We didn’t expect cancer. We didn’t expect BRCA2. And we definitely didn’t expect chemotherapy to be needed. But it is, and they tell me I will lose my hair, so I decided that I would do something I have never done in my life: cut my hair SHORT.
So, last Monday night, a few of my local friends accompanied me to the hair salon where we met more of my friends and family via Zoom. For the next hour, we talked, laughed, cried, and watched my hairdresser cut off all of my beautiful, long tresses. (Part of the crying came from my daughter surprising me by cutting hers off, too.)
Everyone raved about how great I look with short hair. And everyone who has seen me in person or in pictures has done the same. (Y’all are amazing and helping me make the best of a terrible situation.)
But, ever since the haircut, I have been dealing with something new.
Anger.
I’m mad. I’m mad at cancer. I’m mad at short hair. I’m mad that I’m basically entering my own pandemic-style lock-down for the next 12-ish weeks. I’m mad I can’t have fresh salads or fresh berries. I’m mad that I can’t lay in the sun at the beach.
But it’s more than just the inconvenience of it all.
I’m mad because I feel like I am being stripped of who I am. One breast is gone, the other one will be gone soon, and eventually I am facing a hysterectomy. My hair has been shorn off, and will soon be gone altogether. For the first time in 16 years, I don’t have acrylic nails. I don’t feel feminine. I don’t feel pretty. And I’m angry about it. I’m angry at cancer and the way it is stripping me of things that have been essential to my identity as a woman.
But, I guess, anger is a good thing, because that means I am doing what I should be doing and moving through the grief of it all. I’ve moved past the denial and the feelings that this can’t really be happening and right on into the reality of it all. And that reality really makes me mad.
So often, people will try to squash their feelings, push them down, and in essence, refuse to feel them. But that isn’t healthy. We don’t have to wallow in those feelings, but we do need to feel them. We need to acknowledge those emotions that well up, not so they can control us, but so we can feel them and move through them in a healthy way.
So, I’m gonna allow myself some time to be angry, say some bad words, and probably cry over the next few weeks. I’m not gonna stay there long, and I’m not gonna wallow, but when the anger bubbles up, I’m gonna feel it and then take a few deep breaths and move on. Then I will repeat as needed. Trusting that one day, I won’t be as angry.
Less than a week out from surgery and if you ask me how I am doing and I say I’m doing fine – call me on it because I am lying. The truth is, while I am definitely anxious about the surgery and the recovery and whatever treatment comes next (before diving in to more surgeries), I am also anxious about something else.
Help.
I have so much I want to have done before surgery:
house (spotlessly) clean
spring yard work (perfectly) done
patio and deck prepped and ready so I can enjoy it while I am recovering
loose ends tied up at the office for my time away
The list could go on and on.
And let’s just acknowledge the fact that right after I got the cancer diagnosis, I also started a Doctor of Ministry program, so between those two things, I am behind on the basic upkeep of all of the above, which makes me embarrassed to invite people into my home that isn’t up to my normal standards of order and cleanliness.
Thankfully, I have friends who are being very good to push me to do something that I don’t do easily.
Ask for help.
Yesterday, I messaged a friend and asked her why it was so hard for me to ask for help. She told me three things:
You are used to being the care-giver, not the care-receiver .
You like being in control and not feeling vulnerable.
You don’t want to inconvenience anyone.
And she’s absolutely not wrong. But one of the things I am learning through this process is that people really do want to help, and by not asking for help, I am robbing them of an opportunity to care for me and be of help in a situation in which they, too, feel quite helpless on my behalf. Not to mention, as a pastor, I think it is important to model asking for help when needed, and it is important for me to understand how hard it is for others to ask for help.
So, yesterday, I asked for help. And today a number of my friends are coming over to help me knock out my long list of to-dos before next week’s surgery. Am I grateful? Absolutely. Am I an anxious mess? Of course I am. Am I embarrassed about the current level of disarray in my yard and house? You betcha. But, am I doing my best to let go of all of that in order to both lessen my stress and invite those who love me to help in a tangible way? I’m trying.
