, changed or perhaps outright redone.  Sixteen blocks needed to be recut and redone from the get go.  We had to go buy new fabric.  In one case this involved a roundtrip of two hours.  Don’t ask.

There was ranting and cursing involved.

We have about half of the quilt top together.  We put the other half up on our jerry-rigged design wall last night and sighed.  We are both tired and tired of this quilt.

Here’s the thing though.  We’ve seen the quilts that most of these ladies have made.  They are beautiful and wonderful.  How is that possible?  These blocks were/are a mess!  It was a mystery.

Then I realized this … if you make the same block with the same mistake 28 times it doesn’t matter.  Those 28 blocks go together just fine.  Structurally, they work together well.  They fit together and the mistakes and idiosyncrasies disappear into each other.  They are not apparent.  However, when each and every block has a different mistake and idiosyncrasy they do not fit together well.  They bump up against each other and look very ugly indeed.  There are gaps where there should be joints.  Intersections which do not intersect well.  Taken on the whole, a community quilt is a very bumpy, wavy adventure.  It makes the OCD quilter (me) somewhat nuts.

One day as I was sewing along I had a revelation.  Quilt blocks are like people, or maybe people are like quilt blocks.  Structurally we all have mistakes and idiosyncrasies.  We don’t notice them at all when we are alone or in our families because they are unique to us and we make them all the time.  When we’re making our own blocks and quilts, these mistakes and idiosyncrasies just fit right in to whatever we’re doing at the time.  It’s only when we get out into the larger community that our unique bits stand out in contrast to the unique bits of everyone else and the joints don’t fit right.  There are gaps and ugly intersections.  Places where the fabrics just clash and hurt your eyes (or ears).

When you’re making a quilt, you can take apart the offensive blocks and put them back together so that they fit more better.  In real life, there’s not so much you can do with offensive people.  So we have to figure out how to make do with what we have instead of remaking it to suit ourselves.  But that’s the problem, isn’t it?  We each want to remake the other people/blocks to suit us rather than let them be and figure out how to make the community quilt just as it is.  Now wouldn’t that be an adventure?

That Gender Thing (Again)
Mar 31st, 2008 by Sonja

Married To The Sea

marriedtothesea.com

Well … that’s pretty damn offensive, isn’t it?  Grabs you right by the lapels, shakes you up … and screams in your face.  But it doesn’t happen in the Protestant Church, so it’s meaningless for us … right?  We can laugh at it and go home.  Those foolish Catholics … if only they’d let their priests get married, they wouldn’t abuse children anymore … they could have sex when they wanted to.

I’ve got some news for you.  It’s not about whether or not the priests get married.  Child molesting is almost always about power.  It’s about institutions.  It’s about turf wars.  We have the same problems painted in different colors here in Protestant-land.

Keeping women out of the priesthood, out of teaching, fighting these gender wars … it’s about power.  It’s about institutions and it’s about turf wars.  You can layer the color on as thick as you want, but the base problem is that the men who are in power do not want to share.  For them it has become a zero-sum game and when women win, they lose.  They cannot see any other outcome.

Most of the battles currently being fought in the Church are ultimately about control.  They are about who will control the information.  Who will control the people.  Who will control access to God.  What a mind-rape.  It’s offensive and bears the mark of being against God, if I’m not mistaken.

God does not manipulate.  She is not overbearing.  He does not beat us up.  God is love … anything else is a clanging gong (have you ever heard one?  It will bend you double in pain).  God is love.

Fun Things To Know and Tell
Mar 28th, 2008 by Sonja

Here are some links, conversations and tid-bits for your weekend perusal or something like that.  Or because I’m bored and should be doing laundry.

A really fabulous definition of what knowledge is … or is not.   An argument … but go see for yourself.

Have you read The Shack?  If you haven’t, then get thee hence, go to … go to (yes, it really will change you and your life).  If you have, go over to Waving or Drowning and put in your picks for the cast of the fantasy movie that we’re making.   I picked Mandy Patinkin for Jesus … but that’s all I’m telling you.  You’ll have to go see what started the whole thing for yourself.

