The most important kind of healing

More and more in the news, it is unmistakable - terrorist activity in Paris, police violence in Ferguson and elsewhere, school shootings all over the place, RCMP officers being killed by someone who called 911 just to get them to come so they would be shot, a rapist whose crime was witnessed by two other people getting handed a slap on the wrist, and most recently, some gunman entering a bar in Orlando and shooting over a hundred people, at least fifty of which died - and the victims' only "crime" was that they were gay. 

Whenever something tragic (like these things and more) happens, social media and news coverage around the world express outpourings of concern, even outrage, and a lot of folks request prayer for the place where it happened, and for the families of those most affected. I lost count of the Pray for Paris posters I saw on Facebook after the Paris attacks.  This sort of reaction is what I have come to expect.  And yes, it is needed; people need to feel as though they are doing something significant to help people they have never met in response to such events.  And yes, it is perfectly fitting to pray for a community that is reeling from some atrocity. 

But let's not stop there. 

Let's also pray for an end to the attitudes and beliefs that spawn such heinous acts. Let's pray to become part of the solution by refusing to succumb to the bigotry that some people still hold in their hearts.  Let's resolve never to stand idly by and allow hate-talk to continue, or victim-blaming talk for that matter, or worse yet, participate in it. 

This is not about whether this or that lifestyle is good or bad, or whether this or that skin colour or gender or religion is better than the next one.  This is about how people like us perpetuate an atmosphere that gives license to violent people to think they will have support for doing the horrific things that they do.  Innocent bystanders are we - but are we?  As long as we ascribe right and wrong to who people are - regardless of gender, race, sexuality, religion or size - different from us, we give silent consent to the people who use violence against their own kind: humankind.  People are fragile - that which makes us human is tenuous at best. We can be self-righteous all we want, but it will not stop the reckless onslaught of hatred.  It might make us feel better - but it also makes the perpetrators feel more at ease about wreaking havoc in our world.

Jesus is not like that, folks.  Jesus accepted people who were different from Him - even healed them.  Take, for example, the man of whom Jesus said that He had not seen such great faith in Israel.  The man wanted Jesus to heal his young male love-slave, folks.  And Jesus did.  No judgment of lifestyle, no little "digs" to drive home His point.  Jesus' "point" was love. Pure and simple.  I'm just saying ... it is not up to US to judge anyone.  

Photo "Rows Of Butterfly Cocoons"
courtesy of xura at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And judging people can lead to disastrous consequences.  Surely Jesus' own death proves this.  A bunch of well-meaning religious people got some self-righteous ideas about what Messiah should look like, and they decided that Jesus was wrong - and not only wrong, but subversive - and they did the unthinkable, and thought themselves to be doing the right thing.  There is no difference - the process is the same.  People can justify their own actions with whatever twisted ideal they might hold to - but the fact remains that violence in and of itself is rarely if ever justifiable.  

The healing needs to start on the inside.  And it needs to happen to those who are hurting so very much because of these disasters ... but it needs to happen as well in our own hearts.  Until we begin to comprehend the unconditional love of God not just to us but to ALL people, and can therefore have compassion without judgment, it is we who need to be healed. 

Now. And the sooner, the better.

If only people could see

Today, as usually is the case, my husband, my daughter and I went out for breakfast to our favourite breakfast restaurant.  We look forward to this family time together, and we rarely miss the opportunity, unless prevented by sickness or distance.

This time, we were enjoying our breakfast when a middle-aged fellow, whose face we recognized as being one of the "regulars", walked in and sat at his usual spot.  This would not have been a problem, except that we had been assigned a table which placed me five feet away from this man's usual spot.  It was then that I noticed the billowing waves of after-shave or cologne emanating from this man like Pigpen's dust clouds.  It was cloying.  It was so strong I could taste it on my tongue (when I immediately started breathing through my mouth to slow down what is usually an immediate neurological reaction.)  I groped for a napkin and held it over my nose and mouth as I ate, lifting it up only to put food in my mouth.  I finished my meal as quickly as I could, and tried switching my seat - but it was too little, too late. Leaving my coffee only half-consumed, I ended up having to leave the restaurant to sit in the car while my family hurried through their meals to join me.  

I have explained the condition I have (multiple chemical sensitivities or MCS) a few times, and I have had to re- and re-explain it to every person individually, because until you suffer from this, you have no idea what it is like or how all-encompassing, all-limiting it is.  

Chemical scent is everywhere, and it is toxic.  Some brands of perfumes contain as many as 300 chemicals, some of which are classed on Hazardous Materials sheets as neurotoxins.  These chemicals include such nasties as benzine (listed on shampoo bottles as "sodium benzoate"), toluene (closely related to benzine), and aldehydes (in the same family as formaldehyde, AKA "embalming fluid.") These toxins are cumulative in the body, and one day, usually after a concentrated exposure, the body says "ENOUGH!"  Basically, the body has been taking in so many toxins from being around so many people over the years wearing them, using them, cleaning with them, "deodorizing" (should be called RE-odorizing) with them, moisturizing their skin with them, spraying them, drying them into their clothing, and plugging them in (yes, even Glade plug-ins and Febreeze products) that it rebels.  And MCS is born.

These are not mere allergies.  With an allergy, the body decides something is an attack on itself and creates a histamine response: the nasal passages get congested, the eyes get watery, and so forth). One can take anti-histamines to relieve the symptoms, and that is the end of that.  However, with MCS, there may be an allergic reaction, but that is not the primary reaction.  It is neurological - there are nerve symptoms like headaches (up to and including migraines), dizziness, disorientation, "brain fog", even muscular cramping and the formation or aggravation of trigger points - such as is common in fibromyalgia.  And taking an antihistamine might clear up the nasal congestion, but that only allows more of the toxins to reach the system and cause more reaction, not less.  

The last seven-plus years for me has been about self-care, and educating people about this illness is part of that.  Granted, due to a bona fide miracle back in the fall of 2009, where a good 70% of my symptoms just "poof" disappeared as someone was speaking words of encouragement and love to me, I do not suffer nearly as much as I once did.  Before, I had to pretty much wear a hospital mask to work and to church, anywhere there were people other than my own family.  (I remember in early 2009, one adolescent boy at church thinking that I had the H1N1 influenza virus until his mom explained it to him.  And then he got mad for me.  It was touching, actually!) 

