... and the crick don't rise

"A man's heart devises his way, but the LORD directs his steps." - Prov. 16:3

"... you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live, and do this or that.'..." - James 4:15

An old tag (end of sentence) goes, "be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise." Folks said it after planning to meet again next week or next month, etc. The saying was an acknowledgement that nobody is promised more than the moment they are living in, and that God is sovereign. By sovereign, I mean that He chooses what happens in spite of our plans. Sometimes the things we plan happen, and sometimes they don't. Either way, it is God who decides how things will play out.

I have had constant reminders of this fact the last couple of years, mostly to do with my schooling. A planned practicum in the fall of 2018 led to a failed practicum and me having to put it off until the following fall, looking for a new site. Once I found one that was perfect, things were in place when all of a sudden one of the main participants became very ill, and needed to extricate himself from all non-essential commitments. Thus, again, I had to defer my practicum.

Photo by misterfarmer at Pixabay

And now it is 2020. By God's grace, the arrangement from last year has held, tentatively, since nobody knows what life will look like later this year (with COVID-19 being such a reality in our world). But even before the virus, I determined to hold such things lightly, and to leave the final decision to the Only One who sees the end from the beginning. It's an exercise in faith for sure!

As I've been preparing for "whatever God has" (as my formerly sick mentor put it recently), I've been doing some reading about the call of God to each believer to 'incarnate Christ' (yes, used as a verb!) to those around us who may be in need of His help. That requires that I have a vibrant and vital relationship with Jesus. More and more I am seeing how I have needed this time of waiting in order to step back from all I thought I knew, and to re-learn how I can be an instrument in God's hands. I am called to be the embodiment of Jesus to those who need to see Him and know Him in a more intimate way. I am one of His ambassadors - called to act on His behalf the way He would: with love, acceptance, and compassion.

And thank God, I have the power to do that - as do all believers - because of the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. Without Him, I would be totally unequal to such a task.  This isn't just words. It's breath ... life ... living. I'm challenged to seek His glory above my own. I'm willing to open myself to Him in intimacy. All those things I have always wanted as a believer can be realities as long as I align myself with His desire for me: a love-bond with Him. Only then can I be a part of the overflow of His presence into others' lives at their point of need.

I truly hope that "the crick don't rise" this time.  And I know that even if it does, He's got this.

He always has.

In Everything

"Be anxious for nothing, but
in everything, by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving, make your requests

known to God." - Philippians 4

The above verse came to my mind today as I reviewed my Facebook news feed. So many people are so freaked out over this coronavirus "COVID-19" even though our little province has had only 27 cases, all travel-related, and all recovered with NO hospitalizations. Be that as it may, I am not one to deny the potential dangers of the virus, nor am I one to pooh-pooh medical directives to wear masks and keep washing my hands and avoid touching my face. 

What I am most concerned with, however, is the tendency of people to say that they trust in God and yet they continue to obsess about what others are doing to endanger their own health (by political decisions to allow snowbirds who have properties here into the province, or to allow more than 5 people at a time to get together, for example).

That's when I think of Philippians 4 - and meditate on what that means for me. I see a number of things that I can apply to this very situation.

First, don't worry.  Worry only robs you of the moment, of enjoying the present. It does nothing to change the situation. Worry is actually bad for folks because it raises hormone levels that cause people to gain weight and to be more depressed and anxious. Besides, the actions of others are out of my control; I can only control what I do, not what others do. So it is fruitless to worry.

Second, pray in everything. Not just about everything, but IN everything - in the midst of the problem, bring it to God. Bring your anxiety, bring the whole situation, and how you feel about it, to God.

Free image by geralt at Pixabay.com

Third, and perhaps most important, pray with asking AND thanksgiving. "Supplication" is just a fancy way to say asking or requesting. But this requesting is not the oh-please-please-please kind, the kind that has very little trust in the goodness of God. It isn't like someone making a petition to their boss or to their premier. Rather, it is the act of a child asking something from a loving father. It trusts in the Father's love, in His character, in His goodness. It's the kind that says, "I ask You for this and I trust You that You will do what is best, so I thank You for whatever You decide to do." It is the prayer that leaves the outcome to God's loving care, and lets go of the desire to influence how things turn out.  It is the prayer of faith, not in the outcome, but in God Himself.

No other kind of prayer will calm the spirit. I know, because I have seen the kind of prayer that doesn't thank God for His decision. I remember as a child seeing my mom praying on her knees, crying and worrying on her knees, for a loved one. And when she got up from her knees she would still worry and fret, and be torn up, about the situation or the person she just prayed for. It did her no good and it did that person no good either. I know that, because the person she was praying for was me. All her prayers did was make me feel shame. I saw no faith there. I only saw a pitiful person worrying on her knees. It disgusted me. It made me not want to have anything to do with a God who couldn't be trusted to look after her OR me. (Of course, later, I came to understand that this wasn't what God was like. But it wasn't my mom who taught me that.)

Prayer IN everything WITH thanksgiving liberates the person who prays. It removes the responsibility for the outcome from that person's shoulders and places it on God's, where it belongs in the first place. It is an act of trust, not of fear. It honours God. It does not insult His grace and goodness. And it results in peace, not more anxiety.

That's the kind of peace I want. That's the kind of God I serve. I am overwhelmed by His loving care for me and for all of those who reach out to Him in faith, trusting His goodness and His grace. So when I pray - which I doubt if I'm ever NOT praying as it's a conversation with God - I listen for His heart, let go of what I can't change myself, and trust Him to either change those other things or help me to accept what is. And He does, simple as that. He does.

It's so freeing.

Tetelestai = completed

A lot of my blog ideas come from conversations over breakfast with my husband. Today's conversation had to do with how Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing," when He was being crucified. 

Many people think that this was because of the cruel things that were happening to Him. But that wasn't all of it. The more important part was that these people were the instruments through which the sacrifice for our sins were being made. They were sacrificing the Passover Lamb. This was a sacred moment - and they didn't realize the sanctity of what they were doing. In this context, Jesus' "forgive them" makes a lot more sense. 

Which brings me to Jesus' last STATEMENT from the cross. Keep in mind that every time He wanted to say something, He had to take a breath. To take a breath, He had to push down all of His weight on the spike driven through both of His ankles - an excrutiating prospect. And yet what He said was not so much a cry of relief but of accomplishment, of triumph. 

You see, the Greek word that is translated "It is finished" in some translations was a Greek business term, meaning "Completed!"  It referred to a transaction where someone paid in full for something they were purchasing.  The transaction was completed, accomplished, finished: there was nothing more that needed to be done because everything was finished. 