Jake is looking for input on theology lectures … if you have a favorite and know where it is on an .mp3, leave it in the comments for him.  He’s putting together a mixtape of them.  Whodathunk?

Will Samson started a conversation about Dr. Wright and his soundbites but someone left a comment about abortion versus mountaintop removal.  I’m not certain I get it, maybe you will … in any case, go watch the YouTube clip and leave a more appropriate comment there to offset the silliness.

Over at Perigrinatio, Doug meditates on the one obligation we are called to.  It’s powerful.

Last, on a pretty somber note, I’ll join the growing wave of people who recommend the series over at FuturistGuy on Spiritual Abuse.  It is both sobering and redemptive.  I have found some of it extremely emotional, part of it made me want to throw my computer across the room, and then part of it made me nod in agreement.  But after processing it all I am glad for it.  It is helpful, healing and good.  I anticipate the next piece with some apprehension and some excitement.

There But For the Grace of God …
Mar 25th, 2008 by Sonja

How many of you have killed a fly?

Yeah, me too. Squashed it like … well … a bug. Have you killed other bugs? Me, too.

How about other vermin? Have you ever killed a snake? Or a rat? Have you ever run over an animal by mistake with your vehicle? Or … have you gone hunting and killed an animal on purpose for food?

I’m not certain, but I don’t think I’ve ever killed anything larger than a bug. I did, however, grow up on a farm and regularly participated in the slaughter of animals for food. As youngsters, my brothers and I held headless chicken races to see which of the chickens would run longest after having their heads chopped off during the annual chicken kill. It seems gruesome now, but it was a way of distancing ourselves from the pain of necessary killing. We needed those chickens for food and could no longer afford to feed them. We kept some for the purpose of egg laying, others were for meat. It was part of the cycle of the farm.

Since growing up in that environment, I’ve had occasion to consider just what mental gymnastics it takes for us to kill. For instance, I have an unreasonable fear of spiders. My fear of them is really sort of funny when you consider how much larger I am than they. But I can’t kill them. One day, many years ago, I encountered a spider in my kitchen and went to get my neighbor, so that she could usher the spider to a new life in the great outdoors. I’ve gotten a little better; now I just ignore them. When I see dead animals on the side of the road, I have a brief period of mourning for them. They died at our hands, ignorant of the danger involved in crossing the road. Some of them get caught between jersey barriers, trapped and die, able to get in, unable to escape. Most of this we justify by claiming our dominion over the animal kingdom. Afterall, we have bigger brains, no? It is, at the end of the day, survival of the fittest; the law of the jungle.

I’ve gone on to consider, then, the killing of other humans. How do we justify this? We have many forms of justification for this. Some times there is no justification and then we deem it to be murder. A broken law. Other times we do justify it and call it war. How do we measure the difference? How do we teach men (and now women) to know that difference? To overcome their built in tendency to not kill other humans? It’s simple really. We reduce those other humans to animals. That is how it is done. We tell our armies that the enemy is/are less than human … that is, they are at about the level of animals.

Think about it for a minute. When you hear people (or yourself) talking about the “other,” what language is used? It’s usually not kind or gracious. It is uncomfortable. Think about the current war in Iraq. I have heard the “enemy” referred in terms such as “ragheads,” “towelheads,” “camelmonkeys” and the like. This language is particularly prevalent among the military. This sort of language about “others” is nearly always prevalent in the military of any culture. When it begins to become more common in the general culture we find it easier to begin wars and the making of slaves (either literal or virtual).

It is through the use of language that we devalue people. People … made in the image of God. Children of God. How often do you devalue someone? When you are driving, what assumptions do you make about the drivers who get in your way? When you are out and about, what assumptions do you make about the people who are different from you in some way … be it the color of their skin, or their gender, or their age, or perhaps a physical/mental disability or difference? It is only when we lessen their value and make people into something other than fellow creations of the divine that we are able to commit mass murder. Even when that mass murder is for good reason. Or is it ever?