Photo "Female Doctor Wearing
Surgical Mask" by stockimages at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The problem is NOT the smell.  That is only secondary - and in a way I am grateful for the smell.  It alerts me to what is coming ... and that is the ingestion of the chemical into my body, which results in those nasty symptoms I mentioned.  The real problem is the fact that companies no longer exclusively use natural scents when they make their products.  Synthetic or artificial scent is what most companies use because it is so inexpensive.  

Which leads to the questions I get.  "Well what about skunks? don't you react with them?"  The short answer is NO - not like I do with perfumes.  Of course the skunk smell is entirely unpleasant, and it might even cause me to stuff up and be all teary - like it is supposed to do with every other creature on the planet.  But I don't get brain fog from skunk spray.  "Oh - are you allergic to flowers?"  Ummm, NO.  Like I said, it's not an allergy.  I might have a reaction to the bug spray you put ON your flowers but not to the blooms themselves.  

And one more question, or should I say a statement I get a lot. "I use unscented products, why are you having a reaction?"  Simply this: unscented products contain chemical scent, and something else: a chemical product designed to take the SMELL away.  So in reality, unscented products actually have more chemicals in them than scented ones do.  Again I say that the SMELL isn't the thing that is bothersome - it's the CHEMICAL.  

And the chemical, dear friends, permeates the surrounding area, is carried by people who walk through that cloud to other areas of the room, and stays in the air long after you have left the premises.  Artificial scent has those chemicals in them because those toxins are proven to linger in the air and on the skin.  That's why they use them: staying power.  For those of us with MCS, that's a game-ender.

So by now you're wanting to know (or I HOPE you are wanting to know) how to pick products that are not toxic to me ... OR to you, whether you have a reaction or not.  And I do have some suggestions, but with a warning - beware product loyalty.  Sometimes a product can be fine and then the company goes and changes the formula (this happened before with one kind of soap we used, and then most recently with Pantene Shampoo & Conditioner 2 in 1 "Sheer Volume").  

Anyway, here are the suggestions:

1. Look for the words "Fragrance Free" on the bottle or tube.  If it doesn't, see suggestion number 3.
2. Perfume isn't the only thing that contains chemical scent. Be aware of laundry products, room freshener products, personal care products, skin care products, sunscreens, cosmetics, etc.
3. If choosing lotions, shampoo and/or conditioner, or other liquid products, take the time to read the ingredients listed. If one of the first eight to ten ingredients says one or more of the following: parfum, sodium benzoate, laurel sulfate, or toluene, those are neurotoxins that will cause a reaction in people like me. Choose carefully. It might take a while to find something that works for everyone.
4. A word about any product that claims to be "unscented" - it isn't.  For example, Dove Unscented bar soap causes me to have a reaction.  Dove SENSITIVE doesn't. It says "Fragrance Free."
5. Consider using alternative solutions for your personal hygiene products. About 6 years ago, I switched to a fragrance-free Crystal Rock product instead of underarm antiperspirant ... it's mineral salt-based and works as well as most deodorants. And it lasts SO much longer (my first rock lasted 4 years), so you'll save yourself a bundle of money. I bought it at the Bulk Barn for EIGHT DOLLARS.
6. Anything that says "deodorant" ... ISN'T.  It is merely another word for fragrance that is used to cover up another odour.  This includes underarm deodorants, soaps, and deodorizing sprays, the three biggest offenders.
7.  By far the biggest suggestion I have is to re-examine why you wear or use products with artificial scent if you know that this is going to cause yourself and others to build up a toxicity in the body, leading to such related illnesses as fibromyalgia, chronic pain syndrome, and chronic fatigue syndrome. These are all interrelated with MCS, which means that a large percentage of those with MCS also have one or more of these conditions. Is your health really worth it?  Are you that insecure in your own acceptability that you feel that you have to cover up your own body's scent with something else?   

One last word about this issue, since my audience in this blog is largely believers.  There have been well-meaning people who have reacted - usually badly - to me talking about this issue.  Some don't want to change; others ... I don't know what they think or IF they think about it at all.  However, from some of the reactions I get, I do have a few things to say. 

1. I do want to be healed, because I am suffering and because I am limited in where I can go and who I can hang around with.  But I don't want to be healed to make you feel more comfortable around me, or so that you can continue to wear your favourite product.  Be considerate.  Leave it home, or better yet - throw it out.
2. Don't assume that because you don't wear perfume or cologne, that you aren't wearing or using scent.  Many products contain it, not just the ones I've named but also mousse, styling gel, foundations, lipsticks, hair spray, ... the list goes on and on.  And it could be something that you have in your home that is clinging to your clothing and causing a reaction.  Educate yourself. Please.
3. For those who pray for me, for those who reach out in love, and for those who refrain from wearing "product" because of me and people like me, I am truly touched by the loving care you demonstrate; it does not go unnoticed. I pray that whatever load you carry is lightened. 
4. Finally, if your solution to the "problem" of me not being able to be around scent is staying away from me, then I fail to see how that is truly demonstrating love - although if you ARE going to continue to wear and use your products, I'd prefer that you stay away, thanks.  A more appropriate way to show that love, though, would be to refrain from using or wearing chemically scented products - not just around me but around everyone.  It not only does good in a gathering where you KNOW I will be there, but it also prevents me from entering later, and running into a cloud you might leave behind long after you are gone. I go to the grocery store, the department store, the clothing boutique, the hardware store, and the pharmacy too.

I have often wished that people could physically SEE the clouds they leave behind when they use these products.  I'm sure it would shock them.

People stay outside of Pigpen's dust cloud (in the Charlie Brown comic) because they can see it.  At least his cloud moves away when he does. And it's natural. I'm just saying.

Light in darkness

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about John chapter one, and more specifically about the references in the first few verses to Light and darkness. It says in that chapter that the Light shines in the darkness.  Now, to me, in my human understanding, that means that the darkness exists but that when the Light shines, the darkness flees.  That's not what the passage says. It says that the Light shines IN the darkness, ... and that the darkness (does not flee, but) does not comprehend the Light. 

Whoa. That takes a person aback, doesn't it?  It doesn't make sense to us because we go into a dark room, we turn on a light, and the darkness goes away - that's what darkness is, isn't it? the absence of Light?  

Not here in this passage. John is talking about a kind of darkness that it doesn't matter how bright the light, it does NOT go away, nor does the darkness have any concept of Light.  Well, what kind of darkness cannot understand Light?  

There is only one answer that is possible: blindness.  

