healing
yep, i guess i’m a heretic
heretic [her-i-tik] 1. a professed believer who maintains religious opinions contrary to those accepted by his or her church or rejects doctrines prescribed by that church. 2. anyone who doesn’t conform to an established attitude, doctrine, or principle. synonyms: apostate, backslider, recreant, dissenter, skeptic, freethinker. (those made me laugh!)
my post up at rachel held evans’ blog last week–insecure christians–got some great comments, both positive ones & negative ones. the negative ones tended to come from the perspective that by me saying there is something good in us (because we are originally created in the image of God) that it somehow devalues the work of Christ in our lives. i’m personally so confused by this fear, that if we have even a little bit of good in us, it somehow untangles the whole rest of the story. to me, it enhances the Story and the work of God in this beautiful, messed up world. it doesn’t dismiss the power of sin and the reality of its presence in each of us from the moment we step into this Genesis 3 world. but it isn’t our starting place.
and i guess sometimes these i-honestly-don’t-think-they’re-all-that-crazy-when-you-read-the-gospels ideas make me a heretic.
i’m called one now and then.
and for the most part i always take it as a compliment.
it’s part of the cost of being a dreamer, lover, and status-quo rocker.
honestly, if believing that there’s some shred of good in every human being because we were created in God’s image makes me a heretic, then yep, I guess i am.
if thinking that even though we are full of brokenness, we are also beautiful no matter what we believe makes me a heretic, then yep, I guess I am.
if holding that women should be fully equal with men and free to lead fully and completely in whatever way God is calling them to lead makes me a heretic, then yep, I guess I am.
if refusing to build entire oppressive & mean systems of belief about homosexuality based on a few passages in the Bible and loving my gay friends freely & fully makes me a heretic, then yep, I guess I am.
if valuing practicing the ways of Jesus over nitpicking about doctrine makes me a heretic, then yep, i guess i am.
if being convinced that it’s possible that men and women can be true brothers & sisters & soul friends without all kinds of sexual weirdness and fear makes me a heretic, then yep, i guess i am.
if passionately believing that a lot of the modern church has been built on power, put-togetherness & serving itself instead of extending the tangible love of Jesus & restoring dignity to hurting people makes me a heretic, then yep, i guess i am.
if loving & valuing the Bible without making it more important than the wild-and-mysterious-Holy-Spirit-at-work-in-people’s-lives makes me a heretic, then yep, i guess i am.
i have a feeling a lot of you are heretics, too!
it can feel scary & lonely to be a heretic. i experienced the weirdest feeling when i was reading some of those comments over at rachel’s blog–a feeling of being an outsider. of being someone who no longer is part of a system that many still ascribe to and i used to fully embrace. it was mildly painful on a weird level but a huge relief on another. i respect the beliefs of some of the commenters and our differences; the world needs all different shapes & sizes of christianity. but it made it even more apparent how “out” of those particular traditional evangelical circles i really am.
i live in a different more grace & hope-filled world than ever before and i love it.
i have tasted “goodness in the land of the living” (psalm 27:13, i love that psalm) and there’s no turning back.
i do not want to raise my kids in the former system i was in & i don’t want them to believe that being a miserable wretch is their primary starting place. they, like most human beings, will probably have the same basic reflex toward shame and somehow feeling like they are falling short despite all their efforts. what i would like for them, for me, and for all-those-i-know-who-struggle-with-believing-they-are-worthy-of-anything-good to know is we are loved fully and completely by God just as we are–in all our mess & all our glory, in all our goodness & all our badness, in all our strength & all our weakness, all our beauty & all our ugliness–no matter what small or big faith we might have.
yep, i guess i’m a heretic.
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insecure christians
this was a guest post i wrote for rachel held evans‘ blog last week (see, i do know how to use capital letters!). i wanted to re-post it here so i had in my archives; plus, some of you may not have seen it or wanted to comment over there because there were loads of them. anyway, i’d love any thoughts you wanted to add to it.
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I had an amazing conversation last week with a non-Christian counseling grad student who had a project in this class to “move toward something in their culture they were uncomfortable with.” He chose Christianity. His experience with it wasn’t a positive one so he was trying to bravely explore it. We had a delightful conversation because he asked the best questions, the kind where trite Christian answers won’t quite do. He wasn’t talking about atonement theories or biblical interpretation of certain passages (for the most part, I think only Christian insiders give a rip about that kind of stuff).