Psalm 137

An Experience of the Captivity.

1By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down and wept,
When we remembered Zion.
2Upon the willows in the midst of it
We hung our harps.
3For there our captors demanded of us songs,
And our tormentors mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”
4How can we sing the LORD’S song
In a foreign land?
5If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
May my right hand forget her skill.
6May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth
If I do not remember you,
If I do not exalt Jerusalem
Above my chief joy.
7Remember, O LORD, against the sons of Edom
The day of Jerusalem,
Who said, “Raze it, raze it
To its very foundation.”
8 O daughter of Babylon, you devastated one,
How blessed will be the one who repays you
With the recompense with which you have repaid us.
9How blessed will be the one who seizes and dashes your little ones
Against the rock.

Think about that last verse for a minute … who are the ones who seize and dash “littles one against the rock.” Who are those horrible people? What kind of monster would seize children and “dash them against the rock?” Well … a monster who didn’t really believe that they were children for starters. It would be a person or group who believed that he or they were doing some greater good in ridding the world of vermin.

You cannot kill those who you believe to be of equal value to yourself. I think that is what Jesus was getting at when he said, “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to his brother, ‘Raca, ‘ is answerable to the Sanhedrin. But anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.”

Now, consider for a moment what it feels like to be on the receiving end of those comments. We’ve all been called a “fool” at some point or another in our lives. Most of us know how to toss that off and move on. But do we understand the cumulative effect of years and years of being called a fool for reasons beyond our control … reasons having to do with the color of our skin or the shape of our eyes or the place of our birth? What would it be like to be underneath a boot for the entirety of one’s existence merely for the color of one’s skin and nappiness of one’s hair? To wonder every time you got into the driver’s seat of a car if you’d get pulled over for no other reason than …. a policeman’s wish. To wonder about the security of your employment. The realities of lynching because of race are not actually gone in our country. How does a person live with that shadow skulking about the occasional corner? It is not something that I ever have to consider.

Women are encouraged to take self-defense classes in preparation for fending off sexual predators. Perhaps people with different colored skin should also take such classes in preparation for fending off angry hate-filled mobs. Perhaps if we embraced where race relations really are in this country, the recent flap over Dr. Jeremiah Wright’s comments from the pulpit would not be seen as inflammatory. Those comments sound pretty awful. “America’s chickens coming home to roost,” in the shadow of the 9/11 attacks sounds callous, cruel and incendiary. One cannot condone a reverend or preacher actually saying those things in his outloud voice to a congregation can one? Can you? It causes us to pause in our adulation of his follower, Barack Obama, and wonder about his wisdom in following such a mentor. Or does it? Do we really know all that we need to know about Dr. Wright based upon a few sound bites that were released by media moguls who are less than enamoured of liberal causes? Watch, if you will, the above-referenced sound bite taken in it’s full context below.

I am not condoning racism. I am not condoning hate. I am not condoning frenzied, emotional outbursts that do not have love at their center from those who follow Jesus. However, when I listen to Dr. Wright’s words and hear more of his heart, I begin to understand more of who he is. I begin to understand why Obama may (or may not) heartily disagree with him, yet remain a member of Trinity. I have people in my life whom I love dearly, yet with whom I disagree vehemently about certain things. They are part of my family and we are as different as night and day. Would I should disown them, if I were to run for political office? My uncle has advocated (seriously, not as a joke) paving over the Chesapeake Bay and is a racist bigot. I have other family stories which would curl your hair. Most of us do. We are, in the end, all human and all say and do things of which we are later ashamed. Or not. But which make other people question our intelligence, wisdom and character when taken out of context.

Perhaps the larger question might be, what exactly are we looking for in a leader? Are we looking for perfection, a king, a messiah? To find that would be anti-constitutional. Or are we looking for someone with the intelligence and strength of character to know who a good mentor is and learn from that person, despite his or her flaws. Perhaps we need to find a person who can learn from many people drawing on their strengths along the way rather than slavishly following one person and mimicking the flaws in their jewels.

