identity
freedom.
“the spirit of the sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.
he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
they will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. “
- isaiah 61:1-3
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this is one of my all-time favorite passages in the entire Bible. when i first moved to colorado 14 years ago i was in a crazy hard season of intentional healing from a lot of shame & these words entered into my heart more deeply and somehow helped set me free from shame. it really was supernatural, and i love that Jesus lead with them when his public ministry started in luke 4, essentially saying “here we go, i’m here to set you free, like really free.”
over 2,000 years later rules and religion still have people in bondage.
and freedom–real and deep freedom, the kind i think God meant for us–seems to remain very elusive for many of us no matter how long we’ve gone to church.
in fact, i’ve come to believe that the longer we’ve gone, the harder it is to be free.
i also believe that real freedom is scary.
i have fleeting moments where i feel it in my bones, in every fiber of my being. where grace and peace and a security in who i am intersect in some wild way in my spirit and i truly feel free.
free of needing to please anyone.
free of systems that tell me what i can and cannot do, believe and cannot believe.
free of insecurity about my worth and value.
then what sometimes happens to me is i read too much on the internet.
or i look up and away from what’s right in front of me and begin to compare myself to others.
or i make a dumb mistake.
i see people who seem more spiritual than me.
more certain than me.
more gracious and humble than me.
more talented than me.
more all kinds of things than me.
and just like that, my freedom slips away and i’m back in egypt.
a slave.
i don’t want to be a slave.
and i don’t want my friends to be slaves, either.
so i keep fighting for my freedom.
and for the freedom of others, too.
toni morrison says, “the function of our freedom is to free someone else.”
years ago when my kids were little and i started making some significant shifts in my spiritual journey and becoming more honest, i remember saying to my friends “my kids are what keep my butt in the chair every week, trying to grow and change. i don’t want them to be stuck or feel the way i feel about myself. i want them to be free.” and now, as they are getting older, this feels clear–they are indeed free-er than me.
and even though my freedom can feel elusive sometimes, something has indeed “tipped” over the past chunk of years and i feel more free, more of the time, than i’ve ever felt before.
free to be me, just me.
free to receive God’s love without having to work for it.
free to lead freely as a woman in my little wild faith community, the refuge, and i know that’s a gift in “the church.”
free to share my sin & shame & pain & struggles without fear of judgment or rejection.
free to be loved by all kinds of beautiful people in all kinds of beautiful ways.
free to offer love to others without trying to change them.
and free to call others to freedom, too, to use my freedom to help free someone else.
to make room for others to lead and find their voice, their creativity, their passion.
to be safe enough to hear another person’s sin & shame & pain & struggle and do what i can to offer unconditional love and acceptance.
to play whatever small part i can in passing on love to those who feel unlovable, to making the invisible visible.
to encourage others to be free to be themselves, too.
none of this is possible on our own. oh, how we need God’s spirit to move in our hearts & lives to reveal to us what deep, real freedom really is! to make sure we don’t mistake freedom for a bigger cage.
then we must accept it. lean into it. practice it. trust it. re-new it, again and again and again.
and use it–however we can, whenever we can–to free someone else, too.
* * * * *
ps: down we go’s been doing well & i always love hearing the stories on what it stirs up so keep ‘em coming! here are a few things swirling around out there about it:
- today there’s a video about downward mobility on recycle your faith.
- my friend & awesome blogger/artist/pastor david hayward paired down we go with this cool print for a giveaway. i wish i would have won the print!
- i’m really excited to be part of sheloves magazine with a monthly piece on downward mobility in the sheloves God column. here’s the first post: down we go: practicing the wild ways of Jesus.
- and here’s an interview about the book with my friend jeremy myers
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the golden rule
**this post is part of rachel held evans’ synchroblog this week on the rally to restore unity. there’s some fun stuff over there this week!