Here’s to asking for help, and receiving it with grace and humility.
If you didn’t start singing “C is for cookie” in a Cookie Monster voice, we can’t be friends.
Just kidding. Kind of.
One of my favorite necklaces, inspired by Alexis from Schitt’s Creek.
C is for a lot of things:
Cookies
Cake
Candy
Coffee
Church
Choir
Cheerleading
Coloring
Children (mostly my own)
Castle (as in the TV show with Nathan Fillion)
Cuddles (with my dog Brindley of course)
and of course, Chrisy (or Christina, as my dad would call me)
There are loads of things that start with the letter “C” that I absolutely love. But recently, I have become intimately familiar with another “C” word that I could do without.
Cancer.
Two months ago today, my annual screening mammogram turned into an additional mammogram, ultrasound and biopsy all on the same day. About 9 days later I got the results of the biopsy, and I was diagnosed with invasive lobular breast cancer. Because of my age, and other family history, I then underwent genetic testing which found that I am positive for BRCA2, a harmful variant in a particular gene that increases my risk, not only of breast cancer, but of other types of cancers as well.
I have to say, I’m not feeling too fond of that good ol’ letter “C” these days.
I have waffled back and forth whether to take this news public on a grander scale than how it naturally spreads. One day I feel like I should just keep it to myself and the circle of people around me. The next I feel like I should share my journey in case it can help others who may face this in the future. What ultimately pushed me into sharing this journey on my blog? A couple of things.
I process things through words. Spoken words. Written words. Words that run through my mind. To be able to sit down and write what I am thinking and feeling (and sometimes to then erase it all and start over) is therapeutic and cathartic. I am keeping a journal, which holds some of my personal thoughts (and rants, and tears), but blogging helps me to really think through things and draw connections to other areas of life.
I am realizing how important it is for me to hear the stories of others who have been on this journey, to hear their ups and downs, their struggles and fears, and ultimately, the way they have overcome this disease. If that helps me, then maybe my story can help others.
I’m not sure how often I will post. I’m not sure what the content will be exactly. I do know that I miss blogging and haven’t made it a priority for awhile, so this is impetus to get back to doing something that I love, hopefully in a way that is meaningful for both myself and for you, my readers.
At the end of the letter I sent to the congregation I serve telling them about this diagnosis, I wrote this:
As I was preparing to leave Greenville to relocate here for this call, a friend gave me a wall hanging, which hangs in my bathroom where I see it every day. It says, “Trust the next chapter, because you know the Author.” The circumstances in which I need to trust God may be different now than then, but the truth of this statement remains the same. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 tells us to give thanks in every situation because thanksgiving is God’s will for us. That is the stance that I will be taking throughout this journey, consistently looking for all the gifts for which I have to be grateful.
Gift from a good friend when I moved from Illinois to Alabama
So, I will choose to end each post with something for which I am grateful. Sometimes they will be very off-the-wall or funny, because if I don’t laugh, I will be a puddle of tears on the floor.
Today I am grateful for something my husband said the other night. It isn’t profound. It wasn’t particularly supportive. But it has made me smile every day when I remember it. When asked what he was thinking about and how he was feeling in light of the BRCA2 news, he looked at me and said, “It sucks. But so does dying.”
So there you go. Cancer sucks, and I don’t plan on dying, so instead, I’ll be kicking it’s a$$.
Today I have been bombarded with the fragility of life. First thing this morning I saw no fewer than six different posts on Facebook about loss of loved ones. Six.
Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, spouses, cousins, and friends whose earthly life is over. My heart is breaking for those who are facing these losses right now. I’ve been there and I know that it is hard in ways you can’t even comprehend until you are in the mist of the grief.