Suddenly all makes sense.  Jesus said to the Pharisees, "... because you say, 'We see,' your blindness remains." (John 9:41) 

And herein lies the darkness, dear friends.  The darkness consists of insisting that everything is fine, actually believing that it is so, while all the while stumbling around in darkness, in blindness, not even aware that there is so much more: so much more freedom, so much more love, so much more Life than we ever thought possible. Yet all the while, blazing white Light is all around, piercing through everything, illuminating Life all around us, shooting rainbows and moonlight in our paths, and yet unseen by the blind who will not see. 

The darkest of all blindness is the one in which the blind one has convinced himself that he can see.  It is religion, religious ritual and self-righteousness, hypocrisy and wallowing in fear that God will take out His big cudgel and squash us like bugs. But ... God is not like that.  That's why Jesus came!! The Word says, "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself..." (2 Cor. 5:19).  

And Jesus stands and proclaims that the Spirit of God is upon Him to preach the good news to the poor, to proclaim deliverance to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to set free those who are oppressed. (Luke 4:18).  In reality, those who are blind in the way that John 1 reveals are poor, and captive, and oppressed - by virtue of their own -- OUR own -- blindness!  Jesus came to prove God's love to us in a way we could understand, and we killed Him for it in our darkness - our lack of comprehension.  But when we first turn to Him and ask Him to remove our blindness, He does - and we can see the Love that was there all along, and the Light that has brightened our path if we but knew it! This Light is transformative, redemptive, and irrevocable (Rom. 11:29). 

Photo "Sun In The Sky" courtesy of graur razvan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

When we are in darkness, in blindness, we can do absolutely nothing to rid ourselves of this sad state; HE is the only One who opens blind eyes.  We only ask.  He does it - He does it because He wants to do it, and has been waiting for us to ask Him!  

This makes salvation and even faith itself (Eph. 2:8d) something that He does on our behalf, and rightly so - because if we could, we would boast about how much we did, how much we believed.  It is HIS faith!!  Galatians 2:20 says in the original Greek, "...and the life I live in the flesh, I live by the faith OF the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me."  Not IN, but OF.  That means that it is JESUS' faith and we can have confidence in His faith because it does NOT waver!! 

Can we see how much this frees us to live in happy gratitude?  Can we? The pressure is off! the love of God is unconditional, the grace of God is free, and the faith of Jesus in His Father is rock-solid! Hahahahahahahaha!! What glorious liberty!  what amazing love!  how bright the Light is!!  How delirious the joy that comes from total and complete acceptance in the Beloved One! 

Can I make it any more plain? This is GOOD news!! This is what the apostles were ready to die for!  No adding to it; that only takes away from it!  No reservations - that leads to bondage!  Pray God that He will open our eyes to see the wonder of His full, free, intense, passionate, scandalous love for us!

The Key of Knowledge

I was reading in the Word trying to find something specific earlier today (isn't this how God sometimes grabs our attention? well, He does it to me sometimes), when I stumbled on a rather vitriolic passage in Luke where Jesus was lambasting the Pharisees and the 'lawyers' (i.e., the experts in Mosaic law). It was the climax of His diatribe against (or warning to) these people.

"Woe to you lawyers (* = teachers of the law)!  For you have taken away the key of knowledge; you yourselves did not enter, and you hindered those who were entering.”
  - Luke 11:59

Now, I've grown up in the organized church, and spent all of my life in that milieu. That expression, 'the key of knowledge' had always been preached to mean knowledge in the sense of accumulating knowledge about, or studying, or possibly moral wisdom. It's why we went to Sunday school, to learn 'about God.' It's why we were encouraged to memorize scriptures, to increase our knowledge, to know right from wrong and choose the right. It carries with it the feeling of following the rules in order to keep from being punished. 

But that is not what this word is talking about. I went to Strong's Concordance and discovered that this knowledge - the key to which the teachers of the law, the clergy of Jesus' day, had "taken away" - is translated from the Greek word gnosis or 'deeper or more perfect knowledge'... which is derived from another Greek root word  ginosko  ... common language for the ultimate act of intimacy within a marriage. 

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

Oh my. 

That brings a whole new meaning to this passage, doesn't it?  

Jesus was angry and so very saddened by how the religious teachers of His day didn't "get" the intended message of knowing God intimately, and not only did they not "get" it, they made it impossible for people to access that kind of information so that THEY could have any kind of relationship with God. 

Basically their lives sucked, and they wanted everyone else's lives to suck as much as theirs. And because they were in a position of leadership, and people looked to them for guidance, they succeeded in laying so much bondage on people, and making what should have been a free and beautiful relationship into a loveless, lifeless contract marked by a whole laundry list of dos and don'ts, with threats of punishment if they did not toe the line. 

I'm not pointing fingers.  The point here is not who is a Pharisee and who isn't. The point is not whether this or that pastor, this or that denomination is misguided at best.  No ... the point is that God wants to have a gloriously intimate, personal relationship with each of us. Jesus was all about that... because He knew that there was joy in it for us - and for Him. He knew that us living in fear was no way to live at all. He came to bring freedom so that people could actually BE FREE. 

And the key to that freedom is a growing intimacy with God. 

It isn't about whether we eat this or that, or drink this or that, or go here or there, or sing this or that, or say this or that. It is about allowing God into the deepest parts of us, those places nobody else is allowed to (or has a right to) go, letting Him express His delight in us, letting Him "know" us - in the most intimate way. Only in that deep knowledge, that total acceptance of His lavish love, that realization that He is for us and wants to pour out His love into and upon us, is there real peace and purpose and passion and power. That is true living. That is the moment-by-moment adventure.

That knowing (ginosko - or intimate knowing) is what Jesus was referring to when He said that in that 'day' of reckoning He would say (to those calling out "Lord, Lord...."), .... "I never knew you. Depart from Me..." (Mt 7:23)  He meant that two-becoming-one union, the kind that is only possible when we open up the most private parts of our selves to His love. He meant, in essence, "You never let Me intimately know you." 

What a sad indictment! How much we have missed!! How small and puny our conception of God has become because we (in our arrogant insistence upon our own unworthiness and fearing His vengeance) dare not entertain the thought of the exceeding greatness of His love and grace! That love is the starting place of the journey; that is the pinnacle.

We are already there, if we but knew (accepted, opened ourselves to) it. He has already made a place for us in His lap - His arms are open wide and that spot, that special spot on His shoulder is aching for us to nestle in there and hear His heart beat for - and with - ours. 