Put into spiritual terms, every sin: past, present, and future, once and for all, was paid for, in one huge transaction - at Calvary. As soon as it was completed, Jesus cried out that it was finished, and then committed His spirit to the Father's hands. And then He died. 

And to show that His transaction was accepted, God raised Him from the dead on the third day. 

Free Illustration by TheDigitalArtist at Pixabay

Nothing better than having your parking validated after you've spent all your resources!! :D

Tetelestai. The price is paid.
Tetelestai. The way has been made.
Tetelestai. Nothing more to do.
Tetelestai. For me, and for you.  
-- (c) Judy Gillis, 2020-03-19

Salvation is not something that we own. Jesus bought and paid for it; it is HIS. So He has the right to give it to whoever believes in what He accomplished. It's as simple as all that. Nothing we can do could ever pay that debt. But He could. And He did.

It is finished. Tetelestai. It is completed. Praise to God on High!!  
-- (Judy Gillis, 2020)

WAY COOL.

The Dividing Line

For the last few decades, but especially the last four-plus years, I've watched it with growing alarm. Otherwise wonderful people, committed Christians, good-living, God-fearing individuals, are fighting and losing friendships and even relationships with family members - now even in public fora like social media - about things that (to my way of thinking) should not even be an issue.  Politics.  Doctrine.  Human rights. 

Seriously?  When Jesus said that He came to bring division in Luke 12:51, He wasn't talking about these kinds of obsessions. He was talking about the simplicity of the Good News.  He was talking about Himself, about the Scandalon (the stumbling stone) of the Gospel. He was predicting family members turning each other in (in other words, turning in believing family members), ratting on them to the authorities because of their own lack of belief in Him. 

As for those who are fellow-believers, Jesus prayed in John 17 that they would be united - that they would be as united with each other and with Him as He was with the other members of the Trinity. Not in the sense that we all believe the same way about the same things, but in the sense of loving and accepting each other the way we are, in spite of our differences in thought or method. 

He said nothing of external politics. He said nothing of believers hating and bullying one another over piffling little details that mean nothing. 

Photo "Girls Looking At Each Other" courtesy of Stuart Miles
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

The dividing lines that I've noticed lately have been whether this or that leader is the right one for our respective countries. Or whether women should or should not preach. Or whether someone is white or a person of colour and whether that matters. Or whether certain people should be allowed to fall in love with each other and get married. Or whether people do or do not have the right to identify as male or female, or other. Or whether climate change does or does not exist. Each side -by and large - uses scripture as a weapon against the other.

Again I say, SERIOUSLY??

Ever since the dawn of humanity, there have been differences of opinion. And there will continue to be differences of opinion. Trump, Trudeau, democracy, socialism, feminism, etc., etc. Pick a topic, and someone has at least one opinion about it.  I even know someone who has three opinions on just about everything, and who will argue with herself without even anyone there in the room with her! 

But all these differences of opinion -- especially if we are believers -- are opportunities to show love to each other rather than excuses to fight one another. Otherwise, we poison our own testimony. And the cause of Christ suffers.

The world sees us fighting one another, putting one another down publicly, making fun of each other, and so forth, and what is the first thing they think? "If that's what being a 'Christian' is, I want no part of it."  And they are perfectly justified in saying so. Some believers, wanting no part of what passes for Christianity today, have decided that even though they believe in Jesus, they no longer want to be considered Christian because of the negative image it conjures up.

ENOUGH!! 

I submit another, more deserving, dividing line: a line in the changing sand of the times, so to speak. And I dare each of us to cross it, and to pay attention to the changing times while we do it. That dividing line is LOVE.

Enough with beating each other up over things that won't matter in a hundred years. Enough with trying to look good by making other people look bad. Enough with the martyr mentality (oh look at me, I'm the only one who has it right and you're just making me suffer...). Enough with the siege mentality where it's 'them against us'. Or 'us against them' more accurately....whoever "them" is! Most likely, it's usually the current villain in the crusader-mindset of religious folks: anyone that doesn't look like, act like, or think like we do. 

Come on, admit it - we've all done it in one way or another. We find a way to set ourselves apart from other folks. This kind of practice has earned itself the term of "othering" - treating another group of people as "less than" us because of some sort of difference we feel uncomfortable with. So let's step over that line from "othering" to "ANothering" where we love one ANother, bear one ANother's burdens, meet one ANother's needs. It doesn't mean we have to be doormats, but it does mean that we need to accept one ANother the way each of us is. 

And I think that Jesus would do the same. I know He did with me.

Day of Rest

There was a time, a few years ago, when I looked forward to Sundays  -  well, SOME Sundays at least  -  because I was in worship ministry and I knew and enjoyed spending time with the people on my worship team.  The leaders were Spirit-filled and Spirit-led - and worship was a pure joy, so much so that when I entered in, there was nobody that I was aware of except for my Savior and me. My husband agreed. For a while, it was marvelous.

Then those people left. They had another ministry opportunity elsewhere, and after they were gone, it seemed as though the life and soul went out of that place for us. Others came in to take their place, but that sense of being led by the Spirit gradually got replaced by a sense of duty and obligation. When that happened, church became an effort, and we noted how we spent a good five or six hours in that place on a Sunday, and came home exhausted, dead tired, from the sheer effort it took to navigate petty bickering, personality clashes, and politics. More and more we dreaded going to church. 

Finally, for those reasons and more besides, we realized that the organized church was not the place for us. We were burnt down to the core, used up, and spit out. People only wanted us around for our talents - and sometimes not even then. Error began to creep into the preaching - not the kind of error that questions if angels do or don't have wings, but the kind of error that made Christianity more about internal politics, external performance, and following an arbitrary set of rules than it did about acceptance, love and grace. As we stood on the platform and ministered, and even had time limits put on that, we felt as though our being there was a form of support for (and therefore agreement with) this kind of fear-based thinking. We wanted no part of that.

So after much prayer and soul-searching, we left. That was August 2015. 

Image "Couple Having Breakfast" courtesy of Ambro
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Since that time, we have grown to love Sundays again. It truly is a day of rest for us.  For one thing, we no longer dicker over whether Saturday or Sunday is the sabbath. Technically Saturday is, but we have long thought of Sunday as our day of rest, and as long as it is one day in seven (which we never had before; Sunday was our busiest day!) we figure it's all good. We finally can rest one day in seven!! For another thing, we can sleep in without guilt, leisurely have breakfast and talk to one another, spend time together, and do things we enjoy doing: reading, listening to music, going for a stroll, whatever. 