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when i was a kid my mom had a plaque on her wall that said “whoever has the gold makes the rules”. looking back, oh how true those words can sometimes be in the systems that we live in! it was years later before i read the real golden rule, Jesus’ words in the sermon on the mount–“do unto others as you would have them do unto you” (matthew 7:12).
every other world religion has something else close to the same idea:
- hinduism – “this is the sum of duty: do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you.” – mahabharata 5:1517
- islam – “none of you [truly] believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.” number 13 of imam al-nawawi’s forty hadiths
- judaism – “what is hateful to you, do not to your fellow man. this is the law: all the rest is commentary.” talmud, shabbat 31a.
- confucianism – “tse-kung asked, ‘is there one word that can serve as a principle of conduct for life?’ confucius replied, ‘it is the word ‘shu’ — reciprocity. do not impose on others what you yourself do not desire.’” doctrine of the mean 13.3
- baha’i – “ascribe not to any soul that which thou wouldst not have ascribed to thee, and say not that which thou doest not…blessed is he who preferreth his brother before himself.” – baha’u'llah
- taoism – the sage has no interest of his own, but takes the interests of the people as his own. he is kind to the kind; he is also kind to the unkind: for virtue is kind. he is faithful to the faithful; he is also faithful to the unfaithful: for virtue is faithful. - tao teh ching, chapter 49
the world would be a different place if we honored those words.
but i wonder also if a huge part of the divide between people is that inside we don’t like ourselves, either. if we don’t like ourselves, how in the world can we like anyone else? if we hate ourselves, then we pass on hate. if we’re used to being treated poorly, then that’s what we pass on to others. if we have a God of doctrine & dogma, then we will pass on that God to others.
we all know that bullies are bullies because inside they feel insecure somehow. unloved. unvaluable. somehow lacking.
my experience in christianity is that most people don’t really love themselves very well, either. we actually are “loving our neighbor as ourselves” and that often means “not too nicely”. for many, there’s a deep insecurity inside, some kind of void that leaves a lot of room for defensiveness and fear. (oh, i lived this way for a long time & did my share of unity-destruction, that’s for sure). the “i’ve-got-to-prove-this-or-else-i’ve-got-nothing-left” mentality that robs joy, life, and free relationship with other people. many of us are indeed loving our neighbors as ourselves–out of fear, anger and hate instead of love, hope, and peace.
my hope for unity is that we’d all become people with a deep sense of love in our core, a strong sense of knowing who we really are as people–accepted and free. and that out of that quiet strength, we’d be able to roll with others’ differences, not need to defend what doesn’t really need defending, and retain our own identity. that we’d be secure people who have nothing to prove.
open people, willing to listen. kind people, willing to agree to disagree. loving people, willing to respect others’ dignity.
when we have nothing to prove, we are released to love others more freely, more fully. no agenda. no bullying. just a desire for mutual respect.
God, let us know the true love that you have for us. help us to accept it as our own so that we may give it freely to others.
* * * * *
ps: more coming soon on this, too, but i wanted to let you know that we are in the final stages of production for down we go: living out the wild ways of Jesus. i am very excited about this project for all kinds of reasons, mainly because it’s the topic i’m most passionate about–the weird wild beautiful upside down ways of Jesus. there’s now a facebook page which will be updated with info about it. it’d be great if you could go over there and “like” it when you have a chance.
our drinking-vodka-out-of-frozen-turkeys
i hope everyone had a really great holy week. it was a wild one around here & i loved it in all kinds of ways. we did a beautiful & simple good friday gathering & then a fun & so-refuge easter celebration on saturday night. easter is my favorite season; to me there is so much beauty in the reminder that out of death & darkness new life emerges–over and over and over again. death, grief & resurrection (i call it friday-saturday-sunday living) is not something to talk about once a year but rather something to practice in the day-in-day-out rhythms of our ordinary lives.
to me, the easter story is about love. wild, pure, deep, unexpected, enduring love.
and the more i engage in relationship with people (and myself!) i am struck by the deep need for love in this world. not talking about love. not theologies about love. not ideas about love. but love. in-the-flesh and making-a-difference-in-the-deep-places-of-people’s-hearts-and-stories love. yes, i think this world needs more and more little pockets of love.
