in His own words (part 2)

(This is the blog post where I'll get to the point about God changing things... I hope. It's early... like the sun-hasn't-even-made-that-little-pink-strip-in-the-sky early.So hopefully, the kids will stay asleep and I can finish this.)

Last year, Mike gave me the day off for my birthday. Well, sort of the day off... I was still nursing so the baby had to come with me, but one kid is easier than three, right? It was a beautiful, late August day; the kind where the mornings are starting to get a little cool and damp and the sun is starting to sleep just a little bit longer, so the kids are also starting to sleep just a little bit longer. The baby and I went for a walk on an trail here in Lexington that leads you past old farmhouses and homesteads. And there's a waterfall. And a reservoir. And it was beautiful and peaceful and we nursed in a prairie under a grove of trees. (No, we really did that... the place was amazing.)

So we finished our lovely hike in this gorgeous place, and it was only 10:30 in the morning... and I couldn't think of anything else to do. 

Because without my kids, I'm a non-person. I am not anything. I have no hobbies, no talents. (Well, I watched a lot of Stargate SG-1 and the Great British Baking Show while I was nursing, but I don't think those count.) Right now, all of my energy is pointed towards keeping three tiny humans alive, and without them, I can't think of anything to do. If there is a quiet moment, I simply wait for the next minute that they'll need me. Because somebody ALWAYS needs me. 

So on my birthday, when I have the day off, and I don't need to think about the children (except the one who is with me and smiles a lot, despite the fact that she gives the camera a, "Why are you photographing me?" face every time we try to get her on "film"), I can't think of anything to do. Standing in the parking lot, turning in circles, feeling like a failure, because I can't think of one thing I would like to do that doesn't involve my children.

So I went to Target to buy diapers. 

And I ran into a friend... who was out shopping with her kids, and she said, "Yeah, that's where we are right now. It would take 4 days to get out of Mom mode. So really, you need a week off, and we don't get that right now. And it sucks."

And I thought, "You know? She's right."So I went to Mellow Mushroom for lunch because they are the ONLY pizza place that will use Vegan Cheese and they also have an amazing hummus that they make with fresh basil. (Yum.) And then I went home. 

Happy Birthday to me.

Now here's the God part... God gave me three gifts on my birthday. Three birthday presents that He just handed to me, even though I didn't pray for them, I wasn't looking for them, and I wasn't "eagerly anticipating" them. He just gave them to me.

Side note: and that's kind of a big deal to me right now because my main love language used to be physical touch but with three small children who have no concept of personal space, my main love language is now "get off me!" (My poor husband... I literally had a panic attack one night in bed when he reached for my hand and I screamed at him, "Really? I can't have one minute of no one touching me? REALLY?" Sorry, honey.) Due to this lack of space around me, my main love language has switched to gifts. (Again, sorry honey. I used to ask for "a walk in the woods, holding your hand," and this year, for our anniversary, I was all "(sob, sniff) And you didn't buy me anything!... You blew it, man!"

So gifts. That's how I know someone loves me. And God gave me three birthday presents. See? Kind of a big deal for me. :) 

Gift 1: The day before my birthday, I was in Joann Fabrics with the kids and a woman handed me 2 yards of dinosaur-printed flannel that the 4-year-old had been admiring. She had purchased it for me because, "Any mom who can handle three small children as well as you are is obviously a great mom." (Seriously, an angel dressed as an old woman with big hoop earrings.)

Gift 2: Running into an encouraging friend at Target who told me that I wasn't crazy, I was just a busy momma.

Gift 3: When I got home, there was a stalk of fresh basil waiting for me. (Okay, so this one I did ask for... sort-of.  While I was eating the amazing hummus at Mellow Mushroom, in my head I thought, "I would love some to have some fresh basil at home.") When Mike had taken the boys to play at the park in our Community Garden, one of our neighbors was there weeding her garden plot. She snipped off a stalk of her own basil and handed it to Mike, "Take this to your wife for her birthday." So there was this pile of gorgeous, earthy smelling basil leaves waiting for me when I got home.

And I didn't realize any of this... until the next day in church. And we're standing there, singing... and suddenly it hits me... God gave me three presents for my birthday! And then my toddler hit me as he was trying to climb into the chair backwards and then he knocked over my travel mug full of coffee and the baby, who was in the Ergo on my front, started whimpering. 