Can we not hear His call? It is sweet, sad, yearning. It echoes in our own hearts and resonates in our own longing for something "more."  Let's press in. 

I dare you. Let's open ourselves to Him. Let's let Him in.

Lesson from RMS Titanic

On April 10, 1912, the Royal Mail Steamer (RMS) Titanic set out from Southampton, England on her maiden voyage to New York, with 2227 people on board, mostly wealthy people in first-class cabins and immigrants transported like cargo toward the new world. 

The Titanic was already famous. She was touted as "the unsinkable ship" - the safest ever to be built - and so confident were her designers of that "fact" that there were only 20 lifeboats on board: only enough to carry a scant half (at most) of the passengers on that voyage. The mood was festive. Nothing bad could happen. 

Late on the night of April 14, at 11:40 pm, the ship struck an iceberg, about 400 miles south of Newfoundland. April in Atlantic Canada is far from springtime. 

To one eye-witness, the sound of the ship hitting that iceberg was like fabric ripping. The passengers who were awake felt the ship shudder, and many just lay back down and trusted the "safest ship ever built" to take them to their destination. Some asked members of the crew if there was a problem. They were told that as far as they knew, there was none. 

There was a problem. The problem was that the ship had struck an iceberg, and the pilot of the ship believed the propaganda that the ship was unsinkable, and so delayed his distress call. The passengers - confused and disbelieving - were not warned early enough, and when they were warned, the crew started calmly handing out life-preservers to the passengers.

While most passengers got a life preserver, many more people died than needed to die, because of (1) the arrogance of the designers (2) the implicit trust people had in the media hype [in other words, they believed what they were told], and (3) too few lifeboats and too little instruction on their use (based on reasons one and two). 

Photo "Titanic Ship Sinking At Night" by
Victor Habbick at |
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Again, from eye-witness accounts, the RMS Titanic sank bow-first beneath the waves, looking much like an incredibly slow-motion dive that a duck might make, eventually at a 65-degree angle as the stern slipped beneath the waves. The sinking took two hours and forty minutes. 

Those left on board during that time with no life-boats left to save them, huddled near the stern, still clinging to the vain hope that the great ship would not sink. More and more of them let go, unable to hang onto the railing (or each other) any longer, faced with two realities: the cold numbing air of the North Atlantic and the force of gravity that pulled them sharply downhill. The icy water killed over 1,500 people in mere minutes from their entrance into the water - those who had their life preservers but who were too late to get into the lifeboats. 

Those in the lifeboats could barely believe that the ship was doomed and so they lingered near it until it became obvious that the media hype was wrong; they rowed away clumsily because most of the crew had gone down with the ship and they had no instruction on how to navigate the huge rowboats, each holding about 35 people. 

Over three hours they stayed in the lifeboats in the freezing cold, pressing close together for warmth, calling out the names of their loved ones out over the dark water ... for answers that never came. As twilight turned to dawn, they could see the outline of a ship, a proven ocean liner whose captain had heard the delayed distress call and was waiting to pick up survivors. The Carpathia took aboard 705 survivors that morning. The rest of the Titanic's passengers and crew had died - one thousand, five hundred twenty-two people. (*)  The enormity of that loss was unprecedented: nothing like that had ever happened on such a large scale.

The only ones who survived were the ones who got off the ship and into a safe place, at great personal and emotional cost. 

We are aboard another Titanic - the religious system we call the church (notice I use the small letter c??) - and we are so caught up in the hype of the gates of hell not prevailing against it (in other words, indestructible) that we forget that the real Church isn't about the system or the vehicle (so to speak); the Church is about the people: real people with real lives. Unfortunately, what we settle for is being lulled into a false sense of security by the propaganda and the ritual and the expectation that the deck beneath our feet will hold and stay steady ... we are settling for doing church instead of being the Church. 

What we have called the church (the building, the religious system) is waterlogged and already beginning to tilt, and it has been on its way down for decades. It was never indestructible; it is man-made!! The real Church is created by Jesus - and besides, when Jesus said "the gates of hell would not prevail against it ... He was talking about the Rock upon which He would build the Church - that Rock being the truth that He is the Chosen One, the Son of the living God - the Good News, ... not the vehicle.  

"And we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us." (2 Cor 4:7) WE are the Church. WE carry the Good News, this treasure, the love of God shed abroad in our hearts. We don't need to go to a special place, or say certain words, or do certain things in a specific way or order. The building, the organization, panders to the control freak in us, the need to feel that we are in control of something ... when the truth is that there is nothing that we can do to make God love us more OR less than He always has. 

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

If WE are the carriers of the Message, if we are the dwelling-place of the Spirit of God (and by faith in His Word we ARE) then the structure (seen or unseen) is not important and may actually detract from what God is doing. What matters most is our willingness to listen to His leading. 

The safest place for us is not on board a sinking ship. We don't have to "do" church; we never did! We ARE the church - and that truth makes Jesus' words come alive: "Wherever two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst." (Mt 18:20) We don't have to have two hymns, announcements, offering, a sermon and a prayer. We can be who we are, share what God is doing in our lives, and lift one another up without the benefit of clergy, a building, or even singing if that's not where the gathering goes. I've been in such gatherings - in coffee shops, living rooms, restaurants ... they are amazing, energizing, and precious.  The moment we legislate such a living thing with the word "should", it is re-infected with the cancer of man-made position and influence ... and dies a painful death. 

Why would I want to participate in that? 

The way I view "what the Church is" ... has been undergoing a transformation lately. I'd been seeing it as the narrow (so narrow you can see through a keyhole with both eyes), traditional definition for so long ... that the idea of informal, unstructured gatherings any old time with other believers had to be called something else - like visits, or sharing, or whatever else happened. The reason for this was that (obviously) there was no pastor or worship leader, so it couldn't be church, right?  Really though, what I experienced in those impromptu get-togethers in random places ... was the Church. I just didn't recognize it because I was so used to the Sunday-go-to-meeting kind of ritual gathering where it feels 'safe' - (like the Titanic was for those four days...) surrounded by the ornate trappings and beautiful music and such, playing on the emotions and relying on manipulation to get people to respond. (Oh of course you've heard it and seen it happen: "Can't I get an Amen?" or "We'll sing that verse one more time and sing it like you mean it!"  etc., etc.)

I've since realized and been able to recognize the Church at work even when my husband, my daughter I have breakfast on a weekday morning and end up (as we usually do) talking about God. He's part of our lives, our everyday. Such times are when we feel most encouraged, in a safe place with each other in our relationship so that we can be honest about our feelings and help each other to grow in our faith. 