i shared this story at the refuge during lent but i thought of it this weekend, too. it is from the book lit by mary karr. i think some of you have already read it but if you haven’t, i highly recommend it. there’s this one scene in the book that i’ll never forget. mary is an alcoholic just starting to attend AA meetings for the first time. her first reaction to the other people there is so typical–“i’m not like them. i’m not as bad as them. i’ve got it much more together than these crazies” (i hear this one often when it comes to the refuge, too). but she goes anyway. she puts her butt in the chair and she listens. then, the best-dressed woman in the group stands up. totally put together, educated, wearing designer clothes, she proceeds to talk about how when she was drinking she would hide her booze in the carcass of a turkey so that her kids wouldn’t find it. they searched the house high and low but it always eluded them. she thought she was so crafty. in her worst moment she ended up desperate for a drink but couldn’t get the bottle out so she heaved up the turkey, guzzling vodka right out of the carcass. that was her last drink.
mary’s initial reaction: “oh my God, no way would i ever do that! i’ve got my drinking under control.”
my initial reaction: “wow, that’s pretty desperate. glad i’m not that bad off.”
but the truth is that i am that bad. my drinking-vodka-out-of-frozen-turkeys just looks different, maybe a little cleaner, a little neater, maybe a little more productive, but it’s all about the same thing. in those moments of desperation, we are looking for love. something to fill the pain & loneliness and settle the scary dissonance inside us. so we work, eat, drink, sex, shop, porn, rage, spiritualize, and a whole lot of other things to try to find “love”.
as the story unfolds, mary finds peace and hope and God through community. she begins to experience love in deep places, receiving it instead of rejecting it, letting it transform her instead of run away from it.
it all comes back ’round to the beginning, to the first beatitude, to “blessed are those who are spiritually poor”, who are willing to admit “i need God, i need help, i need love.”
when i’m honest, i’d often much rather drink vodka out of frozen turkeys than admit that.
this story isn’t about “stopping” drinking vodka out of frozen turkeys. that’s what an awful lot of church energy often gets focused toward. rather, this story reminds me of the deeper truth, the deeper story going on underneath–how can i/we be filled up with the radical love and peace of God in the midst of this broken world and how can i/we pass this love on to others, too?
this easter, i was reminded yet again of the depth and beauty and mystery of God’s love for me, for all of us. and how much i need God, need help, need love. and how different the world would be if we could all really feel it in our bones & live out of that place more freely, more fully. not so that we’d be happy clappeys with no sense of pain, but rather that we’d know, when we’re standing by the fridge with a turkey carcass in our hands, that there’s a better way.
a way of need. a way of love. a way of hope. the way of resurrection.
* * * * *
a few other quick things:
- i had the honor of being part of she loves magazine for easter sunday. the piece i wrote is called she can’t be silenced. there are some really beautiful voices and hearts over there, check it out.
- i will be in seattle this thursday-friday-saturday for the inhabit conference, hosted by parish collective, transFORM network & mars hill graduate school. focus is centered around my favorite topics: practice, presence, place. looking forward to being part & seeing a bunch of fun friends. hoping my back holds out okay. if you’re coming, let me know.
- i just bought one of these, a little easter present to myself this year. david hayward is one of my favorite reads, all his stuff is so good.
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belonging.
this post is part of the march synchroblog, multiple bloggers writing on the same subject. this month’s topic is in the spirit of lent–the wilderness experience. you can check out links from other bloggers at the bottom of this post.
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“our level of belonging can never exceed our level of self-acceptance” – brene brown
this past saturday night at the refuge we talked about the season of lent & what it means for us. it’s just a weird coincidence but our 40 day theme at the refuge is “into the wild”. in our community, there’s a wide range of feelings about God, from angry to ambivalent to passionate to loving to a whole long list of expletives. i love people’s honesty, but it is so different to so many other church-y experiences i have been part of over the years where there’s a general assumption that most everyone there is somehow excited & looking forward to “connecting with God more deeply and intentionally.” i shared that my one hope for each of us during the next 40 days is some how, some way, we’d become more comfortable in our own skin and in our relationship with God.
to me, lent is a stripping away season to get to more of the essence of who we are, who God is. i don’t think this is the only time it happens, hopefully we are always in that process. to me, that’s sort of the purpose of “the church” no matter the shape or form it takes–to help us grow in love for God, others, ourselves.