He asked–Why do Christians never seem to feel very good about themselves?
I laughed that he had hit the nail on the head. The basic premise of Christianity is that there is nothing good in us. That original sin has ruined us and we are miserable sinners, unworthy of anything good without the blood of Jesus. That depravity is our essence.
With that as our starting place, my experience has been that despite all of the “God loves me” messages that get tossed around in church services and Bible studies, nothing completely fills in the cracks of that deep chasm. That somehow, no matter what, we just aren’t good. We aren’t worthy. We aren’t secure. We aren’t loveable. We are fatally flawed as human beings.
I know this well in my own life. I come from a liberal, non-churchy family that believed in the basic goodness of people (we were those people who evangelical Christians worried about!). When I opened my heart to following Christ, I needed a real, tangible God and was strangely and beautifully drawn to Jesus. I always say that if I had just stuck with that and never became involved in the kinds of churches I ended up attending, I would have been better off in the security-as-a-person department. But alas, that is not my story, and the rigidity and rules sucked me in, and I learned about what a miserable person I was without the cross of Christ. I ended up feeling worse about myself than when I started, and I brought a lot of shame and guilt to the table from the beginning! Christianity seemed to cement in me my badness. It reminded me constantly how much I fell short and how unworthy I was without God in my life.
About 17 years ago a wise and beautiful friend rocked my world with an important theological twist that some of you might say “duh!” at, but it was never taught to me in my hyper-conservative-evangelical circles. We were made in the image of God. That goodness is in us from the beginning. Sure, sin and brokenness has infiltrated this Genesis 3 world, but we must remember it all started with Genesis 1. Man and woman, created in the original image of God. That is our essence even though brokenness buries it.
I think that the spiritual journey is to uncover God’s image that was originally placed there.
I know from experience in my own life and journeying alongside many others that this is no easy task. It makes it far worse when the starting place is “I am really a miserable wretch.”
The Apostle Paul in Romans 7 talks about the struggle of our humanity to lean into sin. This passage is used all the time to hold up basic depravity, but we forget the twist that is there–”It’s not me, but the sin that lives in me” (vs. 7:12).
As a mother of five, the last thing in the world I want my kids to think is that they basically suck and are unworthy, unlovable. I want them to know they are beautiful, created in the original image of God with his imprint built into every fiber of their being. I want them to know they are worthy, secure, free. With a great human capacity to sin, fall, fail and really mess things up, sure. But I do not want a faith that forces me to build in them a basic insecurity from the start. That feels cruel. And completely counter to what I know about being a loving parent, and I’m only a human one.
My experience in working with people in pain in the church is that there’s an awful lot of insecurity going around in a system that is supposed to be built upon freedom, healing, and wholeness. Far too much fear, depression, inadequacy, unworthiness exists in countless Christ-followers when they have a chance to be really honest. Something is gravely wrong with this!
But the systems we’ve created and the theologies we’ve clung to perpetuate it.
Ultimately it not only damages us personally and relationally, but keeps the real power of the church paralyzed and stuck.
And really insecure.
Read Morechronic pain, soul care & better theology
“when we become aware that we do not have to escape our pains, but that we can mobilize them into a common search for life, those very pains are transformed from expressions of despair into signs of hope”
- henri nouwen
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one year ago today i had back surgery to repair a gnarly ruptured disc. it was one of the scariest things i have ever done. as someone who had never had a serious injury and rarely takes any medicine, and is always on the go, it was really traumatic. the pain leading up to it was excruciating, like none i had ever been remotely close to experiencing before, and i didn’t drive a car for 2 1/2 months and would have to either stand or lay down wherever i went. i wrestled with the reality of being desperate & the bad theology that sometimes oozed on me. it wasn’t just painful physically; emotionally it took its toll, too. after my surgery, some of the pain dissipated and i started to resume some parts of my old life, but i am forever changed. i have to think of my back every day, all day. once in a while i go an hour or two where i don’t think about it at all, but that is very rare.
i’m so much better than i was a year ago. and for that i’m grateful.
however, before my surgery i could work all day and then all night and be just fine. i could go, go, and go some more. now, all of that has changed. a year later, i have slowly eased back into my normal pace, which is a fast and intense one. and i have discovered, unfortunately the hard way, that it’s just not possible. my normal pace is no longer an option. the stress i used to be able to carry is now just too much sometimes. this past month has been a rough one for me, lots of ugly situations that have taken their toll on my soul. i have felt my back start to break again, pain i hadn’t experienced in a long time seep back in again, and at first i did what i usually do.
got mad at myself for working too hard.
got really scared.
got frustrated at God for somehow messing with my old life.
but, fortunately, i didn’t stay there for long. that’s my reflex, no doubt, but i am learning a new way of living that isn’t so harsh & mean, not only to myself but to God, either. i continue to practice letting God off the hook. and then, instead of beating the crap out of myself for working too hard, take a step back and recognize that i am just still learning how to live this new way.
i am now a person who has chronic weakness that i must be aware of.
i am more vulnerable.