And I find myself less and less willing to board the ocean liner. The luxury accommodations just aren't worth it. 


(*)   -  Information retrieved from http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/titanic.htm 

Backbone or bludgeon?

Today I read a blog post from a blogger whose posts I sometimes read. She talked about how love is meaningless without the Cross - and how the Cross defined love. She talked about how the religious use the Cross as a sledgehammer ... and how it was intended to be used as a lifeline by people who have been rescued, to extend to others who are in peril. 

She talked about the news topic that folks talk about in hushed tones because they don't know what to do about it - and because they're scared to talk about it just in case it happens to them - martyrdom - and more specifically the execution of 21 Coptic Christians from Egypt, killed by ISIS. (You can read her blog post at this link: A Holy Experience.) 

In our "safe" experience in North America, events such as the martyrdom of believers - which takes place on a daily basis - seem far removed from us. Yet we are not as safe as we think. In our complacency, we are in grave danger of letting the Cross become a pretty decoration rather than a symbol of ultimate, self-sacrificing love. We are in danger as our own political forces seek to chip away more and more at those activities that we have considered for so long to be inalienable rights - the right to gather in protest for any reason, for example. (Yes, that stops the unpleasant demonstrations that make us squirm because we don't agree with the subject matter ... but it also stops us from standing up for what we believe to be right). 

Why were those 21 people killed by ISIS? Why are believers killed every day by those of other beliefs?

Because power corrupts. Because they can. Because those who kill them see them - and any other representative of an idea that is different from theirs - as dangerous. In other areas of the world, corrupt powerful people fear losing power over others. They rule by fear. And the people of the Cross are fearless. Perfect love casts out all fear. So their murderers fear that love most of all.

The Cross - in Western culture - has developed the sad reputation of being a bludgeon (a weapon used to beat someone to death) wielded by powerful religious people. Religious purists use their "faith" as a way to judge, condemn, and yes, execute others - assassinate their character, demoralize them, keep them under the strong thumb of "Should." "Christian" religious purists (and I use the term "Christian" in quotations because they bear no resemblance to Christ) use the Cross as a banner under which to mount offensives against this individual or that individual, this group or that group, this political persuasion or that one. They lift high the Cross only to bring it down like a club on the heads of those who would dare disagree.  All the while they hide their hypocrisy behind the shadow of the Cross even as they perpetuate abuse and oppression, leaving ruined lives and testimonies in their wake. All the while they poison - from within - the credibility of the Message while raging against those who disagree. They - as I said - use the Cross as a bludgeon.

But the Cross is not a bludgeon. The Cross of Jesus only killed ONE Person, and by that one death by LOVE it sets people free. It gives those who have been so set free ... backbone. We are people of God's love, the love of the Cross. 

This love was (and is still) so strong that the original carriers of the Gospel Message spoke nothing against the political powers of their day, carried no placards, protested nothing at all - yet in passionate gratitude for His scandalous grace, they changed the world because the Cross gave them love with backbone. They were infused with and conveyed to others the message of God's love expressed through the Cross of Jesus, Love proven true and effective by the Resurrection. They had witnessed His grace, tasted His love. 

You can't kill that with violence. There is no way to stop God's love from infusing people with backbone, not to be bullies themselves but to be fiercely kind and generous. That kind of love spreads the more you try to destroy it, just like swinging a skipping rope at a dandelion head. As my blogger friend alluded to, if you behead a dandelion in full seed, it might seem like it goes away. 

But you really only get one thing in the end. 

More dandelions.

Photo "Dandelion" courtesy of
tiramisustudio at
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The tragedy of the prodigal

What a waste.

We see that expression most often when someone has had so much potential and they've chosen to throw it all away and do something to diminish their life - either choose a different career path, get lost in addiction, or commit suicide. 

I'm not going to comment on any one of these. I just state that I hear that expression a lot. And usually when someone in the church talks about it, they are apt to say something about the parable of the prodigal son. 

I read that parable so differently now than I used to. 

True, it's a compelling story of a young man who was wasteful (which is the meaning of the word "prodigal" - in that he took his father's wealth and his own reputation and wasted them in riotous living.)

However, I have come to understand something about this younger brother and about the family he grew up in. His home life had settled into a schedule of work, work, work. Both brothers worked from sunup to sundown on the family farm. The younger one just got tired of the rat race. He wanted something more. He was honest about it. And he went to the only one who had the power to do something about it: his dad. 

With bags and bags of money he set out and yes, he wasted it. He thought of it as being generous to his friends; he didn't see that the only reason people hung out with him was that they could get a free lunch. And when he finally came to himself, he started to see how generous his own father had been to him. In fact, he knew deep in his heart that even the servants got better treatment than his so-called friends (and of course, his employer) were giving him. He came back, only to find out that his dad had never given up on him, gave him the space he needed and knew that one day he would come home. 

The dad had the whole "welcome home" speech pretty much rehearsed in advance - the best of everything and a feast on top of it all! 

And here's the tragedy for the younger son: that it took losing everything he had and the humiliation of coming back ... to realize that ALL that the father had was his. 

But the deeper tragedy lay in wait - at home - this entire time, a ticking time bomb. 

The older son was all about keeping the rules, doing everything that was expected of him, buttering up the old man. When the younger son left, he was outraged ... or was he? Could it have been that he saw this as a chance to increase his father's holdings and therefore have the whole shebang to himself after his dad died? He redoubled his efforts, worked like a slave, did what was expected. 

Photo "Portrait Of Pointing Male"
provided by imagerymajestic at
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And when his brother came home, he was FURIOUS. How DARE this son come back? He knew his father's generosity would mean that he'd put the younger son back in the will. Under Jewish law at the time, the elder son got 2/3 of the inheritance and the younger son(s) would get 1/3. The younger son had already asked for his third. And his older brother was livid that his younger brother would get - in essence - more than his share.

And to add insult to injury, here was his father killing the fattened calf to throw this huge party for this younger brother who had not earned it. "He has wasted his inheritance on prostitutes and loose living..." 

Hmm. I wonder how he could assume that his brother lived like that while he was away; could it have been that he would have, if given that opportunity? He wouldn't allow himself the opportunity, of course. It would mean financial suicide!! He just dreamed of what the younger brother was doing and felt perfectly justified in judging him, vilifying him for having the gall to do what he was afraid to do (because to do that would mean he'd certainly be disinherited. Or so he thought.)