i love what joan chittister says about lent:
“It is a call to remember who we are and where we have come from and why. the voice of lent is the cry to become new again, to live on newly no matter what our life has been like until now and to live fully. it is even more than that. it is the promise of mercy, the guarantee of new life. it is the resin that keeps our souls melded to the Spirit within–despite the pull of chaos and waste and superficialities on our spiritual moorings. lent is our salvation from the depths of nothingness. it is our guide to the more of life.” – from the liturgical year
today is also international women’s day. i’ve written about it before here & here & here. every time i think about the injustices against women across the world while we are here haggling over a few bible verses that entire oppressive systems have been built on, i go a little nutty. it always reminds me that the church of Jesus Christ, which in my opinion should be the free-est, wild-est, most-grace-empowered group of people on the planet, is somehow one that has taught an awful lot of people to never feel fully loved, fully accepted. we are good at teaching about rules & things people are supposed to believe, but we are really cruddy at helping people–men and women–feel loved, valued, accepted in the deepest places of their heart.
knowing it in our heads is one thing. knowing it in our hearts and experience is quite another. brene brown, in the gifts of imperfection, says: “belonging is innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval, which are not only hollow substitutes for belonging, but often barriers to it…our level of belonging can never exceed our level of self-acceptance”. i have come to think this issue of belonging & self-acceptance is one of the primary issues that people struggle with. there’s so much loneliness, disconnectedness, shame, self-hatred & anger-toward-ourselves floating around in the human experience. it’s the root of every addiction, whether that be to drugs, alcohol, work, church, porn, food, people, unhealthy relationships, you name it. underneath all our numbing mechanisms runs a strong current of not being able to love and accept ourselves.
i remember years ago when i first read brennan manning’s book abba’s child and how deeply it touched my soul. he put to words what i was feeling inside; i often felt like an imposter, a fraud, and that any minute i was going to be found out. i had a lot of friends but no intimate connection. i wanted the deep parts of me to be loved by myself & others & God, too, but i was too scared to open myself up to that possibility. self-hatred was a lot more comfortable than self-acceptance. i never felt like enough. or like i was too much.
now, after a lot of years of healing in community, i do feel a deep level of self-acceptance that i have never experienced before. i feel more comfortable in my own skin, more accepting of my paradoxes, more kind toward myself & more kind toward God. as part of the refuge & in my marriage & my friendships, i can say that i feel like i truly belong and can bring the real me to the table. in some other circles, though, i don’t have that freedom yet. i have this weird sense that i’m supposed to be something other than me so i often end up feeling disconnected & insecure. it reminds me that there’s still a need for greater healing and transformation in me, more soul work to be done so i can be more free.
the reason i bring this up here is that my heart for people is that we would all feel more loved and accepted and we would be able to live out of a place of freedom and hope instead of insecurity and fear. part of entering into the wilderness for the lent season is opening ourselves up to be strengthened and transformed by God. we get in touch with the reality of our souls & let God’s spirit in to deep places that need change.
this isn’t self-indulgent. we love our neighbors as ourselves. no wonder the world’s so messed up. the more truly free, loving, kind, and grace-filled people we become, the more others around us will be touched by that love, too.
i don’t think there’s a magic formula to self-acceptance, but i know for me, it starts with grace and accepting my humanness, with all my strengths & all my weaknesses. not expecting everything to be gone in a rush but rather, coming face to face with the reality that continual, ongoing transformation was always the idea. Jesus, in the wilderness for 40 days, was tempted with an easy way out and he could have taken it. but he stayed the course, felt the feelings, and came out on the other side strengthened for the next leg of the journey.
there’s a part of me that says “i don’t want to go into the wilderness for the next 40 days.” i’m tired of stripping, strengthening, and transforming. i’d much rather watch modern family on hulu plus and down a big bag of salt & vinegar chips and a diet coke. but i know, somewhere deep down, that i need to explore another layer about myself, about God and what it means to belong…
so that’s the direction i’m heading into the wilderness this lent. how about you?