I now must tend to the care of my body & soul in an intentional way.
it’s terribly hard for me to embrace this reality. but it’s just the truth. and it’s been better for me in all kinds of ways, too. it also opens the door for such a better theology. that God is not the one who causes this pain and if i do this or that spiritually, it will all magically disappear. i do not believe that. i am a human being and i live in a broken, weird world where there is a gap between what i want and what i need. strength in the world’s eyes tends to be utter and complete healing, kicking ass & taking names, conquering the battle. i wish i could on this one, oh i wish i could. that’s what i was hoping for, too.
but a year later i think there’s a better lesson here that i’m learning to embrace. my back is an indicator now to listen. a voice that talks to me and tells me that i’ve pushed it too far. or i’ve been pushed too far. that i need to slow down. that i need to let go. that i can’t carry the burdens in the same way i used to carry them. it points me toward soul care & taking better care of myself. it reminds me of my desperate need for Jesus’ love & comfort & mercy & peace. it helps me mourn and feel and be a human being. it calls me to strengthen my pericardium in some important areas. it reminds me of the often forgotten line in the serenity prayer that calls us to “take this sinful world as it is, not as i would have it.”
so there’s my little ramble for my one year anniversary. i am thankful for all the ways i am moving again, living again, feeling again, for the ways i am indeed healing. i love what i’m learning in a lot of ways & hate it in others. but i do know that gratitude heals and that pain can teach us important truths about God, ourselves & this crazy little life we get to live.
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experimenting with new venues for healing
i love safe containers for healing and change. there is something that always seems to happen when a space is created for openness, honesty & challenge. my most favorite thing to do is facilitate these kinds of groups in some way, shape or form, and i am so thankful that a big piece of my day-to-day at the refuge is to create different types of sacred spaces.
in this upcoming year i am hoping to experiment with a few new venues for healing. we all know that online connection can be more meaningful than it might seem, and even though i wish everyone could be in the same room at the same time, sometimes that is just not possible. online, in a safe container with other people in the same boat, can be the next-best-thing in the right kinds of contexts. for the past 2 months i have been facilitating a let’s-try-it-and-see-how-it-goes-because-i-have-some-hurting-friends-who-need-extra-love-and-hope online divorce group for women to gain some strength, support, and healing in the grieving process; i have found that even though i miss the face-to-face, the reality is that none of us would be meeting without it being online because everyone lives all over the US. plus, it’s really amazing what’s possible with people in similar situations, desiring change and open to work for a season.
with that, i am excited to partner in early 2012 with my wonderful and wise friend phyllis mathis on a 4 week online workshop for men & women based on our walking wounded: hope for those hurt by church gathering that we hosted in denver last month. you can check out all of the details here. it is one of the first times i have actually ever charged for something i am doing! and honestly, it is time for me to be willing to do that in the right contexts. don’t worry, i won’t be bombarding you with marketing stuff and this is not my new job but rather an extension of what you all know i am really passionate about–transformation, connection, and healing. i am glad to be able to also partner with live it to the full, which is a great platform for online classes and workshops that will make it easy for me & for participants. in the first part of 2012 i am hoping to open up the divorce group to others beyond just my little experiment and also offer a down we go: living into the wild ways of Jesus workshop for those wanting to explore the material a little more deeply & practically. i’ll keep you posted on both of these (and a few other ideas brewing) as details come together.
meanwhile, the date for this first one is set for january 9th 2012 after the holidays and registration is now open if you or someone you know is in this spot of being stuck, disillusioned, burned-out, or just plain hurt and would like to be a part, we’d love to have you. feel free to email me if you have any questions.
here are the basics:
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Hope for Those Hurt by Church
For most of us, our faith journey is the most essential thing about us, the closest thing to the core of who we are. So whenever some major shift in perspective rocks our faith, or we’re involved in a conflict involving our faith community, it goes deep, affecting our soul in some surprising ways.