The real tragedy is THIS prodigal. THIS is the more wasteful son: the older brother. He just didn't get it. 

He didn't comprehend how generous, how loving his dad was to both of them. The father's response to his oldest son, when he objected to the party his father had thrown for the younger, was simply, "All I have is yours. All you needed to do was ask." But the older son never could conceive of such lavish love, or that it could be extended toward him. He thought he had to EARN it. He wasted his whole life trying to increase his reward, trying not to lose what his father had so freely given. He never enjoyed himself, never developed any kind of connection with his dad other than the work he did for him. He never knew how much his dad loved him, even though I am sure that the dad told him and found a thousand ways to show him, over and over again. The oldest son just could not believe it.

How tragic. 

How very, very tragic.

All that has taken my heart

"Lord, I will bow to You - to no other god
         but You alone...
 Lord, I will worship You, nothing hands have made,
         but You alone.
     I will lay down my idols, thrones I have made,
     All that has taken my heart, oh..
 Lord, I will bow to you, to no other god
     ... but You alone.

     I will lay down my idols, thrones I have made,
     All that has taken my heart, oh..
 Lord, I will bow to you, to no other god
     ... but You alone."     - - Bob Fitts

Yes. Yes there are Christian idols. There are things that take our hearts without us even being aware of them. 

I'm not talking about cars, or sports, or TV, or (fill in the blank that we turn to when we feel empty or bored). I'm talking about right inside the church.

When I first heard Bob Fitts sing the song I've quoted above, I was struck by how humble the man was. How he longed to worship God and God alone. Then I got to meet him and work with him briefly. His attitude in person was full of grace and gratitude. There was no hint of self-serving or arrogance in him. 

I fear that in some areas in church life, we've succumbed to an "American Idol" mentality. We follow superstars, or styles of worship (Hillsong vs Thousand Foot Krutch for example). We hear a worship band and reduce their ministry - which they give to Jesus - down to something that must be applauded, or tell them, "Good job!" (Job?? Really??) We rob them of their heavenly reward by lavishing earthly reward on them. 

Photo "Center Of Church" courtesy of Keerati at
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And that's not all. Idolatry is not just worshipping other gods. Idolatry is also worshipping a version of God that isn't really what He's about. Just like the children of Israel did once - it cost them three thousand lives that day. 

Let me explain. In Egypt, every altar or shrine erected to whatever god was being worshipped at the time had an altar base - a pedestal, if you will - which was made in the shape of Hathor, the goddess of the earth. She was represented by a cow. 

When Moses went up the mountain to get the law from God, the people got restless. "We can't just stand here," they thought. "We have to DO something!" They originally wanted to worship the God that brought them out of Egypt. They pressured Aaron into allowing it. They donated some of the gold they had plundered from the Egyptians and they made an altar base. Naturally it was in the shape of a bovine - a small cow - a calf. 

But it was JUST THE BASE. There was NOTHING ON TOP of the calf. (The Egyptians never did this. All their altars had something on top.) God's people intended to worship the "unseen God" which - they reasoned - was above the altar. But their worship and celebration soon focused on the human-made base upon which they had thought the presence of God would hover. They followed the practices they'd seen growing up (traditions of men). And they moved from a desire to worship God, to saying "THESE are the godS that brought us out of Egypt." 

Can you see the path of degradation into idolatry? 

This is what happens when people think that they can 'add' something to what has already been done for them. The people felt they had to add something of their own, something tangible, to this worship-fest. Just like the church today stumbles over the simplicity of the Good News and feels she has to add to it: the wood, hay and stubble of rules, regulations and ritual (1 Cor. 3: 11-13). 

Idolatry. It's spiritual adultery. 

Rules and regulations and rituals feel good. They make us feel comfortable, safe, like we are doing something for ourselves, securing our place, pleasing God. They take our heart, they steal it away from a life in which He is the centre because of His goodness, mercy and grace. Bit by little bit the focus becomes the altar (what we do or don't do for Him, our own human effort) and not Him. We get into the mindset that in order to please Him we have to appease Him, that is, to keep Him from getting mad at us by doing stuff He likes.

But don't we see? God is already pleased with us. Because of what Jesus did for us, we are already pure, clean, washed, made whole. We are the righteousness of God in Jesus, because He was made to be sin. For us. (2 Cor 5:21) Once for all time, He settled the sin question: past, present, and future. "He,  having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, sat down at the right hand of God ... for by one offering He has perfected for all time those that are being made holy." (Heb 10: 12, 14.)

There is nothing we could do to add to that. It's already perfect. The forgiveness is complete, unconditional, absolute. "He is able to save them to the uttermost those who come to God by Him, seeing that He ever lives to make intercession for them." (Heb 7:25). "These things I have written to you that you might know that you have [present tense] eternal life, and that you may believe on the name [or in the authority] of the Son of God." (1 John 5:13).

This is basic stuff; this is the scandalousness - the lavish nature - of God's Grace. But it goes against our human nature. Like the people of Israel at the foot of Mount Sinai, we feel that we can't "just stand there" in the freedom with which Christ has made us free. We have to "do something" ... and in this lies the most dangerous fear-based lifestyle possible - thinking that we have to keep by our own efforts that which God has already freely given. 

So that is what I will lay down. I will lay down the idols of all my own efforts, all my own devices, all my arm-twisting where I try to behave myself so God will answer my prayers, and all my insistence on complicating His free gift, sullying it with my own kindling (wood, hay, and stubble). I will focus instead on His perfect sacrifice for me, and live in gratitude and worship to Him who gave all He had, all He was, for me, and who lives forevermore.

Consider Him

I love God's people. I do. The last few months especially, I've come to appreciate how incredibly amazing they can be: loving, supportive, generous, and compassionate. 

Sometimes, though, the "other side" of people raises its head and I find myself wondering what happened. People have their own agendas, their own "stuff" ... and sometimes that stuff gets in the way of good relationships. 

The hard truth is that because human beings are human beings, there are going to be situations where someone is going to get hurt. I understand that. I've hurt people before. And I've been hurt before. It happens. 

That doesn't mean it hurts any less or that the feelings are not valid. 

Lately there's been a situation where I have been feeling rejected and lied to, something that keeps happening with annoying regularity and which hurts. every. time. It happened again this week. Every time it happens, it feels like someone has struck me in the face. I feel rejected, undervalued and dismissed all over again. And every time I need to "deal" and find some peace in the situation because quite frankly, I don't see it ever changing. Call that a lack of faith if you want to, but it's also a whole lot of experience talking. 