* * * * *
other stories from the wilderness so far:
- patrick oden at dual ravens – musings
- katherine gunn at truth makes freedom – a voice in the desert: what is wilderness?
- wendy mccaig at view from the bridge – a voice calling in the wilderness
- emma nadine at life by list - life in the wilderness
- tammy carter at blessing the beloved – put down the axe
- jeremy meyers at till he comes – the gaping chasm of suicide
- Steve Hayes of Methodius – Anatomy of exile
- Marta Layton at Marta’s Mathoms - On Sabbaths, Mountain-Tops… and Brothers’ Keepers
blessed are the meek…
“blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” – matthew 5:5
for years, the word “meek” haunted me because of its use in terms of what good christian women should be–meek and mild. these were not exactly words that people would use to describe me. in the early years of growing my faith i remember feeling bad for not being quiet and subdued like so many christian women i met along the way. when i would hear them talking about life & relationships & God & kids i would always end up feeling like the naughty-christian-who’s-heart-was-somehow-not-humble-enough-because-if-it-was-i-wouldn’t-be-so-”much.” i know from talking to so many other women over the years that i’m not alone in this thinking.
i think it’s because there’s a misconceived stereotype of what “meek” really means and how it translates into our real lives.
many of you heard this before but the greek word for “meek” is “praus”. it means strength under control. it is a gentleness, a spirit willing to submit to and trust God instead of controlling. it is letting go instead of feeling the need to press in, get our way, or move to the front of the line. Jesus describes himself this way in matthew 11:28-29 – “come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest. take my yoke upon you, and learn for me; for i am meek and lowly in heart: and yet shall find rest unto your souls” (KJV).
to me, meek intimates that we are secure in our position. we are grounded. we have no need to puff ourselves up or prove anything to anyone. we are anchored to Love and Hope and Peace despite our circumstances. we don’t measure ourselves or others by the world’s success. it is a deep knowing of our core identity.
when it comes to living out this beatitude, i think it’s a really challenging one, especially in terms of social change. Jesus was a radical. he stirred the pot and upset the apple cart. he didn’t go with the flow but rather modeled a way of living that was completely against the norm. for us, as Christ-followers & change agents, what does meekness really look like? i don’t think it looks like sitting quietly in the corner and never using our voice or stepping into our God-given power.
i think it looks more like:
- living out what we believe without a lot of words. showing instead of telling. doing instead of talking about doing. we all know the saying “preach the gospel at all times. use words only when necessary.” this requires a meekness, a submitted-ness to God’s spirit at work and a trust that we don’t really have to prove anything to anyone.
- a beautiful and surprising resilience. i’ve written about resilience before. it does not mean that we are unflappable and never hurt. that would completely contradict the first two beatitudes. but i think it does mean that we are able to bounce back from hurt, disappointment, betrayal, woundedness, and all kinds of other pain because of our desire to trust the journey–with all its good and all its bad–instead of expecting God to make everything rosy all the time.
- no need to compare. when we are anchored to something deeper, sure in our position, secure in who we are, we really don’t have to spend a lot of time comparing ourselves to others and using measuring sticks to beat ourselves up with. there’s a “yep, this is who i am/who we are” with authenticity. this one is very important to me, especially when it comes to church development. comparing usually never goes down well and causes a striving that is completely contrary to meekness.
- open hands & open hearts. the attitude of meekness is a softness, a vulnerability, a willingness to receive & a willingness to give. this is where i think my twisted definition of meek went awry. i saw meekness as a put-together-ness where everything was neat, tidy, and buttoned down. there’s certainly no humility in that. this kind of strength under control is just the opposite. it is open & tender to experience the fullness of emotions & experiences & ups and downs of real life instead of staying protected and closed-off.
- showing up but letting go, too. i believe in an active faith that includes advocacy & in-the-trenches-journeying-with-others. i think we are supposed to use our hands and feet and hearts and eyes and ears on behalf of others in the same ways that Jesus did. but meekness also means that we respect that God is God and we are not. we can play our part, show up, and pull strongly for what we think God is telling us to pull for. but ultimately, we hold it loosely, respecting our humanness, others’ humanness & the limitations that come with it.
yeah, the more i think about this beatitude, the more beautiful & challenging it is.