What's more, we are closer to God now than we have ever been in our lives. "What do you do for fellowship?" we hear church members ask us again and again when they hear us say we don't "go to church."  And we chuckle.  Back then, we "fellowshipped" by rubbing shoulders with people, shaking their hands (when we were told to) and talking about superficial things like the weather or sports or the latest style of boots, or whatever. Now, God sets up our fellowship (and so much more often than just once a week!) and we discuss deep spiritual things, we open up about our joys and struggles, and we pray for each other. It's koinonia - a real, living, fluid community, and we are so much more free than we have ever been. We have seen God heal, restore, encourage, and lift up our brothers and sisters, without ever setting foot inside a church building, because "where two or three are gathered together in My name, there I am in the midst."

And it happens all the time. Not just Sundays, but nearly every day of the week, in some form or other. We are happier, more at peace, more filled with joy, and growing in love and acceptance. We have seen God meet needs miraculously, whether physical or financial or emotional. It's exciting, quite frankly! And it gives us a sense of calmness and rest to live in that stream of loving community.  

So, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go read some more. And maybe I'll even take a short nap. Life is good. :)

A New Creation

"If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation.
The old has passed; the new has come."- 2 Cor 5:17

"People I talk to keep pressuring me to go to church," he explained. "I'm not so sure I'm ready to go. My reputation around here is not good, and I just know there will be those people who will sit back and wonder who I think I am, coming in there and testifying..."

"Well, you'd get that anywhere you went. You know that."

"I know," he sighed. "But I just need to spend some time with Father God so that I can be strong enough to not care what other people think of me." 

I nodded. "You take all the time you need. The most important relationship right now (and for that matter, always) is your relationship with God. And church," I added, "might be one way to enhance that. However, only when you're ready."

He quirked an eyebrow. "But I thought we weren't to forsake the assembling - - - "

I smiled. "What do you think this is -- right here, right now? Huh? We've been communicating with each other, sharing the things of the Lord, talking about our struggles, and caring for one another. I don't know what anyone else might call it, but I'd call it church!!"

His eyes slowly widened, and a smile began to shine from his eyes like a sunrise. "Didn't our hearts burn within us, when He was with us along the road...?  Wasn't that the two disciples on the road to Emmaeus?"

Photo by David Alberto Carmona Coto from Pexels

"Sure was." I grinned. "Wherever two or more are gathered in My Name, there am I in the midst." 

His shoulders relaxed.

"You'll get to the place where it won't matter what people think. So just know that any pressure you feel comes from other people's expectations, not necessarily from God. Of course, they might mean well, but you also don't answer to them. I think you're pretty good at recognizing when you are being manipulated rather than when God is telling you something. When you're ready, you'll know that it's time to make that step to be with others. But until then ... here we are. And that's okay."

His eyes glistened. He got it.

I've had this same conversation with more than one person, but I've picked this one because it stood out for me. I've had to have chats like this one because so many people are "church-hurt" and they need a slow reintroduction to the people who say that they belong to Jesus but who take particular delight in pointing out areas of improvement (thus trying to do the Holy Spirit's work for Him, but don't get me going.) And by "improvement" I mean areas where the person's life doesn't look like theirs: from actions to appearance. Same words, same hair-cut, same causes, same version of the Bible, same, same, same.  

It doesn't matter. Our Father is a God of endless variety, and it would be pretty boring if all of us looked, smelled, and acted like the same human.

What matters most is that this person, no matter the past, no matter the number of times he or she has said things have changed, no matter your or my opinion of things, is a new creation in Christ. The old has passed; the new has come. Who are we to sit in judgment? Who are we to hold that person's past against them? Who are WE to determine how fast and in what areas he or she should grow? Do WE know the inner workings of their heart?  What God has started in that person, He will finish. Whether they agree with us or not on everything, it isn't our job to make them into perfect replicas of ourselves. 

It's God's work to grow them up in Him, in a way that will bring out their unique qualities. He is the gardener, the caretaker, the great shepherd. He knows best what will draw each person into an intimate and vibrant relationship with Him. He's been doing it for far longer and is much better at it than you or I could be. Let's set aside our preconceived notions of how spiritual growth looks, and trust God to nurture His own creation how and when He sees fit. 

Besides, maybe they can someday speak life into someone who can relate to the way they look or talk. For example, their appearance - whether they have tattoos, dreadlocks, piercings, or whatever - might put us off, but that doesn't mean God can't use them to reach people who would never be drawn to us. And isn't that the main reason why we're all still here in the first place?

Live Free or Die

"LIVE FREE OR DIE" -- New Hampshire license plate logo (quote from General John Stark)
“Walk free from the long shadows cast by small people.”  -- Fennel Hudson
"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." 
-- Eleanor Roosevelt
"The price of liberty is eternal vigilance." - Thomas Charlton, 1809
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Paul the apostle, Galatians 5:1
"I just wanna live while I'm alive." -- Jon Bon Jovi, It's My Life https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAy9HEfR1dA

Found at Pexels - https://www.pexels.com/photo/low-section-of-man-against-sky-247851/

Of late, I have been doing considerable thinking about the concept of freedom and what it means. Wars and insurrections have been started for it; marches and protests have been staged for it; churches preach it and still people every day live in bondage, all the while thinking they are free. 

Such was the Galatian church's dilemma. They fell into the doctrine Jesus called "the doctrine of the Nicolaitans, which I despise..." in the book of Revelation. Basically it was the doctrine of "Jesus AND." That is, they thought that it wasn't quite enough to believe that Jesus died to save them from the wages of sin; oh no. They thought that one had to follow a strict code of rules and regulations in order to "keep" what Jesus had already provided for them free of charge. So Paul reminded them that Jesus was enough, and to stand in that freedom with grateful hearts that serve Him out of love and not out of fear. (Judy's paraphrase). 

How much of life do we spend living in fear!! A fear-based religion is one where the rules get stressed and so do the people as they try to keep them all. Living life fearing that if they do the wrong thing enough, or if they don't do the right things enough, God will be angry or at the very least displeased, sounds like a recipe for the performance-based focus of a lot of churches I have been to - and believe me, I've been to a LOT of churches of nearly every evangelical stripe. I've even heard this kind of "Jesus-AND" heresy preached from the pulpit in some places - that yes, Jesus saved you, but you gotta hang onto your salvation by doing, doing, doing. (Never mind BEING in an intimate relationship with Him that produces love and WANTING to please Him, oh no.) And in each of these churches there have been (percentages are approximate) the 8% who embrace that kind of thinking totally and judge those who don't toe the line, the 5% who get tired of being yelled at and leave, the 85% who beat themselves over the head every week for "not doing enough" and even come to expect the verbal abuse and welcome it (i.e., the religious masochists some of whom often also pray for revival because they know instinctively that something is wrong), and the 2% who actually are in a love-relationship with Jesus in spite of what they hear or experience at church. 