Of all of these losses, there is one that hit me like a punch in the gut this morning. We were just talking about him last night. The last update we saw just over a week ago was positive. We thought things were going well. And then suddenly they weren’t. And then this morning, we learned that he was gone, his fight over.
This one is tough for so many reasons. We shouldn’t be saying goodbye to friends our age. Of the four guys who stood up with Mike at our wedding, this is the second one we have lost to brain cancer. B was one of the most fun-loving people I have ever met in my life. My heart breaks for his wife and family who now have to find a new normal.
One of the questions that gets asked at times like these is, “why?” Why did this have to happen? Why do young people have to die? Why this person? Why now? Why? Why? Why?
And the thing is, the answer to this question is almost always, “I don’t know.” Which isn’t really an answer at all. In this life there will always be good and bad, joy and sorrow, gain and loss; it is simply the result of living in a world where sin entered through the choices of humankind, and with it brought darkness, pain, and trouble.
Perhaps the most troublesome issue in all of life is this, what we call the problem of evil, or more accurately the question of why a good God allows bad things to happen. (The theological term for this is theodicy, in case you wanted to know. If you didn’t want to know, you can be like my son and say, “thanks, but I don’t remember asking.” I won’t hear you, but you can say it.)
Theologians have attempted to reconcile the good God, bad things dilemma for centuries and there are all kinds of ways to address the issues and questions raised, (don’t worry, I’m not gonna pull out the theology books and get into the nitty gritty here) and yet, humanity still struggles with this conundrum. Why? Because pain hurts. Sorrow hurts. Loss hurts. And no one likes to hurt. And because no one likes to hurt, we look for ways to place blame, and for some, the easiest place to lay blame is on God.
One of the scriptures that we often use to talk about how Christians can go on living in the midst of troubles is John 16:33. here are just a few of the ways that this scripture is translated/paraphrased:
In other words, in the midst of anything and everything that the world can throw at you, you can still have peace and be confident that all will turn out for the best because the work of Jesus Christ has already taken care of it all. Here is where it get’s tricky to understand, though: while Christ has already overcome the world, we don’t see it. It’s already done, and yet it’s not fully evident to our eyes yet. And to live in the space between requires us to have faith.
When I was still a pretty small child, I spent a lot of time reading and memorizing passages in the bible. King James Version of course. This passage that speaks of the nature of faith was one of them:
Now faithisthesubstance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
Hebrews 11:1
What I love most about this particular verse in this particular translation is the fact that faith is considered EVIDENCE. Our faith comes as a result of believing certain things are true about our God and our Savior, and that faith is EVIDENT in the way that we live our lives in light of those things that are unseen with human eyes.
Let me give you an example of this kind of faith (that also happens to brag on my mom a little.)
My dad passed away suddenly almost three years ago now. It was a HUGE blow to all of us, but was hardest for my mom, who lost her husband of nearly 45 years, less than a week before celebrating their 45th Wedding Anniversary. My parents did nearly everything together, and while they had been living in Greenville for a few years at that point, they didn’t have the roots here like they would have in Taylorville where they lived a big chunk of their married life.
Mom’s faith is what got her through those early days, and what still gets her through today. She misses my dad greatly, but she believes not only that Dad is with the Lord, but that God loves and cares for her every day. She has made new friends, created new routines, reached out to others, and at times I think she has a more active social life than I do. She also believes that God can (and does) use their story as a way to show others the saving power and grace of Jesus Christ. Her faith in God and the power of God’s story in their lives led her to write a book, and work hard to get the book published in order to share it with as many people as possible.
This is what faith looks like for her. This book (and so much more in her life) is just one piece of EVIDENCE that points to her deep faith and hope found in Jesus Christ.
While life can be all of those things listed at the top of this post, and much more, today I choose to finish this sentence this way:
Life is an opportunity in which to live lives of faith that is EVIDENT in all that we say and do.