Today as I sat in church (why is it that these things come to a head on Communion Sundays?) struggling with this recurring situation which was making me feel so worthless, I heard my pastor say (as he was introducing Communion) "He came to His own, and His own received Him not." (John 1:11)

Huh, I thought. Wait a sec. Jesus' own people rejected Him, dismissed Him, and ended up being responsible for His crucifixion. 

Not that my situation even comes close to His ... but then again, that's the point isn't it? The point is that He came here to make a way for humans to know God. And humans weren't interested in Him or in His mission, only in their own agendas and interpretations of why He was here. The Bible tells us that Jesus was "in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin." (Heb. 4:15) He went through all of that so that He could relate to our suffering. There is absolutely NOTHING I can go through, nothing that can happen to me or no emotion that I can feel, that He has not gone through or felt. 

He understands. 

Photo "Stained-glass Church Windows"
courtesy of franky242 at www.freedigitalphotos.net

"Consider Him who endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself, lest you be weary and faint in your minds." (Heb. 12:3)

We like to pretty it up, make it seem less gruesome than it really was, but the cross was a pretty awful place - the most barbaric form of execution ever known to humankind up until that time in the history of the world. The scourging itself was enough to kill someone, but Jesus was made of stern stuff physically (carpenter by trade, walked at least 30 miles a day), so to the cross He went, already weakened by loss of blood and barely recognizable as human.  The very people He came to help had turned on Him. Even His best friends deserted Him when it looked like the tide of popular opinion was against Him. How horrifyingly wrenching! And to top it all off, He the One Person that mattered most to Him ... His Father ... would turn His back on Jesus. 

And I think MY problems are big. 

Needless to say I had to have a conversation with Him today about this thing I had considered to be so hurtful. And I thanked Him for understanding, and for being patient with me. I realize that the situation is probably never going to go away, and I might need to have that conversation over and over again with Him. But that's okay. 

He understands.

One more night - with what?

"When do you want me to ask God to remove the plague of frogs?" asked Moses.

"Tomorrow," Pharaoh replied.

What?  Let me get this straight - you have slimy, disgusting frogs in your bed, frogs in your breakfast muesli, frogs all over the floor and in your cooking utensils, you can't walk two feet without stepping on or kicking aside a frog - and you want to spend another night with them?

Ludicrous!

Found this photo HERE

What was that all about anyway?  Why tell Moses you want to spend another night with those revolting things crawling all over you?

Frogs are fine - in their place: in the water. Some of them are actually quite pretty.  But that doesn't mean I'd want them infesting everything I owned. 

So what was behind Pharaoh's bizarre desire to spend another night with the frogs? Why would anyone want to do that?

It's the illusion (or should I say the delusion) of control. I, like so many people, like to think that i have control over my own life.  And my innate selfishness dictates that if I can convince myself that I have control over things, they will not be the master of me.  Even if they are.  It's the same argument when I know that (let's say) overeating is bad for me. It makes me feel gross, I eat until I'm in pain and then I groan for hours afterward.  

Yet what do I do the next time? I do it again. And again. And when I think about portion control and healthy food choices and being more active ... I plan to do it "next week." Or "the first of next month." Or "after Christmas." It's the delusion of control. I can't face the fact that I can't do it on my own, so I put off the painful process of facing that fact until another day.  Same as stubborn old Pharaoh.  

It's become a stock joke between my husband and me. "Um, when are you going to _____?" (Answer - next week, next month, whatever).  "Hmm. Gonna spend another night with the frogs, huh?"  And we both laugh, because we both know the uncomfortable truth - the status quo is preferable to the pain of change, even change for the better ... and we both want to believe that we have the power over when, how, and for how long that change occurs. Next week becomes next month, next month becomes after Christmas... and the thing that stands in the way is fear ... and ego.  I've heard it said that EGO stands for Edging God Out.

That sounds about right. 

So am I going to put off until next week what I know I should have faced weeks ago? Or do I want to spend another night with the frogs?

Death of an atheist

I first met Ted (not his real name) at a 12-step group that met in someone's home.  He sat, defiant, beaten by alcohol for decades but unwilling to embrace steps 2 and 3 of AA: We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity, and We turned our will and our lives over to the care of God... 

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He had tried every trick in the book to get sober without "the God thing."  Nothing worked.  He'd lived a hard-drinking, hard-living life, filled with booze, drugs, women, you name it. His salesman's life had taken him far and wide; he was used to living in hotels and using every mood-altering substance he could. Now he was in his sixties and even more adamant that there was no God.  He had a spite against the church so wide, you could see it written all over him.  SOMEONE (and I suspect many, MANY someones) had hurt him so very badly in the church and he had written the whole Christianity thing completely off - it was ludicrous to him.  He saw the judgmental, self-righteous attitudes of any church people he had ever been in contact with, the small-minded, religious, cliquish, rules-based and narrow lives each of them led, and wanted nothing whatsoever to do with that.  And he'd tarred God with the same brush as those who said they believed in Him.

Now the guy leading this group was saying that in order to get and stay sober, he had to believe in the God he had for so very long resisted as being the source of the behavior of these horrible people - and not only that - to give his will and his life to Him?  No.  Ted argued, he disputed, he got red in the face and it looked like he was going to physically attack this guy.  I think the only thing that kept him in his seat was the fact that the forty-something man he was so angry at ... could whip him (but good) in a fight.  

So he left.  He "went back out" as they say in recovery rooms.  He went on yet another drinking spree that left him nearly destitute, beaten into desperation by the consequences of his choices.  And like a moth to a candle flame, he was again seated in our little group. 

But he wasn't saying much.  

One night, one of our number spoke up and told his story, the story of someone who had a real hatred of God and of His people, a victim of physical and religious abuse, hypocrisy, and abandonment all in the name of God.  He told how he finally came to the end of himself and in desperation cried out for God to either kill him or cure him.  And that was the beginning of a rather uneasy but successful end to his drinking career and the beginning of a relationship with the Creator not based on hypocrisy and religion but based on truth and honesty.

Ted's face was a study in conflicting emotions.  After the meeting ended, he approached this fellow and said, "Would it be okay if I called you sometime?" The man agreed, perplexed.  Everyone there knew Ted's hostile attitude toward all things religious.  And now he was wanting to talk to someone who freely admitted that relationship with God was the only way.  