The thinking that the 'price of liberty is eternal vigilance' (1809, see above quote) came into being either during or shortly after the American Revolutionary War that led to its independence from Great Britain in 1776. Americans were afraid that the mother country would try to retake the colonies. But I believe that the thinking crept into the church as well, gaining a foothold of error just like the one that had taken hold of the Galatians. People LIKE the idea that they can have a say in their own destiny, not feeling entirely comfortable with the idea that salvation is a Divine initiative and even free will is absorbed into God's omniscience (aka predestination) - not that God decided who would be saved and lost, but that He knew in advance who would be (a subtle difference it is, indeed), because He knows all and is eternal, existing apart from Time. It takes nothing away from personal responsibility, but God being God will make His plan happen either through or in spite of us. (Think of free will and predestination as two sides of the same doorway. On the outside is written "Whosoever will" and on the inside is written "Chosen in Him before the foundation of the world.") 

But I digress. The kind of freedom I am talking about is freely given but to be earnestly and fiercely defended. I don't mean "defending the gospel" or using the Bible to cut someone apart with, as is the habit of many I've known in my life. What I am talking about is real freedom from the chains of "should" and "can't", freedom from fear, from cringing, from self-loathing, from what others think, even from what God thinks. (Try not to tar and feather me here; hear me out.) The truth is not that God is counting our sins or that He has this huge club waiting to smash us when we mess up. The truth is that we were forgiven before time even began, and Jesus came to Earth to show us that the way to personal relationship God was open to all. He came to take us by the hand and bring us to God (reconciliation) so that we could see that God viewed us as holy and blameless before Him. All we had to do was say Yes to Him - and we walked through the doorway of free will into the blessed truth that He has forgiven us ALL of our sins: past, present, and future - and made us a part of His body. His life courses through our spiritual veins. We are free. 

The old gospel men's quartet, The Imperials, used to sing a song called "Praise the Lord" featuring blues singer Russ Taff. One of the verses (and the chorus that follows) goes like this (emphasis mine),

Now Satan is a liar, and he wants to make us think
that we are paupers when he knows himself we're children of the King. 
So lift up the mighty shield of faith, for the battle has been won, 
we know that Jesus Christ is risen, so the work's already done!

  Praise the Lord - He can work through those who praise Him;
  Praise the Lord - for our God inhabits praise!
  Praise the Lord - for the chains that seem to bind you
  serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you
  when you praise Him.

I don't know how many ways I can say it. We are FREE. He has FREED us. He has redeemed us from slavery. We could not buy our own freedom; He bought it for us to prove His love for us and acceptance of us, just so we could feel FREE to be in relationship with Him. Just like old times. Just like the Garden. Walking with Him. Talking with Him all the time. Every moment, not a chore but a delight. Hello!! 

So yes, my heart's cry lately has been this, in the words of Bon Jovi : "I just wanna live while I'm alive." He has called me, like Lazarus, from the tomb. I don't want to toddle around still wrapped up in those putrid graveclothes of duty and obligation and fear. I want to be free! I want to ... Get Unwrapped! 

Another night with the frogs

The title of this post has become a common saying between my husband and me over the last thirty-odd years of marriage. 

It refers to the story of Moses and the ten plagues, when God was in the process of freeing His people from slavery in Egypt.  One of the plagues - early on in the ten - was a plague of frogs. There were frogs everywhere: in kitchens, bathrooms, back lawns, roadways, and bedrooms - swarming everywhere so much so that you couldn't step anywhere or roll over in bed without a frog there. 

Never mind being unsanitary - it was downright nasty!!  So anyway, Moses goes to Pharaoh (the slave-driver king who was holding Moses' people captive) and says, "I can say the word and the frogs will go away." Pharaoh believes him - after all, he's turned the river to blood! "When do you want me to command the frogs to go away?" he asks the king.

"Tomorrow."

Not right now, not even in an hour. No - Pharaoh is too proud to admit that he has no control over the situation, and so he exerts the only control he thinks he has left. 

He chooses to spend another night with the frogs.

Photo "Green Frog"
courtesy of Elwood W. McKay III at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

People get comfortable with intolerable situations ... sometimes because it's all they know and they fear changing things and moving into something they fear more than the pain of the situation: they fear the unknown. WE fear the unknown. Even if it means spending another night with the frogs. Even if it means staying in that situation or continuing to think, say, or do things we know are going to be bad for us. We get stuck in the same old pattern, doing the same things with the same types of people, and making the same mistakes over and over again. We get locked into a repeating cycle and we want out, but ...

We know things will change if we do step out into a new experience for us. But we don't. 

Why? 

Good question - or is it? Does it matter why? I suspect there are as many reasons as there are people. The point is that we resist change. 

Change is scary. It really is. Taking that first step into the unknown is risky. It's one of the most scary things we can do. But if we don't take that step, we are stuck with the results we've always gotten - and we'll never know what might have been.

The few times I have taken that first step have led to such amazing adventures. I still have to fight the tendency to want to stay with the familiar - even if it's not all that pleasant.  But if the last two years or so has taught me anything, it's that the unknown with the knowledge and awareness of God's love is far better than fighting for space with those slimy critters - the frogs, I mean. :)

"I will build My church"

It's now been over two years since my husband and I decided to leave the organization that is commonly known as the 'church'. When I tell people that we don't "go to church" anymore, I often see raised eyebrows, and very rarely do I get anything but judgment. Sometimes, though, people are curious and want to know what it is like for us to not gather for services on Sundays and other days of the week. 

My first response is always, "A big relief, honestly." When they want to know more, I describe what we experienced more and more in the 'church' as we got more and more uncomfortable there ... how we would come home from service after service drained, frustrated, and angry. But I don't spend much time on describing that. Instead, I like to talk about what it's been like since we left: relaxed, peaceful, and (to use a Christian-ese word) edifying.

And the inevitable question comes. "How can that be without fellowship?"

When I get this question, especially lately, I chuckle.  They must believe - as I used to believe - that "fellowship" can only be experienced in the pew!!  Just like I used to believe that "worship" could only happen in the context of a "worship service" with an "order of service" and so forth. Such "fellowship" could only occur behind the Four Walls. It was predictable. It was stale. It was familiar .... and not in a good way.