If you are feeling lost, disillusioned or hurt as a result of a shift in your faith or by a negative church (or other faith community) experience, this just might be the class for you.
Join us January 9 through February 3, 2012 for Walking Wounded: Hope for Those Hurt by Church. Class price is $49 and includes daily posts (Monday through Friday) and weekly exercises in journaling, storytelling, and wellness practices.
Course Description
Thousands of honest, sincere people are finding themselves on the outside of a faith system they once held dear. The sadness, anger, disillusionment and fear can be debilitating. And confusing.
Have You:
- Been asked to leave a church or told you’re not a “good fit”?
- Felt forced to conform or remain consistently overlooked?
- Been told that you are loved but not your sin?
- Questioned leadership or theology and found yourself on the outside?
- Felt sad, angry, afraid, lost, or disoriented after painful church experiences?
- Experienced a significant shift in your theology or faith perspective and find yourself feeling disoriented and unsure?
You are not lost, and you are not alone.
Walking Wounded: Hope for Those Hurt By Church is designed to help you move through the painful and confusing aftermath of a negative faith-based experience.
In this 4 week class you will:
- Connect with others who have similar experiences
- Identify your losses and reclaim your dreams
- Tell your story and receive support
- Work through your unfinished business
- Learn effective practices to restore a sense of sanity
Through interviews, conversation, journaling and storytelling, Kathy Escobar and Phyllis Mathis will guide you through the confusion and into a place of purpose and peace.
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becoming better human beings
in the first few years of the refuge there were days when i really just wanted to throw in the towel. i often wonder why in the $*!^$&!(!)# i care so much about all of this. really. in the big scheme of things we are a little blip in the universe, just a teeny weeny pocket of love that is trying to scrape by and do the best we can. in the life of church-planting cycles, we are survivors. we have survived what many communities haven’t been able to weather. we have grown up over the past 5 years, not in numbers but in depth & width & in all kinds of ways that aren’t really measurable without kingdom-kinds-of-eyes. but we’re still young in all kinds of ways because that’s how faith & life is. if there was one thing i have learned in the past few years when i stopped always coming-to-the-edge-of-just throwing-in-the-towel, it’s that this kind of living requires a long, long view. it means weathering deep bumpy, rocky valleys in the road and having to climb big mountains without the best gear. it means letting go of needing everyone to understand and living in the tension of great disapproval. it means trusting that God is at work even though we may never see it. it means learning how to become less codependent and more free. it means having to chant the serenity prayer every day over and over and over again. it means holding on and hanging in and doing whatever we can do to remember that Jesus told us that this kind of life would be hard. but despite its hazards, it is beautiful.
at the same time, it poses another honest question–why work this hard? seriously. i know i have many friends who look in at what we’re doing and think it’s all a little nutty, how much we pour into this wild little community when we could take such an easier path. why have we chosen a road that’s so freaking messy?
trust me, i ask that question all the time. i imagine a nice office, an administrative assistant, making above the minimum wage, and being able to leave my work there instead of drag it home. but i then i just laugh because that is so not me. it never has been and it never will be. and this is somehow the little blip i’m dedicated to. that’s it. it’s not for everyone, that is for sure. but i am learning here what i don’t think i could learn if it were easier. i am not learning how to be a better speaker, a more efficient leader, a more effective manager, or a stronger fundraiser. those things are not inherently bad, but they are much easier than learning how to be a healthier human being.
i feel like that’s what i’m learning through being part of this community. how to be a healthier human being.
able to love and be loved. able to withstand adversity and still cling to Hope. able to hold on to what needs to be held on to and let of what’s not mine. able to laugh and cry at the same time. able to be mad at myself and kind to myself in the same breath. able to feel & hurt and able to receive healing & help. able to realize God is God and i’m human. able to have limits and also possibilities. able to fall down and slowly get back up. able to survive conflict and not have it kill me. able to be a friend & have friends. able to rely on others & also rely on God. able to trust. able to recognize limitations & able to still dream. able to give & able to receive. able to be vulnerable & allow myself to hurt.
i don’t think many churches teach this stuff. and i know why. it doesn’t sell. it’s not too inviting or comfortable.
but i think that’s what “church” should be about, really.
helping people become better human beings.
people of love, mercy, justice, hope, and healing. people who are willing to learn and fail and try again. people who focus on our own logs instead of others specks. people who lay down stones. people who are brave and scared at the same time. people who don’t give up but rely on God to sustain them through the twists and turns. people who are humble and willing to do the hard stuff and celebrate the good stuff. people willing to learn.
there are lots of different ways to learn it, it just so happens this is the particular Jesus school i happen to be enrolled in.
so that’s where i am at today. grateful for my humanity and God’s divinity. grateful for long-haul community. grateful for the 12 steps. grateful for the beatitudes. grateful for my dear & faithful friends who are helping me become a better human being.