Over the course of the next few months, after heart-to-heart talks over coffee, going through the shakes, the jitters and the intolerable cravings and being able to talk about them frankly and openly with his chosen mentor (and with others of the same ilk), after long walks and talks with God about anything and everything - this God to whom he referred as "The Old Man" because he couldn't bring himself to say the word, "God" - Ted grew into a personal relationship with his Creator.  It was like watching a baby being born - miraculous, raw, delicate, new.  His life was transformed! Every facet of it burgeoned with Life.  Everything was so fresh, so vibrant, so .... passionate.  Every bit of passion with which he had hated the church and (by association) God, was now funneled into loving Him, developing relationship with Him.  His whole demeanor exuded peace and joy.  God had truly touched his life.  

The atheist had died.  A believer was born.

He even started attending a church, but more out of a desire to please God than any other thing, like social expectation. He got - and stayed - sober.  He became everything that everyone knew that he could be if only he would let God love him: a better person, a better husband, a better father.  And he was so refreshingly honest about his journey.  He'd talk about it to people, to newcomers in our group, who would listen to him because he knew what it was like.  He knew how it felt to be that hopeless, that disillusioned, to not know what this God-thing was all about.  He told them it was okay to have doubts, but if they'd just be honest with God and start talking to Him, they'd see a difference in their lives.  He was a walking miracle - he was living proof that God could do anything with anyone who would give Him a real honest chance.  And folks knew it.

One night, after his usual long walk back to his hotel room, talking with "The Old Man" the whole way, he felt very tired, so he laid down in his bed without taking his street clothes off.  

The cleaning staff found him the next day just like that.  His heart had given out.  He was gone.

We, like many others in our little band, questioned the goodness and the love of a God who would take him from his family and his friends so soon after getting his life squared away, restored, renewed. What kind of cruel joke was this, we wondered.  We missed him; we missed his ready smile, his willing heart, his generous spirit. We still do.  But we had to accept that he was immensely happy where he was, marveling in his new-found everlasting life.  Some of us did accept this, and we were able to move on.  Others ... didn't. 

Now, several months after his death, I'm even more convinced of what I was in the beginning, when he first passed away.  He was taken from us while he was still unspoiled by religion.  If he had gotten any further into the western church, any church, any denomination, he would never have survived. The rules that so many rely on to try to keep people in line would have begun to make themselves known, to hem him in, to dissect his passion (apparently a dangerous thing in religious circles because it can't be controlled) and render it powerless. The pettiness, the hypocrisy that had hurt him in the past was (and is) still rampant.  It was only a matter of time before he realized it and his faith - tenuous and fragile that it was - would have been shaken.  And he would have "gone back out" again to reject his Creator and drink himself into his grave, another sad statistic.  I'm as sure of it as I know my own name. 

So I'm not angry at God anymore for taking Ted when He did.  I miss him, yes.  I really miss him.  But I know that he's happier now than he ever was - and that he left this world in an untainted, intimate love-relationship with "The Old Man" that leaves mine in the dust. 

Yes, it was a little rough around the edges.  Yes, he had a lot to learn. (Or did he?)  Be that as it may, I can tell you that with all that is in me, there are times that I pray for God to make me more like him.  Not like the ones that are so bound up in the shoulds and oughtas that they drive people away in droves - but more like Ted, who just learned to love and be loved, completely, honestly, warts and all.

Denial isn't just a river in Egypt

As much as I talk about being real and genuine, I am continually amazed at how quickly I can slip into a mind-set that minimizes situations and cleverly hides them or disguises them so that I won't recognize them for what they are.

It's called denial.  

Un-watermarked photo for sale at
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Like this last week.  I had a scratchy throat last Saturday and thought, "Oh, it's nothing.  I'll get over it."  Sunday morning - I still hadn't gotten over it.  Six hours of singing later, I was worse - the throat was SORE.  "It was all that singing," I told myself.  Still I struggled with it for two more days before finally giving in and taking a sick day from work... looking after myself helped, but the cough was getting worse and let's not talk about the phlegm.  Very annoying.  Still, I chalked it up to irritation and having to talk a lot on Monday after singing so much on Sunday.  I just didn't want it to be viral.  Or an infection. My wishing that it wasn't viral didn't make it not viral.  Duh.

It wasn't until my husband woke up this morning with the same symptoms I had several days ago that I finally admitted it.  I had gotten a case of the common cold.  Oh drat.  I hate being sick.  And that was precisely why I was running from the idea.  It didn't make me any less sick - and I probably spread my germs to more people: friends, co-workers ... as a result.  And now HE's sick.  Which is a bummer because when he gets sick, he gets SICK.  No whiney "man-cold" (you know, oh honey I'm sick, could you get me this or that) for him; he likes being totally alone when he's ill, suffers in silence and bears watching as a result. After all, he's a pneumonia survivor, so when he gets a cold, I go into that eagle-eye surveillance mode in case the congestion gets into the bronchia. If it does, then it's off to the doctor for a heavy dosing of antibiotic.  

But I digress.  Denial of what's really happening can be dangerous not only in the physical realm but also in the emotional one.  I've actually seen angry people try to tell me they're not angry while they're shouting at me.  (I've also tried that trick a time or a hundred, with others, with myself, and even with God!)  It doesn't work; it just gets pushed down underground and re-surfaces in another way - either against another person who has done nothing wrong, or perhaps the body attacks itself and the person becomes sick.  Modern researchers tell us that emotions are not bad in themselves but if they are suppressed - shoved down and not allowed to be acknowledged or expressed - they can cause anything from high blood pressure to stomach ulcers to cancer. 

Unpleasant emotions aren't bad. They just ARE.  They are designed to alert us to what is going on inside, where we think and relate to ourselves, to God, and to others.  So being honest and admitting the anger (or whatever the unpleasant emotion is) goes a long way toward helping us deal with it.  Once admitted, the next question becomes, "Why?"  

Why is a great question, contrary to what some folks think. Curiosity is to be commended, not squashed!  Another way I ask myself the 'why question' is this: "Where is this coming from?" and I refuse to give myself a pat answer like, "the devil." (Oh please. he gets a lot of blame for stuff that is the result of our own choices...) I have to sit with it and really look at it - remember when I've felt this way before and try to make a connection.  There usually is one for me - a deeper connection that stems from how I relate to God, to myself, or to others. 

Exploring that connection can lead me to a better understanding of my place in the world and in relationship with the people in it, including myself.  Instead of living in denial, I can live in reality, in truth, and in happiness.