Photo "Two Friends Spending Happiest Time Together" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It's not like that at all. Since we have left the Four Walls behind, God has provided what we need for fellowship. No, we don't have cottage meetings where we meet specifically for the purpose of "fellowship." God sets up opportunities for us to get together with people of the Way. 

What happens when we get together is never structured. It's visiting with people who love us and who love God, and who realize more and more how deeply and unconditionally He loves us. When the visit ends, whether we have shared what God is doing in our lives or not, whether He is even mentioned or not, we feel uplifted ... and not worn out. Sometimes someone shares something that someone else needs to hear, but it's not hyped up with music or "atmosphere" - just plain and simple. And sometimes there is nothing that "happens" - and that's okay too. We share each other's company as an expression of love, and that in itself is ministry. And there is no pressure either way.

It dawned on me this morning that Jesus said that on this Rock (the statement, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God") HE would build His church. He doesn't use bricks and mortar. He uses living stones - believers - and THAT is the church He is continually building.  It's HIS church, not mine, not yours, not anyone's. His. 

He also said that wherever two or three were gathered in His name, He would be in the midst of them. I used to think that "in My name" meant "for the sole purpose of glorifying Me" - but now, I'm thinking more that it has to do with a common or shared belief in Him, and less to do with following a contrived script. 

I have felt Him "in the midst" when I was with one other person in a hospital room, or sitting across from someone in a coffee shop, or sitting down to supper with someone, or sharing a coffee or a breakfast with someone, or talking on the phone, or texting, or having a conversation on Facebook's private chat (or Messenger, if you want to call it that). This fellowship, whatever form it takes (and it's God who sets it up!) happens way more often than just once a week. And it is encouraging, strengthening, revitalizing .... and completely natural and effortless. 

Take, for example, a visit I paid to my brother in hospital last Thursday. We laughed, joked, and talked about little things that would only matter to us. I felt led to lay hands on him before I left to go home - and spoke to his kidneys and his pancreas to behave themselves in response to the upcoming stent procedure (because the stent procedure involves injecting with a dye which is hard on the kidneys and the stress could affect his sugars). My 'ministry' only took about a minute. And when I was "done," I told him I loved him and left to go home. (By the way, the stent procedure went great the following Monday. They put in two stents ... and the pain in his chest went away almost immediately ... and the kidneys and pancreas behaved themselves! He got home yesterday, able to take a full breath, able to walk at least three times the distance he could a week previous, and grateful for the opportunity to amaze the doctors yet again ...)

I like this Way better. Much better. Jesus is a great builder.

Waking Up

Winter's long sleep is reaching the twilight hour before the dawn, when we're not even sure if there is a change happening, except ... except ... the geese have returned.  The trees - still leafless and silent - are budding.  Female mourning doves are returning, and the males waiting for them have taken to billing and trying to chase them down one at a time. The daylight lingers just a little bit longer. Rain melts away snowbanks - imperceptibly at first, then more noticeably as the earth awakens.  The grass - if it shows at all - is still brown and wilted, but as if by magic, gradually appears green moss and the first stirrings of the lichen that will eventually bear the muted purple tones of heather.  

Photo "Blooming Snowdrops In The Spring"
courtesy of radnatt at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Those who know me best know that I hate winter: the cold, the piercing damp wind, the lack of light, the ice and slippery footing, the bulky clothing, and how it feels like it never seems to end. Every year, though my head knows it will, my heart wonders if it will EVER end. 

This morning, a snowbank, which had stubbornly persisted the last two months outside our picture window, was suddenly gone after a soaking drizzle kept at it all night.  Beneath it, I was surprised to see tiny one-inch sprigs of green: thin sword-like leaves bearing, in a place or two, another layer of foliage that had a tinge of purple to it, a promise of a bud soon to form. "Crocus," I breathed, noting my own sudden, internal sprig of ... what was it? happiness?  Hope? I couldn't quite tell which it was... 

A few feet away, like tiny rolled up cones of forest green paper, tulip plants were sprouting from beneath the mixture of soil and wet maple leaves from last fall, half-decomposed maple leaves I had forgotten were there until the snowbank was gone. They were about three inches above the soil, so I realized that they had been slowly growing beneath the snowbank - and with the rain, the snowbank slowly rolled back like a heavy velvet curtain at a live theater performance.  

I stayed at my position in the window, kneeling on an armchair with my nose pressed up against the glass, for a few minutes.  I drank in the sight, reveling in the tiny slivers of color, until my knees told the rest of me that it was time to get back on my feet.  Yet, a few times throughout the day, I have returned to my perch to check and see whether the buds have shown any sign of maturing.  My soul needs this gentle, delicate whisper of promise, a distant echo of God's own rich voice.  Too long my soul has just been "hanging on" waiting for better times, for more daylight moments in which to soak in nourishment as the leaves soak in the sun's rays. It is as if my soul has joined the Earth in its trip around the sun; it is now in a better position to benefit from the warmth that was always there all along. 

I, like the Earth, the plants, the birds, the trees, and the grass, am waking up. Winter is finally giving way - even if only a little - to the persistent hopefulness of spring.  The longer, darker nights are shortening.  I am more aware of the Light. It is good; He is good.

Prayer changes

This morning I read one of those well-meant phrases that Christians are known to say, and say often.  "Prayer changes things."  I know I said it for years - but my view of prayer and what happens during prayer has changed in recent years.  I used to think that when someone had a need or a physical problem, we were supposed to pray to God for them to have it resolved or healed ... but as I've learned more, I really don't think that's what prayer is for. Besides, I've really listened to some of the prayers that have been prayed for people who are sick with this or that disease, and I hardly think that they sound like "the prayer of faith" that James talked about when he said for the sick person to call on the elders of the church for the laying on of hands. Rather, those prayers sound like worries, and pleading, and doubting ... as if God must be placated. And the usual result of those prayers has been exactly the opposite of what the person believed himself or herself to be praying for.  I've seen it happen far too many times for it to seem like coincidence, so much so that I hesitate to ask for prayer except from a chosen few whom I know to NOT pray like that.

Off and on for the past few years, I've been examining the ministry of Jesus when He was physically here on the planet, and I've discovered something about prayer by doing so.  Jesus very rarely prayed publicly. Most of His praying was done in private, or when He was alone, while He was in public ministry. So I looked at the most famous time when Jesus prayed in public ... and what I saw rather shocked me.  