God, help us be people & communities who are willing to be meek & gentle, knowing who we really are in you & living from a place of real security. help us let go of trying to prove or strive or cross some imaginary finish line first. we want to have strength that is soft, open, and humble in our relationship with you & others, to learn the art of showing up & letting go at the same time.
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because sometimes we forget
i always say that i think faith community–whatever form it takes–should be a place to practice loving and being loved by God, others, and ourselves. these things don’t come naturally for many of us and so we need a training ground, a place to learn and experiment, so we can continue to form into more loving people, a deeper and brighter reflection of Christ in this world.
i believe the image of God is deeply embedded in all human beings. it’s in our core DNA. what happens, though, is life, brokenness, pain, and all kinds of other experiences can bury and attempt to extinguish this reflection. part of loving redemptive community is to uncover God’s image in each other, to call it out, to begin to notice what we sometimes can’t see, and to keep reminding each other “this is the real you. i see it.”
so many of us think that who we are in our worst moments is who we really are. we are often blinded to our good. and even if now & then we get some glimpses of it, we get amnesia and easily forget.
a friend asked me this week if he was really a perpetual f*ck up. that message has been a distinguishing part of his ongoing story & even though he’s doing some great healing work, he often still comes back to this core message in himself. i told him the truth–yes, of course, you still f things up, but at the same time, you are also such a beautiful, kind, gentle & amazing person created in the image of God bringing such lovely gifts to others in the midst of the mess. i don’t think in that moment all the lights went on and this core message was gone, but i do hope at least for a few minutes he was gently reminded that he was much more than his mistakes.
our wednesday night house of refuge is one of my favorite things each week. it’s a wild mix of young and old & married and single & kids and no kids & democrat and republican & rich and poor & liberal theologies and conservative ones & everything in between. some people who come on wednesdays are part of our weekend gathering, too, and for others, this group is their faith community. we eat together first & then rotate facilitation focused on the spiritual journey. i sometimes call it spiritual show & tell. anyone can bring whatever they want to for us to reflect on together. what i love about it is the diversity & challenge it always stirs up. i also love seeing how through each unique person, God’s image emerges. it’s really pretty.
for christmas this year i gave everyone a mirror with their name on it. we each had a sharpie & we did a crazy passing game where we wrote down what we see in each other on the mirrors. when it was all over you ended up with your own mirror & your christmas present, too. here’s a picture of mine.
i did it because it’s so easy to forget who we really are. we need reminders. we need some good medicine for our soul. we need to look at our own reflection and see the good instead of only the bad. we need to be buoyed when we start to sink. we need the image of God that’s in us to be reflected back to us.
if i’ve learned anything over the past chunk of years journeying in the trenches with people it’s that most of us are really, really bad at loving and accepting ourselves. there’s a great resistance to it. we may know certain biblical passages in our heads but it doesn’t necessarily translate into our hearts & the place we live from. one of my spiritual direction professors always reminded us “the 18 inch journey from our head to our heart is one of the longest treks we’ll ever make.”
my hope is always that over time more and more of God’s image in us is uncovered and we can learn to integrate these little nuggets of truth about who we are into the fabric of our hearts & lives in really tangible ways. and at the same time, i hope we can be dignity restorers and continue to call out God’s image in others, too, reminding others of the beauty we see.
i read this little piece today from jean vanier, one of my favorite writers on christian community. he says,
“mission is revealing to others their fundamental beauty, value and importance in the universe, their capacity to love, to grow and to do beautiful things and to meet God. mission is transmitting to people a new inner freedom and hope; it is unlocking the doors of their being so that new energies can flow; it is taking away from their shoulders the terrible yoke of fear and guilt. to give life to people is to reveal to them that they are loved just as they are by God, with the mixture of good and evil, light and darkness that is in them: that the stone in front of their tomb in which all the dirt of their lives has been hidden, can be rolled away.”
yep, he nails it. i hope we can become not only really good remind-ers to others of that image of God they bring to this world, but also people who soak in the-good-we’re-being-reminded-of, too.
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