How would you finish this sentence today? Leave a comment or send me a message and let’s talk!
This year for Christmas, two of my friends and I went in on a group gift – one year of Hunt a Killer fun. Each month, we receive a box with clues to help us figure out who committed murder. The boxes are serial in nature, so for six months the storyline is continued from month-to-month, and then the second six months we will have a new storyline. We have done the first two boxes and we LOVE it. It is so much fun, especially for those of us who like procedural TV dramas like Criminal Minds, Elementary, Bones, Law and Order SVU, and more.
In each of the first two boxes, our task was to eliminate a suspect based on timelines and corroborating evidence. Using our very own murder board (a $2 bulletin board we got at the thrift store), we were able to correctly identify the two suspects, out of the nine possible, who are NOT responsible for murder.
Playing detective is fun, especially when you get to spend time with friends who are also focused on solving the same mystery you are.
Lately, I feel as if I am also playing detective in other areas of my life. Not to identify a murderer, but rather to identify the next steps in my journey. This kind of detective work isn’t nearly as fun.
Last week, I was certified ready to receive a call, which, in the Presbyterian Church USA means that I can begin looking for a place where I will be ordained and installed as a Minister of Word and Sacrament (fancy title for pastor).
A preliminary search on the denominational website lists well over 200 churches across the country which meet the criteria of my search. My initial reaction was (and kind of still is) one of being completely overwhelmed. How in the world am I supposed to read about these churches and know whether or not they would be a good fit for me and I for them? How do I even begin to find the “clues” that point me in the right direction? What criteria will I use to help me make the decision? How does this affect my family and what do I do when it comes to making sure they are part of the decision-making process?
Yesterday, as I read a chapter in Enter by the Gate, by Flora Slosson Wuellner, the very first sentence hit me right in the heart: “When the true Shepherd guides us, a gate will open before us, leading to a wider place.”
In this chapter, Wuellner talks about praying about a problem, placing it in God’s hands, and then alertly waiting to see what happens. She acknowledges that there are most definitely other guidelines to consider as we are making choices, but that paying special attention to little or big changes that occur after praying about a situation is often how we hear from God.
She tells a story later in the chapter that grabbed my attention as well:
“I stepped into a gambling casino once to make a phone call. the flashing strobe lights and the harsh music didn’t horrify me nearly as much as the fixed, intense gaze on the faces of the people working the machines. Like sleepwalkers, most of the them were closed off, deaf to any other interest, any other person. The casino had no windows. Customers could not see the sky, the trees, the clouds, or any natural light. They were narrowed down to one thing, the money machine in front of them. I still carry this inner picture, symbolic of all our addictive prisons of the spirit, which are any fixations that close us off to God’s world around us.”
Flora Slosson Wuellner, Enter by the Gate
Sometimes in crime dramas you see a particular police officer that is sure that a certain person is guilty, so sure that they cannot see that the evidence points elsewhere. Their focus is way too narrow and actually impedes the process of the investigation.
The thing is, having a world of opportunities ahead of me isn’t a bad thing because it opens my eyes to a bigger picture of the many ways that God could lead and helps me to see beyond the safe, easy options that could close me off to something amazing. I don’t want to impede the work of the Holy Spirit by having too narrow of a focus.
For that reason, I will continue to pray for God’s leading and guiding. After all, Jesus told us, “Ask and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” (Matthew 7:7)
“Loving guide, my true Shepherd, I give [this process] to your hand and heart. Show me the open gate. I know you hear me and that a way is opening for me. I give you thanks.”
Flora Slosson Wuellner, Enter by the Gate
Amen.
Are there choices or decisions that are looming for you? Do you feel like you don’t have the tools and information to make the “right” choice? Or are you so focused on what you want that you aren’t seeing other things that God has placed in your path? How about taking it to God in prayer today.
Feel free to comment or send me a message if you want to chat!