It's in one of my favourite stories in the New Testament - the raising of Lazarus from the dead (this is in John chapter 11). You'll recall that Jesus had heard that Lazarus was sick and then stayed two more days where He was. He then told His disciples that they were going to go to see Lazarus - that Lazarus was dead and that He was glad He was not there when it happened ... so that they would believe.  (Keep that statement of purpose in your back pocket). 

When Jesus got there, all He seemed to find was unbelief -or belief to a certain point and then ... nothing (that is, they believed that He could have healed Lazarus when he was still alive, but now that he was dead, all bets were off). Eventually Jesus convinced the family and friends to roll the stone away from the tomb door. ("Didn't I say that if you believed, you would see...?")  And then He prayed.  But it wasn't the kind of prayer that we often hear in healing services, which sounds like ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease.... as if God has to be cajoled or convinced to do good to us. No, Jesus didn't pray like that.  Here's John 11:41-42 -

Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the people standing around I said it, so that they may believe that You sent Me. (NASB)

From this prayer, I can draw these conclusions: 
(1) Jesus knew that God had already heard Him; 
(2) Jesus knew that God ALWAYS heard Him; 
(3) Jesus never once asked God to raise Lazarus from the dead; and 
(4) He only prayed aloud in front of people in the first place because He wanted the people who were standing around Him to believe that God sent Him. 

What does all that tell me? 
(1) Jesus had complete trust in God's goodness, and didn't have to gather it up and strain and grunt and groan to produce it or to convince God that He had faith; 
(2) Jesus got that faith from the hours alone He had consistently spent with God in private (more about that in a bit); and 
(3) Jesus was demonstrating that you never ask God to do what He has delegated TO YOU the authority to do yourself. 

Then He turned toward the tomb and called - ONCE - to Lazarus ... to come out of the tomb. And Lazarus did. Lazarus was dead - he had no faith - he wasn't even there; he was in Abraham's bosom, beyond caring what happened to his body. His family and friends had the kind of faith that believed in platitudes, and they had no faith that Lazarus would be raised. JESUS believed. JESUS called to the dead man. And that, my friends, is how you heal the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons ... because remember folks, Jesus had laid aside His divinity.  He was fully human and relied on the living, eternal Holy Spirit to live out His life through Jesus ... to the world.  He modeled how we could rely on the Spirit too, just like He did.

The source of Jesus' faith was (is) in the relationship that He and the Father had (and still have!) Over and over again, we read in the gospels how He got up long before daybreak and went to be by Himself... to pray to the Father. What was He doing during that time? Some have said He was getting His "marching orders" for the day. Having lived in the Spirit - I really don't think that's it. Living in the Spirit is like getting the "marching orders" (so to speak) right at the time they're needed. It's a lot like flying by the seat of your pants ... so again, what was Jesus doing in prayer? 

I have a radical suggestion.  What if Jesus was simply maintaining closeness with His Dad? 

Image "Couple At Sunset" courtesy
of piyaphantawong at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Think about it.  What if prayer is simply developing and maintaining intimacy with God? and by virtue of that very intimacy, there develops a deep, inner knowing that God is with you, for you, in you, caring for you, loves you without reservation, and longs to connect with you - and with everyone - on that level?

So does that kind of prayer change things? Hmm, for me, that's up for debate.  I don't think that it's true in the sense that most people think about when they refer to "things" - that is, events and so forth.  Things may not change; other people may not change; circumstances may not change.  However, I'm more inclined to think that this kind of prayer changes the pray-er.  Inside. I believe that prayer aimed at developing and maintaining intimacy  grows faith and confidence, and strengthens the person who prays (who draws close to God) so that the Spirit can do His work in and through that person. The purpose of this kind of relationship prayer is so that the person, in drawing close to God, accepts God's unconditional love and is able to recognize the leadings of the Spirit. With that kind of confidence in God, we won't need to ask Him for anything, or to do anything. We will know He is with us.  We will rely on the Spirit, and with His leading, we will speak to whatever problem presents itself in the way and at the moment that He chooses.

This is how Jesus lived His earthly life. As I have come to ponder this reality more and more, I have changed; my prayer life has changed.  I no longer pray like I used to pray. I just enter His presence and deliberately become aware of His love for me. I meditate on His love and His goodness. I start to grasp His good intentions toward me and toward all people. I remember that He has already given to me all things (including HIS faith!).  

I remind myself that He has given me the authority that Jesus had when He was here on the planet ... authority to speak to the mountain, to speak to the sickness, to speak to death, to speak to demons in the name of Jesus ... and expect these things to be dislodged and banished because He wills it. I don't have to drum this authority up (it's already given to me!), I don't have to dig down deep to access my own faith (Jesus already believes for me!) and I don't have to raise my voice.  I don't have to be theatrical about anything.  I just trust in His love.  Then my whole life becomes a prayer - a song of dedication - an act of worship.

In this way, the practice of prayer is not so much about me, but about Him, about His love, His goodness, His passion, His desire to bond.  That is what I am learning.  This realization is removing all that pressure that I used to feel that it was somehow up to me to pray harder and believe more, because it would be my fault if I didn't do it right and somehow someone got sicker or the dark side won.  It's not about that at all. It's about Him. If I enter the picture at all, it's in the area of realizing how greatly He loves me - how amazing He is - and in the area of growing in intimacy with Him.  Only then can I grasp onto the power that He has given to me and use that power to do His will: loving and speaking life into a dying world.

I See You

A few weeks ago, our family shared the movie "Avatar" with a friend who had never seen it.  It was wonderful to see the spectacular visual effects of the film again, and the story line was compelling.

Although some would look askance at me for even watching a film that glorifies a 'mother-earth' type religion, I find the connection that The Na'vi have with their deity Eywa extremely real; it touches every aspect of their lives.  The Na'vi come to accept Jake (the hero) as one of them - but not without some misunderstanding.  Jake is a paraplegic, but when he sleeps, his consciousness is in his Avatar body - in which he can interact with the Na'vi. They know from the outset that he is a 'dream-walker' - a human in Na'vi form, and yet because Eywa has chosen him (a powerful scene that literally saves his life), he is brought to the village and assigned a Na'vi guide or teacher so that he may learn their language and their ways (in other words, their culture).