And 10 minutes later, I cried and I prayed, "God, I can't even say "Thank you." You do this amazing thing for me, and I don't even have one minute that I can say "Thank you" and worship you for how awesome you are." And God responded, 

"I know. You can't reach for me right now because your hands are full. But I can reach for you."

And then I sat down and ugly cried. Because He's right. My whole life I had been taught that if I wanted to be close to God, then I needed to make it happen. I needed to pray. I needed to sing. I needed to read my Bible, or have a "quiet time" or take a walk in the woods to really get close to God's creation and His presence. But here was God, in all of his amazing, wonderfulness saying, Here I am, getting close to you.

And that's when I realized what the Holy Spirit was all about. Sure, he provides healing. Sure, he helps us make good choices. Sure, he convicts us when we sin. But his whole point, the reason that Jesus went back to Heaven after his resurrection, was so the Holy Spirit could come and be the presence of God on Earth. The Holy Spirit is here so that God can be close to us. 

So why did I feel like I had to try so hard to do it on my own?!!???

So then what is the point of reading your Bible, writing in a journal, having a quiet time, taking a walk to enjoy God's creation? Because God didn't tell me that all of those things were pointless... He said I didn't have time for them NOW. So if the point of those activities wasn't personal holiness or "coming closer to God" what is the point of doing them???

A few months back, our Pastor gave an amazing sermon that answered that question. In this sermon, he cited two psychological studies that were researching pairs of people working on a challenging task. Both studies concluded that doing something together, in a non-stressful environment, prepares you to work together when faced with a challenge. He used these studies to unpack the verses of Romans 8:1-18, namely how to live life by the Spirit. His suggestion was that the point of reading your Bible, quiet times, etc. was to provide that non-stressful hobby which you and the Holy Spirit can participate in, so when times of struggle come, you can more easily cooperate with Him. 

So when finding a quiet time to have a "quiet time" was stressing me out, God was like, "Stop it. I'm right here." So now we find other "non-stressful hobbies" to do together... like coloring pages that have bible verses on them which I can color while my children are coloring. Or sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, thanking God for my porch and coffee, while my children spray each other with a hose. Or making full use of the church nursery and kids programs when all three of our children agree to go so that I can worship and listen to the sermon without distraction. And these seem to be enough for right now. 

When I can get some time to myself, I usually take my Bible. 

Sometimes I read it. Sometimes I don't. 

But I'm trusting that if God has something important to tell me, He'll tell me. 

Because right now, I have children who enjoy playing "Dino-wrestling Jamboree" and they need me to referee. :) 

in His own Words (part 1)

Last year, in this post, I wrote about realizing that I was mad at God. And at the end, I promised that I would write again to explain where He and I are right now. And I never did. So now I am.

Once upon a time, I became a Christian.
I grew up in an evangelical home.
I was baptized at the age of 5.
I went to church every Sunday. (well, my siblings will tell you about the time I refused to go to church and my parents and I had a very dramatic standoff involving me sitting in my pajamas in the church parking lot... but MOSTLY I went to church every Sunday.)

And I gotta tell you, I loved Jesus. Like, I was excited to go to church. (most of the time ;) ) I liked reading my Bible. I was that kid who won awards for memorizing Bible verses. I gathered prayer requests from my bunk mates at summer camp. I wore the "I ♥ Jesus" t-shirt to school. (No, like I really did that. It looked like this:

When I was in 5th grade, I wrote an essay about how I wanted to be a Missionary when I grew up. I took French in High School because I had heard that Bible-believing Christians were a tiny minority in France and I wanted to go there and tell people about Jesus. (That's a true story.)

So, I liked being a Christian. I liked hanging out with Jesus. I wanted to be close to Him and do the things that He did. (Okay, yes, I did have a WWJD bracelet... but it wasn't because it was cool, it was because I actually read the book "In His Steps" that the whole trend was based on... like, I found my mom's 1960-something copy of the old book first published in 1896... So like, I was legit with my old book copy and everything... (ahem.)

The types of churches that my family attended were pretty... tame churches, for lack of a better description. People loved Jesus, and prayed for healing and sent out missionaries and raised their hands in worship, but the Holy Spirit wasn't really talked about. He was kind of like the weird uncle that people love to hear stories about (Did you hear how Mrs. Church Lady had cancer and people prayed for her and she went to the doctor and the doctor was like, "Whoa, no more tumor! Jesus is cool!") but nobody really wants around because he's going to say something awkward at Thanksgiving dinner. So, in the denominations that my family attended, the way to be close to Jesus was to:
1. read your Bible
2. have a quiet time (it should be everyday, but at the very least every other day)
3. write in a journal
4. go to church.