I know, I am a week late, but this is the first moment I have had to sit down and write the post that has been on my heart for a few days.
I don’t know about you, but for me, the start of a new year holds so much promise for something new. Especially when I am coming off of a year that seemed to be a struggle. If you have read my blog long, you know that something I work on regularly is gratitude, which has truly changed the way I look at life. Most of the time.
But there are always those times when I am sick, tired, overwhelmed, or frustrated, and my focus on gratitude falters. That happened some in 2019, and to be honest, more than once I may have said that I was just done with 2019.
Yet, while there were definitely struggles in a number of areas, there were also many joys and much fun in 2019. I think that is one of the reasons that the book I am currently reading, and this one section in particular has just stayed with me the last few days.
I was given the book, Searching for Happiness, by Martin Thielen, and it has been my “before bed” book since the start of the year. (I almost always have a non-fiction book that I can read a chapter of before bed. If I try to read fiction before bed, I stay up way too late.) In chapter two, Thielen recounts a story he heard from John Claypool about his grandfather.
For decades a beautiful plum tree stood in the backyard of John Claypool’s grandfather’s house. The tree was the prize of the farmer and the pride of John’s grandfather. Then one day a tornado swept through the community. the storm destroyed many trees, including that plum tree. The violent winds ripped the tree from its roots and left it lying lifeless on its side. After the tornado blew over, people ventured outside to survey the damage. Before long a few neighborhood men gathered in John Claypool’s grandfather’s yard. They stood in a silent circle, gazing down at the once beautiful plum tree, now ruined beyond repair. Finally, one of the men asked John’s granddaddy, “What are you going to do with that tree?” After a long pause the old man replied, “I’m going to pick the fruit and burn the rest.”
Martin Thielen
“I’m going to pick the fruit and burn the rest.”
This simple statement is so profound that I can’t stop thinking about it.
What if we looked at yesterday that way? What if we looked at 2019 that way? What if we looked at our whole life that way?
Looking at what is good, what brought joy, what inspired hope, what we learned and how we grew, but letting the other stuff go is picking the fruit and burning the rest.
So, what fruit are you “picking” from 2019?
For me it is things like graduating from seminary the same weekend my daughter graduated from high school, a girls weekend in Memphis, a 3-family trip to Southhaven, Michigan, a family trip to Gulf Shores, Alabama, a great Vine to Wine 1/2 Marathon and 5K, my son turning 16 and getting his license, a wonderful internship experience at First Presbyterian Church Edwardsville, Illinois, an amazing family, a great group of friends, lots of books read and lessons learned.
And as I move into 2020, I will continue to learn to enjoy the fruit. I hope you will as well.
Not only was I appalled at the nonchalance with which this man completely denounced women preaching, but with the response of the people in attendance – applause and cheering. I don’t know what the make-up of the audience was, but I can guess it was mostly, if not completely made up of men.
One of the things that John MacArthur said was:
“(when people) literally overturn the clear teaching of scripture to empower the people who want power you have given up biblical authority.”
John MacArthur
I literally had to listen to that more than once. Seriously? Isn’t the clear teaching of scripture just this? Giving power to the powerless? Justice to the oppressed? Freedom to the prisoner? Hope to the forgotten? Resources to the poor? Healing to the sick? Need I go on?
If this is truly how he feels, does that mean that we should go back to a country that condones and practices slavery? After all, the bible talks about how slaves should obey their masters. Should we all revert to being slaves in Egypt? Because didn’t God empower to the Israelites to escape Pharaoh?
Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I am a preacher. And yes, God has called me to do this work. I believe that rather than take one or two verses that Paul wrote to a specific audience for a specific purpose and broadly apply them to every situation forever and ever, it is much more important to look at how Jesus treated women, giving them a voice and a place in a culture where they had none, and to look at how Paul ministered with women and empowered them to be about the work of building the church. God created us all in God’s image. God has gifted us all in various and specific ways. And God calls us ALL to be about the work of spreading the good news of the gospel.