What can we understand from this? I think it is this … in the end we are all more alike than different. We need to ask more questions than we do when things like this hit the front page. Questions such as, who stands to benefit from this? And think long term when you answer that. Who is the long term beneficiary of a drawn out and equivocating Democratic primary race? Hmmm … the Republican party. Think about that for a while, while you ponder the ideas that have been raised in this very hateful period of the race.

ASBO Jesus Strikes Again
Mar 10th, 2008 by Sonja

Cashback God

I call this worshiping the gumball god … but it’s the same principle at work. Ya puts in yer prayers, ya pulls the lever, ya gets a response … usually shiny tasty gumballs. Yep … that there’s the god I wanna worship.

The Lenten Path
Mar 2nd, 2008 by Sonja

God of all seasons, at times, this Lenten path feels as if it will never end. Deep down, we all know that it will, but the winter seems determined to stay past its welcome and signs of spring are but a dream hovering in the distance. Help us to keep putting the hope of Easter before us on the horizon. It will come.

Until then, God, keep us focused and attentive as we remember Jesus and his long trek to Jerusalem. Help us to see his face reflected in the people around us every day. Open our eyes to the needs of a hurting world and guide us as we seek to participate in its healing.

We thank you for worship that brings all of us the encouragement and strength we need to make our way through these final weeks of Lent. Soon we will find ourselves together at the cross. We will need one another more than ever in that harsh, cold place. Bless us as we prepare our hearts and spirits for the days ahead.

Gracious God, thank you for your abiding presence and for the peace you bring to our souls. Surely goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives, and we shall live in your sacred presence forever. Amen.

This was the Sunday Prayer at RevGals this morning.  I started breezing through it.  Then stopped and read more slowly.  Then stopped again.  I read that first sentence over and over and over again.  “… this Lenten path feels as if it will never end.”

Today marks a year of Sundays since we left our CLB.  In my life and faith, winter seems determined to stay past its welcome.  The hope of Easter is beyond the horizon.

It is because of this long, perilous journey to Jerusalem and extended time in the desert that I find myself seeing God in funny places now.  I hear him speaking in different voices than before.  I seek healing that is holistic and may not ever involve me.

Yet with my shaky knees I will stand and in barely whispered voice I will say, “Gracious God, thank you for your abiding presence and for the peace you bring my soul.  Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I shall live in your sacred presence forever. Amen.”

Creating Priorities
Feb 25th, 2008 by Sonja

Sheesh … it’s been quiet around here for the last couple of days. Where’ve I been anyway?

I went to the Mid-Atlantic Quilt Festival last Wednesday with BlazingEwe and didn’t get back til yesterday afternoon. We both had quilts hanging there. This was a first for us and quite exciting. We took classes; one that would help us be less precise and one that would help us be more precise. We’re so conflicted! Both teachers were very good, but we really connected with the second, who is about our age. We had lunch with her. Our teacher from last year remembered us and that was a thrill, too. All of this would be much more wonderful but for the fact that we’re usually the youngest women in these classes by about 20 years! So, we sorta stand out and not for our skill, technique, or talent. Perhaps it’s our charm.

In any case, you’ll see my quilt in next month’s issue of Porpoise Diving Life which is being guest edited in March by John Smulo. Porpoise Diving Life is always wonderful, but this year’s issues are a special treat because a group of us have gathered together to give Bill Dahl a sabbatical at his request. He’s writing a book and asked for some people to step forward so that he could focus his efforts. This month (February) is under the expert care and direction of Pam Hogeweide. In a future post, I’ll give you a list of the upcoming guest editors, so you can keep your eyes open. It promises to be a great year.

I came home from the festival with a renewed sense of how I want to organize and purpose my life. My path is still not clear, but I have a better sense of some of the things that need to be in each day. I know I need to have color and art be part of each day. I know I need to write each day as well. Perhaps doing these things will help the path become clear to me.