We even had our own "memes" about it... before there were memes... when you would just wear a clever saying on a shirt or put a sticker on your guitar case. (I'm pretty sure guitar-case stickers were the meme generators of the late 90s.)

  

Oh wait, that's something else...

Then, I got to Tanzania and I started working with a Pentecostal church...where EVERYBODY raises their hands, and people speak in tongues and healing happens IN SERVICE on SUNDAY morning! (What?) And the Holy Spirit is like the cool kid that everybody wants to be friends with even if they've never really met him. ("Oh, HS? Yeah, I know him. I was praying the other day and like 40 people just fell on their faces and like worshipped and there was healing and deliverance and stuff. It was awesome." ) And suddenly, the way to be close to Jesus was to hang out with the Holy Spirit, and pray for people, and use your gifts in worship... and speak in tongues.

But, here's the thing... I don't speak in tongues. (At least, not in the usual way... ) And my own life story involves God NOT healing me, no matter how much we prayed/worshipped/shouted at Him. (I mean, He had something else in mind... like a marriage and a family and stuff. But whatever.) So even though I was surrounded by "Holy Spirit People," I still didn't really know HOW to think about, let alone interact with the Holy Spirit. So staying close to Jesus now meant asking the Holy Spirit to help me read the Bible, pray about it, Hallelujah. But it was still MY job to stay close to Jesus.. My job to "move with the Spirit" (WTF?) to find God's will for my life... MY job to cooperate with whatever God wanted to do, whenever He wanted to do it.

And then God made me a mother... to two high energy boys and a little girl who NEVER stops moving! (like literally, never. Even in the womb it was like, Who's having a party in there?)

And now, I can't even go to the bathroom by myself. So finding time to pray? I can "lift up" a few things while I do the dishes, maybe... (But I'd rather watch old episodes of Stargate SG-1 just so I can hear an adult talk to me.) And reading my Bible? It's great, except if a kid sees me reading a book, he's going to be like, "Hey Mom, can you read me Curious George?" And I'm going to be like, "No, I'm reading my Bible." And he's going to be like, "Oh, I'll get my bible and you can read to me, too." And then he's going to go into his room and find his Bible and drop it on the floor and wake up his brother who is going to cry and come downstairs and insist that I snuggle him and then ask me to change his poopy diaper. And then the baby will start to cry while I'm changing the diaper because she also needs a new diaper and some breakfast. And I'm going to be so glad that I got up early to have some quiet time!!!

And when I finally get some time away on my own, I would love to WANT to go to Starbucks and sit with my cup of coffee and my Bible and read for hours and feel totally fulfilled. But I don't! When I get a break, I don't want to study!!

So last year, I told God, "Sorry. I can not find the time to sit quietly with you. I've tried. I've tried to involve my kids, or get up early or go to bed late. But none of it works. And I know if I feel far from you, "I'm the one who moved" so it's my job to find my way back. But I just can't right now. So, I'll see you when my kids turn 18."


And I thought that was it, you know? "God, I'll see ya in 18 years."

And then God spoke.
And He changed things.
He changed everything.
And He made me realize how much of HIM I was actually missing.

(But now my children are awake... well, they were already awake and I made them watch Daniel Tiger so I could finish this... well, they were awake watching Daniel Tiger last week when I finished this post and now they're getting ready to wake up again while I rewrite the last two sentences. So, I'll have to make this a two part blog. Stay tuned for the exciting continuation... or don't, or whatever. Because I'm sure you've got stuff to do also. ;)

in Seminary

(cough, cough.) wipes away dust and cobwebs. creaky door swings open.

Anybody home?

I know. I know. 

Last time I wrote a post I said I'd write again a week later. 

I know that was 8 months ago. 

But Seminary is no joke, y'all!! It is a time-sucking, family destroying, killer of souls! 

Okay, maybe it's not. 

Well, sometimes it is. 

But mostly it's not. (well, it's finals week... so right now it is.)

I saw a friend at church last week. She asked how my family was doing and if the hubby and I had had our bi-annual, "end of semester" fight yet. I cracked up! Because yes, yes we had. 2 weeks ago. And then we discussed the idea of having a Spouses-End-Of-Semester-Support-Group. :) 

Because Seminary is hard! Like, really hard. Like so hard that our school offers free and reduced counseling for couples and families, as well as a number of marriage strengthening classes and retreats. This is not a, "Well, I just graduated from a Christian University and I can't find a job so I guess I'll go to Seminary" type decision. (Please, please try to find a job at McDonald's first!)