I am not angry. But I am sad, because I am for the inclusion of all at the table of the Lord, and I believe that when we put limits on what God is able to do, then we are hurting not only people created by God, but we are also doing serious damage to the Kingdom of God in the here and now.
Want to read more about the full inclusion of women in ministry? Here are some links to check out:
There are a ton more resources – maybe you even have one or two you want to share in the comments.
I want to leave you with a new song that I heard today that sums up all of this for me – to love with the love of Christ means that at the table of Christ, ALL are welcome, ALL are important, ALL are called.
“At This Table” Indina Menzel
At this table everyone is welcome At this table everyone is seen At this table everybody matters No one falls between
At this table you can say whatever At this table you can speak your mind At this table everything’s forgiven There’s enough for everyone
So come as you are Remember that the door is always open Yes come as you are The perfect gift that you could bring is your heart So come, come as you are
At this table there will be no judgements At this table mercy has a seat At this table we’re all sons and daughters There’s no place I’d rather be
So come as you are Remember that the door is always open Come as you are The perfect gift that you could bring is your heart Come, come as you are
Come as you are
At this table everyone is welcome At this table everybody cares At this table everybody matters So come pull up a chair
I see it everyday. Memes. Comments. Posts. Someone always has something to say about someone else, and it’s not often good. Most of the time it is some kind of commentary on a particular group or type of people, noting how they don’t line up to some standard that the person posting has arbitrarily set.
And this really makes me angry. Particularly when the people that are posting claim to be followers of Christ – Christians.
Two different people that I have talked with this week have said something along the lines of, “I just can’t do church because of the damage done to me by the people who are supposed to be Christ followers.”
This is a problem. Fellow Christians, listen to me – WE ARE THE PROBLEM!
Last I checked, we haven’t been given all of the answers, we haven’t been gifted with the fullness of God’s plans for the world and the humanity therein, but we have specifically been told that we are not to act as judges of our fellow humans.
As I was listening to Pray As You Go this morning, the passage was Romans 2:1-11, which says:
Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, when you judge others; for in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, are doing the very same things. 2 You say, “We know that God’s judgment on those who do such things is in accordance with truth.” 3 Do you imagine, whoever you are, that when you judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself, you will escape the judgment of God? 4 Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience? Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? 5 But by your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath, when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed. 6 For he will repay according to each one’s deeds: 7 to those who by patiently doing good seek for glory and honor and immortality, he will give eternal life; 8 while for those who are self-seeking and who obey not the truth but wickedness, there will be wrath and fury. 9 There will be anguish and distress for everyone who does evil, the Jew first and also the Greek, 10 but glory and honor and peace for everyone who does good, the Jew first and also the Greek. 11 For God shows no partiality.
If God shows no partiality, why do we? After all, Paul tells us here that WE HAVE NO EXCUSE that allows us to judge others.
So, instead of focusing on what everyone else is doing wrong or how everyone else is living their life, how about we focus on where we are in need of God’s grace, and living in such a way that brings glory to God. This kind of life will have more far-reaching and positive impact than one in which we dub ourselves the judge of humankind.
I like to read. Anyone who knows me is aware of this. And I like to read lots of different things. Sometimes I am into memoirs. Sometimes romantic suspense. Sometimes non-fiction. Sometimes classics.
Last week I finished reading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. I thought I had read it when I was younger, but apparently not, because it was not familiar to me at all. I loved it and had a hard time putting it down.
The real reason I read it was because I was told about March by Geraldine Brooks, the story of the girls’ father from Little Women. So of course, the minute I finished Little Women, I picked up March.
Yes, the story is told by another author, so it is her imagination at work, but nevertheless, I am having the same issue with this book – I can’t put it down.
But what is drawing me in more than anything is the fact that Mr. March is an abolitionist whose convictions led him to sign up as a chaplain in the Civil War.