One of the most striking things about the culture of the Na'vi is their greeting for each other: "I see you."  As one of Jake's cultural mentors tells him when he is awake, this is not merely physical vision but a seeing of the person, the spirit inside, the individual's heart or character, all that makes them who they are.  It implies an intimacy that in our culture is usually only reserved for family and close friends, but there is something inherently real and right about this kind of connection with each other that resonates with me.  There are no barriers, no pretenses, no fake smiles. They feel what they feel when they feel it and they are open with each other. I think it is all a part of how they interact with Eywa and with the world around them. As Jake learns to interact with Eywa as well as with his Na'vi teacher, he begins to "see" the Na'vi, and consider himself one of them, one of "the people." 

Photo "Eye" courtesy of graur codrin at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The greeting "I see you" is one I have adopted in my relationship with my Creator. Prayer has now become for me more of a heart attitude or focus, a knowing that I am loved and heard, more like petals opening in the sunlight than a spewing volcano of pleading words, eyes tightly closed and fearing destruction or refusal. 

In the middle of the night, when I awake and all is dark, all I need to do now is to acknowledge the fact of His presence and of His love for me.  I know in my deepest heart that He "sees" me - knows me intimately, loves me passionately and completely - and my desire is to know Him progressively, to "see" Him in the same way. All that really stands in the way of that "seeing" is my own difficulty in becoming consistently aware of that vital connection. 

I've also started to use this expression with my family (that is, my husband and my daughter) from time to time.  It always brings a smile because they know what it means!  It means that I understand them, accept them completely, love to spend time with them, and so much more.  

Over the past year or so, my life has become so much more about experiencing and reflecting love, and so much less about rules and obligations.  That's not to say I don't relapse into the Abyss Of The Should, but when I spend time meditating on His love, I find that there is no need for The Should.  I naturally want to live every moment of my life in the light of that all-seeing, all-accepting, no-holds-barred love.  

The pressure and politics - and pleasures - of isolation

One day recently, I was having a discussion about something with an acquaintance, when the topic turned to something on which the person and I did not share the same opinion.  

She asked me about it, so in spite of my better judgement, I gave my opinion, which I backed up with anecdotal (based on personal experience) evidence.  It stopped the conversation cold, and both of us commented on how awkward it felt, how inappropriate it was for us to even be discussing it. 

After that, I sensed a coldness, a withdrawal of respect, if you will, between us.  And it got me to thinking about the subtle pressure that comes to bear when two people don't agree on something - the social pressure to conform, for one side to convince the other and failing that, the removal of that thing from the list of things where one feels "safe".  

There is a lack of acceptance that is inherent in such differences of opinion; one side is unswayed by the other, and a (silent or voiced) agreement takes place where both parties resolve never to bring up that topic again.  Whether that is from a fear of confrontation, or from an unwillingness to entertain the other's point of view (belief, doctrine, attitude) again based on fear of being proven wrong or anger that someone holds to a different viewpoint, the result is the same: the walls go up and a whole other area is cordoned off with a big "Do Not Enter" sign posted, a "demilitarized zone" - a no-man's-land or an emotional mine-field.

I've been giving this idea some thought since deciding to leave the institutional church last summer.  And I've noticed that in some ways, and with some people more than others, the same process has been happening with people who had said to me that we were part of the family of God.  Yet when we decided to leave the physical house where they felt (to one degree or the other) comfortable, and where we did not, there was that same awkwardness, that withdrawal, that "let's not go there" mentality that just ... appeared.  Out of nowhere, it seemed, people who would laugh and joke with us simply avoided eye contact, or promised to keep in touch but didn't, or if they did keep in touch, there were awkward silences, things they felt they couldn't share, things we felt that we couldn't share - because we were in different worlds.  

And slowly, that resulted in isolation from a community we THOUGHT was based on more than just the name engraved on a plaque or painted on a sign near the church entrance.  It made us question whether the relationships that we had spent years developing were nothing more than a sham - whether they were based on whether we kept up our end of the contract, or whether we were "of use" to the community.  It all seemed so ... superficial, petty, and ... conditional. 

We made it clear that we were not leaving our relationship with God, but that we no longer subscribed to living life by traditions, rules, and the fear and shame that is behind those things.  We thought that those who knew us best would understand that this was not a rejection of them, but a personal decision.  And perhaps some of them did.  

Yet ... here we are.  God sets up times when we are in community with one or two other people and seeking His face - and He shows up; these times are wonderful and remind me of what the early church must have been like.  Yet for the most part, it's like we have died as far as relationships with some people are concerned.  

Don't get me wrong; our relationship with God has deepened and we are experiencing peace and joy more now than ever before.  Yet even that makes some folks uncomfortable; after all, aren't we supposed to shrivel up and waste away to nothing if we don't slap our fannies on a church pew somewhere? 

Photo "Bald Eagle Close Up" courtesy of
Tina Phillips at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

More and more, I don't think so. I think that that mentality limits God in ways I am not comfortable with.  And truth be told, while there are some aspects of church attendance and traditional ministry that I do miss at times, in those moments, I usually just play the tape all the way to the end and realize that for me, it's not worth going back for just those few things.  

I kind of feel like Neo in "The Matrix" - I've swallowed the red pill (those who've seen the movie know what I mean) and now, things just don't look the same anymore.  And it IS isolating.  The very nature of that realization means that there ARE going to be topics I won't be able to discuss with certain  people, and there are going to be some people who won't feel comfortable being around me either. It isn't that they are wrong and I am right; it's just that we are in different places with different needs. Yet, for someone who all her life wanted everyone to like her and approve of her, it's a big deal that some people now ... don't - or they don't act like they do.

Accepting that is probably one of the hardest things about this past year.  As liberating as this lifestyle is, as wonderful as it is to look at life through the lens of God's unconditional love, it is still sometimes a lonely place - but one dear friend of mine turned that thinking around when she called it "the aerie" - the eagles' nest.

I like that.  True, there is isolation, but there are also many more updrafts, and the advantage of a bird's eye view, so to speak.  Things that seemed so huge: political wrangling, position, petitions, placards, pleading, proselytizing, pontificating, and pseudo-pious posturing ... seem so puny and piddling compared to the simple truth that God is God and I am not.  And I'm okay with that.

In fact, I'm better than okay with it.  I like it just fine!

Escaping the siege

I've been trying to figure out what these past few months has felt like.  In late summer/ early fall, we decided as a couple (after much agonizing) to leave the church.  Not just OUR church, THE church... by which I mean the organized, religious system that calls itself the church.  

I can't begin to describe the growing dissatisfaction that we had felt the last few years while we ran faster and faster on the hamster wheel of performance, always wondering if we were doing enough, feeling guilty and blaming ourselves if our prayers were unanswered, and frankly, feeling embarrassed to invite people in - where we knew they would find what we had - another, deeper level of rejection - where hurting people thrive on pushing hurting people away.  