But sometimes, you just can't help it. Sometimes, you work a job for ten years and all you can think about is teaching people about Jesus. And you take all the classes and attend all the trainings that your church offers. Then all you can think about is helping people who want to teach people about Jesus. So you spend lots of time talking to people who teach people about Jesus and you realize that you need more training. And your wife tries to talk you out of it, and you take a few online classes so that "our life doesn't have to change all that much," and you get permission to work remotely and finally, one day, you admit to your wife, "I think we need to move to Wilmore." And she sighs and says, "I know. God has been telling me the same thing." And then she cries in Jimmy Johns. 

Or something like that. 

And then working and studying and babies and small townhouses and papers and biblical languages... and a few weeks ago, I was done. I was ready to tell M that we have to quit school because the kids need a dad and I need a husband and we're tired of sharing him with his classmates, teachers, homework and books. So I prayed. And I pleaded. "God, if you want us to stay, you have to give me a vision for what's next. You have to give me a reason bigger than a degree." And God, in his mercy, did. 

At the end of April, I was out with my girl running some errands on a Saturday morning. And since it was only the baby in the car, I was able to listen to NPR. (Yeah for hearing adults talk!) An episode of This American Life called "Heretics" was playing. In it, a young pastor starts his ministry feeling like it's his responsibility to "get as many for Jesus as possible because everyone is headed for hell." Now, he preaches from a place of feeling like nobody is going to hell, because Jesus died for everybody and it doesn't matter whether you believe in him or not. Hearing this, I thought, "No wonder people think Christians are crazy. This guy is using the Bible to say BOTH that everybody is going to hell and nobody is. I'd think we were crazy, too! ugh! Bad theology!!" (I should clarify... it's not the fact that he changed his mind.... because faith has to be a living, moving journey... or it dies. I felt like he started from a place of bad theology and ended in a place of bad theology. What happened to the middle ground, people?)

And the next morning, God brought that moment back to my mind while I was worshipping in church... it felt like He was saying, "Bad theology doesn't just lead to bad choices. Bad theology gives Jesus a bad name." 

You see, M and I have long been fans of the saying, "Bad theology leads to bad decisions." 

For example: 

"We can't really afford this car but God isn't stopping us from buying it so he obviously wants us to have it." (or God's way of telling you not to buy it is that you can't afford it...) 

or "I need to find a different church because there are no single people here and the Bible says "it is not good for man to be alone" and "be fruitful and multiply" so I need to find a church where I can get married." (or there's a whole part in Corinthians about how good it is to NOT be married...)

or "I'm not allowed to tell my husband, "No" because 1 Corinthians 7:4 says "the wife does not have authority over her own body..." (um, I don't think you read the whole verse... it says the same thing about the husband's body belonging to the wife and that whole section of the letter is talking about not manipulating each other with sex. So, there's that.) 

But this seemed different... this seemed bigger: Bad theology gives Jesus a bad name. 

Bad theology makes pastor's say, "Give all that you have to my church and God will abundantly bless you." 

Bad theology can be used to justify holding up signs and saying horrible things like "God hates gay people." 

Bad theology convinces a husband that he is allowed to beat his wife because "the wife does not have authority over her own body..." 

Bad theology has created an image of Jesus that is manipulative, hateful, superior, takes advantage of the poor, suggests women stay in abusive marriages, only blesses hard work, and requires strict adherence to church tradition in order to be saved. 

and I gotta tell you, that's not who Jesus is. 

and it breaks my heart that that's the only "Jesus" that some people see. 

M is in school so that he can be a teacher. He doesn't want to preach, he doesn't want to lead a church. He wants to help the people who do those things. And now I understand why... because Bad theology gives Jesus a bad name. And if a PASTOR is the person teaching the Bad Theology... well, then that's all sorts of bad-ness. 

So that's our vision. That's our purpose. We're not in seminary so we can get a degree. We're in seminary so we can learn the difference between good and bad theology; how to use the original language of the Bible to put it's message in the correct context; and how to help others learn the difference between good and bad theology within their own cultural context. 

Because GOOD theology can introduce people to who Jesus REALLY is. 

And that's a vision I can get behind.