I am only about half-way through the book, but the character of Mr. March in regards to his position on slavery is fascinating and inspiring. Standing up for what he believes is right, even when others disagree, sometimes very harshly; working to help the slaves – whether still in servitude or “freed” (escaped, conscripted to work for a minimal wage for the union – not exactly free); this man not only believed that slavery was wrong, he did what he could to back up that belief and treat all as those who bear the image of God.
Fast forward to today. Yes, slavery is no longer legal. Yes, we have granted rights to people of all skin colors. But have we really moved that much past the time in which fictional Mr. March was living?
I sat in a gathering of Christian women recently, in a breakout session about racism. I was stunned to hear some of the questions that these (white) women had about the issue. When our presenter made a comment about our Constitution being racist, people were shocked and didn’t understand what she meant. When she said that black people could be prejudiced against whites, but not racist because racism implies power and privilege, I could feel the discomfort and lack of understanding in the room.
In the last few years, issues of racism, not just individual but systemic, have once again been brought to the forefront with events like those that happened just down the road from me in Ferguson, Missouri. As far as we have come since President Lincoln and the Emancipation Proclamation, and since Martin Luther King, Jr. and “I Have a Dream,” it is not far enough.
As a white woman, I cannot fully understand the struggles that my black brothers and sisters have to deal with on a daily basis. I don’t have to wonder when my son leaves the house if he will come back home alive. I don’t have to worry that he might get passed over for a job because of the color of his skin. And it breaks my heart that this is the reality in our country.
Issues around race (which is a human construct – not God’s because we were all created as the human race), are complex. They are hard to understand – especially for those who have never had to deal with them. They are even harder to address because of the ways in which they have been built into our country from the beginning. (Remember how when the white Europeans came to this country they kicked the indigenous people off the land they had been living on for years?)
But here’s the thing. Just because it is hard, doesn’t mean it is not worth it. And God has told us over and over in the Bible that we are to be about the business of lifting up the oppressed and downtrodden.
Also at this women’s meeting, a young black woman, Glynis Brooks, came and portrayed the story of Harriet Tubman. It was one of the most amazing things that I had ever seen. The fear, the cruelty, the bravery, and the determination of this woman as she escaped from slavery, and then led others in their escape through the Underground Railroad inspired me and broke my heart all at the same time.
I was asked in the small group gathering about racism why I attended that particular breakout. My answer was this: I can’t know firsthand what my black brothers and sisters experience on a daily basis, but I can listen to their stories, I can educate myself about what they face, I can acknowledge my privilege, I can speak out about the injustice that I see, and I can hopefully help those with the power to change the system to see what I see: that we haven’t come far enough and we have more work to do.
Isn’t it interesting how a song you have heard many times before can suddenly jump out and hit you like a cup of cold water to your face?
That was this song for me this morning as I was in my Contemplative Corner. I had just finished my bible reading and journaling, and moved on to listening to a little music before I jumped in the shower to prepare for the day.
And then I had to listen to this song a couple more times.
Because I think this song really addresses what happens, (or needs to happen) as we continue to draw near to God, and emulate Christ, and be led by the Holy Spirit.
We think that we can package Christianity up in a neat little box with lots of rules and regulations, when in reality, the more we read God’s Word, we find out that it’s not as easy as that.
When we are truly living out of the love that we have been given by God through Christ Jesus, it gets messy and doesn’t fit into our human constructs of religion. And that is a good thing, because it forces us to rely on God rather than ourselves, and to see people as God sees them rather than how our human eyes see them.
It all comes down to one word for me: LOVE. When we live with the love of God at the center of our lives, when we love like Jesus loves, this is when we are living out our faith in the most effective way. This is when we are acting in ways that bring glory not to ourselves, but to our God.
So, take a listen this morning. What else would you say to yourself today? How can you step out in love this week? Let me know your thoughts!