While we were in the hotel, BlazingEwe and I watched a fun movie called EdTV. It was an amusing, yet cutting, critique of our culture’s obsession with reality television. During one scene near the end, a friend of the main character was being interviewed on an Oprah Winfrey style show and he commented that, “I feel that Ed is the apotheosis of a prevailing American syndrome. It used to be that someone became famous because they were special. Now people are considered special just for being famous. Fame, itself, is now a moral good in this country. It’s its own virtue.”

That packs quite a punch … “Now people are considered special just for being famous. Fame, itself, is now a moral good in this country.”

Think about that for a while. Think about it in terms of the church in the western/industrialized hemisphere. Who do we follow and consider special? And why? Who floats to the top, and who wallows in the quagmire at the bottom? We like the Horatio Alger stories that it’s bootstraps, hard work, innovation and smarts that get people ahead in this country. It is our mythology that race, gender, poverty or a combination of those will not effect where we end up in this life.

So, why is this important? It is important because we are wired in some way to believe that those who are famous are leaders. They are the ones who have smarts, education, talent, or general chutzpah in some way that we should listen to. But should we? What if they’re just someone that an editor or producer thinks will sell?

Working Out Reconciliation
Feb 14th, 2008 by Sonja

I remember when I first heard about blogging. I was not impressed. I certainly never thought I would actually have a blog. That sort of thing was for silly-hearts and people with nothing better to do all day. I, of course, would never be so nerdy as to need a place to write my thoughts on the internet for all to see.

Then I was introduced to blogging more seriously and I was intrigued by it. I began to read other people’s blogs and realized that I could participate in them. I thought that perhaps I could write one too. There are things that I have grown to love about blogging. I love the relationships that have developed across the country and around the world through this funny system. I hope that one day I will get to meet some of these cyber-friends I’ve made. I love the new perspectives on life, the universe and everything that I am exposed to through blogging. There is one thing I don’t like about blogging though. That is it’s immediacy. Conversations happen in the blink of an eye and require instantaneous thought. There is little time for reflection and processing or the conversation will move on by. It is, of course, life in the information age. Life moves faster and so must thought.

For a variety of reasons, I have had an intense week this week and blogging has taken a back seat. I had a number of other things going on that required my time and attention, so yesterday I finally had some space to turn to my clogged reader and do some catch up reading. There I found a small bit in Emerging Women pointing me to a somewhat lengthy conversation at Josh Brown’s place entitled Challenging the Critiques of Emergent: A White Man’s World. I came late to the conversation; Josh had put up his original post on Feb. 11 and I think there were already 50 someodd comments when I stepped into the conversation. In his initial assessment of the critiques of Emergent it’s “just a bunch of white men sitting around talking theology,” Josh makes some valid points that are really worth considering.

In the comment thread that follows, there is a lot of discussion about the very different perspectives that come out of more mainstream Christian churches contrasted with the perspectives of people who come from a more fundamentalist or evangelical background. It is well worth reading the post and the comment thread. I found it worthwhile, though I felt that there was “something missing,” but could not put my finger on it.

At the same time, around the world, Kevin Rudd (Australia’s Prime Minister) announced an apology. He apologized to the Stolen Generations of the Aboriginal Peoples of Australia. Please take a moment and read the full text of the apology. It is an apology … a full apology. It offers no excuses, no outs; it is an acceptance of responsibility for wrongs done and offers a way forward to right them. If you use that link, you’ll see an audio-slideshow in a sidebar to the right. One of the voices near the end says, “Sorry is just a word.” She’s right. It will be interesting to see what the government of Australia does to make good on it’s promises. Things are very hopeful right now as I hear from Matt Stone that Mr. Rudd has reached across their aisle to his opposition to ensure that the necessary laws will be passed unanimously.