It's equally as difficult to describe the pulling that we felt toward a deeper and more intimate relationship with Jesus - a call to simplicity, to receiving His love and loving Him back. More and more we saw the futility of our involvement in a system that values nickels and noses, attempts to control its members through shame, fear, and judgment.  Rather than build bridges to those who embrace lifestyles or choices with which they do not agree, this system builds walls to keep them out.

As I pondered this last night, a little story from 2nd Kings 7 came to my mind.  There were these guys living on the outskirts of town - walled in and afraid to leave because "the enemy" was out there. Or so they believed.  The town was under siege.  Food was scarce and deadly expensive; they had even taken to eating bird poop and charging money for it!!  People were getting desperate, even to the point of devouring their children... it was horrible.  Anyway, these guys near the gate were outcasts - they were lepers.  They were not welcome in society, but they could not leave the town because after all, they were members of the community. 

Finally, these guys got fed up (pun not intended).  They figured, "Well, the enemy camp is out there - and it most likely has food.  If we go and surrender to the enemy, they might accept our surrender, and let us live (at least we would get something to eat) and if they kill us, we would have died a lot more slowly inside the wall."  So ... they left ... hearts in their throats.  Desperate.  It was a desperate move made by desperate people.

Meanwhile, the Arameans outside (many hundreds of them) were literally hearing things - and got it into their heads that the king whose town they were besieging had hired people to come and attack them.  So they split!!  Enter the lepers .... who found meals half-eaten, left in haste ... and they could not believe their fortune!  They ate, found money and put that away, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves!  

Photo "Buffet Set On Heated Trays Ready To Eat"
courtesy of jk1995 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Eventually, they looked at one another and said, "Hey, let's tell someone about this!  This is such good news that we cannot help sharing it - the enemy is gone, and our neighbours can get out of their prison!"  So that is what they did.  By the end of the day, prices were back down to normal, and there was not one hungry person in town. 

I think the reason that I thought about those guys inside the wall, the ones who were so up against it that they left to take their chances outside, was because that was - and is - (in some ways) our story.  There was no sustenance for us in all that protection and so-called safety.  We were starving to death.  We saw a few atrocities, people turning on each other, but most of the time it was just a slow, lingering death of the soul: adherents trying to keep people from straying, unhappy and/or self-righteous people trapped by their own acceptance of things the way they were, with no desire strong enough for something more, no desire that would cause them to question their reason for being there and doing what they were doing.  So many people around us were living in fear, in a siege mentality (us versus them) and distrusting anything against which they had been indoctrinated, hell-bent (yes, that was intentional) on obeying the rules and excluding those who didn't. 

And it was like that everywhere. We had attended dozens of assemblies and it was the same wherever we went.  We had tried to fit in, but in every single place, we were eventually relegated to the role of the leper.  Either because we were not of a certain social or economic stratum, or because we were introverted, or because we were not linked with the founding families of the particular assembly we were in, we were slowly but surely kept at arm's length, treated like ... like lepers.  

But our isolation only gave us more time to think, to ponder how, in a community that stated that it followed the teachings of the One who is Love personified, the behaviour of its members was anything but - and we were as affected by this phenomenon as the next member. There were occasional bright spots, surprising us with kindness and caring (but only when someone died). Or there were brief periods associated with the arrival and ministry of people who seemed to hear from God, and for a time, we thought things might change.  But inevitably, they went on to greener pastures, and we were back to the same old thing. We wondered if things would ever change for good.

We compared the characteristics of this organization to those of the organism that the church was designed to be (as described in the book of Acts) and we could find nothing in common between the two!  "Is this all there is?" we asked ourselves.  "Is this the abundant life?"  If it was - we surely wanted a refund.... and if it wasn't ... then what were we doing? was there any way out?  Time and time again we tried to conform ourselves to what was expected, rededicate ourselves, and influence the system from the inside out.  And over and over again, we depleted our limited emotional resources; every time, we died a little more.  

Frustration grew.  Countless times we returned from church-based events stressed, exhausted, and - well - angry.   Sermons (both from the pulpit and in unofficial settings) from various people were little more than steam blown off by those frustrated with the people who sat back and never tried, so all we heard was, "You're not doing enough, not believing enough, not giving enough, not praying enough, not holy enough, not evangelical (or missional, or social justice-minded) enough ..." and the list went on.  I remember turning to my husband at one point near the end of that part of our journey and saying, "If I want to be yelled at and taken on a guilt trip, I'll go visit my mother."   

And the siege mentality!  That idea that the world is a horrible place and the people in it are against us permeated everything.  We were told that certain people with certain lifestyles or beliefs were not to be trusted, or at best they were deluded and needed to be converted.  Instead of reaching out to people, we were encouraged to lobby local school boards, write to politicians, sign petitions, support groups known for heavy-handed prejudicial treatment of certain minority groups, and decry perfectly legal medical procedures (if horrific to our sensibilities and beliefs) and vehemently condemn those who chose to undergo them.  In doing so, we were unwittingly contributing to their mistrust of the church and ensuring that they would not come to us for help when they needed a listening ear.  

Photo "Ruined House"
courtesy of sattva at
www.freedigitaphotos.net

All around us, the walls were crumbling.  More and more, we were seeing how our participation in this organization was counter-productive to the values of love, acceptance, and gentleness that Jesus taught and that we espoused.  We got closer and closer to the gate of this impoverished and starving community.  "Just hang on. It will get better," people said.  "Revival is just around the corner." We bought it for years ... until we didn't. 

And when we made the break, it had to be clean.  We left; we did not look back. We left our assembly, and we left the system. 

And you know, we expected to feel guilty... or afraid, or nervous for what we would do or where God would lead us next (if anywhere)... but all we felt was relief.  There was relief.  As the weeks passed, we remarked how much less stressful Sundays were, how much we enjoyed being able to rest instead of tearing our hair out and banging our heads against a brick wall for five hours or more almost every weekend. Our relationship with our daughter deepened. God set up contacts with people in His timing, and we had such precious times with them, times that we never would have had if we hadn't ventured outside the gate.   

There are times that we wonder if we did the right thing.  There are times when we miss frequent contact with people, wonderful people.  But we know that we were having our souls sucked out of us by the system.  Outside, we may not have found any bountiful banquet yet, but we can detect the faint odor of food, and we know we'll eventually find it.  And you can bet that as soon as we do, it will be way too good to keep to ourselves.