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never quite right
this weekend’s walking wounded: hope for those hurt by the church was a really sweet & beautiful time for me. it was hard, too, because the reality of so much pain & loss in what’s-supposed-to-be-the-safest-place-on-earth really gets under my skin. i will never be able to recreate what happened there but i will try over time to share some of what it stirred up for me. i’m so behind on this blog, with unfinished posts here & there so i’ve got a feeling they won’t come in order, but they will come!
there were many things that stuck out for me over our friday evening & all day saturday together. however, if i had to choose one overarching thing it would be the deep sadness of realizing how so many dear and dedicated people, with deep passion for Jesus & people & hope & change, could end up on the outs somehow. it just hurts.
and i think the thing that everyone has in common is that somehow they weren’t quite “right” for the systems we were part of.
they were too much or not enough. too messy. to passionate. too caring. too female. not male enough. too gay. not pretty enough. too strong. too weak. too mentally ill. too poor. too loud. too divorced. too single. too wild. too quiet. they asked too many questions or not the right ones. too creative. too boring. they said “no,” said “i can’t anymore,” said “something’s wrong here,” said “i’m not so sure anymore,” said “what about those people?” said “can i take a break?” and “can you please help me, i’m hurting?”
the church should be the safest place on earth. the one place where we are okay just as we are. in all our mess, in all our glory. in all our femaleness in all our maleness. in all our good and all our bad. in all our strengths and all our weaknesses. in all our love for God and in all our doubts & questions.
but the truth is that because of its emphasis on performance, growth, exclusion, and self-interest, the church has become a place that continues to make most people feel somehow never quite right about who we are.
i realized that has been my experience from the beginning, really. when i first became a christian i always felt stupid because i didn’t know important things i guess i was supposed to know magically about the Bible. i remember being chastised by my first real pastor when my oldest son was a baby for asking what-i-think-were-really-fair questions about predestination. he made me feel so dumb, so “not quite right.” i have countless stories of feeling shame in these kinds of church-y moments. then, as i learned more and started to grow up, i ended up feeling completely inadequate as a christian; i wasn’t a good enough christian wife or mom or friend or disciple and somehow needed to pray more, work more, learn more, do more, try more. when i started to break free from that and gain a little more security & healing, i found myself in a system that in subtle & direct ways kept saying to me “um, can you quit talking about deeper relationship? we just want to study our Bibles and go to church and be happy. stop it!” that is on top of being a strong, passionate woman who isn’t interested in either children’s ministry, worship, or only women’s ministry. yeah, until now, i was never quite right. i have always been too much or not enough for the church.
i know so many of you in the same boat.
you’ve just never been “quite right” for the churches you’ve been part of.
i’m so sorry. it’s not the way it should be. i don’t think it was ever the idea.
the church, the wild & beautiful body of Christ, people of all shapes & sizes coming together in some shape or form to learn how to love God, ourselves & others should be the one place where we’re okay. just as we are. today. not tomorrow. not once we do this or do that. not once we know this or know that. not once we heal this or heal that. now. today.
so that’s my prayer for those of you who are on the outs and are hurting. who were never quite right for the places you tried to be. i am so sorry for your pain. but you are not alone. oh, you are so not alone.
my hope is that we can gain the courage & healing to redeem what was lost. i have a feeling it will look totally different than anything we’ve ever seen or experienced before. for me, it looks like the refuge, but for you it might just look like a few close friends dedicated to hanging out with each other just because. it might look like being part of a ministry or organization or group that you’re really passionate about. it might look like planting a new safe community. it might look like finding one that is safe enough for the real you. it might look like going to therapy or spiritual direction to rebuild strength that was stripped or gain it for the first time.
it looks so different for each of us. but i can strongly say that i think we all need to try to find some little pocket of love & little pocket of freedom where we (and the people who are part) can feel welcomed, valued, loved, honored, restored, and okay-just-how-we-are.
that’s not too much to ask.
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