I woke up this morning with these two things on my mind. Playing back and forth, as if on a teeter-totter. I couldn’t get White Man’s World off my mind. The post, in general, had a sense of validity, but yet, I could not fully agree. What was missing? I was chewing on it. The Australian Apology was giving me hope. I was in the middle of a conversation about it with Matt. Since my childhood I have felt that our Native American population has been in similar straits as the Australian Aboriginals. We know from the history of South Africa of the great power of an institutional apology and the great lengths to which it can go towards reconciliation.

I am accustomed to having ideas play around in my head for awhile. So I let them go. They were having fun on the teeter-totter, after all. Who wants to be a kill-joy and pull ideas off of a perfectly good teeter-totter ride? And I went about my important morning business of drinking coffee and reading a few blogs to wake up. I read Christy Lambertson’s Throwing hand grenades at Jesus: This isn’t what I was going to write. She quoted Matthew 23 and went on to write:

There was a point in my life where chapters like this would tap into my cold fury at Christianity, Inc. and inspire me to launch into my well-rehearsed speech of “Why you people suck!” – delivered with fervor. Today, though, I’m mostly just sad – sad that Matthew 23 feels so very very true, that underneath the anger is still a well of pain. Even after all this time and all this work, some scars never go away, and I may always feel locked out of the kingdom of heaven – whatever that is. Sometimes it still feels like they won, because there is so much about religion I just can’t do: praying and expecting a tangible answer, believing in a personal God who loves me, all the creeds and liturgies and trappings, and a certain simplicity of faith in the goodness of God and things in general.

I’m at peace on my path, more or less, but I still sometimes think I might be missing something, that there was something I was supposed to be able to believe and participate in, and that faculty of trust got taken away. It would be nice to once, just once, hear someone in a pulpit get up and speak of God and not wonder what he’s hiding or who he’s hurt along the way. I would like to feel like I don’t have to keep my distance if I want to save my soul, like I don’t have to shut myself down completely just to walk in the goddamn door.

There’s so much more to what Christy wrote that you really, really must read it for yourself. If you’ve never read Dry Bones Dance, you are really missing out. She is a voice in the wilderness. I can’t speak for Christy and I’m not entirely certain about all the different bits that she might be referring to, but … when I read her post the teeter-totter in my mind hit perfect balance and I knew the needful thing.

An apology.

I want to be very, very clear. This is not just about Josh. This about men in the church in general and in the emerging conversation specifically.

Men: We women need an apology. We need it from the leaders and we need it from our local leaders. I understand that many, indeed most, of you are not now part of the problem. We understand that most of you are working to change things. But I think that until you recognize, acknowledge and admit that there is a problem and apologize for your part in being a dominant culture (because you are … I’m not blaming you, it’s just the way things are, until they are changed), we are going to be stuck in some sense.

There is a well of pain underneath the skin of all of us women of evangelical background. Some have it deeper than others. That well needs to be drained during the working out of gender reconciliation. Or that work will not be complete. It will always have something missing. Women cannot drain the well on their own. The path to opening that well and allowing it to drain begins with an apology.

That’s all.

MLK Conversation and then some
Jan 25th, 2008 by Sonja

The other day I retold the story of a conversation between LightBoy and I about the difference between freedom and justice.  He’s still mulling that over.  In the meantime, I gave him an assignment (LightGirl too).  They have to write a paper every two weeks.  Their current assignment is to write about William Wilberforce.  They can pick anything about him that they want.  Their last assignment was the Lewis and Clark Expedition.  LightBoy’s paper morphed into Benedict Arnold, but that’s okay.  Now they are researching the famous liberator.

LightBoy, “Dad, what’s hersey mean?”

“What?  How do you spell it?”

“h e a r s e y … I think.”

“Oh, that’s hearsay, and it means to overhear something and repeat it.”

LightBoy went back to the encyclopedia.  Pretty soon he came back, with the encyclopedia and a very dire look on his face.

“Dad!  I don’t think that’s what it means.  LOOK!”

burned at the stake

LightHusband looked at the picture and the word in question:

H E R E S Y.

And promptly explained the difference.

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